#i have mixed feelings on wrath

[carcrashcockrash]

auuggghg wauughh im dying from a deadly diseas. its called ate pizza and macdonalds and soy all in one day disease an d symptoms include exploding. u mgiht want to step back brother

[butrememberthesong]

i have so many thoughts on the squid entity and i cannot share them with either of my Thoughts People so. skip the tags if you are avoiding endgame spoilers.

[stvolanis]

Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[oepionie]

— "AND WHILE YOU SLEEP, I'LL BE SCARED." overblot gang 

SYNOPSIS: Your lover waking up from a horrific nightmare and scrambling to listen to your heartbeat so he can make sure you're still alive.

⊹ [ cw ] — angst, hurt/comfort, overblot, blood, glass shards injury, anxiety/panic attacks, insecurities, mentions of death, crying (them)◞

⊹ [ tags ] — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP. GN! READER | riddle tears his room apart, leona feels immense guilt, caring leona, azul having a panic attack, vil being an absolute mess, vil speaks german, shy idia, jamil injures himself accidentally, jamil calls you 'albi' (my heart), malleus immortality angst ◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

It's far past his scheduled time for sleep.

A bitter taste is bubbling up in his throat and frothing against his tongue. Riddle doesn't know what this wretched feeling is. All he knows is that he's terrified. Perhaps that's why he allows himself to disturb your sleep, the maddening emotions slamming against his head becoming too much for him to handle.

"I-I apologize for waking you," Riddle rasps, slipping into your shared bed and burrowing his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breaths come out in quick and fleeting puffs, heart thrumming hard against his ribs.

In the dimness of the night, the myriad of mangled and torn-up books that were strewn and flung about the room in a frenzied fury could hardly be seen. Your gaze flickered down to your lover. The tips of Riddle's fingers were a blistering raw red, his once well-groomed nails now visibly chipped at its ends.

With a touch of your tender hands, you pull him down to rest against your chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I–I just…I recalled the incident of my overblot and how I hit you with that blast. H-How you nearly—" Clamping his eyes tight, Riddle dared not to finish that sentence. The boy trembles in your arms—ears fervently straining to hear the steady and melodic thump of your heart, a melody he feared he would never hear again.

A choked sob tumbles from his lips and your chest aches.

"…I'm sorry," was his quiet cry. "I'm so sorry."

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Peacefully fast asleep, your back was nestled snug against the Leona's chest while his firm bicep protectively curled around your ribs.

Over the course of your relationship, Leona began to realize how much he loved having you in his arms. You were at peace when you slept, untouched and untainted by the stress and pain you dealt with every day.

He crept his free hand up your torso, cold fingers slipping underneath your shirt, skimming up your stomach, and settling above the spot on your chest where your heartbeat danced vividly against his touch. Leona splays his fingers out more, fixated on how the thrum of your life felt against his skin.

It was a daily struggle to keep his emotions at bay, ensuring that his strong feelings and magic wouldn't hurt you again. The nightmarish phantom of his blot still haunts him to this day. That wrath was an ugly and hideous beast he wished to keep locked away in the depths of his mind for all of eternity.

Yet, at the soft beat of your delicate heart against his sullied hands—Already, Leona finds himself wavering, uncharacteristically weak.

An overpowering mix of stress and strain washes over him, pooling up into watery blobs and flowing down his cheeks in faint streaks as he silently wept.

"Fuck," Leona curses, pulling your dozing form closer to him. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

✩—AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The torment of nightmares was far worse than he remembered, but this dread he felt was unquestionably different, pressing in on him like a frigid cold. The icy sensation seeps into the marrows and dips of his flesh—his sole respite being your touch, which both warmed and scorched at his skin.

"Angelfish." Azul breathlessly sputtered, blindly patting around the bed in search of your body.

Through the fringes of his blacked out vision, he could barely make out your worried drowsy visage. This caused him to panic, pulse picking up, but you were quick to soothe him—reaching a hand out to press against his cheek. Finally finding you, the octo-mer pulled you towards his side of the bed, engulfing you in a tight hug.

Azul tried to stop the flood of tears that layered his face, but your soft lips strewn with kisses on his skin seemed to further elicit his unceasing cries. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Azul. I'm here." You whisper, cradling his face, but he was inconsolable. The octo-mer desperately clawed at your shirt as he pressed his ear deeper against your chest, practically melting into you.

The throbs of your heart echoed through his anguished mind, providing him with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't go….Please…" Azul sputters, body shaking from every deep, labored heave of his burning lungs, "Please."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

A strangled scream awoke you from your abyssal sleep, your bleary eyes ripping open to dart here and there around the room in a manic frenzy. The ensuing shattering smash of a glass further threw your thoughts into disarray.

"Jamil?!"

Your lover had stumbled off of the bed, now kneeling against the wooden flooring with the bedsheets pooling around his hips, sheets damp from the shattered glass of water on the floor.

A bloody hand clenched at his palpitating heart, glass shards digging into his skin, as his lungs fought to maintain his breathing.

You sprang from the mattress and skidded in his direction, but Jamil scrambled away from you.

"Albi, no. There's glass. Stay away. You're going to get hurt," Jamil stammered. Holding a shaky hand up, the boy avoided your gaze.

"Jamil—" Brows pinched together, you eased towards him. "I'm not going to get hurt, don't worry."

You stepped over the shards of crystal glass with caution and made your way past, "See?"

Once you were within his reach, Jamil caved in and slowly brought you into his arms—careful with his injury. He could feel the distant sting of the cuts on his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leaning down, he lay his head over your heart. Even though the batter of your heart was frantic and panicked, it somewhat provided a steady beat for him to follow as he worked to untangle the complexities in his thoughts. Your lover sunk against you, anchoring himself against the warmth your body radiated.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

As the minutes pass, Idia was rapidly losing every meagre amount of confidence he managed to scrape together.

"Idia…honey? Please get up." You croon, running a hand through his flaming hair.

Though it seemed as if he didn't hear anything—Idia kept his head glued against your beating chest, refusing to get up from his position on the floor.

He's been kneeling before you for so long that the rough fabric of his pants burned and skidded against the tender skin of his knees, sending excruciating stings along the threads of his flesh.

"I—No…N-No…I can't." Idia's lips quiver, eyes glossing over as he diverts his gaze. The weight of his arms lay heavy against your legs, elbows resting by your knees while his dull nails dug into the skin at the back of your thighs.

"Why's that?" You whisper.

Idia shut his eyes. The flash of numerous dreams and nightmares he's suffered at the hands of his own demented twisted memories clouded his mind. It did not help that they were all molded out of his own self-inflicted pessimism...cruel and unforgiving. A reason as to why he couldn't bear to look at you tonight, not when the image of your mangled body was still fresh on his mind.

"I-I'm s-sor-sorry…I ca-can't get up…I need to…” he stumbles for words, his breathing picking up its pace. "I need to…need to know you're okay."

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Vil…" You worriedly murmur, pressing your lips against his mascara-stained cheeks, not minding the bitter aftertaste it left lingering in your mouth.

Laying atop the plush silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the dorm leader's eyes were ripped wide open as his chest heaved viciously. It was quite a rare sight as your lover lay vulnerable before you, heart bared open.

Oh, he was an absolute mess.

Dark streams of teary mascara ran down Vil's cheeks, his uniform wrinkled and his golden hair splayed out everywhere—unbound from its braids and tangled up.

The grip of his arms around your midsection tightens as he pressed you up closer against him, his head resting atop your chest. At the sound of your heartbeat, Vil allowed himself to unwind and let your affections banish away even the most ominous of his thoughts.

"Liebling…Es tut mir ehrlich Leid—" Vil rasps, his mother tongue dripping like honey from his lips as he suddenly found it difficult to speak the language he was so accustomed to every day.

Hushing him, you press a fleeting kiss against his brow line and Vil clamps his red-rimmed eyes shut, ceasing to say anything more.

"Hush now. Rest, my prince." You press a gentle kiss to his temple and brush the frizzes of his blonde hair away from his face.

A small smile quirks on his lips as he feels his stomach fluttering from the nickname. The look in his eyes is softly lit, warm like a candle.

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

One day, Malleus knows, you will be nothing more than wilted and withered ash.

It was a truth that wrapped around him like shackling chains—tearing, whipping and lashing against his raw, bare skin. No matter how hard he pulled, scratched, and screamed at it, the chains remained.

The clanging and grating iron truth about reality cannot be so easily pushed away. Human lives are fickle, and you would inevitably leave him.

Once you do, the fae prince knows he will be a mere shadow of his former self, a wretched and lonesome creature awaiting and longing for his lover who was no more than a ghost of his fleeting memories.

"I apologize for the disturbance, my treasure."

And yet, Malleus presses his hand firmly against your beating heart. A distant marching beat serving as his reminder that you were very much alive and well.

"I truly apologize." Malleus heaves, hands clamouring against your collarbone.

Although thick tension and silence still hung heavy in the air, the dragon basked in the warmth and feel of your flushed skin, a bitter smile gracing his lips as he lay beside you on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beastie…"

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[moonselune]

BG3 Crew reacting to runaway parent trying to get back in your child's life

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The quiet of the night was shattered by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jolted awake, heart pounding, as the noise continued with an almost frantic urgency. Glancing at the clock, you realized it was well past midnight. Your child, already asleep in their room, was oblivious to the commotion. You hurriedly dressed and made your way to the door, the unease in your chest growing with every step.

When you finally opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. There stood your child's absent father, a man whose presence had long been a source of pain and disappointment. His disheveled appearance and haggard expression were a stark contrast to the composed demeanor you remembered from the past.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s the middle of the night. My child is asleep.”

He pushed past you, ignoring your protest. “I’m here to see my child,” he said gruffly. “I’ve come to make things right.”

You stepped in his way, blocking his advance. “No. You don’t get to waltz back into their life whenever you please. You had your chance, and you squandered it. Now, you need to leave.”

His face reddened with anger, and he sneered at you. “So, you think you can just keep me away? You’re nothing but a petty little obstacle. It’s my right as a father to see my child.”

Before you could respond, you heard the heavy tread of footsteps behind you. Karlach, ever vigilant and protective, had come to investigate the commotion. Her presence was like a storm rolling in, radiating an aura of fierce, unyielding strength. Her eyes locked onto the intruder with a look that could melt steel. Karlach stepped forward, her voice low and menacing.

“You’re in no position to make demands, buddy” she said, her tone cold and dangerous. “This is a warning. Leave now, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a veteran’s wrath.”

The father’s eyes widened in shock as he took in Karlach’s formidable presence. She was a force to be reckoned with, her imposing frame and battle-hardened demeanor making her a terrifying figure. He took an involuntary step back, clearly unnerved by her.

Karlach continued, her voice like gravel. “I fought in the Blood War. I’ve faced demons and horrors you can’t even imagine. Do you really think you want to test me now?”

His bravado crumbled under the weight of her words. He stared at Karlach, then at you, and finally, with a defeated sigh, he turned on his heel and stumbled away into the night, leaving you with a mix of relief and lingering anxiety.

You closed the door with a trembling hand, your heart still racing. The fear that had gripped you was slowly giving way to a profound sense of gratitude. Karlach’s fierce protection had ensured that your child remained safe from harm, and her presence had been a steadying force in a moment of distress. Turning to Karlach, you took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with both relief and admiration. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Karlach’s expression softened, though her fierce demeanor remained. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “I’d do anything to keep both you and the little one safe. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of appreciation for her unwavering support. “I know,” you said softly. “And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. Truly.”

Karlach’s lips curled into a mile. “Well, then,” she said with a hint of her usual fire, “let’s make sure that anyone who tries to come near you both knows that they’ll have to go through me first.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her resolute tone, feeling the last of your tension dissolve. As you made your way back to your child’s room, Karlach followed close behind, her presence a comforting shield against the uncertainties of the night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The night was calm and still, the kind that promised peaceful rest, but that illusion was abruptly shattered by the sound of frantic yelling. You jolted awake, heart pounding, and glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. The cries and shouts came from your daughter’s room, and your immediate concern propelled you out of bed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you shook Minthara awake. Her eyes snapped open, her expression shifting from drowsy confusion to alert determination quicker than light. Together, you raced down the hallway, the sounds of the confrontation growing louder with each step.

Bursting into your daughter’s room, you were met with a sight that filled you with dread. Your daughter, barely able to contain her fear and anger, stood her ground against her father, who had somehow managed to infiltrate the sanctuary of her room. His imposing figure loomed over her, and his presence was both unsettling and unwelcome.

“Leave me alone!” your daughter shouted, her small voice trembling but filled with determination. “I don’t want you here!”

Her father, a grizzled mercenary with a hardened demeanor, looked down at her with a mixture of annoyance and condescension.

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” he sneered. “I’m your father, and you will listen to me.”

As you and Minthara entered the room, your daughter’s eyes met yours, and she bolted towards you. You wrapped her in a comforting embrace, holding her tightly and whispering reassurances. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” you murmured. “I’m here.”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the intruder. Without a word, she strode purposefully towards him, her demeanor cold and menacing. With a swift, practiced motion, she grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there with a strength that left no room for argument. The mercenary struggled, but Minthara’s grip was unyielding. He attempted to boast about his exploits, his voice full of bravado.

“I’ve fought in countless battles,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. “I’ve taken lives, dealt with worse than you—”

Minthara interrupted him with a harsh, mocking laugh. “Please. You’re nothing can even compare to me,” she said, her voice laced with disdain.

Your daughter, still clinging to you, looked up with wide, fearful eyes. “Can you make him leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked over to Minthara and gave her a slight nod, the type that Minthara takes as nothing is off limits. Minthara glanced at your daughter with a reassuring nod, then turned her gaze back to the mercenary.

“You heard the child,” she said, her tone cold and final. “It’s time for you to leave.”

As the mercenary started to raise his voice again, Minthara’s patience snapped. With a swift, decisive blow, she knocked him out cold. His body slumped to the floor, and she turned to your daughter with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I’ll deal with him.”

Your daughter’s face brightened with relief as she held onto you tightly, nodding her head eagerly at Minthara. Minthara gave you a curt nod before she dragged the unconscious mercenary outside, her expression a mixture of determination and satisfaction. As she left, you held your daughter close, whispering soothing words of comfort.

When Minthara returned, she found you and your daughter in your shared bed, your daughter nestled against you, her tiny frame trembling slightly from the recent ordeal. Without a word, Minthara climbed into bed beside you after, of course, washing off the grime from her... excursion. Your daughter, still shaken but comforted, immediately latched onto Minthara and snuggled into her, finding solace in her presence.

You watched as Minthara, despite her usually stoic demeanor, gently stroked your daughter’s hair, her expression softening as she comforted the child.

“There, there,” Minthara murmured softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Your daughter looked up at Minthara, her eyes heavy with sleep but filled with trust. “Goodnight, Mother,” she whispered, before closing her eyes and curling up closer.

You smiled softly at the sight, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and warmth. Minthara’s actions had been more than protective; they had been a testament to her unwavering dedication and love for both you and your daughter. You reached over, careful not to disturb your daughter and took Minthara's hand, giving it a soft squeeze in thanks, forever grateful for her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

At home, Lae'zel had been adjusting to her role as caretaker, the initial discomfort giving way to a surprising degree of warmth. Your son, now peacefully napping in his room, was nestled under a soft blanket, completely unaware of the impending danger.

The tranquility of the house was abruptly shattered by a soft but deliberate creaking of the door. The estranged father of your child, driven by a mixture of unresolved feelings and a twisted sense of entitlement, had managed to break into your home unnoticed. His presence a dark shadow against the peaceful setting as he made his way to the child’s room.

With a furtive glance around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside. The sight of your sleeping son stirred a pang of something akin to remorse in his eyes, but it was quickly overridden by a sense of possession. He reached down and scooped up the toddler, cradling him in his arms. The action was abrupt and rough, causing your child to stir and awaken with a frightened whimper.

The sudden disturbance woke Lae'zel from her own moment of repose. Her heightened senses detected the commotion in the room, and her instincts immediately went on high alert. She could tell immediately that this was not your son's ordinairy fussing, she moved swiftly to the source of the noise, pushing open the door with a forceful shove. Her eyes widened in alarm as she saw the man holding your son against his chest.

Lae'zel’s expression hardened into a fierce scowl as she took in the situation. Her hand moved to the weapon at her side, and with a practiced flick, she drew it. The blade glinted ominously in the light.

“Put the child down!” she commanded, her voice a growl filled with righteous fury. The man’s eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and defiance.

“This is my son,” he declared with a scoff, his tone dripping with contempt. “I have every right to him.”

But the reality of the situation was starkly different. Your son, still half-asleep and disoriented, immediately began to fuss and whimper, reaching out with tiny, pleading hands towards Lae'zel. The distress in his voice was unmistakable as he called out, “Mama! Mama’zel!”

Seeing the child’s evident fear and his desperate need for Lae'zel, the warrior’s resolve hardened. She took a step forward, her weapon poised with deadly precision. “You are not taking him. He needs to be with someone who cares for him, that is not you.”

It seemed the father had suddenly realised that danger he was in now he was at the blade's end of a Githyanki silver sword. In a panic and with a final, reckless gesture of defiance, the man threw your son into the air. The sudden action was shocking, and Lae'zel’s heart raced as she watched in horror. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her sword and leaped forward, catching your child with a protective embrace as he fell. Her fierce determination was evident as she cradled him close, her blade still held firmly in her other hand.

The man, seizing the opportunity bolted for the door. Lae'zel’s focus was on your son, and as she made sure he was safe, she allowed the man to escape. She did not let her guard down, but her priority was to protect the child, and the man’s escape was a calculated risk she was willing to take.

Outside, the commotion had drawn attention. As Lae'zel made her way to the front of the house, her eyes fell on the scene unfolding before her. You stood over the unconscious form of your estranged partner, your knuckles bruised and bloodied from the confrontation. There was relief in your expression as you looked up to see Lae'zel, your son safely and happily in her arms. Lae'zel approached you with a careful but determined stride, holding out your son to you.

“He is safe now,” she said, her voice steady but laced with concern. “He was frightened, but I kept him close.”

“Thank you, Lae'zel,” you said softly, your voice filled with emotion after pressing a kiss to Lae'zel's cheek “You saved him.”

Lae'zel nodded, her face a mix of weariness and satisfaction. “It was my duty,” she replied simply. “I will always protect him.”

You took your child into your arms, feeling a surge of relief and gratitude. As you held him tightly, Lae'zel’s eyes softened with a rare gentleness, she had faced a thousand horrors but nothing was as terrifying as the thought of your child, her son, getting hurt.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over the farm, where Shadowheart and your young daughter were enjoying a peaceful afternoon. The fields were alive with the joyful sounds of chirping birds and playful animals. Your daughter, her face alight with happiness, was darting around the farmyard, feeding the animals and laughing at their antics. Shadowheart, her demeanor relaxed and gentle, followed closely behind, occasionally helping with tasks and sharing in your daughter’s exuberant joy.

The scene was idyllic: cows mooed softly, chickens pecked at the ground, and your daughter’s gleeful giggles blended harmoniously with the sounds of the farm. Shadowheart’s protective nature shone through as she tended to the animals alongside your daughter, clearly enjoying the role of caretaker.

But this serene moment was abruptly interrupted when a familiar figure emerged from the edge of the farm. Your daughter’s father—who had been absent from her life—appeared with a look of determination on his face. His eyes scanned the farmyard until they landed on your daughter. Relief washed over his features as he strode forward, his expression a mix of desperation and authority.

“There you are!” he called out, his voice carrying across the open fields. “I’ve finally found you. Come here!”

Your daughter’s face went pale as she spotted her father. She immediately bolted behind Shadowheart, clutching at her skirts. Her small voice quivered as she looked up at Shadowheart with wide, frightened eyes. “Mama, make him go away! I don’t want him here!”

Shadowheart’s eyes narrowed, her protective instincts kicking in immediately. She placed herself between your daughter and her father, her stance firm and resolute.

“You need to leave,” Shadowheart said, her voice steady and commanding. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

Your daughter’s father scoffed, clearly irritated by the interruption. “Oh, come now. She’s my daughter. She needs to come with me, I want to spend time with her.”

"She doesn't need to do anything." Shadowheart’s jaw tightened. “No. I will not allow you to upset her further. Leave, now.”

The father’s eyes flickered with annoyance, but he disregarded Shadowheart’s command. He took a step closer, his intent clear—he was determined to take your daughter regardless of Shadowheart’s interference. As he reached out a hand toward your daughter, Shadowheart’s reaction was swift and decisive.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Shadowheart drew upon her time spent as a Sharran. Her movements were a blur as she executed a series of precise and powerful strikes. Your daughter’s father barely had time to react before he was struck down, collapsing to the ground in a heap, unconscious and defeated. Face first in the mud.

Shadowheart stood over him, her breath coming in measured gasps as she surveyed the scene. She turned to your daughter, concern etched across her face.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently. Your daughter’s initial shock quickly transformed into awe. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Shadowheart, a mixture of admiration and excitement shining through her fear.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. “Can you teach me how to do that? Please? Pretty please!”

Shadowheart’s concern softened into a smile as she saw the spark of admiration in your daughter’s eyes. She knelt down, placing a comforting hand on your daughter’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly. “But learning how to fight and defend yourself is not something to take lightly. You have to practice lots and lots.”

"I don't care!" Your daughter’s enthusiasm remained undiminished. “I want to learn! I want to be strong like you! That was so cool!”

Shadowheart’s smile broadened, touched by the girl’s resolve. "Okay, okay, little fighter, let's go ask your mother about it and see what she says, okay?"

Your daughter sprinted off, bellowing your name, the previous incident seemingly forgotton. Shadowheart couldn't help but chuckle and then sighed as she looked at the father's crumpled form. With a hand on her hip and a snap of her fingers a portal opened. Shadowheart was sure that he would have a much better time in the neighbouring farm's fertiliser tub. Maneure was so good for crops this time of year.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Your daughter’s school fete was abuzz with excitement, the large open park filled with the chatter and laughter of parents and children. The annual talent show was in full swing, and each performance was met with enthusiastic applause. It was a time for the students to showcase how far their wizarding skills had developed. You couldn't tell who was more excited, your daughter or Gale.

You and Gale stood near the front, eagerly awaiting your daughter's turn to showcase her magic. The weeks of practice and preparation between Gale and your daughter had culminated in this moment, and both of you were a mix of pride and nerves.

Gale was showing signs of his own anxiety—fidgeting slightly, his eyes darting to the stage and then back to you. It was clear that he cared deeply about how this would go for your daughter.

Just as your daughter's name was called out to get ready to go on, she began making her way to the backstage area to prepare, until her face suddenly fell. You turned to see what had caused the abrupt change in her demeanor, and then you heard the unmistakable voice of your ex—her estranged father—cutting through the ambient noise of the school fete.

“Hey there, little one! Where’s my hug?” he called out, his tone laced with a mixture of familiarity and condescension.

Your daughter hesitated, her small frame visibly tensing as she reluctantly approached her father. With a forced, apprehensive smile, she gave him a quick hug. The look of discomfort on her face was evident as she pulled away, and with a quick look of worry to you, she darted to the backstage entrance where she began to prepare to perform with the other kids.

Confident your daughter was out of sight and earshot, you felt a surge of irritation and disbelief. You hadn’t expected him to show up here, let alone disrupt your daughter’s big moment. Turning sharply, you confronted your ex, your voice edged with frustration.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, crossing your arms. “Why show up now?”

His face remained a mask of faux innocence. “I’m here to support my little girl, of course,” he replied with a shrug, but his eyes betrayed a glint of something darker as he glanced at Gale. “Had to make sure that new boytoy of yours isn’t a bad influence.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you were about to launch into an argument when your daughter's teacher approached, her expression soft but serious.

“Excuse me,” the teacher said, addressing you and Gale. “Your daughter has developed a case of stage fright, bless her, and has asked for her father.”

Your ex immediately stepped forward, a smirk spreading across his face as he assumed the teacher was referring to him. But the teacher’s next words made it clear they were talking about Gale.

“I'm sorry, but I’m actually referring to Mr. Dekarios,” the teacher clarified, gesturing toward Gale. Gale’s face brightened, and flashed your ex a smug smirk, only for it to fade into concern as he followed the teacher, catching sight of your teary daughter waiting nervously backstage. She ran over to him, looking up at him with a mix of hope and distress.

“Gale!” she said, her voice trembling, “I need your magic!"

Gale knelt down to her level, his expression softening. “Sweetheart, I can’t help you with the performance,” he said gently. "I promise you will do amazing, you've been working so hard and-"

"-No, I need your magic to make him disappear!" Your daughter sniffed and Gale realised what she had meant.

"Ah, well that I can do," Gale whispered with a smile and your daughter’s face lit up with relief, and she threw herself into a hug with Gale.

“Thank you, dad!” she said, her voice now full of gratitude, those tears gone and a smile plastered on her face. With a renewed sense of determination, she ran back to the stage, her earlier anxiety replaced by a brighter, more confident demeanor. Gale watched her go, then returned to your side, where you will still arguing with your ex in hushed whispers. At the sight of him, you both quietened, keen to hear what had happened.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “But there's something I have to do.”

With a subtle flick of his fingers and a murmur of arcane words, Gale cast a spell. Moments later, your ex’s face appeared puzzled as he was enveloped in a shimmering aura, his protestations fading as he was magically transported away. Gale turned back to you, his face reflecting a blend of satisfaction and affection.

“One less distraction for her,” he said, giving you a warm smile.

You felt a surge of gratitude and admiration for Gale and without warning grabbed him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I adore you, you know that".

"Not as much as I adore the both you," Gale assured you, “Now, let’s enjoy the show.”

You both watched your daughter take the stage with a confident smile was a moment of pure joy, made even more meaningful by the support and love surrounding her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The schoolyard buzzed with the end-of-day excitement as children and parents alike gathered to leave. Astarion, impeccably dressed as always, stood near the gate, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with the kind of aloof interest one might expect from him. Today, he was tasked with picking up your daughter from school as you ran an errand.

As Astarion waited, he noticed a commotion near the gate. Your daughter, spotting him through the throng of people, waved frantically and beckoned him over with an urgency that immediately set off alarm bells in his mind. His instincts, honed by years of surviving in a dangerous world, quickly jumped to the worst-case scenario.

With an exaggerated flourish, Astarion swept toward the commotion, his cloak billowing behind him like a cape of night. He shoved parents and children alike out of the way, his expression shifting to one of fierce determination as he approached the source of the disturbance.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Astarion demanded, his voice carrying an edge of authority that was both commanding and melodramatic. His gaze fell upon a man who was arguing heatedly with one of the teachers. The man’s expression was a mix of frustration and entitlement.

The teacher looked visibly relieved upon seeing Astarion. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here! This man claims to be your daughter’s father, but he’s not on the approved pickup list.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed in disdain as he took in the man’s appearance. “Really now? And just who do you think you are, daring to disrupt the well-being of a child? My child.”

The estranged father, clearly unperturbed by Astarion's theatrics, argued back. “I will have you know that, I am her father! And I have every right to pick her up.”

Before Astarion could retort, your daughter bounded over, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of her Papa. She launched herself into Astarion’s arms, who caught her with practiced ease.

Astarion beamed down at her and gave her a subtle wink before pretending to hear something you had said and then looked on to growing crowd with feigned surprise and distress. “Oh dearest, what have you told me, my little one? Did he say he was going to do something terrible?”

Your daughter, catching onto the game, nodded vigorously, a playful glint in her eyes. “Yes, Papa! He said he was going to kidnap me!”

Astarion’s eyes widened in exaggerated horror, and he tightened his hold on your daughter, pulling her close to his chest. There was a concerned murmur among the other parents as they looked at your daughter's father accusingly. “Oh, my gods! We mustn’t let him near you then. Neither should you fellow parents! Come, we’ll have to leave immediately!"

The father, growing increasingly agitated, protested loudly. “This is absurd! I’m her father! I am not trying to kidnap her.”

With a smirk, Astarion began walking away, your daughter securely perched on his hip. However the father began to follow the two of them. At this Astarion called out over his shoulder with a dramatic flair, “Help! Someone call the authorities! This man is stalking us!”

Your daughter, struggling to suppress a giggle, chimed in, her voice a high-pitched wail. “He’s following us! Help!”

Astarion shot her a playful but stern look. “Shush, darling. We mustn’t blow our cover!”

Despite her best efforts, your daughter couldn’t entirely suppress her laughter, and Astarion had to shush her with a gentle but firm hand on her mouth.

As they made their way towards the school gate, Flaming Fist had arrived, drawn in by the commotion. They quickly assessed the situation, and the paretns quickly took Astarion's side. He was the one afterall who would pick her up from school, he was the one who would begrudgingly sew the costumes for the school play - even when no one asked him to. He was the one your daughter called papa, not this stranger.

Astarion, still holding your daughter close, offered a graceful nod to the Flaming Fist as they dealt with the situation. With the father now in custody, Astarion made a clean getaway, carrying your daughter away from the scene. Once they were safely out of the school’s vicinity, Astarion finally allowed himself a genuine smile as he set your daughter back down on your feet. “Well, that went rather splendidly, didn’t it?”

Your daughter looked up at him with adoration, her earlier anxiety completely forgotten. “Thank you, Papa!”

Astarion’s expression softened as he looked at her, . “You’re welcome, my dear. Just remember, I’ll always be here to keep you safe.”

As they walked hand in hand away from the school, the sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, a perfect backdrop for a day’s adventure turned into a cherished memory.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of spices and simmering sauce as you and Wyll busied yourselves preparing dinner. Your son sat at the kitchen table, deeply engrossed in his coloring book, his small tongue sticking out in concentration. The evening was shaping up to be a peaceful, if ordinary, family affair.

The pleasant hum of conversation and the clinking of pots and pans were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Before anyone could move, the door swung open, and your ex, carrying an impressive stack of brightly wrapped presents, barged into the kitchen. His arrival was as abrupt as it was unwelcome, and his presence brought a palpable tension into the room. You braced yourself, a tight smile forced onto your face as you faced him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. The birthday for your son had been last month, and you had hoped that was the last of these unscheduled visits.

“Better late than never,” your ex replied with a nonchalant shrug, as if the delay of several weeks was an afterthought.

Wyll, standing by the stove, appeared taken aback but quickly regained his composure. He extended a hand, offering a polite greeting. “Hello, I’m Wyll. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your ex ignored Wyll’s outstretched hand completely, his focus solely on your son, who looked up from his coloring with a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Hey little man look what I've got for you! From your good ol' papa!"

“Thanks for the gifts,” your son said, his small voice full of genuine appreciation. “But I have a new dad now.”

Wyll’s face brightened with a mix of pride and relief and he placed a proud hand on your son's shoulder. “That’s right!... I’m his new dad now.”

Your ex’s face darkened, and he tensed visibly. “Wyll isn’t your real dad, kid. I’m your real dad.”

Your son, still focused on his coloring, paused to think. “Nope, Wyll is my dad. He picks me up from school, reads me bedtime stories, and he loves me. That’s what a dad does.”

Your ex’s face flushed with anger, and he started to call your son ungrateful. However, before things could escalate further, Wyll stepped in, his tone firm but calm.

“Let’s settle this outside,” Wyll proposed, his expression resolute.

Your ex, who was taller and bulkier than Wyll, agreed with a snort of disdain. You watched with a mix of apprehension and curiosity as Wyll winked at you before stepping outside with your ex.

You followed them to the door, your heart racing as you anticipated the confrontation. As the door closed behind them, you heard a sudden, odd sound—a poof of magic followed by the unmistakable bleating of a sheep.

Confused, you stepped outside to see Wyll standing there, looking smug and decidedly pleased, while your ex was transformed into a sheep, bleating in protest. Wyll turned to you with a grin, clearly proud of his handiwork.

“I knew I held onto that polymorph scroll for a reason,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your tension dissolving into mirth. “What am I supposed to do with a sheep now?”

Wyll’s grin widened. “Well, you could always sell him to a butcher, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous.”

Your laughter rang out freely now, the absurdity of the situation breaking through any lingering stress. The evening’s peace was restored, and as Wyll and the transformed sheep made their way inside, you felt a renewed sense of warmth and relief. The family dinner would go on as planned, now with one less complication and a story for the ages.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. You and your son had spent a pleasant day foraging among the underbrush. Your son, his spirit as free as the woodland creatures around him, had been frequently shifting in and out of his wildshape, delighting in the thrill of his magical transformations. You watched with a fond smile as he scampered around, shifting effortlessly between human and animal forms, the laughter and joy in his eyes brightening the entire forest.

As you crouched to inspect a patch of herbs, the distant sound of wheels on a forest path reached your ears. Your heart skipped a beat, a gnawing sense of unease creeping up your spine. The sound grew louder, and you recognized the unmistakable clatter of a carriage—a carriage that seemed all too familiar. Your pulse quickened as you straightened and scanned the surrounding trees.

You spotted the carriage as it emerged from a narrow forest trail, its ornate design and gilded trimmings unmistakable. The insignia on the side confirmed your worst fear: it was indeed from your ex’s noble family. The wheels crunched over the fallen leaves, and you felt a cold wave of apprehension wash over you.

With a determined, but calm demeanor, you called out to your son. "Sweetheart, you need to go back to the grove right now. Run to Halsin and stay with him, okay? Mama has someone she needs to talk to."

Your son’s face, still flushed from his wildshaping fun, looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes. "Mama, what’s wrong?"

"Just go quickly," you urged, kneeling to meet his gaze. "I’ll explain later. Go, now."

Hesitantly, he nodded and bolted down the forest path, his small figure quickly disappearing among the trees. As your son sprinted, his tiny feet pounding against the earth, the distant sound of the carriage faded into the background. The urgency in his heart spurred him on faster, each step propelled by a mix of fear and determination. His breath came in quick gasps, the forest blurring by as he made his way back to the grove.

The grove came into view, and your son’s eyes scanned the area frantically. He spotted Halsin, who was tending to a small group of the squirrels, and ran up to him, his face flushed and eyes wide with panic.

“Papa! Papa!” your son called out, his voice trembling as he urged himself forward. “Mama needs help! My evil papa is here!”

Halsin’s expression shifted from calm to concerned in an instant. He dropped what he was doing and knelt down to your son’s level, his eyes searching your son's face. “What happened? Where is your mother?”

Your son, barely able to contain his anxiety or catch his breath, explained hurriedly. “This big carriage came, and-and Mama told me to run back here and-and she said she needed to talk to someone, but-but I know it’s my evil papa who’s come. 'Cause I only see Mama that upset when- when he’s around.”

"Take a breath, little one, it will be okay. Stay here and stay safe, go play with the other children” he instructed firmly, giving your son's shoulders a squeeze. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”

“No!” your son protested, his small fists clenched. “I’m coming with you!”

And as if to make a point you son clung onto Halsin's leg, Halsin looked down at him with uncertainty, he knew he would get an earful from you later, but your son really cared. Your son’s determination had won out. Halsin let out a sigh and nodded. “Very well. Hold on tight.”

Meanwhile, you continued to argue with your ex.

"So, here you are," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you in such... rustic surroundings."

You squared your shoulders, fighting back the rising tide of frustration. "What are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath.

A haughty smile curled on your ex’s lips. "My family is pressing me for an heir. The pressure is mounting, and I’ve come to collect my son. It’s time he fulfilled his role in our family’s legacy."

The words felt like a physical blow, each syllable carrying the weight of his disregard for your family and your son's well-being. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. "You can’t just waltz in here and demand him like he’s some sort of accessory. You’ve been absent for years. You have no right to claim him now."

Your ex’s gaze hardened. "I have every right. I am his father, after all."

"You have no understanding of what it means to be a parent," you said sharply, taking a step closer. "You think you can just come and take him after all this time? You’ve done nothing but make his life more difficult."

Your ex’s face twisted into a sneer. "And you’ve done a remarkable job of corrupting him with your… unconventional lifestyle."

The words stung, but you refused to let them show. You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "If you think you can just come in and take him away, you’re mistaken. He has a family here who loves him and a home where he belongs."

Your ex’s face twisted with disdain. "You think your little forest dwelling and its inhabitants can replace what I can offer him? He needs to be in a proper environment, one befitting his heritage."

The sharpness of his words cut through you, but before you could respond, the situation took a dramatic turn. The footmen who had been idly standing by suddenly turned aggressive, encircling you with threatening movements. Just as you prepared to defend yourself, a small, but fierce bear cub you recognised skidded into the clearing. It growled and snapped at the footmen, causing them to flinch and hesitate.

"It's only a cub! Kill the little beastie!" your ex barked, his arrogance masking his growing anxiety. He turned to retreat, but was abruptly met with a much larger, imposing figure.

A massive grizzly bear roared ferociously in your ex’s face, its powerful form blocking his escape route. The footmen, their bravery crumbling in the face of the beast, fled into the forest with cries of terror, leaving your ex isolated and vulnerable.

You let out a relieved laugh as you scooped your son up in your arms. He had shifted back to his human form, his face alight with mischievous joy.

"You’re safe now," you murmured, holding him close as he giggled.

The massive bear continued to roar, rising up on its hind legs in an intimidating display. Your ex, panicked and covering his face, braced himself for an attack that never came. Instead, the bear suddenly shimmered with a golden light and, in a swirl of magic, Halsin emerged from the transformation, his human form standing tall and resolute. His stance, however, was no less aggressive. Halsin’s eyes locked onto your ex with a steely, unyielding glare.

“You’re not welcome here,” Halsin’s voice rumbled, each word measured and threatening. “You are not taking my son. I suggest you leave before something unfortunate happens.”

Your ex, shaking with a mix of fear and anger, attempted to regain his composure. “This is outrageous! I have every right to take him. I am his father!”

Halsin stepped closer, his presence radiating a potent blend of authority and menace. “You have no right to disrupt his life after being absent for so long. He is my son, and you are trying to take him from his home, from the family who loves and cares for him. You have no claim here.”

Your ex’s bravado faltered as he looked around at the animals—deer, wolves, and other woodland creatures—gathering once more, their eyes fixed on him with a watchful, protective intensity. The forest itself seemed to close in around him, adding to his sense of encroaching dread.

“You can’t do this!” he shouted, his voice rising with desperation. “This is a matter of family legacy and honor!”

Halsin’s gaze remained unyielding. “No, this is a matter of what is best for my son. You are an intruder here, and if you do not leave immediately, you will face consequences beyond your understanding.”

Your ex’s gaze darted around, his composure crumbling as he realized the gravity of his situation. The animals’ eyes glinted with an unspoken threat, and Halsin’s unrelenting stance made it clear that he would not back down. With a final, resentful glare, your ex backed away, his movements hurried and clumsy.

“This isn’t over,” he spat, before turning and stumbling back to his carriage. He climbed in hastily, his footmen still cowering in the forest, and the carriage lurched away with a trail of dust.

As the carriage disappeared from view, Halsin let out a long, slow breath, his form relaxing as the immediate threat passed. He turned to you and your son, his face softening with concern.

“Are you both alright?” he asked, his voice gentle now, though still laced with the remnants of his earlier fury.

You nodded, your heart still racing but calming with each passing moment. “We’re okay. Thank you, Halsin. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Halsin reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “No need to thank me. We are a family, and we protect each other.”

As you all made your way back through the forest, the weight of the day’s events began to lift, replaced by a profound sense of relief and solidarity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

The market was a bustling tapestry of colors and sounds, a vibrant mosaic of stalls and vendors peddling everything from fresh produce to handcrafted trinkets. You, Rolan, and your young toddler son meandered through the market, enjoying the lively atmosphere. Your son, perched on Rolan’s shoulders, was giggling and pointing at the various sights and sounds, his eyes wide with wonder.

Rolan had a firm but gentle hand on your child’s legs, ensuring he was secure while still allowing him to enjoy the view. You walked beside them, occasionally glancing at the stalls, picking out small treats or intriguing items. The air was filled with the delightful aroma of fresh bread and spices, mingling with the cheerful chatter of vendors and patrons.

As you approached a stall selling brightly colored fabrics, a familiar yet unwelcome figure emerged from the crowd. It was your ex, looking disheveled and distraught. His clothes were tattered, and he seemed to be making his way through the market with an air of desperation.

“Please!” he cried out, dropping to his knees in front of you. His voice was choked with emotion, a stark contrast to the authoritative tone he had once used. “Please, I’m begging you. I want to be a part of our child’s life. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m ready to make things right. Just give me a chance.”

You stopped in your tracks, your heart hardening at the sight of him. The memories of his absence and the pain he had caused surged up, making it difficult to maintain your composure. You took a deep breath, summoning all the resolve you could muster.

“You had your chance when our child was born,” you said firmly. “You walked away, leaving us behind. You don’t get to waltz back into our lives now just because it suits you.”

Rolan, standing close by with your son, nodded in agreement. His face was set in a serious expression, his eyes reflecting the protective nature he had come to embody.

“You had no part in his life before,” Rolan said, his voice calm but unwavering. “And you’ve shown no effort to make amends until now. It’s not fair to our family to let you back in on a whim.”

Your ex’s face twisted with a mix of desperation and anger. “I’ve changed,” he pleaded, his voice rising with frustration. “You can’t just shut me out like this. I’m his father!”

Without warning, he lunged towards you, a sudden movement fueled by desperation. The instinct to protect surged within Rolan. His eyes narrowed, and with a decisive flick of his wrist, he cast a thunderblast. The crackling burst of energy erupted with a deafening roar, sending your ex stumbling backward.

Your ex’s eyes widened in shock and fear as the spell hurled him through the air. He landed with a splash in the nearby fountain, the water erupting around him in a frothy surge. The sight of him floundering in the fountain, soaked and sputtering, was both dramatic and almost comical.

Amid the chaos, your toddler, who had been watching the scene unfold from Rolan’s shoulders, burst into fits of uncontrollable giggles. His laughter was a bright, musical sound that cut through the tense atmosphere, his tiny hands clapping with glee at the sight of the man he had only heard about but never seen in such a state.

You couldn’t help but smile at your son’s reaction, the tension of the moment dissolving into a shared moment of levity. Rolan, still standing tall and composed, watched as your ex scrambled out of the fountain, his dignity as drenched as his clothes. The crowd that had gathered looked on with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, whispering among themselves.

With a final glance at your ex, who was now pulling himself out of the fountain with an air of defeat, you turned to leave.

You and Rolan guided your son away from the market, his laughter still echoing in the cool evening air. The market’s lively bustle continued around you, but you walked with a renewed sense of security and unity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The weight of the day’s stress seemed to settle heavily on your shoulders as you sat in the study of the grand estate, trying to focus on the papers spread before you. Your ex had reappeared in your life with a demand that rattled you to your core: he wanted to see your daughter more often, and, worse, he was insistent on having a greater role in her life. The mere thought of him attempting to insert himself into her world again filled you with a sense of dread and frustration.

Raphael, who had been surprisingly supportive of your emotional turmoil, took it upon himself to reassure you. Despite his usual aloofness, he had shown an unexpected level of concern. Yet, as you talked through your frustrations with him, you noticed a shift in his demeanor—a subtle, almost imperceptible pang of hurt hidden behind his devilish exterior. The notion of your daughter potentially calling another man "papa" seemed to strike a chord with him, even if he refused to vocalize it.

Of course he had to do something about it, somebody had to save your wretched little souls and why shouldn't it be the devil that loved you both?

One night as you held your daughter close to your chest, worst case scenarios tearing through your mind like a nightmare on repeat, Raphael took a seat necxt to you and placed a hand on your thigh.

“It's been dealt with, dearest,” Raphael said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “You needn’t worry about him any longer. He’s been… persuaded to leave you and your daughter alone.”

His words were confident, but you sensed an undercurrent of something more complex, though Raphael’s expression remained inscrutable. You chose not to press further, trusting that he had the situation in hand. Days passed, and true to Raphael’s word, your ex disappeared from the scene, making no further attempts to contact you or interfere in your life.

You couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and unease. The problem had been resolved with unsettling speed, leaving you feeling as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. One evening, as you and Raphael relaxed together, you finally broached the subject of your ex’s sudden disappearance.

“What exactly did you do to get him to leave us alone, my love?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, though a thread of curiosity laced your voice.

Raphael’s smirk was back in place, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. I made a deal with him.”

His casual response did little to quell your lingering curiosity. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

Raphael’s expression remained carefully neutral, his voice maintaining its smooth, unaffected tone. “Just a little something to ensure his cooperation. You know me, darling. I always have my methods.”

You couldn’t pry further, and Raphael’s words left you with more questions than answers. You did notice, however, that your ex was no longer a problem—an outcome that seemed almost too convenient.

Unbeknownst to you, the deal Raphael had struck was far from ordinary. Raphael had promised your ex immortality—a promise that seemed generous at first glance. In reality, Raphael’s “gift” trapped your ex’s soul in a form of eternal confinement, bound within the House of Hope—a luxurious prison within the estate.

In the House of Hope, your ex found himself a mere spectator, condemned to watch as Raphael embraced the role of father to your daughter. He was forced to endure the sight of Raphael’s effortless integration into your family, witnessing the tenderness and affection Raphael showed to your daughter, which he could never again claim for himself. The once-dreaded presence had become a ghostly observer, unable to interfere but ever-present in the periphery of your life.

Raphael’s decision, though cloaked in his usual bravado, was driven by a complex mix of feelings. The thought of another man being a father figure to your daughter stirred a pain he struggled to admit even to himself. Yet, by ensuring your ex’s permanent removal from your lives, Raphael had also managed to secure his own place in your family, albeit in a way you would never fully comprehend.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Oof this was a big one, I have been binge watching dexter which definitely inspired this. I hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[mingis-orangejuice]

Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 4: Sylus

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) Here's Sylus' part its the longest part, but also my favourite. hope you like it. also, I probably mixed up Luke and Kieran multiple times so just ignore it lol.

Genres/Warnings: lots of Luke and Kieran shenanigans, a bit of angst, fluff, kinda slow burn

Word count: 1936

Previous Parts 1 2 3

You were spending the day with Luke and Kieran, it was supposed to be with sylus but something came up. He didn’t want you to waste your day off so he arranged for them to escort you around Linkon and basically do whatever you want for the whole day. While you were happy to have a chill day with your bodyguards/friends Luke and Keiran you were really looking forward to spending a whole day with Sylus. But recently lots of things have come up and he kept rescheduling all your dates. Was he trying to tell you something, is this his way of saying he’s not actually interested in you romantically but he’s too chicken to tell you? No, he wouldn’t do that, Sylus is one of the most direct people you know, if he didn’t like you, he’d just say so. So then why does it feel like he’s just stringing you along, when is he going to make you two official?

“MC?...MC?...” Luke’s voice snapped you out of your train of thought. 

“What? sorry I was a little spaced out.” you turn to the twins standing above you while you sit at one of the tables of the Linkon Mall foodcourt.

“I said where do you want to go for lunch? There's so many choices” Luke gestured to the row of different restaurants among the foodcourt.

“We could always have the boss’s favourite, ever since you let him try your instant ramen that's all he asks the chefs to make for him when you’re away,” Kieran suggested as both boys took a seat next to you on the other side of the table. “There's a ramen place right over there”

“Umm… I’m not sure… I’m not really hungry right now” You looked vacantly across the mall foodcourt starting to space out again

“The boss said there's no limit to how much we can spend today so we don’t have to eat here. Or if you can’t decide on what to eat we can buy a bit of everything and you can taste them all” Kieran suggests while taking out Sylus’ black credit card from his pocket.

“You have to eat something, the boss doesn’t want you to skip meals he told us to make sure you eat something or else” Luke warned in a fake threatening voice.

“Well, I guess if I have to in order to save you two from Sylus’ wrath, then I want something homemade, not this cheap generic stuff, so let’s go back to the base and see what we can cook up, what do you say?” 

“Anything for the Boss’s girlfriend,” Kieran said with a smile, he stood up and put out his arm for him to escort you to the car.

“Huh… what did you say?” You stopped reaching for Kieran’s arm at the word girlfriend.

“Anything for the boss’s …girlfriend…. I’m confused, are you not his girlfriend” Kieran looked embarrassed like he might have misread the situation.

“Well yeah…but .. he’s never said it before…so I didn’t think he thought of me as his girlfriend.” you stood awkwardly looking at the floor and playing with your hands.

“Of course he thinks of you that way he gets all smiley when he or anyone else mentions you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the boss smile so much before you came along” Luke grabbed your bags as you guys started to head to the car. “The boss just has a hard time expressing his emotions. ”  he mentioned brightly

“Yeah for the first year of us working for him he pretended not to remember our names cuz he didn’t want to seem soft, even tho he could already tell us apart after the first day even with our masks on.” Kieran said as he looked up to the sky like he was reminiscing on the Good-old-days 

“But he always calls you his girlfriend around us” 

“Right, he even calls you his girlfriend in the task memos he sends us” Luke shows you his phone with all the tasks set out by sylus. He clicks play and a voice recording of Sylus starts. 

“1. As I’ll be away for the day take my girlfriend to the mall and get her anything she wants, to keep her happy

2. Make sure she eats something for lunch, she tends to skip meals and gets really tired halfway through the day because of it. If she doesn’t eat anything, a punishment will be waiting for you upon your return.

3. Carry everything for her no matter how much she buys, rent a truck if you have to, I don’t want her straining herself before tonight’s special event…”

“Wait” you click pause on Luke’s phone. “what event, he never told me about that.” 

“Uhh…oops” Luke quickly puts away his phone “You weren’t supposed to hear that. Just pretend it didn’t happen”

Kieran slaps Luke’s arm “You idiot, that was supposed to be a surprise, the boss is gonna kill us”

“Just what is he planning?” you interrogate the twins. Both of them looked at each other as they opened the car door and helped you in.

“our lips are sealed.” they both said in unison while placing their fingers in an X over their lips

You guys were now in the car on the way back to the base. You’ve fallen silent thinking about this special event. just what kind of event was this? It couldn't be something bad, right? Was he breaking up with you? Is that why he let you use his card with no limit, to give you one final good day then he’d cut you off??? You couldn’t take the suspense anymore, you had to know. You took your phone out of your purse and called Sylus. Your phone was connected to the car’s speakers and Kieran saw that you were calling him and got a little nervous. Sylus picked up almost immediately. 

“Yes, Sweetie? What's wrong, are Luke and Kieran not treating You well, do you need me to get rid of them for you? I’ve been looking for some new Henchmen anyway” He said with a chuckle

“Hey, we’re right here you know?” Kieran said in a hurt voice

“I know, that's why I said it” “Sylus joked

“And you wouldn’t get rid of us, right boss?” Luke asked, “We’re your favourite henchmen, right?”

Sylus completely ignores Luke's question “...So why did you call sweetie? Remember when I said I was very busy today and that we’d see each other later tonight?”

You didn’t want to beat around the bush so you got straight to the point.“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to ask about, what exactly is happening tonight? What's the Special event and why didn’t you tell me earlier?” 

There was silence on the other end and then an annoyed groan. “Did you two tell her?” Sylus sounded like he was about to jump through the phone and punch both of them in the face.

“No boss we promise all she knows is that there’s an event tonight she doesn’t know anything else,” Kieran said frantically “Please don’t get rid of us”

Ignoring them again he sighed. “Where are you right now babe?”

“We were on our way to the base for lunch.” You informed him

“at least those two can do something right” he sighs. “Ok then I’ll be waiting for you at the base and I’ll explain everything.” *Click* he hangs up

Now you were even more curious, what was sylus planning?

“Do you think the boss is really gonna get rid of us?” Luke asked you in a scared voice.

“I doubt it, you guys mess up all the time and he hasn’t gotten rid of you yet, what's one more mess up” you say in a joking tone “Plus if he’s as nice as you say he is, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Later back at the base you all walk into the living room to see Sylus sitting on the couch reading a book. “Oh, you’re back.” Sylus puts down his book and pats the space next to him for you to join him on the couch. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.” as you sit he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. He then looked up to where the twins were standing. “You two, I’ll deal with you later. Leave us be for now.”

“Yes boss.” they both say and hurriedly walk out of the room.

On the way to the base after the phone call you just couldn’t stop thinking about what this event could be and mixed with your thoughts from earlier you were only coming up with every bad result it could be. All those thoughts and emotions were boiling inside and before Sylus could say anything they overflowed “What are we?” 

“Huh?” Sylus looked confused “Sweetie, what do you mean?”

“Why do you keep avoiding me and why won't you call me your girlfriend? Apparently, you’ll say it in front of everyone else but me.” You moved back so you were out of his grip 

“Those two, I’ll fire them for sure this time,” He says under his breath.

“And what is this event? Why didn’t you tell me about it, is it about me? Did I do something wrong?” Your voice slightly cracked on the last word and your eyes started to get misty.

“Woah, slow down, if I knew it would make you feel like this I would have explained sooner.” He pulls you close again, holds your face in his palms and wipes your tears with his thumbs  “First, We are Sylus and MC the strongest and most feared couple in the N109 Zone.” He chuckled. “Second, I’m sorry that I made you feel this way. I knew you were curious but I didn’t know the curiosity would get to you this much. I wasn’t avoiding you, I’ve been setting up the special event that I’ll tell you more about in due time. But, as for your third question…” Sylus pulls your head in closer and places a soft kiss on your lips that nearly takes your breath away. He pulls away and looks at you with a smirk “You’ve also never called me your boyfriend so I guess we’re even” 

“Yeah well…I didn’t want to assume… I” You start to stutter both from the kiss and his accusation.

He stops you and places another kiss on your lips “I guess we both felt that way” 

“So then what about the event?” you’re now sitting closer to him his hands on your waist to keep you close.

“Oh yeah, the event… I was gonna let you watch while I fire Luke and Kieran. I set up events every time I want to fire one of my men, why do you think I had you keep them out of the house the whole day?” He joked.

You softly slapped his chest and rolled your eyes “ I know you’re joking those two might be idiots but you’d never fire them. Come on seriously what is it really?”

“Ok, I'll tell you, if you can tell me something first, what day is it today? He asks, hoping you’ll know the answer.

“Uh, Sunday?” you say confused as to why this day of the week had any significance.

“You can’t even remember yet you want me to call you my girlfriend,” Sylus said pretending to be offended “It’s the anniversary of when a little kitten first wandered into the N109 Zone and…” he pulls you into a hug “ into my life”

[pedge-page]

What about Joel having to spend a night away for work last minute and reader sulking about it when he gets home and blanking him? 🤣 Cue grovelling from Joel lol

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Late From Work

Notes: I must be too yeehaw American because I had to look up what "blanking" someone meant 😂. Anyway, I had so much fun writing this! Decided to make him late rather than spending a whole night away because lets be real, she'd be serving divorce papers for that.

Warnings: brief oral (f receiving) scene; jealous!Reader, Stubborn reader is BACK

18+ ONLY:

- - - -

He knows he fucked up too. Big time. 

When he said he’d be home at the latest by 7:00pm and it’s now 7:02 and he’s just getting in the truck leaving the site. And when his call goes to voicemail for the 3rd time, and then the fourth time tells him that the number is no longer valid (he’s been blocked), he knows he’s in Big-Fucking-Trouble.

Doesn’t want to call Tommy up for help to coax partially because he wants to fix this own his own, and partially to save Tommy from your wrath you most certainly will take out on him rather than your absent husband.

He grabbed a bouquet of flowers at the grocery store (he’s already in the doghouse so what’s another 5 minutes added to his sentence) and is currently speeding home, a solid 15mph over the limit. Tonight isn’t even anything special: you had both just come back from a lovely weekend trip on the coast and were just settling back in to your house. But when Joel doesn’t deliver on his word, isn’t home for pizza and Pepsi, and sitting behind you while rubbings your back and belly for a quiet movie night…

Well, he’s never been late since the start of your pregnancy. Doesn’t want to think what hellfire you’re going to spit at him the moment he walks in that door.

So here he is about to walk in that door. He takes a big breath, not feeling this anxious since the he proposed to you, and steps in.

He immediately makes contact with you: standing at the end of the hall, illuminated by the kitchen light with your extra extra large T shirt stretched over your belly and dangling loosely around your thighs, hands by your side, barefoot, despite how often he nags at you to wear socks around the house so your feet don’t get cold. He’s thankful to see you hadn’t packed a suitcase, trying to leave the house with a “my husband doesn’t love me” stunt again. 

You clearly had just been walking past when you heard the door, not even fully turning to him but just having your head directed to the entrance the second he walked in. You briefly note the flowers in his hands before your eyes quickly go back to his. He feints an apologetic smile, heart beating so hard. You’re soooo quiet. The calm before the storm.

He gulps hard. 

Instead, you turn forward once more and continue walking towards the living room without a word.

You have a hand on your back as you gently collapse onto the couch. 

“Baby,” he says meekly, voice all tiny yet determined.

You pull your legs up over a pillow and fold open your book.

He comes to kneel beside you, immediately kissing your shoulder.

You do nothing. 

“Baby,” he says more clearly. “I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t beat the time.”

You flip a page, tilting your head to read the fascinating text on the page rather than listen to your poor husband on his knees for you.

His fights with the sleeve of your shirt. Would you at least look at him? He’s holding the flowers still in his hand, big puppy dog eyes trying their best to plea with you, and with his irresistible pouty lips that get him just about anything he wanted from you. But you only lend him a sigh, flipping yet another page.

So it’s gonna be like that.

"Please, angel. I was tryin' so hard to leave on time like I said. They got the concrete all mixed up and it needed to be set today, was tryin' to get out of there, just couldn't get it moving fast enough, I'm sorry baby I really sped over here fast I can to see ya, couldn't wait a second longer—"

“Oh!” You gasp suddenly.

He’s started, but nonetheless quick to be by you.

You check the clock on the wall and laugh. Time had gotten away from you too. You slam your book and hoist yourself up, on the other end of the couch to avoid his anxious hands fluttering to your aid. You brush past him and start your climb up the stairs.

Joel is right behind you, a bit of hope stirring in him. Its not until you’re walking through your bedroom door—and slamming it right in his face that he gets the message loud and clear.

Perhaps he earned a night on the couch to pray your forgiveness. After finding a suitable vase for the roses, he puffs up his pillow, his back killing him (though he’d never say it aloud while you’re waddling around with a whole 'nother being in your belly for the last few months) and crashes down on the sofa.

He just makes out the light go off under the door in the bedroom before he too is closing his eyes.

Tomorrow brings a new day, and he’s gonna spend every second satisfying his wife. He’s deserves his stay on the couch tonight.

-

He did NOT deserve this bullshit.

It’s been 3 fucking days since he came home late.

3 days of waking up early, trying to kiss his beautiful wife and baby momma with sweet affirmations and praises, which you dodge and continue about your stubborn ignoring-test. He spent all morning cooking every single food you’d craved since your pregnancy started—waffles, French toast, cinnamon pancakes, toast with special mixed fruit jam you can only get at a grocery store an hour away, scrambled, over easy, poached, hard boiled eggs. All arranged so beautifully on the table, even going as far to put the napkins on the left, after you screeched at him a few months ago for haphazardly having them on either the right or left, and never with the fork consistently on top.

He thought he’d learned his lesson, thought he made more than enough up to you, but no. You breeze right by, making a cup of tea, and go back upstairs to your closed door.

Your sadistic mind had given him false hope when you hadn’t locked the door on him on night number two. He slept in his bed, but you had made a clear parry by slotting between the two of you the infernal pregnancy pillow that Joel had kept in storage since you “Much preferred your husband’s plushy belly and soothing rubs.” 

Fat chance tonight.

Every minute he wasn’t telling you how beautiful you are, how amazing you are, how lucky he is, he spends groveling with please forgive me, I’m so sorry, I’m such a worm.

None of it sways you any differently. 

By day 4, he’s given up the sweet talk and grand gestures. Goes for a “think like her” kind of mental approach. 

He tries to bribe you—either making you a Pepsi float, or even bringing home the famous Hot Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with EXTRA Rainbow sprinkles. But even as he temptingly waves in front of your little wiggly nose, you don’t acknowledge him.

He makes a big show to sigh heavily in defeat, leaving it on the kitchen table alone and trotting helplessly upstairs for a shower.

Less than 7 minutes later he’s come back down to see if you’d given in yet, maybe even telling him what a fantastic husband he is while shoveling your face with ice cream and admitting you were being dramatic. 

Instead, you’re still sitting on the couch, exactly as he left you. Of course, the milkshake cup is completely empty, sucked clean of its gooeyness, and there’s a little splotch of chocolate sauce lingering on your chin you had failed to wipe clean. 

A start, he thinks.

Still though, you don’t pay him any mind, scrolling on your phone with tight lips.  

He wonders how long you could go on with this game.  

It’s honestly a fucking terrible miracle—not even since before you were pregnant had you gone this long shutting the fuck up. But now its horrifyingly eerie, like a curse has fallen upon him and he’s doing everything he can to break it, to bring back your nagging and bitching and whining and crying because it would be so much more relaxing than this new kind of psychotic hell you’ve subjected him to.

He starts getting a little more involved: playing with your body, touching you softly with gentle strokes along your thighs and belly. You hadn’t flinched away, or tried moving to another spot on the couch. 

Which confirmed one thing to him: your horniness and lack of physical attention from your husband due to your stubborn mind was losing your mental battle to hold out against him.

So Joel doesn’t say anything either as he moves his lips over your breasts, down your swollen belly and kissing his babygirl in your bump. He mumbles, “Mommy is awfully mad at Daddy, think I can cheer her up?” 

The baby kicks as if in agreement. His gaze glances up briefly to see if you’re listening.

Your eyes catch and yours quickly dart away, leaning back and pretending to yawn. He snickers before continuing his hot trail of open mouthed kisses until your legs “shift” and “accidentally” part on their own.

He makes sweet, insatiable yet slow love to your pussy, licking a fat strip from your little clenched hole to that hot delicious center that is beyond wet for him—yet another example of how much your body clearly can’t ignore him forever.

But, ever as he brings you to a long needed orgasm, you bite your tongue, absolutely refusing to give him even the slightest sound of satisfaction despite clenching tightly around his thick digits pumping into you. Only letting out a strangled breath through your nose while you stare up to the ceiling, fingers folded across your tummy as if bored. 

He wipes away the slick from his mustache. Hell, even he can admit you deserve an applaud for making it through that without uttering a peep to his skills.

Hurts like hell on the inside though that you’re just that mad still.

He had hoped that being forced to drive with him due to your size preventing you from sitting behind the wheel would corner you into talking him, but even then, as he opens the passenger door for you, you climb aboard and slam the door shut without his assistance.

Now the two of you are on your way to yours and Maria’s weekend brunch. Tommy was also coming to drop his girlfriend off, so it would be a good time to catch him up on this unqiuely-pregnant-you madness.

You snatch your purse and hop out of the car, mood going a full 180 and instantly greeting Maria with a warm hug and perky voice. The two of you sit down at a little table way aways from your idiot husband and brother in law.

Tommy nods him over to the bar and Joel grumbles over.

“She ignoring you?” His little brother asks while shelling peanuts.

“Is it that obvious?” Joel shakes his head. He can’t even leave off with Tommy because he knows you won’t answer his texts asking what time you’re done for pickup. So he’s stuck here to wait for you the entire time.

“You try going down on—“

“Yes! Yes I fucking tried.”

“She didn’t like it?”

“Oh no, she came hard. Wouldn’t even whimper for me when she was clenching her little cunt around my fingers—” he says with an aggressive whisper, his pointer and middle fingers shooting up in the air with wild eyes demonstrating the scene, “—and her little numb twitchin’ on my tongue. Didn’t even fucking moan. She’s a stubborn girl but I don’t deserve that.”

Tommy shakes his head with a chuckle. “Damn. That’s just determination right there. Gotta give it to her.”

Tommy excuses himself with a slap to the shoulder, muttering “gotta take a leak” and disappears to the bathroom.

Joel wouldn’t mind having a drink right now, but know’s he’s gotta stay sober to drive you home. A miserable, silent filled drive once again. He glanced at his watch, following each tick of the hand.

“Hi there.”

Joel almost didn’t address the voice of the woman who had gentle snuck up behind him, moving to take Tommy’s seat. She’s probably a little younger than you, a nice kind smile, inviting and warm towards a stranger. 

Joel politely smiles back with a little nod. 

She offers a sweet “thanks”, a blush creeping on her cheeks before she begins to speak: “Listen, I don’t mean to prude… but I saw you come in and ...I’m usually not so brash—but I was wondering…”

-

Meanwhile, your baby is beat boxing extra hard today in your stomach. You can’t even focus on eating your salad and keeping up with Maria’s chatter about Tommy’s nose hairs all over the vanity. 

Your baby is smart. She knows something is up. You narrow your eyes and look around, finding Joel and company at the bar— 

Except the company he is keeping is NOT Tommy but instead, a gorgeous woman tossing her hair and flashing her pearly white teeth off at your husband, who’s giving her his full attention. She’s giggling with him, taking animatedly with her hands, lingering heavy eye contact and touching his watch as if looking for an excuse to get closer.

You forget about the massive planet sized lump in your belly as you instantly stand up, nearly tipping the table and all its dishes and cutlery over. 

Maria is calling your name but you don’t have the mind to answer, striding over like a bull towards the bar.

-

“Hiiiiiiii!”

Joel and the woman both jump at the harsh shrill of an annoying, high pitched, slightly perturbed but faking a smile, voice screeching behind them—the most beautiful voice Joel’s ever heard…and had missed so dearly this week.  

The woman looks over to you, seemingly startled that you had interrupted the conversation so brazenly.

“Oh, um, hi,” she offers, blinking off your pregnant belly and abrupt appearance.

“This is Joel,” you boast, pointing the shlump of a man in front of her.

“Ah-Hello—“ she smiles again to him.

You add quickly. “He’s my husband.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m his wife.”

“Ah—I—“

“Annnnnnnnd this is our baby!” You boast, proudly rubbing over that enormous swell of your tumtum so she can see in case it wasn’t the biggest fucking thing in this room. “And… you are?” You ask sweetly.

“Um…” she takes one last glance at Joel, his apologetic shrug saying everything then at you, your hard gaze burning holes into her head. “…leaving,” she says towards you.

“Great answer. I like you :) Bye Bye now!” You wave enthusiastically with a chipper voice and a deadly smile. She nods fretfully and pops off the stool, walking away like a threatened animal.

He just chuckles, shaking his head and looking down at his hands with a grin. “Ya know, she just came over to ask where I got my watch.”

“And did you tell her your WIFE bought it?” You ask, poking your finger at his chest.

He has to hide his crooked smile. It’s the first time you’ve directly spoken to him since Monday. “Yeah, I did. She asked where ya got it, because she was looking for one just like it—for her husband.”

Your finger fidgets slightly, expression drawing a blank at the revelation turning over in your mind.

“……………………………………………....................................oh.”

He rotates his stool to face you. You’re steeping in your thoughts, the confidence faltering just slightly in your mind at the realization of how grossly you had interpreted the situation between that innocent woman and your hubby. He didn’t even care, though. All he could think about was how his heart feels 10x lighter seeing you back in your usual, bold, daring, audacious self. All of your attention on him once again.

“I’ll admit, still felt good havin’ ya come to my rescue.”

You scoff, near offended by his words. “Well duh, you’re mine.”

“That right? Even these last few days?”

Yet another bomb goes off in your head at the second realization—that you had forfeited your punishment to ignore him to the ends of the earth.

 You cross your arms defensively anyway. “Well... I…decided.”

“Mmm?”

“That…I needed a back rub. But you clearly you can’t pick up on that on your own so—now I have to verbally tell you.”

“Ah huh. Sure it wasn’t cuz you were jealous? Couldn’t stand me being interested in another woman since my own made it clear she didn’t want me no more? Because my wife decided she couldn’t be patient and wait the extra 13 minutes I was running late before punishin’ me all goddamn week?”

Oh wait—was he really only late by 13 minutes? You could have sworn it was an hour plus!

“That wasn’t 13 minutes! Do you know how to tell time? It was over an hour—“

“Did you set your clock back like I told you to the night before when we got back from the coast, into our own time zone?”

😳

- - - -

Also this is how I see reader getting ate out but trying to be nonchalaunt about it:

conveniently also my favorite shot of Pedro during a photoshoot

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[jgracie]

౨ৎ luke castellan x fem!reader | mentions of having kids

"baby, in the nicest way possible, i don't think your cousin's one year old child is going to care if you got her the pink dress with the bunny on it instead of the purple one." luke said, his arms getting tired from holding the two hangers up for you to compare

your brows furrowed at his comment - your cousin had done so much for you over the years, with you being a demigod and all, and you loved her daughter to bits, so it was only natural you wanted to get the perfect gift for her first birthday party next week

crossing your arms over your chest and narrowing your eyes at luke, you said, "you don't know that! maybe she doesn't even like bunnies or pink or purple and she'll hate the whole gift! how would you feel if a baby opened a gift you got it and it started bawling its eyes out, huh, lukey?"

luke could feel his face turning red at the nickname you sparingly used and you couldn't help but smile, knowing you'd unintentionally won yourself a little more time

and so you stood for another minute or two, critically analysing the almost identical dresses while luke critically analysed your face - dazzling eyes, and a pair of pouted lips he so wanted to make out with. unfortunately, making out wasn't very appropriate behaviour for the baby clothes section of a store (or any section, really)

"i still can't decide," you said, breaking the silence and snapping luke out of his lovestruck daze, which you luckily didn't notice. taking the two dresses from your boyfriend, you held them up for him to see and said, "if this was our kid, which one would you get her?"

luke's jaw dropped open. he hadn't been expecting that question at ten in the morning, or ever. sure, he wanted kids with you, but he was never sure if you wanted the same, his doubts about being a good dad clouding his judgement

just to confirm his suspicions, with a bright smile on his face, luke asked, "you wanna have kids with me?"

now it was your turn to get shy. you hadn't really thought your choice of scenario through, but you did want to have kids with luke. he was everything a girl could ever ask for and more in both a friendship and a relationship, so it was no wonder you wanted to take that step eventually

still, you couldn't let him get too cocky, "you know i didn't mean it like that, babe, it's just a hypothetical question!" unfortunately for you, luke caught the slight stammer in your voice

"there's a reason you thought of that though! c'mon, i know you do! they'd be really cute, our kids. imagine, a little girl with your eyes and my luscious locks? easily the prettiest at her kindergarten. d'you see the vision?"

you allowed yourself to slip into dreamland for a second. a big beautiful house, maybe on the coast, or with the most gorgeous garden, who knows? luke, your husband luke, carrying a girl who was the perfect mix of the two of you on his hip. he'd tell her all sorts of stories from your lives as demigods and she'd laugh and say something along the lines of, "silly daddy, there's no such thing as an empousa!" because your kids would never be exposed to the same mercilessness and wrath you were, that's for sure

"hello, earth to y/n?" luke said, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. all of a sudden, you were at the clothes store again

trying to calm your now rapidly beating heart, you said, "sorry, did you say something?"

"yeah, i said we're getting the pink one 'cause i'd never let my baby girl walk around looking like an eggplant."

[redheadspark]

Here (Part One)

Summary - Azriel's worst nightmare has come true: his mate is nearly killed.

Warnings - Mostly Angst in this one

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series.

I wanted to write a two-part, or possibly a three-part of this idea I had in my head. I promise it won't be all angst, more like a hurt/comfort if you will! Please let me know in the comments if you wish to be tagged in the second and possibly third part of this piece :).

Part Two can be found Here

Part Three can be found Here

I hope you enjoy it.

Rage. All Azriel could think was rage. 

He pushed his way into the front doors of the River House, his mind reeling and his thoughts were focused on one being. Everything on his body was stiff, from the top of his neck down his backside to his feet that were pushing him to the main sitting room to the right.  Voices were heard, worried and angered voices that were mixed and the tension felt along the Shadowsinger. He was moving so fast that his own shadows were trying to catch up to him, warning him and coaxing him to be calm. But he was not calm. 

You were nearly killed.  His mate and wife were almost killed. He was seeing red.

He abruptly threw open the doors, seeing all who were present stop in their conversation and look at him as his wide eyes were filled with anger. Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Cassian were all there in a semi-circle, horror was on their faces alongwith anger and festering wrath and outrage. But Azriel was not thinking about them, he was thinking about you and what happened.

What he felt in the bond.

"Where is she?" He asked in a low tone, not caring that the tone was a bite and his eyes were glaring at the Inner Circle. Each of them, directly in the eye, knowing fully well they wouldn't lie to them since it was Rhsyand who contacted him.Feyre, looking rather remorseful and on the verge of tears seeing Azriel like this, walks over to him with hesitance. His eyes locked with hers.

"Azriel.." She started, but Azriel's eyes snapped to her in such a way that it made Freyre freeze.

"Feyre," he said her name with such a bite that it seemed not himself, but he was not himself. Feyre's eyes widened in shock, the sound of his voice saying her name seemed lethal in a sense, he'd never spoken to her like that before. If it was any other circumstances, Azriel would have been chewed out by Rhsyand for the way he spoke to his High Lady. But Rhysand stayed quiet, inwardly knowing not to step on the Spymaster's toes at the moment. 

Feyre glided over to Azriel and took his fist in her hands, coaxing him to at least open his hand up to allow her to lace her fingers in his. Her bright eyes searched his, determination on her face, "Come with me, I'll take you to her."

Azriel followed willingly, knowing Feyre would guide him now as she led him out of the sitting room and up the stairs. All Azriel could think about was you, the pain he felt deep in the bond, and how that alone almost made him fall to his knees. He heard your scream, the piercing scream that sounded like your own soul was being sucked away from you. Azriel knew you could handle pain, he knew you weren't a pushover. You were tough as nails, one of the toughest Illryians Azriel has ever known. Not just tough in strength, but tough in spirit and in your soul. 

To feel that pain and hear it, Azriel had never been this scared in his long life.

Feyre ushered Azriel to one of the guest rooms, pushing the door open. Azriel froze at the sight in front of him, his heart plummeting in his chest and his blood going cold. There you were, passed out cold on your side in the middle of the massive bed that was right in the middle of the room.  You were stripped down to your undergarments, a thin sheen of sweat along your skin as you were clutching a massive body pillow in your arms and legs and your wings were sprawled out behind you. A massive red slash into your left wing, right along the bone from top to bottom, was seen and so visible to Azriel that he was fuming. Madja was perched on the bed, ointment was pressed into your wing and herbs were in vials next to her on the nightstand. 

Azriel saw your unconscious body, the pale skin tone that was clear evidence of blood loss, and even the shine in your hair was gone, it was like he was seeing a ghost. You seemed more like a shell, a hollowed shell of the being that Azriel knew and loved. After Feyre released Azriel's hand, Azriel walked over to kneel next to you to be nose-to-nose with you. He searched your face, the coolness in your cheeks, and the dark circles under your eyes.  Even the way you breathed while sleeping sounded uneasy, laboring really as Azriel tried to hold back his own tears.

His own worst nightmare came true right in front of his eyes: his mate being harmed and Azriel having no way of stopping or preventing it. He feared this for as long as you two were together, that something could happen to you because of who he was and what role he played for Night Court. But of course, you told him that nothing would happen to you, that he was too worried or paranoid. 

It was now a sick reality.

Azriel felt his heart breaking as he tentatively reached out and touched your bare arm that was on top of the body pillow, feeling how cold you were and the sweat still evident. You whimpered, still asleep and sounding like you were in insane pain as Azriel felt tears in his eyes. Tears for seeing his mate in such pain, tears for the rage he was trying to bury deep down.

Tears for the regret of not killing the very fae he had a hunch did this to his mate.

"She'll survive," Azriel's head snapped up at Madja, who was ringing out a blood-stained washcloth into a basin. Her face was solemn, but still calm as she took some more ointment along her fingers and reached over to place a generous coat of it along the open wound on your wings. You whimpered in pain, your face contorted as Azriel immediately rubbed your arms and nosed your hair lovingly. 

I'm here, baby. I'm right here, I got you with me. Stay with me, baby. Please, stay with me. I need you, I need you here with me.

Azriel was saying so many things through the bond, hoping and praying to The Cauldron that you could hear his voice as he kept talking to you inwardly. He wanted you to open your eyes and show you the brilliant blue orbs that he loved, he wanted to hear your laughter and voice to know that you were still breathing. 

You were there, but you seemed so far away.

"What happened?" Azriel finally asked, his voice raw from the tears as his fingers were still massaging your arms soothingly. His eyes went to Madja, who was giving him a serious look.  The stare-down was enough to have Feyre feel as though she was interrupting something, but Madja then jerked her head to the left. Azriel's eyes followed in that direction, seeing what she was he was directing him to stare at. His eyes went wide.

A singular Ash Arrow.

"The arrow sliced along her bone," Madja explained, getting up from the bed and walking over to the bowl where the arrow was sticking out. Water was inside stained red in blood and something darker, almost black. Azriel watched in silent anger as Madja took a spare cloth in her fingers to lift the arrow without her fingers touching the actual arrow itself. It was long, stained in your blood, and looked precise in design.

"It was an inch away from being fatal," Madja explained as she showed the arrow to Azriel, "Your mate was lucky to have been fast enough to not have it be fatal to her. But the poison in the arrow is doubled compared to other ash arrows I've dealt with in the past."

Azriel felt his shadows flicker against his sides in anger from what he heard as he spoke low, "Doubled?"

"Whoever shot this arrow, had all the intentions in killing your mate, and making it painful," Madja explained, Azriel's eyes darting to her as well as Feyre's. Though she was still at the doorway into the guest room, she could see all that Azriel was reacting to. She felt it in the air and sensed it, she too also hated seeing you nearly on death's door and so close to leaving this world.  Azriel was happy with you, immensely happy, and to think of you leaving him and your son in this world without you there would break her heart.

"I spoke to your High Lord and High Lady about her condition and what needs to be done for her to recover back to full health," Madja explained thoroughly as she dropped the arrow back into the bowl with a splash, making her way back to her work station, "Your mate needs to stay here to fully heal. Her wings are tender and delicate now, any movement will make the poison spread,"

"It's still in her?" Azriel asked hoarsely, almost in pain himself. Feyre moved then, no longer being able to stay in her spot away from her friend as he was grieving for his wife. Standing behind him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, his shadows licking her fingers and palm as a silent way to thank her. Somehow, Feyre felt it too, watching Madja as she was packing some of her things.

"The poison is minimal and tolerable for now, I took most of it out. It's up to your mate and her willpower for the poison to evaporate within the next day or two, in fact, it's critical. Which is why she needs to stay here and let the medicine and her Illryian strength do the work to get herself back on her feet," Madja informed Azriel and Feyre, clutching her bag as she stood by the bed. 

"She'll be safe here, Az," Feyre softly said to Azriel behind him, Azriel heard the softness in her tone as she spoke again, "She'll stay here at River House for as long as she needs to."

"I'll come by tonight and check on her, and from then on I'll come daily. For now, she needs rest, peace, and quiet," Madja explained, taking in a long breath as she gave Azriel a soft bow, "I'm sorry for this, Shadowsinger.  This is no easy thing to conquer. But I stand by what I said when she brought your son into the world: your mate is strong. One of the strongest female Illryians I have ever met in my life. You must have faith that she'll make it out alive, it is vital not just for her, but for you."

Azriel drank in all she said as she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her to leave Azriel and Feyre in the room. There was silence for a moment or two, the only sound that was heard was Azriel's labored breathing and the slightly opened window near the bed. He looked at you again, feeling his world falling apart all over as he attempted to hide his tears. But Feyre caught on and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hug him from behind. The tears fell, and Azriel squinted in pain as he rested his head on the mattress, though still asleep and not realizing that your mate was breaking.

"She's right here, Az. She's right here alive with us okay?" Feyre said to him as she hugged him tight.

"I failed her," He moaned into the mattress, Feyre shaking her head as he sobbed, "I swore to protect her and keep her safe when we got together. It's my fault—"

"Don't do that! Don't say that Azriel.  This was not your fault, do you hear me?" Feyre reassured Azriel. Azriel clung onto Feyre, still crying into the sheets and feeling as though you were slipping away without him being able to cling to you. But the fact that Feyre was there, holding him close and telling him that you were alive, it was a small sliver of hope for him to hold onto. So many things were flooding in his mind: Who shot the arrow? Who was in charge of this attack? Why would you be the target? 

Who did Azriel need to hunt down and kill?

"She's going to stay here, perfectly safe, and I will make sure she is comfortable, Azriel. You have my word," Feyre promised Azriel as he lifted his head from the mattress, shoving his tears away aggressively with his fingers.

"Are you saying that as my High Lady?" Azriel asked, not meaning to sound bitter about it but his voice sounded it. Feyre hummed, moving to kneel next to Azriel so he could see the love in her eyes and sincerity. He adored that about Feyre, how kind she was even after all she went through as a human, and how she saved Prythian from Kind Hybern. She was still kind, still gentle in her heart though fierce when she needed to be. But the one thing that made her strong was her fierce friendships, how she held her friends close and would never let them go.

Like now.

"I'm saying that as your friend and someone who loves you," She replied softly, trying not to cry herself as she gave Azriel a soft smile, "Nothing is going to happen to her here, and you are more than welcome to be here with her while she gets better. Your family is our family too Az,"

Azriel panicked, thinking about the one member of the family who would be affected. 

"But what about Alec? Oh, Alec," Azriel panicked again, his son was now on his mind. What was his son going to think when he heard about his mother? What was Azriel going to say? His son was far too young for this chaotic world that was filled with hate and pain. Being only 4 years old, Alec was still so innocent and so kind, just like his mother.

"He's at school with Nyx right now, and he can stay here with you too," Feyre said to him calmly, seeing his panic, "I'll make up the guest room across the way for you two to sleep in while—"

"I'm staying in here with her," Azriel said to Feyre as he looked back at you, seeing you shift slightly and cling onto the pillow some more, the pain was less evident on your face as Azriel spoke again, "Alec can use the spare room, he can sleep with Nyx if he wants. But I'm not leaving her side, Feyre. Never again,"

Feyre must have sensed it would be a losing argument on her end when it came to trying to persuade Azriel into anything else.  But she would have done the same if it was Rhsyand there on the bed, even knowing fully well Rhsyand would do the same if Feyre was the one wounded and near death.

With a singular kiss to the top of his head, Feyre squeezed his arm a pinch, "I'm going to make you some food so you can eat in here. We're all downstairs if you need anything, but just stay here and be with her. Nesta will pick up Alec from school and bring him here, don't worry about him right now, we'll take care of him. You focus on your mate,"

Azriel gave her a soft nod, feeling the love she had and the warmth that Feyre could only produce sink into him. Although he felt like he was alone on an island, he wasn't truly alone. Not with the Inner Circle behind his family to care for them and to rally around him in this time.

"Thank you, Feyre," He thanked her, and as she walked out of the room to give him time with you, Azriel felt defeated. He took a chair to bring over to be at your side, then opened a window or two to bring in the fresh air, and then sat in the chair to watch you sleep. Not just sleep, but heal.

Even after hearing from both Madja and Feyre that you were strong enough to make it, Azriel couldn't just rely on hope. He felt hopeless in not being able to do anything, be anything, to bring you back. To wake you up and shine your blue eyes on him, to laugh again and fill the air with your bell of a laugh, and for you to smile and outshine any gem imaginable. 

Rhysand needed his cousin, Alec needed his mother, but Azriel most of all needed his mate. 

As you slept, Azriel was thinking over all the pieces of this complicated puzzle that needed to be placed together. He wanted to search every inch of every Court to find the very being that nearly killed you and almost took you away from him. He wished to find whoever was responsible and inflict so much pain in their life that they would beg for mercy. Any torture he inflicted in the past, he would surpass it. 

But for now, for now he simply wished for you to wake up again.

To Be Continued….

A/N -Once again, let me know in the comments if you wish to be tagged for Part Two and Possibly Part Three!

Thanks for reading!

Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup

[luvlloyd]

🌿 | 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔: drabbles

╰┈➤ how would the ninjas react to you telling them that you love them for the first time?

🍃 WARNINGS: fluff, sarcasm, minor wound (Jay), mentions of cursing and self doubt (Kai), nightmares (Lloyd)

🌳 CHARACTERS INCLUDED: Cole, Jay, Kai, Lloyd, Nya, Zane (separately), x (gender neutral) reader

🌴 AUTHORS NOTE: tehe first writing post, hi buddies!! :) A bit of OOC Nya but I still think what I wrote for her was too cute to change <3

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓒𝐎𝐋𝐄 〙ˎˊ˗

"Cole… That’s too much sugar-" You interjected, grasping your boyfriend’s arm before he could empty the sugar into the mixing bowl.

“Oh.. my bad, (Name)." Cole chuckled sheepishly, his smile betraying his embarrassment as he glanced at you, “Sorry,” He added.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you aided him in adjusting the sugar amount, "No wonder you’re a sucky chef, Cole," you teased, prompting a scoff from him.

“Me? A sucky chef, please!" He exaggerated the ‘please,’ earning a knowing look from you.

“What? Did you know I’m secretly Gordon Ramsey’s love child?" He grinned.

“In your dreams you probably are," you laughed, causing his face to drop in mock disbelief.

“How dare you? Take this." Cole took the flour that was laying on the counter, grabbed some from the packet and tossed it into your face.

“Cole..! Stop!" You squealed, shielding your face with your arms.

“Nuh uh, you are going to face my flour wrath, (Name)!" He persisted, continuing to shower you with flour until you managed to wrestle the packet from him. Soon, both of you were engaged in a flour war, filling the kitchen with laughter.

Eventually, his arms found their way around your hips, pulling you close as you leaned against his chest, both of you still giggling,

"Cole, I love you so much," you said playfully, feeling him freeze at your words. His pause prompted you to furrow your eyebrows and stare up at him. Cole gazed at you with eyes filled with passion and adoration before he leaned in to peck your lips,

“I love you too, (Name)."

He kissed you again, and again and again. Until you both were just contently sitting in each other’s arms, embraced within the euphoria.

Unfortunately for the two of you, the euphoria was to be put on hold—You both had a bit of some cleaning up to do…

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓙𝐀𝐘 〙ˎˊ˗

The brown haired boy seemed to be bubbling with anxiety, fidgeting with his fingers as he kicked his feet against the medical bed. You grabbed the first aid kit, placing it beside him with a huff, meeting Jay's eyes.

“Do we really have to do this?" he whined, but you reassured him with a smile.

“Of course, dear. We don't want your boo-boo to worsen, do we?" His ears turned pink at your pet name as you dabbed antiseptic on a cloth.

“It's just a cut, (Name)! I don't want to go through all this," Jay pleaded as you brought the cloth closer to him. You looked at him sympathetically,

“Exactly, it's just a cut, so why are you so scared?" You paused, a playful glint in your eye, "Aren't you supposed to be my brave boyfriend?" Jay's expression softened, a grin spreading across his face,

“You're right! I am your brave boyfriend!" he proclaimed proudly. You grinned as you brought the cloth to his cheek.

He winced softly at the burning sensation before the feeling got replaced with your delicate fingers. You applied a Thomas the Train band-aid to his cut and swiftly placed a small kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek, “There you go, your boo-boo is all better now,”

“Thanks doc,” Jay said, his smile cheesy and so incredibly contagious that it brought a smile to your own lips. His bright brown eyes staring into yours as though you were a delicately painted painting, simply a work of art for him to stare at. You cusp his cheek as you both continue staring at each other, you caressed his soft yet warm skin under your fingertips,

“I love you, Jay," you spoke softly. He grinned cheekily, his cheeks lightly dusted pink at your words.

"Well, I love you more!" he retorted playfully.

“No, I love you more," you countered.

“Nope! I love you the most mostful and mostest!" he declared, pulling you into a tight hug and nuzzling his head into your neck. As you let out a small giggle he whispered into your ear,

“I love you, (Name), forever."

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓚𝐀𝐈 〙ˎˊ˗

After enduring the agonizing training, you found yourself sprawled on the floor, Kai, your boyfriend of two months, grinning down at you, his weapon by his side.

His sweat-dampened hairs framed his face as he leaned closer to tease you, but suddenly, his playful smirk fell. He tumbled forward, landing directly on top of you. He muttered a curse as his eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched. You both were merely centimeters between each other and in that moment, you swore the world seemed to stand still.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle, “Seems like I fell for you,”

"Hi Kai," you snickered, finding his attempt at being flirty endearing. "Seems like I caught you."

"Sorry about that," Kai chuckled, rolling off to lie beside you on the dojo floor. Together, you gazed up at the ceiling, embracing the silence in the room, until you couldn't resist stealing a glance at his side profile. Holding back the urge to caress his face, you traced the features with your eyes. You met his gaze as his smirked, his eyes staring into yours knowingly.

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully as he teased you, "Like what you see, sweetheart?"

"I love it," you whispered sweetly, brushing a strand of his hair before meeting his eyes again. "I love all of you."

Kai froze, his confident demeanor crumbling as a blush painted his cheeks. His face turning as bright as his gi. His face faltering into a slight frown.

“You don't mean that," his voice dropped low into a whisper, insecurity lacing his words. You could tell he was feeling incredibly vulnerable.

"Of course I do," you promised him, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare into his crestfallen eyes, “I love you Kai.”

He stared into your face, trying to decipher if you were truly being genuine with him. His face brightened up as he realized you were. A sly grin returned to Kai's face, but his eyes held a warmth that made your body melt. He grabbed your hand from your side and put it up to his lips,

“I love you too, sweetheart."

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓛𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 〙ˎˊ˗

Lloyd woke abruptly, his body drenched in sweat, heart pounding against his chest as his nightmare caught up to him. They’ve begun appearing more frequently the last couple of years… His eyes darted anxiously around the room, paranoia lingering in his gaze.

“Lloyd?” You whispered, concern lacing your voice, you could barely see him though the darkness.

"Sorry for waking you, darling," he murmured back, his voice quivering. Sitting up, you touch his trembling arm softly,

“Another bad dream?” you asked. The boy didn’t vocalize his thoughts but instead turned to you to nod his head at you like a sad puppy.

"You're okay, Lloyd," you reassured him soothingly, you brushed a strand of his sweat drenched hair away from his troubled face.

“You’re okay,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around him. You felt him crumble beneath your touch, he sunk into your chest as he stared into your eyes. Searching them for reassurance. You begun playing with his blonde locks, a soft hum escaping your lips. You stole a glance at him. The moonlight cast a gentle glow upon his face, revealing the subtle contours of his gentle features. His eyes closed, his breath steadying into a rhythmic pattern,

"Lloyd?" you whispered, uncertainty lacing your voice. There was no response, only the soft sound of his breathing filling the room. Did he already fall back to sleep? You paused, carefully staring down at his face,

“Well, good night Lloyd... I love you," you murmured softly, turning your gaze towards the window.

Unseen by you, a small smile graced his lips, a ghost of a whisper that you unfortunately didn’t pick up,

“I love you too,”

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓝𝐘𝐀 〙ˎˊ˗

You sighed softly as you slipped into your gi, the weight of your mission pressing against your shoulders even before the sun had fully risen. With your weapon at your side, you gazed out at the horizon, thinking about the mission you had to do. It was a task that demanded your immediate attention, one that couldn't wait for the rest of the ninja to stir from their slumber.

As you prepared to summon your elemental dragon, a familiar voice yelled out to you,

"(Name)! Wait!" Your girlfriend, Nya, still in her Spiderman pajamas, dashed towards you with urgency in her step,

“Nya? What’s wrong?" you asked, concern knitting your brow.

"Nothing! I just wanted to say goodbye to you before you left," she replied, quickly kissing you on the cheek. A warmth spread through you at her touch, a feeling of comfort and belonging that only she could ignite.

"Bye (Name)," she said, her smile gentle, but then she hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.

“What’s up?” you prompted, curious about the sudden change in her facial expression.

With a sheepish grin, Nya shook her head and presented you with a basket of food. "I um... I also wanted to give you this basket of food. I didn’t want you to be hungry while on your mission, so take it as your breakfast... I mean it’s obviously not going to be as great as Zane’s cooking, I’m sure—"

You interrupted her rambling by accepting the basket with gratitude, your heart swelling with affection for her thoughtful gesture,

“Thank you, Nya,” You stared into her eyes in adoration. Sincerity seeping through your words.

"Of course! Stay safe, (Name)!" Nya beamed, her happiness contagious as she pulled you into a quick one-armed hug.

"Bye Nya, love you," you said absentmindedly, your focus already shifting towards the task at hand as you climbed onto your dragon's back. You weren’t paying attention to her flustered behavior.

You soared into the sky, leaving Nya behind on the ground. Little did you know, as you flew off into the distance, Nya was left beaming with joy, her heart bursting with the simple words you had spoken.

"I love you too, (Name)!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with happiness as she watched you disappear into the horizon.

With a gleeful bounce, she couldn't contain her excitement any longer. "THEY SAID THEY LOVE ME—“ She quickly scowled to herself,

“Control yourself, Nya, but still!! They said they loved me!!" she squealed, her laughter echoing in the quiet morning air. Most likely awaking most of the Monastery.

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓩𝐀𝐍𝐄 〙ˎˊ˗

You sighed in frustration, your forehead meeting the cool surface of your desk with a dull thud. The blinking cursor on your computer screen taunted you as you tried to summon the words for your research paper. Procrastination had led you to this point, with the deadline looming close.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely registered the muffled noise at your door until it creaked open, revealing the analytical gaze of the ice ninja, Zane,

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I heard sounds of frustration and thought I would offer my assistance," he said, his voice calm and measured.

You managed a weak smile at his considerate gesture. "It's not a problem, I've just hit a roadblock," you admitted, gesturing helplessly towards the computer screen.

"I see no genuine roadblock, do you perhaps mean that figuratively?" Zane inquired, his literal interpretation of your words drawing a chuckle from you. As he approached your desk and effortlessly began typing away at the keyboard, you watched in awe as he swiftly completed the research paper that had been taunting you for hours,

"I believe this should suffice in terms of information. All that's left is to write your conclusion," he remarked, turning towards you with a straightforward expression.

You were dumbfounded by his efficiency, unable to believe he had solved your problem in mere minutes,

“You didn't have to do that!" you exclaimed, your gratitude tinged with surprise.

"I was simply assisting you," Zane replied, his tone neutral, mistaking your reaction for displeasure. You rose from your seat suddenly and enveloped him in a grateful hug,

"Thank you, Zane. I love you," you murmured against his shoulder.

For a moment, there was silence as Zane processed your words, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he brought his arms back up to exchange the hug,

"(Name), you are the optimal configuration for my circuits, the irreplaceable code for my function. To put it in simpler terms, I love you too," he finally responded, his words tinged with a hint of warmth that belied his nindroid nature.

TAGLIST: n/a if interested in getting tag for when I post a specific character lmk!!

©LUVLLOYD | please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work anywhere without my consent.

Thank you for reading! If you like or reblog or even decide to follow me, thank you sm! And if you don’t do any of those things, it’s all good! You spending your time to read this makes my day better nonetheless, so have a good one and drink lots of water and just know that I love you! (and so do these lego characters)

[alyrasturnz]

hear me out. i feel like the triplets would wna keep their relationship private bcz the fandom is just crazy.. so can u write a matt x reader fanfic about illicit affairs by ts and jst make it abt matt wanting to keep his relationship private w/reader but reader is just absolutely fed up

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ILLICIT AFFAIRS

❐ summary » matt, a figure of immense fame, fears the wrath of his fans. he hides y/n away to protect her from their potential scorn, but this veil of privacy leaves y/n feeling unwanted and ashamed, as if matt is embarrassed to acknowledge her as his girlfriend.

❐ pairings » influencer!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » toxic relationship, suggestive at the beginning but no smut, arguments (resolved)

❐ a/n && w/c » double update tn! • 2.81k

your fingers, like delicate tendrils of ivy, were entwined in matt's tousled hair, each strand a silken thread in the fabric of your connection.

your back pressed firmly against the cool, unyielding wall, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. his hands, with a mind of their own, traced a path of desire, finally resting at your waist, anchoring you in the moment, a silent promise of intimacy and unspoken words.

your lips were entwined, a union of fervent longing, as your tongues engaged in a bittersweet dance, swirling together like two celestial bodies caught in an eternal orbit, each movement a symphony of passion and unspoken desire, a delicate balance of tenderness and intensity.

"matt..." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, as his lips embarked on a journey down your neck, each kiss a tender exploration, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, a testament to the unspoken bond that tethered your hearts together in that fleeting moment.

"i know, baby, i know," he whispers, his hot breath fanning your neck, sending shivers down your spine and making your insides tingle with a mix of anticipation and longing, each word a caress that resonated deep within your soul.

you let out soft sighs, each one a whisper of your growing desire, feeling your core heat up with an intensity that seemed to ignite every fiber of your being, a slow burn that consumed you from within.

but the fragile moment was abruptly shattered by the intrusive ringing of matt’s phone, a jarring reminder of the outside world that pierced through the delicate cocoon of intimacy you had woven around yourselves.

matt's lips reluctantly departed from your skin, leaving you to groan softly at the sudden, aching void where his touch had once ignited a symphony of sensations.

matt retrieved his phone from his pocket with a swift, almost reluctant motion, bringing it to his ear. "hello?" he uttered, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience, the single word breaking the spell of the moment.

"where are you?" nick's voice crackled with exasperation, each word laced with urgency. "come to the warehouse! you're late," he demanded, the frustration palpable in his tone.

matt's eyes widened in sudden realization, swiftly ending the call and hastily shoving his phone back into his pocket, his movements marked by a frantic urgency.

his eyes met yours, lingering for a fleeting moment before he pressed one final, tender kiss upon your lips.

then, with a reluctant sigh, he turned and walked away, each step echoing the unspoken words left between you.

your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you trailed after him, "matt! where are you going?" you called out, your voice a blend of concern and bewilderment.

"i'm sorry, i have to go to the warehouse," matt said hurriedly, his hands fumbling to put on his coat.

you stood there, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, watching as he prepared to leave.

"i can go with you?" you say softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, as he turns to you with an expressionless gaze, his eyes betraying a hint of inner turmoil.

"we both know that you can't," he murmurs gently, his voice barely above a whisper, as he retrieves his phone, the action a silent punctuation to his words.

"why can't i? it doesn't have to always be like th—" you begin to protest, your voice tinged with desperation, but your words are abruptly silenced as he captures your lips in a sudden, fervent kiss.

matt broke apart, his lips lingering just a moment longer before disconnecting from yours. he glanced at his phone one last time, a sigh escaping his lips.

"i'll make it up to you, i swear," he murmured softly, his voice filled with a blend of regret and determination.

with a final, fleeting look, he pivoted and left your apartment, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

you roll your eyes, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you make your way to the couch. with a resigned slump, you plop down onto it, the cushions embracing your weary form.

you stare at the ceiling, your mind a turbulent sea of thoughts racing at breakneck speed, each one colliding and merging into the next in a relentless cascade.

you were good enough to be with him, to share those intimate moments cloaked in secrecy, but not good enough to be seen with him, to be acknowledged in the light of day?

everything about him was a labyrinth of contradictions, each twist and turn leaving you more bewildered. it irritated you to no end.

but you weren't sure if it was his erratic behavior that grated on your nerves, or if it was the haunting realization that you would willingly shatter yourself into a million tiny pieces for him, over and over again.

and you knew, with an unsettling clarity, that he was acutely aware of this truth.

he was the axis around which your world revolved, yet he moved through his existence as if you were but a fleeting shadow, an inconsequential wisp in the vast expanse of his indifference.

you would find yourself ensnared in the labyrinth of his bedsheets throughout the night, only to awaken to the cold, empty expanse where his warmth once lingered, a silent testament to his absence.

he sought the sanctuary of secrecy, believing it to be a fortress shielding you from harm, yet this very concealment has only served to fracture your spirit further, each hidden truth a dagger driving deeper into the chasms of your heart.

»--•--«

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: Hey sweetheart

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: Just got out of my meeting. I’m on my way

matthew.sturniolo sent a message: See you in a few

the doorbell echoed through the house, a resonant chime that seemed to ripple through the very walls, heralding the arrival of matt.

you sprayed on your perfume, the delicate mist swirling and dancing in the air, leaving a fragrant trail that lingered in your room like an ethereal presence. with a graceful motion, you carefully placed the bottle back on your vanity, its glass reflecting the soft light as if capturing the essence of the moment.

you reserve this perfume for the clandestine rendezvous with matt, each spritz a silent oath to the secrecy of your bond. the scent, meticulously chosen, never clings to your clothes, a deliberate act to preserve the veil of mystery that shrouds your relationship.

you gaze into the mirror, eyes tracing the familiar contours of your reflection. with a measured inhale, you draw in the air, feeling it fill your lungs, fortifying your resolve before you rise from your seat.

your heels resonate against the hardwood floor, each clank a rhythmic prelude to your approach. as you reach the door and open it, your eyes meet the sight of matt, casually leaning against the doorway, his presence both familiar and electrifying.

he smiled, his eyes twinkling with a secret understanding, and extended his hand towards you. with a gentle yet deliberate motion, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as you both stepped out of your apartment, the world beyond awaiting your shared journey.

on the descent, matt animatedly recounted the details of his recent meeting, weaving tales of ambitious plans for his channel. yet, as his words flowed around you, your mind drifted to distant realms, consumed by thoughts that lay far beyond the present moment.

you harbored a quiet hope that you could broach the subject of going public with matt, the weight of your unspoken words pressing against your chest as you sought the right moment to voice them.

»--•--«

"alright," matt murmured, his voice tinged with an unspoken melancholy as he gently shifted the car into park. you sat beside him, your gaze lost in the horizon, the distant landscape a silent witness to the myriad of emotions swirling within you.

matt observed your demeanor, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "hey, are you alright? you seem a bit off..." he inquired, his voice laced with a subtle blend of worry and curiosity, as if trying to unravel the intricate tapestry of your thoughts.

you sighed, turning to face him, your eyes reflecting the weight of unspoken burdens. "i'm tired, matt," you confessed, your words cutting through the silence with a raw honesty, laying bare the exhaustion that had settled deep within your soul.

"are you sleepy? i can take you back home and we can just go again tomorrow—" he began, his voice tinged with confusion, but you cut him off before he could finish.

"no matt, i’m exhausted. i'm tired of this clandestine relationship," you declared, your voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "i can't keep being someone you cherish only in the shadows! i want us to be so much more than—than this ambiguous existence!" you finally erupted, each word escalating in fervor, mirroring the depth of your yearning and dissatisfaction.

"y/n..." matt murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with a mixture of bewilderment and tenderness.

your eyes searched his for a glimmer of understanding. "i can't keep doing this—concealing our relationship as if it's something to be ashamed of," you confessed, your voice heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

matt sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "it's not that i'm ashamed of you, y/n. it's just—my fans can be intense. i'm terrified they'll come after you if we go public," he admitted, his voice laden with a mixture of concern and helplessness.

your heart ached at his words, a mix of frustration and sadness welling up inside you. "so what? we just keep pretending we're nothing more than friends? i feel like i'm living a lie."

he looked at you, his expression torn. "i'm trying to protect you. you don't understand the kind of backlash that could come your way."

"maybe i don't," you said, your voice rising. "but what i do understand is that i can't keep being your secret. it feels like you're more concerned about your image than our relationship."

matt's face softened, but the conflict in his eyes remained. "it's not about my image. it's about your safety. i care about you too much to see you get hurt."

"and i care about you too," you replied, tears threatening to spill over. "but i need to feel like i'm a part of your life, not just a hidden chapter. if you truly care about me, you'll trust that we can face this together."

the room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging in the air as matt grappled with his fears and your plea for honesty.

your voice steady but filled with sorrow, "i can't keep doing this. i've tried to understand your reasons, but it's tearing me apart." you say as you search for understanding in his eyes

he looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. "y/n, please, you have to understand. i'm doing this to protect you."

you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "i can't live in the shadows anymore. i need to be with someone who isn't afraid to show the world that they love me. i need to feel valued and seen."

matt reached out for your hand, but you pulled away, the pain too much to bear. "i love you, matt, but i can't keep sacrificing my happiness for your fears. if you can't go public with our relationship, then we can't be together."

his face crumpled, and he tried to find the right words, but they never came. with a heavy heart, you stood up, feeling the weight of the decision you had just made.

"goodbye, matt," you whispered, turning away from him and walking out of the car. as you closed the door behind you, a sense of both loss and liberation washed over you, knowing you had chosen to stand up for yourself and your worth.

outside, the night air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the tears streaming down your face.

you walked aimlessly, each step feeling heavier than the last. the memories of your time with matt played in your mind like a bittersweet symphony, each note a reminder of what once was and what could never be.

you found yourself at the park where you and matt had shared so many moments of laughter and love.

the bench where you had first confessed your feelings now stood as a silent witness to your heartbreak.

you sat down, the weight of the world pressing on your shoulders, and let the tears flow freely.

the stars above twinkled in the vast expanse of the sky, indifferent to the pain of the earth below. you gazed up at them, searching for some semblance of solace. "why does love have to be so complicated?" you whispered to the night, your voice barely audible.

as the hours passed, the pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve. you knew that this was the right decision, even if it hurt now. you deserved to be with someone who would cherish you openly, without fear or hesitation. and though the path ahead seemed uncertain, you felt a glimmer of hope.

rising from the bench, you took a deep breath and wiped away the last of your tears. the night was still, and the world felt vast and full of possibilities. with a newfound determination, you began to walk back home, ready to embrace whatever the future held.

»--•--«

as the first rays of dawn broke through the horizon, a soft knock echoed through the stillness of your home.

the house, usually so quiet in the early morning, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. groggily, you made your way to the door, curiosity mingling with the remnants of sleep.

the floorboards creaked softly under your feet, each step a gentle reminder of the world waking up around you.

there stood matt, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other.

the flowers, fresh with morning dew, seemed to glow in the soft light, their petals a vibrant contrast to the dim interior of your home.

his eyes, filled with a mixture of remorse and determination, met yours. they were the eyes of someone who had spent countless nights wrestling with his thoughts, someone who had finally found the courage to confront his fears.

"i couldn't wait any longer," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies. "i needed to see you, to tell you how sorry i am."

he handed you the flowers and chocolates, his hands lingering for a moment as if seeking reassurance. "you are so much more than someone i love in the shadows, y/n," he continued, his voice growing steadier. "you are the light that guides me, the strength that keeps me going. i've been a fool to ask you to hide, but it's never because i'm ashamed of you. it's because i'm terrified of what the world might do to us."

he took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "but you deserve to be cherished openly, without fear. i promise we'll find a way to make this right. together, we'll face whatever comes our way, because you mean everything to me. you're not just a part of my life; you are my life."

he stepped closer, his presence warm and comforting. "i know words alone aren't enough," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "i want to show you, every single day, just how much you mean to me. i want to be the one who stands by your side, no matter what. i want to be the one who holds your hand through the storms and celebrates with you under the sun."

matt's eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "you are the reason i wake up with hope in my heart. you are the melody that plays in my soul, the rhythm that keeps me moving forward. without you, everything feels incomplete."

he paused, his voice barely a whisper now. "i don't want to hide anymore, y/n. i want the world to know how incredible you are, how lucky i am to have you. i want to face whatever challenges come our way, hand in hand, heart to heart."

as the morning sun bathed you both in its gentle glow, matt's words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. in that moment, you felt the depth of his love, the sincerity of his promise, and the unyielding strength of his commitment. together, you knew you could face anything, because with matt by your side, you were never alone.

[r0-boat]

Yessssss I lOvE your headcanons about the 2 unreleased kings 😋 must be because I love dark headcanons.... (and that in Abbadon is something couldn't miss out 😈)

But can you do some moreeee? 🥺 Like about the headcanons about interactions between kings perhaps (seven kings---!!!!) Or maybe between kings and MC pls 😚 I kinda crave for some dark contents right now (cus when I first play WHB, I already expect this 👀)

Only if you're fine with this request, and jusst ignore it if you don't okie 😘

Oh my God interactions with the Kings hshshs

I mostly just have really stupid headcanons about those guys interacting but I got some dark ones

Dark!whb King headcanons

speculation for asmodeus and belphegor(I'm writing these two before they come out)

Cw: yandere, murder, drugging/drugs, death, cannibalism, sexual slavery mentions of being sold off, most of this shit is just talking about a black market shcsdgj. This shit is dark dead dove do not eat

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything I write This is purely for fantasy written by adults for adults only!

Links to little asks about people's questions

Question one about Satan's desires

Question two on Mammon

Satan

I don't think we talk about Satan's depression as much as we should have. What I feel like you would think himself as a wrathful monster unable to control his wrath, sometimes he would have depressive episodes where his personality is a completely 180. He's just as angry at himself as he is at everyone else.

The first time you've witnessed this depressive episode is when he accidentally struck you and made you bleed. His whole body starts shaking as he began to break down He tore apart his room and started crying and took weeks for him to calm down.

The reason why his subordinates are okay with him taking out his anger and physically hurting them is because if he doesn't have an outlet he'll take out it on himself.

Satan is dependent on you for his emotional needs. He loves you, and he needs you; please do not leave him.

Satan is definitely holding back a lot of his dark thoughts because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back these darker desires. Normally he tells you everything, but he doesn't want to scare you. He wants you to like him.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a budding yandere, He already stalks you. Trying to keep his obsessive thoughts underneath a layer of hatred. That hatred mixing into more obsession. Of course he wants you to love him, but he also wants to be hated by you just as much as he is loved because it gets him on your mind. And that's really all he wants. It doesn't matter if he makes you hate him. As long as you're thinking about him he is okay with that.

Because of his abuse as a child from angels I would not doubt he wouldn't know how to normally show affection.

He has killed another devil for you. And he will gladly do it again. He sends the heads of lower rank devils that you dare show a smile too under the name "You're admirer" isn't he so romantic.

Leviathan only tolerates the kings being around you because chilling one of them or they're subordinates would start a war. So to have you he must use sneakier tactics.

Beelzebub

He has a fantasy where he roofies you at a bar and takes you home with him. Whenever you go to the bathroom thinking that Your drink is safe with him, He stares blankly into the glass, thoughts swirling with mental images of your nice loopy giggly self being laid on his bed.

Angels taste like chicken, humans taste like beef, demons taste like pork. Humans so far is his favorite. Humanoid meat especially humans are delicacy and highly illegal in the Tartaros black market. A delicacy He has been recently craving.

If he ever dies he wants his last meal to be you after he fucks you of course.

Levi gives the bodies of the devils he has killed too Beel to eat.

Beel definitely does drugs He's mostly immune now... He hates that Adderall doesn't affect him the same as the others.

Mammon

Tartaros is home to the rich and the very powerful. They hold grandiose special parties where the wealthy gather. Of course Mammon attends these parties. These demons see you as a pretty little exotic pet unknowing that Mammon is the pet and you are the master. And these same demons frequently talk about how they would buy you at any price, talking about your body as if you are a piece of meat and a prize to be bought and sold. Sadly you are not for sale.

As the demon of greed flaunting is his specialty And he has definitely thought about telling you up and all his gold and jewels to bring you to one of these parties to show you off. As a message saying 'This is something you cannot have.

Mammon knows of the Tartaros Black market and he turns a blind eye, but he will gladly do something if you tell him to. Or if belphie gets off his ass and strong arms him.

Giving him a little more because getting asked for it: Mammon doesn't do shit about the black market because He owns part of it and he practically created it. This man runs his kingdom like a mafia and he is a mob boss. Shady dealings to other kingdoms smuggling goods anything for More money and greater goods.

Lucifer

Has purchased a human corpse from the same black market for scientific purposes he swears up and down.

He slowly corrupting himself He beats himself up over it but at the same time he kind of likes it.

"hey can I cut you open and look at your organs? No? Oh okay..."

Lucifer because of his past as an angel suddenly gets urges to kill you. They have gone down over time since his transformation as a devil but he really shouldn't be getting this hard over thoughts of putting his hands around your neck.

Makes aphrodisiacs as a paid commission for asmodeus. And asks you to test the drugs.

If you ever die he wants to keep your beautiful eyes.

Your blood is a beautiful drug like sweet wine. He's obsessed with the taste

Belphegor

Belphegor and his superpower of a kingdom are the only reason why the Kings actually give a damn about their laws. Nifleheim is a strong powerhouse and a great enemy to those who don't want to make one of them.

However, Belphegor isn't all justice and the law and order in fact far from that. He is the law whatever he wants he can bypass it and everyone will turn a blind eye. If you were ever sold by Mammon to the highest bidder Belphegor would be your buyer.

Grand spectacles of public executions are very popular thing in Nifleheim(Belphie Danganronpa fan)

The real horror is that belphie invest in cryptocurrency and has an NFT/j

Belphie is also completely dependent on you and he will make you stay any way necessary.

Belphie only hasn't cracked down on the others harder as he should is because he doesn't give a fuck what happens in other kingdoms if it is in his own.

Belphie thinks Asmodeus is a disgusting freak. Leviathan is an amateur to him. Satan and belphie would get along pretty well I think they would be FPS partners.

Asmodeus

All of hell's most heinous devils come here because the laws are so lax. You're wondering why this kingdom hasn't fall to complete anarchy... Apparently getting you addicted on sex and then withholding it as a punishment is surprisingly very effective.

Asmodeus would love to have you but hasn't invite you yet because... Well if your kingdom is filled with half trained rabid dogs and you throw a nice fine steak inside.... Yeahhh.

Asmodeus is actually a pretty nice dude, He's very calm, polite and chivalrous. Which makes you wonder how much of that is a mask. Something you'll never know.

Asmodeus has a harem I think that goes without saying. And he talks greatly about adding you to that harem and how you would be his favorite~

It's no secret that I think humans are a very sexualized being in hell. Asmodeus is one of the demons with a huge human kink. Humans in his eyes are still primal animals which is part of their biggest appeal to him.

Asmodeus thinks belphie has a stick up his ass and he needs to loosen the fuck up

[little-diable]

The Faeries - Tommy Shelby (smut)

The faeries keep following me around ever since those two small Tommy drabbles I wrote. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy and the reader have been using codewords around their children to talk about enemies. But when his enemies manage to kidnap the reader, their children are quick to tell Tommy who has been behind this all.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, outdoor smut, mentions blood, angst because of kidnapping (?), but mainly fluff/smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.7k words)

Smoke engulfed Tommy as he walked up to his house, taking a last few drags of his cigarette. Ever since this morning, he had been engulfed in an uneasy feeling, clinging to him like a shadow sewn to his frame, not daring to let go of him. Tommy hadn’t been able to pinpoint it, like a whisper in a foreign language he couldn’t decipher, forcing him to leave his office desperately needing to be close to his family. 

He had been aching for (y/n)’s touch since stepping out of their bedroom in the early morning hours. She had always been the one he could turn to, the one that knew his darkest secrets, wanting to love every part of him or nothing at all, an ultimatum Tommy had given in to when first meeting her. 

“Love?” Tommy’s voice echoed through the house as he shrugged out of his coat, expecting (y/n) to meet him at the bottom of the stairs as she normally would. But all Tommy was met with was silence, an eerie silence that left him frozen for a moment. He called out (y/n)’s name, hoping that she had simply been distracted, but nothing could be heard, nothing besides the sounds of naked feet meeting the wooden flooring.

Tommy’s icy eyes snapped towards the stairs, his gaze found the wide eyes of his three children and their young maid. Within seconds, he had run up the stairs, open arms pressing his children to his chest.

“Where is my wife, Madeleine?” The words came out harsher than he had intended, forcing the young girl to flinch. (Y/n) would have scolded him for his tone, and would have given him a push to instantly apologise to Madeleine, but time was ticking, an apology could wait until he had (y/n) back in his arms.

“The faeries, daddy.” His eyes met those of their youngest daughter. Confusion swapped through Tommy at her words, not understanding what she was trying to tell him. 

“They spoke Italian, Mister Shelby.” And then everything clicked into place for him. Annoyance and anger began to mix deep inside of him, a deadly emotion for those daring to go against a man like Tommy Shelby. But as much as he longed for his wife, he didn’t fear for her, knowing that the men who had taken her would be faced with her wrath, making them quiver in fear as she gave in to the anger simmering inside of her. 

It wasn’t the first time his enemies tried to rip (y/n) from Tommy, men who had been greedy, arrogant and stuck up, thinking they could rip a mother from her children without any consequences. The first time Tommy had found her, fearing for his wife, she had been covered in blood, and yet not one single drop had been her own blood. She had been on a rampage, clawing out the eyes of those men, ripping them open with a single blade. It had been a cruel sight that had left him feeling awfully proud of (y/n). 

“I’ll get mommy back, I promise.” 

……

“Were you always this violent? Or is this what Tommy Shelby has made out of you? You should have married me, yeah.” Alfie Soloman’s voice rang in (y/n)’s ears as she cleaned herself with the cloth he had pushed in her direction. She felt awfully dirty, covered in blood and mud, from being dragged through dark streets. Angry screams had ripped through (y/n), knowing that being loud was her best shot at finding her way out of her situation.

“I’m sure you understand what it means to fight for your family, don’t you, Alfie?” Their eyes met, looking at one another for a while without speaking another word. Both were connected by a strange bond that had formed in their childhood years, binding them together like siblings who weren’t connected by blood but by something even thicker. 

“He should be here soon. What will you tell him?” Alfie squinted his eyes at (y/n), trying to read her expression, the emotions tugging on her features. He had found her in the warehouse, a bloody mess he had been forced to face as he guided her out of the place, the first to hear of the commotion that had taken place. 

“That it is time to move. I’m tired of these unwanted guests showing up every few months.” The chuckles rumbling through Alfie lured a few chuckles out of (y/n) herself, momentarily closing her eyes as tiredness swapped through her. But before either one could relish in old memories, trying to pass the time, the door to Alfie’s office was pushed open. 

“Tell me, Tommy, why is it always on me to rescue your wife?” Tommy didn’t spare Alfie a single glance as he came to a halt in front of (y/n). His cold hand found her chin, allowing his concerned eyes to take in her dirty features, looking for wounds. The relieved sigh ripping through Tommy as he didn’t find a single scratch on his wife rumbled through all their bodies. 

“I’m alright, Thomas.” (Y/n) squeezed his hand as she rose to her feet. She let go of her husband for a moment to walk towards Alfie, to press a kiss to his cheek, and to murmur a soft “I’ll see you on Sunday for tea.”

Both men watched her walk out of the office, ready to find her way back home, set on letting go of the memories of this very night.

“Thank you, Alfie. But the next time you look at her like that, it’ll be me who starts scratching out eyes.” 

……

“What are you doing, love?” Tommy’s soft voice broke through the quiet night. He had his icy eyes focused on her naked frame, watching her sink into the bathtub with a quiet whimper. Only a candle placed on the table standing next to the outdoor tub managed to alight their surroundings, giving Tommy a perfect view of her body. 

“I need to take a bath before bed, I feel dirty.” With a sigh leaving him, Tommy walked up to the tub to take her hand, slowly interlacing their fingers. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m alright. By now, they should know that taking me won’t do them any good.” 

“Charlotte told me you were taken by the faeries.” His words coaxed a laugh out of (y/n), who kept staring up at her husband with love swimming in her pupils. She tugged on his hand, wordlessly asking him to join her, to press her body close to his for a desperately needed distraction. 

“It fits, don’t you think? Those mischievous little shits are just like them. She’s a smart one, I’m glad she told you.” (Y/n)’s eyes followed his every movement, watching her husband undress with a soft smile playing on her lips. She made some room for Tommy, allowing him to sink into the water, with his front pressed against her back. 

“I am sorry, I should have been there.” Water splashed around them as (y/n) turned, straddling his thighs with one hand finding Tommy’s chest and the other his cheek. For a moment, (y/n) allowed herself to take him in, his soft features, those lips she longed to kiss, everything she had always loved since meeting him. 

“Don’t be sorry, I enjoy the thrill every now and then.” His head rolled back as a raspy laugh left him, exposing his throat for her lips to find his skin. (Y/n) slowly kissed her way up his throat, finding his lips at the same time his hands settled on her waist, pulling him even closer against his hardening cock. 

“I need you, Thomas, fast, hard, no teasing tonight.” Their lips met in a needy kiss, letting their tongues meet, sharing unspoken words that lingered in the air. Tommy allowed (y/n) to move freely, knowing that she was ready for him, dripping for her husband. With their foreheads pressed together, (y/n) slowly sank down on his cock, letting go of a low groan. 

“For you and our children, I’ll fight every creature out there.” (Y/n)’s words had a heavy weight to them, guiding his hand to her throat, holding her in place for Tommy to properly look at her. Her walls clenched around his cock as she slowly moved, high on the feeling of being stretched by him. 

“And I’ll always start a war if the creatures don’t give me my queen back.” Even though both were focusing on different sensations, how Tommy helped her move, how his thumb slowly circled her pulsing bundle, both couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of their code words, how they began to speak about what was worrying them years ago. 

“I love you, Thomas Shelby.” (Y/n) moaned her words against his lips, and she began to tremble, knowing that her high was close. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy managed to shuffle them around in the tub, letting the back of her head rest against his hand as he fucked her, hovering over her. 

Neither of them cared about the water splashing onto the grass, neither of them cared about the mess they were making, fully focused on one another. They held eye contact as (y/n) gave in, letting his kiss swallow her moans as he fucked her through her intense orgasm. She was trembling beneath Tommy, having to hold onto the rims of the tub before she’d pass out and give into the call of the dimension he was close to pushing her into. 

Tommy came with a deep groan, letting his eyes flutter close to relish in the sensation. He held onto her, not daring to let go just yet as the cold breeze teased their naked bodies, still running high on their orgasms and the warming sensations. And for tonight, neither of them would speak of the past hours again, until morning came, and Tommy would seize this chance to start another war in favour of his wife.

[wiltedivinity]

ıllıㅤ𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ; all you saw was red. the blood in his hands, the blood on their bodies, the blood on your own, and the color of the roses you're engulfed in. he wondered at the fact on how far you've brought yourself to get away from him, physically and emotionally, knowing you won't even get to escape a few meters. but you wondered... why?

ㅤ⨯ if any of the following trigger you, please click off: dead dove: do not eat ; non-con ; female!reader ; violence ; (minor character) deaths ; assault ; possessiveness ; yandere themes ; choking ; toxic & unhealthy relationships ; forceful actions ; suggestive themes ; semi-smut ; threats & insults ; angsty? ; childe is an asshole ; not proofread

ㅤ⨯ archive :: taglist :: inbox / appeal information :: 18+ ONLY

Why… Why… Why… You wanted to ask. You wanted to scream out till’ your lungs give you in. Your feet were planted on the ground firmly, refusing to move an inch as you watch the Harbinger pierce his blades into the chest of your mother repeatedly, the water of his weapon slowly being stained with dark blood, blood that’s mixed with different victims that have witnessed his wrath. Including yours. You eye the wound on your arm, the red liquid was still dripping and staining the ground under you. “Why…” it barely even came out as a whisper, more like a simple breath of the wind most people would ignore but not to him. What can you expect from a man that made You, a person he should have cared less for, his main priority in his life.

“Why…?” you sobbed out, bringing your head up from the floor to find him staring right back at you. The Harbinger stands up and carelessly lays your mother figure to the ground before kicking it out of his sight, dissipating his water blades into thin air as blood continues to stain him and maybe you in the process. “‘Why,’ you ask?” Childe hums, making his way towards you, raising his hand to meet your cheek but you slap it away before he could even touch. “Answer me.” you grit your teeth at the man who was smiling sadistically at you.

“Wow, what a feisty girl. Didn’t know you had it in you, love.” he chuckles, his hand coming in contact with your hand, gripping it and dirtying it with mixed blood. You groan and pull your hand away from his grasp and land a hit on his face. You leave him breathless for a second before his pupils dilated, touching the very spot you slapped him on and caressing it. “You’ve changed quite a lot.”

“I could say the same for you, Tartaglia.” you scoot away from him, your fists clenching in case he makes another move on you. He simply just laughs, each breath he takes, his laughter goes lower and lower until he is glaring at you with that very same sinister grin on his face. “As much as everything you do makes me breathless,” he says through his smile, “You speaking my codename isn’t it. Change that up, hun.”

“Nothing you do will make me change what I feel about you.” A hint of resentment was visible in your eyes, your pupils decreasing its usual size. You tried… Tried to seem threatening but to him he adored it. Even if you managed to intimidate him, he wouldn’t really back out, can he? He knows he’s stronger. He’s a survivor of the Abyss, the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Even if he was the Eleventh, the title of being a Harbinger alone is impressive and shows a symbol of great power and strength.

“You think so?” Childe sniggers. “I know so.” you reply boldly, attempting to stand back up only to get knocked down by the stomach by Childe’s elbow, “Oh, we’re not done yet. You’re staying here until our business is done.” you glare at his response, what does this man mean by business? If he means torturing you more than you know that seeing your family die before your eyes is more than torture. You attempt to dart away from him if standing wasn’t an option but he stops you by gripping your ankle.

“Get your fucking hand away from me, Tartaglia.” you sneer but it doesn’t stay for longer when he has his hand around your neck and pins you down, using it as a leverage. You can see his eyes darkening from your lips simply saying his title. “Like I said… You’re staying here until our business is done, [Y/N].” he emphasized with a growl at the end of the sentence as he quickly squeezed your throat. You felt the wetness in the corners of your eyes drip as he pushed you further into the ground. Eyes widening instantly when you realize he’s blocking your airway by choking you, his grip on your neck was unbearably tight and if he continued to stay like this you would–

You can’t breathe, you’re letting out panic and quick pants from your mouth as you try to get his grasp from your throat by pulling his wrist away but he’s stronger… You know that. So why not give up? You don’t want to. You can’t either. You try to kick him off with your legs punching his gut, Childe only groaned and laughed. “Hah,” he sighs, but that quickly turns into loud laughter.

“Haha!” he jests, pushing you on the floor as your consciousness slowly slips away from you. “Go on! Keep trying, it makes the job easier. Just look at you, turning blue from my hand around your throat.” he muses, a grin forming on his face sinisterly. You want to argue, but not in this situation. You could barely breathe and voicing out your thoughts will worsen. But in the end, you’d faint from the loss of breath and he would win in the end. He can easily overpower you anytime he wants. That’s a perk of being a Harbinger trained under an unknown woman from the Abyss.

“Sleep well. I’ll be waiting.” he coos lowly, your eyelids drooping lower as you let out your last breath before you faint. Once you do, he slowly pulls his grasp around your throat and admires the handprint on it. A nice dull, desaturated red. Almost the color of the blood of his opponents. Childe brings your unconscious body into his embrace and carefully stands up, looking back to see the limp figures of your family members laying on the floor, all bloodied and dismembered from his hold. If he could be honest, it was their fault, they disapproved of him ever since he was a member of the Fatui and the idea of their precious daughter to get associated with him was something they’d never want. You were okay in keeping contact with him and didn’t think much of his status. But that didn’t go through with your family. They even go as far as to separate the two of you and cut all ties with his family in order to keep you safe and away from him.

Oh what a bad decision they made.

.

.

.

Your eyes groggily open, and your body twitches beneath the mattress you were sleeping on. Your hand tries to touch your brow, but something prevents it. You examined your wrists and discovered that it was connected to the headboard of the bed, leaving you vulnerable and unable to move. You struggle under the restraints, desperate to be freed but a door has already been opened before you could move any further. "Ah, you're awake," says a familiar voice from the other side of the room, as footsteps approach your bed.

“I hope you don’t mind the chains. I didn’t want you escaping so this was a better alternative!” A glee came from Childe, that broad and boyish smile of his not wavering one bit when he sees your harsh glare. “Let me go,” you growl, shuffling on the bed aggressively but it only worsens the pain on your wrists.

“Oh come on, don’t get mad at me now. Be thankful you got chained in my bedroom instead of something much brutal.” He grabs your chin to stop you from moving too much, his grip is tight, one wrong breath and he’ll tighten it more so you sit still.

All of the sudden, his grin widens, but not in a good way. “Or maybe you’d like what I originally planned more.” The dark glint on his eyes becomes evident, “But let’s get you fed first. It’s been hours since you’ve passed out and you must be starving after that long!” And it switches up all too suddenly. It’s as if the man forgot that he kidnapped you and did monstrous things to your family.

He then places the tray on a desk near the bed. Childe eyes the handcuffs on your hand and shrugs, “You’ll get used to this.” He assures you, taking the hot, steaming bowl of soup and placing it near your face, the spoon already scooping the broth and placing it in front of your lips.

“Come on. Say ‘ahh’” the ginger-head instructs, blowing air on the spoonful of stew so you’re able to consume it. You wanted to protest but your stomach grumbles before you can do so, making the harbinger chortle. “Might as well open your mouth. It’ll make things easier for you… And your stomach.” He points out.

You purse your lips, shaking your head. This causes Childe to frown heavily, “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?” His jaw clenches, “You’re lucky I’m a patient man. Now, eat.” He shakes his hand, a little too aggressively but not enough to spill the bouillon. “No,” You furrow your brows, turning your head away from the spoon. “You heard me the first time.” You argued back, your fists already clenched. You would’ve thrown a punch on him if you could if it weren’t for the handcuffs.

“You really don’t know who you’re messing with, [Y/N].” The way he spoke your name was strong, almost intimidating. “I can shut the fucking mouth of yours if I wanted to. Hell, I’ll do that right now.” Childe smiles grimly, the sinister gleam on his eyes shine, the hand that was holding the spoonful of soup placed inside of his mouth, his free hand clutching onto your shirt and pulling you raspingly into his lips, forcing you to drink in the hot liquid.

You feel his tongue penetrate through your lips, forcing them open. Your chin was trapped between his fingers and he uses this to tilt your head backwards so you can drink the broth that he pours. You feel yourself coughing into Childe’s lips but he doesn’t budge one bit, only pushing you down the mattress with his arm behind your neck. Your attempts in pushing away were fruitless, so your only choice was biting his lip until it bled.

Fortunately that worked, though he didn’t pull away instantly. He let his tongue explore your mouth before doing so, it seems like he was enjoying how the soup tastes mixed with his blood. Childe lets out a few breaths before looking down at you, the corners of his mouth still stained with a bit of red liquid and dried up broth. “Don’t you think I’m done with you. You barely finished a portion of the soup.” He chuckles, his hand making its way to the bowl to scoop more fluid into his mouth until your foot kicks his thigh, making him freeze and look towards you.

“I-I’ll eat… Just not from your mouth.” You try to reason with him but he continues to drink up the liquid, his cheeks puffing a bit from the soup taking up the space inside of his mouth. You just know that he wasn’t going to do it your way by the way he’s leaning down on you and pressing his lips against yours. Pouring in whatever he has in your mouth yet again. You furrow your brows as tears flow down your cheeks, the taste is bitter. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and a fog in your mind.

.

.

.

You pant heavily, your chest was visibly rising from up and down as you stare up at Childe without breaking eye contact. The man didn’t show one bit of remorse for what he’s done to you. That shit-eating grin that was spread across his face shows it. He shuffles and rises up from the bed, taking the half-eaten bowl of soup before walking away. The moment he’s at the door, he turns his head to look back at you, eyes watching you from head-to-toe before nodding and walking away, seemingly amused.

You shake on Childe’s bed, throwing your head back as you sob. What have you fucking gotten into? Your eyes are squinted tight, your wrists are still painfully wounded from how forceful Childe was when handling your body not too long ago when you’re trying to set them free from the chains. To set yourself from things getting worse. You couldn’t stop wiggling your body on the mattress in an attempt to loosen yourself from the handcuffs.

This could’ve ended differently… Maybe if you knew and saw the red flags in his letter or the way he acted when he was around you, you would’ve escaped. But you should doubt that. The man’s a Harbinger, a child who fell into the Abyss, a striving and unmatched warrior and most importantly, a manipulative companion who always gets what he wants. And you being a long-time friend only worsens it since the both of you knew each other more deeply than anyone else. He knew your weaknesses, your likes, dislikes and everything.

And you don’t know any of his weaknesses. It was hard to guess. You only knew a few and it was you. But being his weakness also means being his strength, you know how you get him. You were his source of motivation. If you weren’t then he wouldn’t be torturing people to tell him about your whereabouts ever since your family cut ties with him.

“Don’t sleep on me now~ We still have yet to clean you up!” Childe chimes in the room once again, a towel in his hand as he approaches and kneels on the floor. His arms are on the mattress of the bed, his head firmly placed in between them as he stares at you. “I haven’t bathed you properly and seeing the stains on your shirt, you wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in something dirty, right?” He attempts to sway you. “I may be a bad guy, but I’m no monster.” You wanted to laugh. What the actual fuck does he mean by that?

You decide not to protest. You were too tired to do so and your lips could barely sound out a breath. “Good girl.. You’ve finally learned your lesson!” Childe grins at the wig hut of your tired face, the blush on your cheeks evident from the messy and hard kisses he’s been giving you. He trails his finger on them, slowly moving them downwards until they reach your neck, carefully grasping it, causing you to choke on your deep breaths.

“Good girls deserve rewards, correct?” Childe tilts his head with that stupid grin on his face. He must be proud at how much of a mess he’s made out of you. How much control he has over you. He knows you know it, he’s laughing to himself right now. “So let me reward you..” His smile drops, as well as his voice.

He didn’t waste a millisecond to bring his right arm under your knees and his left arm beneath your back. Shaking you a bit so that you wouldn’t sleep when he bathes you. “Stay awake for me, pretty. Don’t want you drowning.” He snickers with a teasing grin on his face. He takes quick but careful steps to the open door that leads to the bathroom. He sat you down in the bathtub and prompted you to take your clothes off. You can feel the embarrassment bubble up inside of you as well as your jaw tightening. “Come on, now. Don’t get too shy~ You’re gonna get used to this soon enough.” he traces the shape of your cheek before he lets his finger move lower to your neck to unbutton one button of your collar.

“You’re a big girl now, right?” He murmurs softly, grabbing your hand and placing it on your shirt, silently commanding you to undress. “But I don’t mind if I could do it instead. I’d be more than happy to see you trust in me in this.” Childe was trying his best to go easy on you. He knew he wouldn’t go anywhere if he continued to torture you.

He’ll make sure he’s all you can rely on. The only person you can trust in this dim cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“No.. I can do it.” You push his hand away as you slowly unbutton your shirt, each time you show a bit of your skin with each button, his gaze intensifies. He couldn’t help but put his hands on the sides of your stomach, his thumb brushing the soft and bare skin. He leans in and uses his teeth to drag the collar of your shirt to the side to reveal more of your figure. “So pretty..” he praises, licking a stripe of your shoulder. You sat there, frozen and clutching onto his shirt, attempting to push him away.

He notices this and controls his urges. He’s not gonna do anything, yet. “Undress the rest of your clothing for me.” He pulls away and stands up to discard his gloves. You do as he says and unzip your jeans, kicking them off. You were only left with your undergarments and the way he eats up every bare skin of your body makes you feel unsafe to what he’s gonna do next.

Childe really has a hard time breathing at the sight of you. God he’d just take you there right now but he slaps himself to the thought of it. “Not yet..” He scolds himself internally. He’ll do it once the time is right. For now, he needs you cleaned up. “Take those off too.” You swore you heard a low grunt at the end of his sentence but you didn’t dare question it. You unclip your bra from behind, struggling a bit from taking it off before finally letting it fall off your shoulders and onto your lap. 

Childe stares at you, admiring every curve and contour but he snaps out of it once your hands lowered to take off your underwear too. His eyes were stuck on your lap and at the sight of your cunt. He lets out a heavy huff he didn’t know he was holding for so long and grabs your undergarments, placing them in the sink. A moment later, he turned on the water faucet and washed your naked body with soap. Occasionally brushing the scars (that he made) with his thumb to soothe you (as well as admiring it as if it’s a work of art.)

It didn’t take too long to finish bathing you. It’s probably the first time you’ve behaved around him but that doesn’t mean you’ll tolerate him for long. Childe gently grabs your chin and tilts it upwards for your eyes to face him. You thought he’d do something he wasn’t supposed to but he just simply caressed the bruise on your cheek. You could only sigh and hope whatever he wanted to do just finishes.

“Let’s get you settled..” Childe gets up from his kneeling position and grabs a white towel. He turns his head and gestures to you to get out of the tub. You did what he commanded and stood up from the water and stepped out of it. You cringe at the cold breeze meeting your skin as the water droplets sticking on your drop to the ground.

You notice the ginger-haired man’s hesitance when seeing your bare body in all of its glory. The water made your skin glisten a bit, all he wanted to do now was mouth your neck, your collarbone, literally anywhere. He wasn’t being picky at this point. He just wanted his hands all over your body.

He couldn’t contain himself much longer and dropped the towel as he desperately strides towards you to wrap his arms around your waist and pull your wet body on his clothed one. His hands obsessively ravaging your hips and your back, “Fuck… So pretty for me, yeah?” He grunts at the feeling of being so close to you, chest-to-chest, trapped in his arms with no escape and no choice but to deal with his horrid affection. “All for me…” His fingers pat your bare hip until it reaches your ass, squeezing it lightly. You froze and clutch onto his shirt, “Stop… Please..” You plead, but he growls. “Fine..” he responds but doesn’t let you distance yourself from him.

Childe grabbed the towel that fell on the floor, he turns to you again and dry your body up, periodically brushing your intimate parts with his lips, saying it was to quicken the process. He wasn’t even trying to make a better excuse.

With one last stroke of the towel around your breasts, he pulls away and admires his work. “I’ll get you some clothes. Come with me.” he places the towel on a towel rail and leads you to– most likely– his room.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed as he explores through a closet of clothes. Maybe… Just maybe you could knock him out. He was really distracted at the moment but you don’t have anything to attack him with. Even if you did, you’d be dead. He’s not that weak nor does he have slow instincts to sense what’s wrong.

“Hey..” Childe snaps his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. Your eyes widen and blink a few times before looking up at him, confused. Childe stares at you for a moment before letting out a chuckle and sighing, amused at your act. “Done daydreaming, sweetheart?” he teases before handing you some folded group of clothes. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay like that for too long. But I don’t mind such a sight either way… I’ll think of other ways to heat you up if you let me.” He smirks and you internally cringe at his remark in trying to bed you.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Childe.” You grin awkwardly at him and attempt to grab the clothes from his hands but he refuses to give you it. “[Y/N].” He spoke your name. He sounded mad, as if you did or said something wrong and offending. “Yes, Chil–”

“Don’t call me that.” He cuts you off with a stern tone. The way his eyes narrow at how your lips voiced out his name— his codename to be specific. A name that’s normally used by either enemies or acquaintances that he's barely close with. “It’s Ajax.. Just call me that, [Y/N]. It’s just two syllables and four letters.”

“...”

Childe notices your silence and sighs, feeling frustrated. “Just this once at least.. Please?” he begs and you swore he looked pathetic like that. You can’t believe this is the exact same man who just committed manslaughter yesterday and got rid of your whole family. “...Ajax.” You mussitate,  a hint of annoyance within your tone from his persistence.

You were unable to catch the self-satisfied smile he had on his lips. Childe lets out a content hum as he places the pile of clothes on your hands and pushes you to sit on the edge of the bed. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He expresses his mirth fatuously, “Get dressed. I’ll take a bath. Behave for me, alright? Don’t go out without my permission.” He spoke softly, holding your shoulder, his grip was threatening but soon enough softened, taking it out of your body. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze on you didn’t waver as he studied every detail on you.

With a turn of his heel, he left and entered the bathroom, closing it and locking it as water started running inside.

You sat on the bed's edge. Feeling overwhelmed, the sound of his voice, the way his touch sends shocking shocks through your body. You were overthinking what had just happened and didn't see how your body began to shake from the cold. You wore the long-sleeved sweater and pajamas gently, shaking the thoughts out of your head. It strangely fits... Did he get your size while you were sleeping? But it didn't appear brand new if he did manage to get your size and buy clothing for it.

You stood up and walked onto the exit door of the bedroom you were in, looking towards the door where Childe was bathing. When you're close enough, you palm the knob and turn it slowly so as not to create too much noise.

The corners of your lips raise a bit when you successfully open the door but it soon drops when you hear another door creak behind you. “What do you think you’re doing?” an austere voice rumbles from a few feet. Slowly turning your head, you’re met with the sight of Childe’s bare chest that was dripping with hot water.

You were so distracted by his sudden closeness that you didn’t notice his hand closing the door while leaning in front of you so it couldn’t be opened. “Be a dear and get out of the way.” his tone wasn’t as gentle as before. You warned yourself not to get him mad or else you’ll face something you’ll regret. You let out a sigh as you take a step to the side and awkwardly walk towards the bed to sit there again. Childe seems to calm down from the way his shoulders slump as he locks the door. He turns to look at you before making his way over to the bed, “Look at me.” he commands, gripping your chin harshly.

Once making eye contact with you, he stayed silent. You knew what he was saying from how his eyes were narrowing while he let out uneven, heavy breaths.

It didn’t take long for him to pull away in pure silence so he could dress up. Once finished, he crawls over to you and forces you to lay down on the mattress with his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you locked within his embrace. You feel his nose brush up against your nape, breathing in and familiarizing your addicting scent. “You smell divine..” The man murmurs from behind, his hand palming your stomach in a loving way. He feels the way you tense up from his touches and he hums, grinning from the feeling. “Relax… I won’t do anything yet.”

His ‘reassuring’ words only served to stiffen you up. Childe sighs before his grip tightens around you and wraps a leg around your pair. He decided to just stay silent, assuming you’ll get used to his presence around you soon enough. It’s not like you have a choice either way.

.

.

.

“Dear…” Childe murmurs longingly as he turns his body to face yours. He’s been tossing and turning all night during his sleep and he didn’t notice that until now. He opens his eyes tiredly with a sheepish smile as his arms wrap around the soft figure in front of him, “I’m so sorry about that… Did I wake you?” he asks, his tone tinged with a bit of guilt.

No response.

Childe purses his lips as he shakes his head and sits up, gripping what seems to be your shoulder and forcing you to look at him.

But it wasn’t you. It was just a pillow.

Upon his realization, he quickly got up and searched around the house for you. It’s not like you’ve gotten far, right? Not to the point you’re outside the cabin he’s trapping you in. All the doors were locked, windows closed shut so that your weak body couldn’t open it.

That is, until he noticed the front door lock on the floor. He wouldn't have seen your escape if it weren't for the gleaming metal flashing in the dark. As he slammed the front door wide, he noticed footsteps, footprints pointing towards the woodland that encircled the lodge. He grits his teeth before donning the dark, heavy coat that had been hanging nearby before stepping out to get you and take you back inside.

Even though everything was dark, he could see where he was going. Where you were going. It won't be long before he catches up with you. He realizes you didn't go very far. You're too lost in this forest and you'll end up back where you started(. There’s a reason why he set up this specific forest when trapping you). Do you really think you can escape him that easily? He chuckles to himself. It’s amusing. It’s good to have some determination, some hope at least, but it’s also good to be realistic. 

.

.

.

You ran and ran as fast as you could, away from the cabin in the woods, away from the creature within it. Your feet hurt severely. You’ve underestimated how harsh the winter of Snezhnaya is, how the breeze alone causes your whole body to turn numb from the cold. What’s worse was that you couldn’t stop moving no matter what. Even a single second counts, driving you closer to your escape.

You struggle to breathe after all that movement, causing you to stumble against a thick tree root. You pant, taking heavy breaths to regain your composure but you can’t really be calm in a situation like this, can you?

You stood up, dusting the snow off your clothes as you continued forward, trembling a bit from feeling the sudden warmth rising up your body. Fuck… This is gonna be the death of you..

You hear footsteps tapping behind you, approaching you slowly and surely. A howl can be heard from behind that was soon followed by a growl. You slowly turned your head in search of the source of the sound and quickly regretted it. The sight of the darkish Rifthounds glaring at you sent a shiver on your spine. They were quite far but it didn’t take awhile for them to start noticing your presence and preparing to teleport or sprint at you.

You saw the Rockfound Rifthound instantly turning its body, disappearing for a second before appearing right in front of you, about to swing its tail to attack you. You shriek out loud, your legs instinctively move to the opposite direction only for you to instantly get knocked forward when feeling the tail make contact with your back. Groaning, you attempt to get back up, ignoring the sights of the Whelps drawing nearer towards you.

You clenched your fist before grabbing a big enough rock and throwing it at the Rifthound that just attacked you to catch it off guard. Seeing it roar in pain and the Whelps looking towards their leader, you took this chance to escape from the creature's grasp.

Never have you felt this much adrenaline rushing through your vines. You felt so dead yet so alive right now…

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a static of Electro rotating over to you. The projectile makes an impact on your side, causing you to get pushed and injured in the process. You grunt gutturally, clutching your hip and left arm, hissing as the sting worsens the more contact it has with your hand and other solid things.

You look over to your side, spotting a Thundercraven Rifthound nearing you along with its accompaniment of Whelps. Your hands swiftly touch the ground swiftly, moving it in hope to find another rock but to no avail.

You were trying to think of a way to escape this but there was no way out. You were surrounded by the mobs, and they looked like they wouldn’t let you off the hook easily. You spot a current of Electro and what seems to be aiming at you. You pulled your arms to your face, blocking whatever was about to touch you.

You hiss at the feeling of the electrifying scratch on the small reveal of your skin and twitch when hearing the wail of the Rifthounds around you. Another guttural sound erupts not so far from where you sit, causing you to press your face deeper into your arms.

“Get up.” Someone spoke, their tone serious and authoritative.

It took about a few seconds to do exactly that. You spot that the Rifthounds were gone, only leaving parts of their body left behind. You knew you weren’t strong but it did surprise you that every single one of them was taken care of. “T-Thank you, mister–?”

“I said– Get Up.” His voice booms through you, causing your ear to ring a bit. You perk your head up with your eyes squinted, “Apologies… I–” A breath was taken away from your lungs upon feeling the man’s hand wrapped around your neck, dragging you from the ground up to the sky. The hand squeezes your throat tightly, making you swing your legs on instinct to kick whoever was holding you. “All under my mercy now, huh? What happened to your acts of disobedience? Did it all get thrown out the window once I teach you your lesson?” The man scoffs, harshly dropping you on the snowy ground and kicking you on your stomach, making you turn and tumble down into a group of bushes.

You hiss, the feeling of small pricks picking into your skin, causing small but nasty scars that leave you groaning. You couldn’t see, some even scratched near your eyes and for you not to get blinded by them, you squint your eyelids shut.

“Please– I’m sorry! Let me out!” You sob, trembling in fear, in the stinging pain of the pricks. “Oh, are you now?” The man walks towards the bush, tapping his foot as he watches you struggling. ”Do you mean it?” He plants his foot on top of the bush, slowly but surely deepening its form to strangle you more.

“Yes– I do! Agh–”

“Beg for your life if you mean it.” He deepens it once more. Even if you were under this confined space of a bush, you can spot the sadistic grin plastered on his face, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering. “P-please… I plead.. For mercy. Please.. I can’t br–eathe-hah!” You breathe heavily in between your words, the form of the bush only trapping you little by little. “Do you promise… Pinkie promise to not escape out of my grasp? To obey my every command, dearest?” You feel your hand being taken out of the bush and into the cold air outside. You whine, feeling the small pricks touch your skin in the process.

A pinkie awaits to intertwine with yours, “I’m waiting.” He reminds by delving his foot deeper, causing you to cry out in agony and wrapping your pinkie around his, “I promise! Please!”

“That’s my girl.” He jests in amusement as he pulls away, cracking his knuckles and stretching his body to dive in and carefully but surely pull you out of the spiky bush. He cringes a bit once spotting the small spikes in your skin. He sighed and decided to take care of them later since keeping you warm was his priority right now. Taking his jacket off and wrapping it around you, he made sure the pricks didn’t bother you on the way back to the cabin. He takes a look at the rose bush one last time before picking one of it up and placing it on the chest of his jacket.

He caresses the petals before his fingers meet your chin to tilt them up, “C’mon.. Rest. You’re gonna need it.” He hushes you quietly before forcefully closing your eyes.and pecking your forehead. You couldn’t soften up in his presence even if you wanted to but the way your body just betrays you, forcing you to go limp to gain rest it needs, it gave you no choice to stay awake even if you wanted to.

.

.

.

“You’re awake, I see..” A voice spoke from above. You twitch, turning your head to the source and furrowing your brows upon spotting the oh-so familiar, scarred and freckled face that was right in front of you. You attempt to push him away by nudging your knee against his abdomen but that was countered from a sharp pain coming from both your legs. “..Ahah–!” You let out a roar of discomfort. Chidle grins and jests upon seeing your face contort in displeasure, “You should think twice before doing that. I still haven’t fully catered your body yet.”

He pulls your leg lightly which is enough for your body to get dragged onto his lap. “Don’t move.” He commands, emphasizing it with a squeeze of your thigh.

You internally whimper when you feel him slowly but surely take the thorns out of your skin. “How cute.” he laughs softly, patting a wet, warm towel on the small open wound. “You’re doing great. Just as you should. Continue behaving for me, will you? It’s not like you’re going anywhere with these.” He plays around with the chains around your ankle that was connected to a wall. “It fits you well, don’t you think?” Childe murmurs lovingly, as if he’s admiring the work he’s done on you… Trapped, under his mercy, with no escape.

After finishing up the wounds on your left leg, he leans in close to your face, his hand cupping your waist to bring you closer to him, close enough to place a kiss on your forehead. “There we go… Such a behaved little thing.” Childe jests before standing up and dusting his pants. “Hopefully this will be enough for you. Sleep well, alright?” He pats and ruffles your hair, his hand sliding down to your cheek and caressing it. “Don’t try escaping me. Because next time, you won’t even get to be sleeping under this damnation.”

You tried to bite his palm because it was so close to your mouth, but he took his hand away and quickly brought it back to hit you, turning your head the other way as your cheek erupted in pain. His hand catches your chin and angles it violently in his direction as you hiss. He's grinning viciously, his eyes twitching with annoyance at your attempt to turn the tables on him again, “Still being a bitch? Thought you learnt your lesson… Maybe I should’ve left you to rot.” He snarled, gripping your chin tighter.

“Waste of fucking breath.” He pushes you against the wall and lets go of you, standing with a displeased expression and turning to take his leave as you groan in pain. You clenched your hands into a fist as you watched him climb up the stairs and reach for the door. Childe looks back, glancing upon you one more time before smiling in content to himself and shutting it, following with the sound of a key locking in.

You were now by yourself. But then again it was much better than having to be breathing the same air as the man who just hit you.

You side meets the dirty mattress under you as you hug your knees, seeing as he didn’t give you a blanket to keep yourself warm. You were unable to muffle down your silent sobs, clutching onto your own cheek as it continued to sting. You question… You wonder, why?

…Just why?

°

Ouch… Huh?

You groggily opened your eyes, the feeling of something biting your neck. A wet sensation was followed after and you instantaneously snapped out of your tired trance to grab whatever was in front of you. “Ah– Geez… Relax, will you? This mattress is dirty enough.. Wouldn’t want blood to stain it too..” Childe groaned, his hand groping your hip harshly to make you pause. He pulls his face away from your neck, wiping the saliva dripping from his mouth. “H-hey! Have you not had enough already?!” You screeched and tried to get him off of you but were unable to. “Shut it.” he scoffs, shutting your mouth by forcing his lips onto you.

He slips his hand underneath your shirt, touching every part he wishes. “You feel so divine.. I wonder how you’d feel around me, yeah?” He grins against your lips. His tongue intrudes into your wet cavern, drinking in your moans and muffled noises. The wet sounds of his mouth against yours, showing how desperate he is for your taste.

You whine, feeling Childe’s hand exiting your shirt to enter your shorts instead, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clothed cunt. He sighs, pulling away from the kiss, admiring the string of saliva connecting your lips. Licking his lips, he brings his face close to you until you are nose-to-nose. 

“Wanna try that out with me, my dear?”

© wiltedivinity 2024. reposting, plagiarizing, translating, claiming authorship or any form of unauthorized use is strictly prohibited. legal action may be taken against violators.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hiii

so idk if your requests are open but could you please write some hcs about clayton Beresford as a husband and dad

Thank youuu ❤️

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

HUSBAND/DAD!CLAY HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains filthy, crazy sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: of course my requests are open! I just LOVE seeing notification from my inbox, so thank you very much <3 hope you like it

MARRIAGE

Clayton Beresford who after two delightful years of your relationship proposed to you. He took you to the fancy restaurant, and since it was something you did often, you hadn't have any suspicious. But have you thought about marrying him? Of course, yet, you wanted to give him time. You knew how his earlier marriage ended so it'd be out of your character to even suggest him taking your relationship to another level. But the ring you got was out of your wildest dreams - 4 carat round cut diamond ring that seemed to shine more than every star in the sky

Clayton Beresford who got even more all-about-you after wedding. Even more love making with no care in the world, long honeymoon, even more spent time together just more everything

Clayton Beresford who, despite his demanding job, always makes time for you. He’s the type of husband who will surprise you with small gestures; like leaving sweet notes in your purse or sending you flowers (mostly to your workplace) randomly just to remind you that he’s thinking of you.

Clayton Beresford who loves planning spontaneous weekend trips to your favorite places. Whether it’s a cozy cabin in the mountains or a luxury hotel in the city, Clayton enjoys these escapes to focus solely on you without any distractions.

Clayton Beresford who's big on surprises. He might book a last-minute trip to Paris (or any place on earth), arrange for a private dinner on the rooftop of the restaurant's building or just in the place you'd not be able to pay by yourself. Or buy you that piece of jewelry you casually mentioned months ago.

Clayton Beresford who has a strong protective instinct. He always ensures you’re safe, and anyone who might pose a threat to you or your happiness would have to face his wrath.

Clayton Beresford who depended on you doing the grocery shopping since he had never done that before (however after a few times he gained knowledge);

Clay glanced away for just a second, but when he looked back, you were gone. His brow furrowed as he scanned the immediate area, stepping away from the cart to see if you had wandered behind another display. But there was no sign of you.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in as he quickened his pace, determined not to lose you. Not in this place.

He began weaving through the aisles, his eyes darting around in search of you, listening intently for any sound that might be your voice. But the supermarket was huge, and the weekend crowd made it even more overwhelming.

With a groan of annoyance, Clay pressed on, moving faster now, his heart racing a little at the thought of losing you in this sea of people. Then, suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of you between rushing people. A glimmer of hope flickered in his chest as he turned sharply toward the sound.

You were standing by the dairy section, casually chatting on the phone as you picked up items. Relief washed over him, and he silently thanked whatever forces led him to find you.

Like a lost puppy or a child who had been separated from their parent, he hurried over to you, his earlier frustration melting into a quiet sense of relief.

Reaching for a carton of milk, you sensed someone close behind you. Turning around, you found Clay standing there, his expression a mix of worry and boyish vulnerability that made you smile. It was as if he had been a little kid lost in a big mall again.

You handed him the shopping list, tapping the line where it said 'bananas' with a knowing look.

Clay accepted the list with a determined nod. He was a grown man—he could handle picking up some bananas.

But when he reached the produce section, his confidence wavered as he stared at the six different types of bananas on display, his frown deepening in confusion.

It was supposed to be a simple task: grab the bananas and return to you. Yet here he was, staring at the display like they were some exotic species he had never encountered.

He didn't recognize any of the types, and he had no clue which one you wanted. So, with a loosing sigh, he carefully picked a bunch of yellow bananas, added some mini ones, and then tossed in a few green ones for good measure. Feeling a bit more confident, he placed them all in the cart and made his way back to you. A small, proud smirk forming on his lips as he approached.

“I got them,” he announced, a hint of pride in his voice as if he had just completed a great feat.

You glanced down at the cart, noticing the remarkable assortment. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked back at him. "Baby, but... they're all different kinds."

His smirk faded slightly as a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He glanced at the cart, then back at you “I know,” he admitted, his voice soft and a bit self-conscious. “I wasn’t sure which ones you wanted, so I just… grabbed a few to be safe.”

Your heart melted at his effort, and you stood on your toes to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "C'mon, we'll figure out these bananas together."

His cheeks flushed a deeper red at your affectionate gesture, and he looked down at you with warm, loving eyes, a shy smile curving his lips.

“Okay,” he murmured, feeling content as he started pushing the cart again, this time with you walking beside him.

PREGNANCY

Clayton Beresford who was shocked yet thrilled when he found out you're pregnant. He was always gentle with you but from that day he got on another level of doing everything in his power to make sure you're safe, happy and comfortable

Clayton Beresford who seemed to be hypnotized by your changing body (so obviously loved to have his hands on it, and you loved when he did)

Clayton Beresford who had to deal with your neediness for attention/affection;

"Baby, I'm already late. You know I can't stay longer," he sighs, slipping on his black cloak, the fabric rustling as he moves with familiar urgency.

"Are you sure you can't stay just a little longer?" you pout, leaning against the doorframe of your mudroom

He chuckles softly and walks over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest "Baby, I'd love nothing more than to stay," he murmurs "But…" he sighs again, the weight of responsibility heavy in his voice, "you know I can't be late twice in a row."

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his muscles firm against your softer frame. The warmth of his embrace makes you want to hold onto him just a little longer.

"But I thought you'd make love to me all morning," you tease, your voice soft and playful "and then spoil me with a big breakfast."

His eyes softened after his large hands roam over to cup your pregnant belly, his fingers gently tracing over the curve "That was the original plan," his lips formed into a knowing smirk. His hands linger on your body, as if memorizing every inch before he has to let go. "But you know I've got to go to work…"

"But what if the baby comes out while you're not here?" you pout, feeling the warmth of his knuckles as they gently trace over your swollen belly.

He chuckles softly at your worry, his lips curling into a reassuring smile. He steps back slightly, his hands slipping from your waist to admire the sight of your pregnant form. "Babe, we've talked about this. The baby's not coming today," he says with a confident grin, glancing down at your round belly before meeting your concerned gaze.

"Yeah... right," you mumble, still not entirely convinced.

He can't help but smirk at how endearingly moody you are, especially when you pout like that. With a gentle touch, he wraps his fingers around your chin, tilting your face up so you're looking directly into his smiling eyes. "Don't give me that look," he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth as he leans in closer, his breath brushing against your lips.

"I'm gonna miss you," you whisper, your voice barely audible as the reality of his departure sinks in.

His gaze locks onto your big, sparkling eyes as he gently cups your cheeks. "I'm going to miss you too, baby. But I have to go to work," he murmurs with a tender smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips once more.

"I love you, you know," your voice lingering, trying to stretch out the moment just a little longer.

His smile deepens, touched by your efforts to keep him close, but he's all too aware of the ticking clock. "I love you too, more than anything. But if I don't leave now, I'll be late for a meeting with the board... and I can't afford to do that again," his tone a mix of regret and urgency as he gives you a sympathetic look, hoping you understand.

"But you're their boss," you protest softly, a pout forming on your lips.

He sighs, knowing that leaving without giving you something special will likely leave you moody for the rest of the day. Even though he’s pressed for time, he quickly pivots. "How about I give you a kiss for the road?" he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes as he shifts the mood.

"Okay," you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, his hand finding its way to your cheek once more, tenderly cradling your face. He pauses, taking a moment to get lost in your sparkling blue eyes, savoring the connection before slowly closing his own and leaning in. His lips meet yours in a slow, loving kiss

Clayton Beresford who makes sure to lift up your pregnancy mood;

His heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked face. Instantly, worry fills his eyes and he kneels beside you, his voice soft and full of concern. "Baby, what’s wrong?" He gently tilts your chin up with his fingers, urging you to meet his gaze.

"I feel so huge..." you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

"Baby, you know I love every part of you. Nothing could ever change that," he says tenderly, his words full of sincerity.

But your insecurities linger, and you turn to him, searching his face. "So you think I’m huge?" you ask, misinterpreting his silence as agreement.

He sighs again, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable you are right now. Quickly, he tries to soothe your worries before they spiral. "No, no, love..." he insists, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the traces of your tears. "You’re not huge, you’re beautiful."

You glance down at your growing belly, frustration evident in your voice. "I barely fit into my pants."

He smiles softly, his gaze never leaving yours, understanding the deep-seated concerns you have about your changing body. "I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "But that’s just because of the incredible little life you’re carrying."

"You look absolutely radiant when you’re pregnant," he adds, his words filled with admiration, careful not to say anything that might upset you further.

"Yeah?" you sniffle, your voice small and uncertain.

He nods slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, full of love and reassurance. "Yeah, baby," he repeats softly. "You’re glowing, and you’re absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you, pregnant or not."

"But what if after I push the baby out, I still look pregnant? And... and I have all these marks, and my body doesn’t go back to the way it was? And you'll leave me?"

His heart aches as he listens to your fears, unable to bear hearing you doubt the body he cherishes so deeply. "No, no, no, shhh, baby, no..." he murmurs urgently, his voice soothing as he tries to calm your spiraling thoughts. "I would never, ever leave you for that. My love for you knows no limits, nothing could change that."

His hands continue to tenderly stroke your face, his touch gentle and reassuring as he speaks. "I love you so much, sweetheart. The marks on your body from carrying our beautiful child—they'll only make me love you and your body even more."

"Yeah?" you sniffle, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

his eyes filled with admiration and love as he nods "Yeah, baby. Because those marks are proof of your incredible strength, of the life you’ve nurtured for nine months.. and only an absolute goddess could manage that"

Clayton Beresford who every day remaided you how beautiful you are, what a treasure you are in his life that nothing could replace

Clayton Beresford who got more cuddly with you;

"Look at that… he’s a little boxer" his lips curved up as he felt the baby’s tiny movements beneath his fingertips. His voice was filled with awe, and there was a boyish excitement in his eyes that made you smile.

"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you glanced up from your book. "How do you know it’s a boy?"

He shrugged, but the cheeky grin that spread across his features betrayed the certainty in his heart. He leaned closer, letting his chin rest on your bump. His touch was gentle, almost tingly at times while his long fingers made sure to memorize the path over your swollen skin

"Father’s instincts," he whispered

"Oh? Didn’t know you had those," you chuckled, your fingers threading through his tousled curls. There was something endearing about how intensely focused he was on your belly - his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for more signs of the baby’s movements.

Clay still kept his, this time less wider, smile over his lips. He seemed to calm down under not only your touch but the feeling of your belly with his child right in his reach and right before his eyes. He shifted slightly, pressing his lips gently against your tummy. His lips lingered for a little longer, his expression changing to more surprised;

"Hush," he murmured softly, his hand stilling when he found the spot where the baby seemed to be resting. "I can sense him…"

Yet, the baby had quieted, and clay's lips formed into a pout. The frustration knitting his brows before he nuzzled to your belly "Can’t you encourage him to kick or something? I want to know that he’s alive…" he mumbled, his voice laced with a mix of concern and childish impatience (that you rarely saw before)

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his earnestness. "Clay, how am I supposed to encourage him? Maybe he’s sleeping."

He groaned softly, looking up at you with those soulful eyes, making it impossible not to find him utterly endearing. He looked like a grumpy child who hadn’t received the attention he thought he deserved and it was both cute and hilarious

"Well, I don’t know," he muttered, his hand still drawing small circles on your belly. "Talk to him? Tell him how cool I am… maybe he’ll be excited then and want to say hi."

You rolled your eyes playfully, still stroking his curls. "Baby, don’t be ridiculous… he's probably sleeping."

He huffed in response, still pouting but clearly knowing you were right. The baby was just asleep, and there was nothing he could do but wait. Still, the idea of his child not acknowledging his presence seemed to tug at something deep within him.

"I just want him to know that I’m here too," he mumbled

You smiled down at him, your voice soothing as you reassured him. "I bet he does, clay."

"Just imagine how cute he’s gonna be," clay mused, his voice softening as he let himself drift into the fantasy of fatherhood. "A baby version of me, running around, being a menace to everyone…"

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What if it’s a girl?"

His hand paused for a moment, the weight of the thought catching him off guard. For a few seconds, his expression was blank as he processed the idea of having a daughter. Then, slowly, his usual cocky grin reappeared, but with a touch of tenderness that hadn’t been there before.

"A baby girl," he echoed, as if trying out the words. "She could get your looks, though. I wouldn’t mind that. The second most beautiful girl in the world… and daddy’s little princess."

Just then, he felt a light flutter beneath his palm. His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up like a child on Christmas morning, the pout completely erased by a wide grin "There you are…"

The baby seemed to respond to his voice, shifting slightly as if acknowledging his father’s presence. He continued to rub gently over your belly, his touch loving and protective, showering the area with soft kisses.

"Already responding to me," he whispered, a wave of satisfaction washing over him as he felt the tiny movements beneath his hands. "Smart baby…"

clayton continued to soothe your belly, his hands and lips moving in a calming rhythm until the baby settled back into stillness. Even as the baby quieted, he wasn’t ready to let go. He lingered, enjoying the feeling of being close to both of you, his heart full and content.

"Guess he’s asleep again…" he said softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Or maybe he’s just tired of you," you teased lightly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

His eyes widened in mock offense, his pout returning as he looked up at you, clearly not appreciating the joke. "Very funny," he grumbled, his frown deepening. "I am the most interesting person this baby will ever meet—"

But despite his grumbling, you could see the love and excitement in his eyes, the way he couldn’t wait to meet the little life growing inside you. And you knew, without a doubt, that he would be the best father this baby could ever ask for.

Clayton Beresford who spoiled you way more during your pregnancy. More presents without occasion, more affection, more cuddles, just more everything there was to give

Clayton Beresford who was there on most of your doctor appointments. If he had a busy schedule, which happened often, he then couldn't appear (but you didn't mind, since it was just doctor appointment to check on your and the child's health, nothing more so much important for him to be there everytime)

Clayton Beresford who was obsessed with making love to you during your pregnancy;

"youre-youre so big--" you mewl underneath him

"I am, aren't I?" he panted, his hands gripping your plump hips tightly. "And you're so fucking tight, sweetheart." His words spurred him on, pushing deeper inside you to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

your eyes barely could keep themselves open from the sensation of having him again in your hole. Who would have known that your pregnancy hormones would make you so horny you would cry to Clayton about it. And him, being such a generous gentleman who loved his wife with all his being, how could just leave you like that? When you sobbed, begged for his touch

"Don't close your eyes," he commanded softly "Open them. Let me see the look on your face when I'm inside you."

your eyes reluctantly opened, at least they lingered between half opened and half closed. A moan rumbled through your throat as you took in the sight of his muscles that ripped whenever his hold grew too much

"That's it," he panted, his eyes locked onto yours. "Let me hear you." Clayton's breath hitched as he felt her body tremble beneath him. The way you moaned and your completely swollen breasts jingled with each thrust was driving him wild. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he warned you, picking up the pace even more.

PARENTHOOD

Clayton Beresford who was there for you for the whole childbirth. Encouraging you, giving you support, etc. He'd insist you'd hold the baby first, not him. And before he'd even hold the newborn, he'd make sure you're all safe and everything's okay;

After making sure you held the newborn first and you were all okay, he had time to take the baby close to his chest, his large, strong arms cradling the fragile newborn bundle with a tenderness that belied his powerful frame. The baby’s skin was a delicate shade of pink, still wrinkled from the birth, and Clay couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming surge of emotion as he gazed down at the tiny life nestled against him. The baby was so small, so impossibly vulnerable, and it made something deep within him tremble and break.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he gently stroked the baby’s cheek with a trembling hand. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips barely brushing the baby’s soft, downy skin and his hand looked enormous in comparison to the baby’s minuscule features.

“He’s so small…” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His throat tightened as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Are you crying?” you asked softly, a tired smile playing on your lips as you rested after the long and exhausting delivery

He glanced up at you and he felt a single tear escape and trail down his cheek “…No—yes… maybe…” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He quickly wiped the tear away with the back of his hand, but it was clear that his composure was unraveling. He returned his gaze to the baby in his arms, his expression softening as he ran a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny hand, marveling at how delicate and perfect it was.

When the newborn's hand wrapped around clay's finger, he felt like his new heart might explode from overwhelming feeling. It was so cute, the baby’s grip firm and warm

“He’s holding my finger…” he murmured, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered awe

The baby continued to cling to his finger, his tiny hand gripping the large digit with a determination that was both heartwarming and humbling. Clay smiled through tears and a mixture of pride and amazement shined in his eyes as he gently caressed the baby’s hand, utterly mesmerized by the strength in such a small being.

“Such a tight grip… I’ve already created a little warrior,” he mused with a soft chuckle, his voice laced with pride. He looked down at his son, his heart brimming with a love so profound it was almost overwhelming. “You’re going to be strong, just like your momma” he added, his tone filled with admiration.

“…You have your momma’s eyes, you know?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as a fresh wave of emotion washed over him. There was a hint of pride in his voice, but also something deeper, something reverent. The sight of those eyes, so familiar and yet so new, made him feel as though he was looking at a piece of you—a part of the woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy.

As if sensing the weight of the moment, the baby cooed softly, his tiny body wriggling uncomfortably against the confines of the blanket. You watched the first interaction between your husband and your child and it was the most endearing thing you experience. Delivery was hard, damn it hurt like hell, as if devil himself teared your insides but as soon as the baby was out, all the pain was forgotten

“You don’t like that, huh?” he murmured, his voice filled with amusement as he gently traced soothing circles over the baby’s cheek “I don’t blame you… I’d hate being swaddled too.”

Clayton Beresford who is the kind of dad who’s always one step ahead when it comes to the safety and well-being of your children. He’s vigilant about who they spend time with and ensures they grow up in the safest environment possible.

Clayton Beresford who, despite his often serious demeanor, has a major soft spot when it comes to his children. He’s not afraid to get down on the floor and play with them, and he’ll often indulge them in things other might not—like staying up a bit past bedtime for just one more story.

Clayton Beresford who enjoys spoiling his kids, whether it’s with the latest toys, gadgets, or extravagant birthday parties. However, he’s careful to balance this with teaching them the importance of gratitude and not taking things for granted.

Clayton Beresford who, if you have a daughter, is wrapped around her little finger. He’s the type of dad who will attend tea parties, help with ballet practice, and learn how to braid hair just to make her happy;

"Hold on, baby, I'm almost finished," he murmured, his voice a soft yet deep rumble as he focused on working his fingers through the strands of your daughter's hair.

"Maybe we should just ask Mommy," she whispered, her small voice carrying a hint of doubt.

"No, no," he shook his head gently, a determined glint in his eye. "We don’t need Mommy for a braid. Daddy can do it just fine."

Clay's fingers moved clumsily but with care, tugging her hair a bit too tightly at times. His brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully looped the strands together.

"But Mommy always likes to help," she insisted, her tone hopeful.

"Daddy likes to help too," he replied, his voice tender but resolute, wanting to prove himself to his little girl.

He paused for a moment, examining his work with a critical eye. The braid was far from perfect—slightly uneven and a little messy, held together by a hairband that seemed to be doing more of the work than the braid itself. But as he looked at it, a small, proud smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"See? Not so bad, huh?"

Clayton Beresford who is big on teaching his children responsibility from a young age.

Clayton Beresford who made sure to pay attention to your kids after he came back from work. Even if he was extremely tired, he'd rather fall asleep with your baby boy in his arms than leaving you alone to deal with the children

Clayton Beresford who found you as his inspiration. You, with kids most of the time, still having energy to take care of him and the house. So, as soon as he changed his clothes after work, he replaced you in duties so you'd have your alone time.

Clayton Beresford who, if you had a son, played all the games the boy wanted. Like toys where the boy came up with some plot, plastic cars, playgrounds outside;

Clay sat on the floor, carefully stacking blocks into a tall tower while his son sat comfortably on his lap, his tiny hands occasionally reaching out to help—or hinder.

"What do you want to eat?" you asked softly from the kitchen doorway, watching the two with a fond smile.

Clay glanced up at you, a playful gleam in his eye. "You?" he teased, genuinely curious about your preference.

But before he could say more, the boy clumsily knocked over the tower with an excited shove, sending the blocks tumbling in all directions.

“Hey! You just destroyed Daddy’s masterpiece,” Clay said in mock offense, though his voice carried a warm, playful tone. He looked down at him, who was dissolving into giggles, his face scrunched up in pure joy.

"Well, I was thinking pasta... I'm really craving it," you said, your giggles mingling with theirs.

Clay's heart swelled as he watched you enjoy the moment just as much as he was. Turning back to the toddler, he gently poked his son’s side, earning more bubbly laughter from the little boy. “We don’t normally allow such behavior in the tower-building world,” he joked, his tone still light before turning his gaze to you "But pasta sounds good tho.."

With a grin, Clay stood up from the carpeted floor, scooping the boy up by his armpits and swinging him side to side, much to the toddler’s delight. "C'mon, you little silly guy, let's go help Mommy with dinner,"

Clayton Beresford who, no matter what interests or hobbies your kids have, is fully supportive. He’ll invest in lessons, equipment, or anything else they need to pursue their passions, always encouraging them to follow their dreams.

Clayton Beresford who, no matter how busy his life gets, always prioritizes family. He ensures that you and the kids know that you’re his number one priority, making time for family dinners, vacations, and just spending quality time together.

Clayton Beresford who propritazed your time together. His kids were important but you were more important. So, regularly he hired a babysitter (a trusted one), and took you out on dates (or on a vacation but then your parents took care of the children) so you could focus on each other and on the bond you share without screaming kids

Clayton Beresford ho didn't mind making you pregnant again (if you even wanted to be pregnant again);

"Fill this beautiful cunt with my seed once more?" He growled, plunging back into you with a single powerful thrust that made you both cry out in pleasure "you want that love? Be pregnant again?"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune (sad about her not being her anymore..) @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[yankpop]

Yandere BTS OT7 - Mistake

DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes that includes yandere/dark. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. 

SUMMARY: You make a big mistake and now you deal with the consequences.

Check more: Masterlist.

OT7 x Female reader

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping.

AN: I really made Jimin the bad guy here, but I hope you guys like it 💖

--

You hold your breath for a solid minute, staring at the door as it shakes.

The banging on the door progressively gets more violent as the loud commotion outside of the bathroom you just locked yourself in increases. 

The realization of what you did slowly starts to hit you. 

But you know very clearly how badly you’ve messed up. 

“Y/n! Open this door right now!” Hoseok and Jimin yell, angry voices mixing in. 

“Open it right fucking now!” 

“Don’t you dare ignore us!” 

You wince as a hard punch is thrown at the poor door, silently thanking the strong wood for withstanding the boys’s wrath. 

It’s the only thing keeping you safe from a horrible punishment, although you’re not stupid enough to think you can spend the rest of your life hidden in the bathroom.  

“What is going on here?” a new voice joins, overlapping over the rest of the angry voices, and you guess it’s Namjoon from the deep timbre. 

“Look at this, hyung! Y/n tried pushing Jimin down the stairs and now she’s locked herself in the bathroom.” 

You can practically see Namjoon’s brows rising in disbelief. 

The handle moves and upon realizing that the door is indeed locked shut, there’s a new knock on the door, although this one is much softer than the previous ones. 

“Y/n? Is this true?” he questions you, voice laced with disappointment. “Did you try to hurt Jimin?” 

Hot tears prickle your eyes as the struggle to hold them back proves itself to be worthless.

They’re gonna get so mad at you. They’re gonna hurt you.

“N-No.” 

“Liar!” Jimin cuts you off, and you jump at an unexpected fierce bang to the door. “I was trying to be nice and you fucking pushed me away!”

His explanation is twisted and it awakens flames of annoyance inside you. 

Jimin is not someone you would rank highly when it came to the boys, despite having no clear favorites amongst them.

You hate them all.

They’re all kidnappers, for all you care. But Jimin is particularly pushy when it comes to you and you hate him dearly for that. 

“You’re the liar!” you scream back, still maintaining a safe distance from the door. “You…Why don’t you tell the truth, you asshole?” 

You don’t wait for him to reply before continuing. 

“Namjoon, he tried slipping his hands underneath my shirt.” you sniff, cringing at the fresh memory of Jimin’s cold hands sneaking around your belly, starved to touch any inch of your skin. “He touched me, so I pushed him. He- I didn’t realize the stairs were so close, okay?” 

There’s a moment of silence. 

“Jimin-ah, why would you do that?” 

The muffled question from Jin has a light spark of hope igniting in you. Jin is one of the nicest, he’ll surely understand your situation. 

“I didn’t grope her! It was barely a touch!” 

“Jimin…” Namjoon sighs, clearly having doubts over the younger boy’s dubious explanation.  

“Hyung, I’m telling the truth! Y/n is the one lying!” Jimin argued back, his heated temper making his voice rise. “She’s just making excuses for the fact that she tried hurting me. She’s the one who went crazy on me and tried to shove me down the stairs.” 

“I didn’t-”

“She was probably hoping that I’d break my neck or something.” The malicious tone that Jimin uses upsets you. 

“I already said it was an accident!” you try to defend yourself.

“It didn’t look much like an accident.” Yoongi contradicts you. 

“Yeah, it really didn’t.” You shake your head at Jungkook’s words, feeling yourself getting slightly hysterical. 

You want to scream and shout. Of course they’re gonna take Jimin’s side. 

“It was an accident!” your voice is considerably aggravated, and it shows. “I didn’t mean to!” 

“Then come out.” Jimin challenges you. “What are you hiding for, if it was an accident?” 

You ignore him. 

The boys argue back and forth, with Jimin vehemently insisting it's all your fault against Jin and Taehyung, who try their best to minimize your actions. 

Finally, when the argument threatens to escalate into a fight, Namjoon intervenes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, guys. There’s no point in fighting like this. Let’s solve the situation like adults.”

There’s a softer knock on the door. 

“Y/n? Can you please come out?” 

You don’t even think before throwing a loud no. 

“Sweetheart, please, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Jin tries.

“Speak for yourself.” Jimin’s voice isn’t low enough to go unheard, and the hair on your arms rises at the implicit threat.

“Jimin!” several boys hiss. 

“Baby, please, just come out!” Taehyung begs. "We can talk things out."

“Y/n, we just want to clear up the situation, okay?” Namjoon tries again, using a pacific tone. “No one is punishing you without having the whole story, I promise.” 

You shake your head, heart pounding in your ears as you walk further away from the door. You don’t believe him.

In the end, they’ll hurt you. You know that. 

Curling yourself into the small space next to the bathtub, you bury your face in your arms.

Any previous anger and energy you had is now fully drained, the seriousness of your situation making you dwell into a light depression. 

You’re tired. So fucking tired of them. 

They’ve turned you into a captive, took away all of your life choices, stripped you away from your freedom. All for a poor excuse of love, as they claimed it. 

Obsessed freaks, that’s what they truly are. 

You cover your ears with your hands, blocking away their circus of begging, threatening and bribing. 

You’re not opening the door. 

It takes less than an hour for them to finally get inside the bathroom. 

By then, you’re slightly more anxious, having cried all the tears you had and yet new ones are ready to spill when Jungkook and Jin’s combined strength finally breaks the door down. 

As already expected, Jimin is the first one to stride in, closely followed by the rest of the boys. 

But what scares you the most is the terrifyingly sly smirk that he dedicates you as he bends down. One of his hands grips your hair, aggressively pulling your head back as he leans down to whisper on your ear. 

“I don’t care what Namjoon hyung said before.” he says, “But you’re getting punished. We’ll see if you can even walk after what I’m about to do to you.”