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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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sebek and his big ol' heart

Y’all thought I would be writing an extensive analysis on [REDACTED] or Skully but JOKE’S ON YOU, I love my lame idiot child Sebek 😭

When I tell you I actually CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES reading his Nightmare Suit vignettes… because all the pieces fit together SO well…

Before reading this (long) post, I’d like to ask that you also take your time to read this analysis and this analysis. They will help you understand some of the points I made later regarding Sebek and his internalized racism + how he expresses himself.

Have your recommended reading done? Great, then let’s hop to it!

***Spoilers for Sebek's Nightmare Suit vignettes, book 7, and various other Sebek and Silver card vignettes.***

Sebek is one of those characters that lives in infamy for how much time he takes to get warmed up to. He presents himself as loud and brazen, with these traits often earning him the ire of both in-universe peers and irl fans alike. Worst case scenario, Sebek can be seen as someone who is outright hateful. He’s rude to most people (including Silver, his childhood friend, sometimes), denounces humans, acts like Malleus can do nothing wrong, and doesn’t seem to respect his own father.

Well, I’m here today to tell you those claims are false and that Sebek is actually capable of so, so much love. All you need to really do is look at his Nightmare Suit vignettes—and how well they connect with the rest of his lore—to understand what I mean.

The vignettes start with Jack Skellington finishing a bento that Sally made for him. Sebek tells Jack that he should now return the basket that the bento was delivered in to her and to let her know what he thinks of her meals, but Jack says he can’t because he’s busy with Halloween preparations. Jack asks Sebek and Azul to return the basket in his stead, which they do. (These vignettes appear to be following Trey’s Nightmare Suit vignettes, as those open with Sebek and Trey seeing Sally jump out of a window with food with Jack. Sebek points out to Trey that Sally wants to hand deliver that food and says he believes there is some other reason than just being nice to Jack.)

They aren't allowed to see Sally because Dr. Finkelstein has locked her up for misbehaving, so they leave the basket. Azul advises that they also pass along Jack's comments (he had called Sally smart, thoughtful, and kind; he often forgets to have meals when he's absorbed with his work, so it's generous for her to prepare a delicious meal like this for him). Sebek loudly refuses, as he believes that hearing these grateful words from Jack himself would be much more meaningful to Sally.

He later confronts Sally at Town Hall and asks to speak with her privately (in an ALLEYWAY lol). There, Sebek flat-out tells Sally that such roundabout tactics will never help her feelings reach Jack because he's way too dense. Of course, she reacts with denial which sends Sebek into a passionate speech about the lengths Sally will go to for love (short of actually speaking about it). She literally threw herself out of a window and put herself in bodily harm to get to Jack when Dr. Finkelstein locked her in her room. She deliberately disobeyed her guardian and brainstormed a way to get out when theoretically she should not have been able to move around freely. If that's not motivated by love, then what is? Sebek declares that it's really annoying to watch Sally dance around the issue and to see her devotion go to waste. IT'S LIKE HE'S WATCHING/READING A ROMCOM AND THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS KEEP PLAYING THE "WILL THEY, WON'T THEY" CARD... She admits that she can't share her feelings because Sally thinks she's not worthy of someone as impressive as Jack... They're not compatible. And you know how Sebek responds??? BY TELLING SALLY ABOUT WHAT IS BASICALLY TWISTED ROMEO AND JULIET... Sebek reading tragic romance confirmed 😭 He describes the story as one of two lovers whose families do not approve of their union. In desperation, the lovers try to elope--but their plan fails and they return to their warring families. Instead of committing dying like in the original tale, the lovers live the rest of their lives lamenting the outcome and how they can no longer see the person they love most. Sebek shares his own interpretation of the story and its moral: because the lovers gave up hope that they could get their families to accept one another... because they never tried to get their families to get along... because they could not properly articulate their feelings to their families... the lovers could not be together. He is convinced that if they had communicated better, the story would have a happier ending. Sebek is of the firm belief that a story itself cannot come to be without the author wanting to share their own thoughts or feelings; he even suggests that maybe the author of Romeo and Juliet experienced something similar--a regret that resulted from neglecting to express deep-seated feelings. It's not just this book either, Sebek claims to have many stories with a similar theme or miscommunication leading to conflict.

Above all, Sebek stresses to Sally that she must believe in herself and take swift, decisive action. And why does Sebek whole-heartedly throw himself into this belief? Because his own family is living proof that a happy ending is possible if you try hard for it.

If you've paid attention to Sebek lore prior to this, you'll know that he has a human father and a fae mother. Their marriage faced opposition and scrutiny in Briar Valley, a country which is isolated from the rest of the world and suffered greatly from human invaders pilfering the fae lands for resources. One of these sources of opposition and scrutiny is Sebek's own grandfather and his mother's father, Baur. Apparently, Mrs. Zigvolt married Mr. Zigvolt against the wishes of her dad.

Sebek shares even more details with Sally in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. To this day, Baur does NOT approve of his daughter's marriage--but Mrs. Zigvolt doesn't let that get her down! No, she does everything in her power to prove to her father that she made the right choice and she's perfectly content with her life. She'll send letters enclosed with photographs of her family, take her children to visit Baur's home, and invite him to join family dinners. Sebek adds that he's sure his mom made other efforts too--all to try and get Baur to acknowledge her marriage. More recently, Baur seems to have lightened up a little... as in, he always used to turn Mr. Zigvolt away at the door, but now lets him in about once a year (though Baur still avoids eye contact with him and continues to frown). Mrs. Zigvolt stubbornly believes that if she keeps this up, her dad will one day change and bless her marriage with the man she truly loves. Sally commends Sebek and his mother's ability to speak their minds loudly and proudly, but then disparages herself again by saying she can't do the same. Sebek then confesses that he can relate to Sally's frustrations. He related her feelings to his own inadequacy in serving Malleus, the powerful and noble king-to-be of his country. That feeling... Sebek describes it as akin to heartache. But instead of wallowing in that heartache, he pushes himself to close that distance between himself and his idol. If he keeps hesitating, then there is absolutely no way he can catch up to where Malleus is! Sebek must dedicate himself to becoming someone worthy of serving him. He encourages Sally to do the same through both her words and her actions! At that moment, Jack walks in and Sally makes good on Sebek's advice. (This part isn't important to the analysis on Sebek's character, so I'm glossing over it.) The vignettes end with Epel complaining about Sebek being loud as per usual. Sally doesn't take issue with his volume though. She simply giggles and informs Epel that Sebek speaks so loudly and clearly so that his words can resonate with others--like how his words gave her courage.

We have learned new lore about Sebek's grandfather and mother. What does this tell us about Sebek? A lot, actually--if you slate it with all the other lore we have on hand.

We see just how strong of a woman his mother is. I suspect this is where Sebek picked up a lot of his hard-headedness, as well as the tendency to express himself very overtly, from. However, it also speaks to the loving environment he grew up in.

His mother seemingly never questioned her own life choices and never gave up fighting to prove her happiness to a father--and likely an entire community--that rejected her marriage, her husband, and maybe even her children. She fiercely loves and defends her family and the life they have made for themselves. Sebek states that he looks up to her for her magical strength, but that he also admires her principles and strong convictions. Indeed, it was her who ardently pursued Mr. Zigvolt and did not allow naysaying to deter her.

Then there is Mr. Zigvolt. In Sebek's Birthday Boy vignettes, he describes his father as "a strange man" who is "magically deficient" and "never lets his smile fade, no matter what I say to him [...] he defies comprehension." Though Sebek doesn't seem to hold the same amount of respect he has for his mother for his father, we don't hear Sebek openly insulting his dad, just expressing confusion about him. When asked about it, Sebek denies depending on his father--but it's clear there is a fondness there that he's not addressing. Mr. Zigvolt is impressed whenever his children use magic, buys them snacks they never asked for, and talks with them for long periods of time in a calm, patient manner. His father, too, has given Sebek so much compassion and understanding.

We don't know a lot about Sebek's siblings, but they seem to get along fine! He has mentioned going to parks with them. They've also gone fishing together and witnessed magic competitions, which they were all amazed by. The Zigvolts in general (or at least the parents) seem to be accepting too, as they volunteer to take Silver in whenever Lilia is unable to take care of him.

And you'd think that's where it ends, but NO. Baur ALSO has a lot of love to give. Despite not approving of his daughter's marriage, he doesn't actively despise his grandchildren. Quite the opposite, in fact! Though he's rough around the edges and looks scary, Baur doesn't fault any of his grandchildren for being born half fae and half human. He actually makes it a point to bond with them, and especially with Sebek. It was Baur who taught Sebek the language of nocturnal fae and instilled in Sebek his love for reading (as he bought many books for him and tells many stories himself). He also personally reached out to Lilia to train Sebek, as the young boy (at around age 7) expressed an interest in martial arts. Sebek has a love for salmon carpaccio because he and his siblings would fish at Baur's house and then prepare the dish for him--Baur was so happy about it. Additionally, Baur values getting a good education and was proud when Sebek shared with him that he was invited to attend Night Raven College.

Sebek grew up in a country that dislikes humans, but he was raised in an household where he was loved unconditionally and provided with all the resources he could need to get a good education and become someone who is physically strong. So of course he becomes frustrated when he sees Sally, who is so nervous to act on her feelings. What would have happened if Sebek’s mother had been like Sally, thinking she and her now-husband are incompatible? If she didn’t try pursuing her feelings at all? Sebek, as the youngest of three, might not event exist. His parents may not still be together… or maybe they wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. It’s exactly because Sebek knows what love is supposed to be like--courtesy of his own family—that he can see it so well in others, and wants them to act on it. His very existence is proof that love is possible, and it transcends arbitrary labels like race that serve to divide people into categories.

One quirk of Sebek's is how he's always dishing out back-handed compliments or making comments that come off as rude but aren't at their core. He can't seem to help but say a good thing that sounds like something bad. His Diasomnia classmates, usually Silver, have to translate these Sebek-isms for others, who misunderstand him or interpret his words in the worst possible way. For example, from one of Silver’s Fairy Gala lines; “Sebek said to me that no self-respecting disciple of Lilia’s would dare get a single stain on this clothing. That's his way of encouraging me.” In Silver's Dorm Uniform vignettes, Sebek tries to reassure his friend and tell him to not let other people's opinions hurt him--but he phrases it as, "Hmph, ridiculous! I see no reason for you to heed a few random comments from some humans." The duo is also shown to be competitive with one another in training; it's never malicious, they both want to prove themselves as the superior knight, and the other serves as motivation to improve and/or a means of measuring one's own growth against a fellow disciple. When the mostly elderly population of Harveston is in need of physical labor, Sebek comments "[...] the humans in Harveston are woefully out of shape," yet he insists he "still [has] energy to burn" (as if to volunteer himself to do more work) and calls such tasks "simple" (as if to point out how easy it is for him to do, so don't worry about troubling him). He hauls apples and helps the villagers with whatever they need, declaring that they should "be grateful"--but if he truly did not care, he could have stopped at any time or settled for just making fun of them. But Sebek doesn't, because he DOES care deep down. This aspect of Sebek is made even more obvious in Fairy Gala: What If. He appears at Ramshackle and opens by declaring, "NO! I am by no means worried about anyone! [...] Don't mistake my intentions. I am NOT here to help! If your mission doesn't succeed, the repercussions will definitely affect Malleus and Lilia. Hence... I shall lend you uneducated humans my aid! [...] You're welcome to weep with joy at my magnanimity..." Time and time again, we see Sebek demonstrating a lot of kindness, but deflecting or not being totally transparent with his intentions due to pride or embarrassment. This behavior is very reminiscent of Baur, the grandfather that Sebek loves dearly and spent so much time with. Baur, too, can be very passionate and loving, but struggles to speak of those feelings openly. Just look at how the man deals with Mr. Zigvolt. The behaviors of the family, then, imprint on Sebek and influence his behaviors--and being that Sebek is from such a loving group, it follows that Sebek puts out a lot of love into the world too.

A lot of times when the fandom discusses Sebek's attitude, I feel it's from the context of him being hateful towards humans. I'm not going to deny that Sebek has said some pretty nasty things about half of his own identity. The point I would like to make here is that Sebek can love just as strongly.

The most obvious thing that supports the claim that Sebek is capable of strong love is how he views Malleus. It's no great secret that Sebek practically worships the ground his dorm leader walks on. That's essentially Sebek's key defining character trait. What I'll ask you to consider instead is the nature of Sebek's love--not the obsessiveness of it, but rather the unconditional nature of it.

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Skully laments that Sebek has not been disappointed by his idol, Malleus. Sebek actually corrects him by saying that love isn't imposing your own views on your idol, it means preparing to accept them, flaws and all. He says the same of Malleus; should the time ever come where Sebek's expectations of Malleus falter or their paths have to diverge, then he will still embrace his young master, never once turning his back on him. And where does Sebek gets this from? His parents. The father who loves his children no matter how critical Sebek may be of him. The mother who remained so strong in the face of her friends and family being against her life choices.

A common fandom sentiment regarding Sebek is that he blindly follows Malleus--and to be fair, he does for a large part of the main story. But when speaking about his idol to Skully, Sebek says that agreeing with someone and continuing to love them are different things. You can disagree with someone's actions and still continue to love them and accept them. This follows what Sebek does in book 7 and likely alludes to the character development he goes through during + following book 7; though he is betrayed and hurt by Malleus turning his powers against the world, Sebek does not let up on the hope that he can bring his young master back. He even sillily calls the yet-to-be-hatched Malleus tamago/egg-sama, showing even an infant form of Malleus great respect after witnessing his OB. Skully took the opposite path that Sebek did; when he realized that his own idol, Jack Skellington, was not as he imagined him to be, Skully became enraged and lashed out over it. Sebek points out Skully's inadequacies as well, which ties back to how he spoke of his own drive to improve in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. Skully confesses to trying desperately to emulate Jack--so much so that he breaks down when Sebek's UM destroys his iconic shades. He wallows in his current state and doesn't make efforts to change or to be better; the past and his own vision is where he's comfortable. It's a strong contrast to Sebek, who has made it clear he will continue to train and work hard to prove his merits and to be someone worthy of protecting the great Malleus Draconia.

It is Sebek's passion and boundless love that makes him a hero both in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas AND in the main story's book 7. He serves as a foil to Skully in the former and actively saves Silver when he's on the brink of despair in the latter. After learning that his biological father is the man responsible for killing Malleus's mother and leading the Silver Owls' onslaught on Briar Valley, Silver despairs and comes to the conclusion that his father must loathe him. "He could never love the son of the man he despised! He has to hate me! He has to!" Sebek rushes to Silver's side using Living Bolt, a UM he has yet to master (thus causing residual damage to him when he casts it), to correct him:

"You have this much strength... and you dare to say you weren't loved?! That you were hated?! [...] If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't--and look at you now. Even alone and helpless, you stood firm. You spoke up, unfaltering in the face of our liege's madness. Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

WHETHER SEBEK REALIZES IT OR NOT, A LOT OF WHAT HE TELLS SILVER HITS HOME FOR HIM TOO... Like, thinking about it... Sebek must have faced a lot of prejudice from his community because of who his father is. He might have grown up thinking he, too, was hated, had he not been protected by his loving mother, father, and, yes, even grandfather, who is still struggling to accept the human in their family. Baur must have been feeling very complicated emotions upon meeting his half human grandchildren for the first time... but even though he dislikes humans, he could never find it in himself to dislike his grandkids. If he had hated Sebek, he wouldn't have wanted him to get a good education. Baur wouldn't be happy that he got into NRC. He wouldn't personally ask Lilia to train the grandson who expressed an interest in combat. He wouldn't buy so many books for Sebek or read with him or tell him stories or teach him his language. He wouldn’t spoil Sebek by giving him sweets (which, by the way, Baur himself dislikes). But Baur DOES do all of these things, because deep down he loves Sebek no matter what he is. You can hear it in the hurt of Sebek’s voice when dream!Baur reacts to him coldly. That isn’t the grandfather he is used to. Though it’s said that Baur doesn’t exactly welcome his grandchildren with open arms, he definitely loves them and cares for them in his own way. If it was anything less than love Baur felt for his grandson, if he decided to neglect his grandkids, then Sebek would have grown up as some "dimwitted coward". IT'S ALL CONNECTED.

This even extends to Sebek’s evaluation of Malleus in book 7. When OB Malleus appears in Lilia’s dream, Sebek pleads with him. “You were born from the love of so many, my liege! It’s not right for you to become an enemy bated by all the world!” Like with Silver, these words also apply to Sebek, even if he is not aware of it. Sebek was born from the love of many people in his life. Not just his family, but also by those in Diasomnia. Lilia gives him wisdom and guidance, Silver is his sparring partner and smooths over arguments with classmates for him, and Malleus is his shining light and idol. Sebek is the youngest both of his siblings and of the Diasomnia group: he is spoiled by the others and given so much love. Yet he is also commonly hated by his peers for his attitude.

And now here Sebek stands, able to tell others that they are loved and should be cognizant of that love. He reminds Silver that Lilia loves him. He tries to talk reason into Malleus. He advises Skully to reevaluate how he sees his idol. He tells Sally to speak honestly about her feelings, because it was his own mother speaking honestly about hers that led to Sebek and his entire family being as happy as they are now. He shouts at people to act and to speak their minds because he doesn't want them to live with regrets, because he doesn't want to see them be weak and timid--a version of himself that could have resulted if he hadn't been loved so strongly.

You can say many things about Sebek: that he's loud, that he's rude, that he's a fanboy, that he has big muscles. But of all those muscles, Sebek has a very big heart too. And what made him so strong? All the love he received from his family, despite growing up an environment that surely invited hatred for humans.

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sistertotheknowitall · 8 months ago

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DCxDP Prompt

Because I couldn’t get Congratulations! It’s Triplets! By @rboooks out of my head.

—

Jason wouldn’t say he regret it. Sure it wasn’t what he planned nor was it what he would have wanted, but he didn’t regret it. They didn’t mean to become parents, it was a one night stand. He wondered if this was how Roy felt when Jade had Lian. Like the world had been flipped on its head. Like everything he thought he knew now seemed wrong.

Lian would like his daughter. From what Jason could tell he thought they’d be fast friends.

Christ. His daughter.

He watched as she ran through the front door, her mom following behind. She was talking a mile a minute, her hands flying around her face. Her mom threw her head back, laughing. God he wished he could hear it. Hear what all his daughter had to say. He wanted to be a real dad to her not just a father. Someone she could talk to and trust. However, as Jason continued to watch from the roof across the street, he knew that he could never get that close. This was as far as he could reach.

A crime lord, who was legally dead and had a kill count. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. The two examples he had wouldn’t exactly be considered great role models.

Her mother had named her Ellie, short for Daniella after her late uncle Daniel or “Danny.” She was feisty and a little brash, his daughter. Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some pride in knowing some of that was him. Although he could see the same stubbornness in Jazmine.

He thinks that’s what drew him to her. Standing in a bar on a side of town she definitely shouldn’t have been in, she had held her own against two men trying to drag her out. Jason went to step in when she had pulled a police grade taser out and had both men on their knees in pain before he moved two steps. He didn’t introduce himself that night (she was a little preoccupied with the police). However, he got the chance to a few months later and one thing led to another and they had slept together. He left with barely a goodbye and they never saw each other again. Jason was too preoccupied with his plans for Bruce and the clown to spend time thinking about one night.

As for her, he knew she was a student at Gotham U and figured she had also spent little time thinking about that night.

Imagine his surprise when he stumbled upon her again but with a child. His child.

He didn’t know how to really feel about it, about her, Ellie.

As much as he hates to admit it he spent the first week getting drunk and despairing at being a deadbeat. He eventually calmed down and reasoned that it wasn’t his fault nor Jazmine’s. He had given her a fake first name and they hadn’t exchanged last names. Even if she did want to tell him she was pregnant she had no way of finding him.

And he never thought he needed to be looking for them.

—-

Jazz could feel them being watched and did her best to act normal. She never gave away that she was aware of him. She didn’t want to frighten Ellie and she was still unsure of how to handle the situation. It has been weeks and he never once seemed interested in harming them. Yet.

He just watched. Not all the time- not every day, but at least once a week she could feel him staring from a roof, a window, the mouth of an ally. He followed them at night and watched for a bit after they returned home. In a way it felt like he was protecting them, but in what sense did this hulking figure have a right to guard them? It also begged the question; what was he protecting them from?

Jazz was near positive that she had never interacted with the mask figure nor any other that roamed Gotham. She did her best to avoid them, all of them.

It could be he was fixated on her as a single mother to a reckless little girl. If that was so, then she was going to have to be more cautious. She didn’t want to even give him a chance to think he could approach Ellie. Stalkers were never a good thing but she knew the GCPD would never take it seriously.

All he was doing was watching.

Jazz knew her daughter was smart beyond her five years of life, but she was still just a child. So while Jazz was certain that Ellie had no idea about their predicament, she knew Ellie could feel something was off. The young girl had started to look around more on their walks home, her head swiveling, looking for something she couldn’t explain. Jazz hated it. Her daughter should be skipping as she told Jazz about her day in pre-school, not gripping her mother’s pant leg, silent as she looked for the source of her unease.

For the life of her, Jazz did not know what the man could possibly want and while it pissed her off to no end it also frightened her. Of course it frightened her. She was a single mother in Gotham City with a stalker. Maybe she should summon Danny or send Ellie to her grandparents for a bit while she takes care of this.

#is ellie really his in this AU? or is this another de-aging dimension switching AU?#the choice is mine #but feel free to also have your own thoughts #dpxdc #dp dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dp prompt #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc

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kwanisms · 8 months ago

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Kinktober 「10:01」 — x.minghao

» seventeen menu | the8 menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ half-dragon!Minghao × fem!Reader wc: 7.3k summary: After inheriting an estate deep in the Bavarian Alps from his maternal grandfather, Minghao arrives to find the estate has survived the war unscathed and that deep underground is a vault full of historic and old art dating back to the 8th century. He decides to hire an appraiser to inspect the collection but becomes enamored with her. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller, historical; non idol au, monster idol au, historical au, post-ww2 au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, supernatural & horror themes, post ww2 in Europe, allusions to the Nazi party; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglist! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was a rough time to get started and i have to restart twice, once after completely redoing the plot. it was difficult but once i changed the plot, things flowed so much more naturally! but here we are baybee! kicking off Kinktober 2024 with dragon!Minghao in the 1940's post WW2! i did minimal research on this cause I'm a stickler for world building but I hope you all enjoy the first part of Kinktober. one day, 30 to go! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), mirror sex, sex photos, unprotected sex (don’t do this lol), use of pet names (bao bei, beibei, sweetheart, etc.), oral (f receiving, m receiving), fingering (f receiving), and that should be all but let me know if I missed some! kinks: mirror sex + sex photos dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Don’t cover your mouth, I want everyone to know how good I make you feel. ❜❜

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Whether it was the scenery itselves or the dragon blood in him, Minghao loved the serenity and peace that seemed to accompany traveling through the mountains. This drive was a vaguely familiar one though he hadn’t been on this road since he was a young child.

He looked out the window as the car climbed higher, the trees on one side giving way to the view of the valley below. It was a picturesque scene, a beautiful lake at the base of the mountains surrounded by a forest of oranges, reds, yellows, and greens. He turned his gaze away as the car turned, following the curve of the road as the mountain flattened out.

The road was lined on either side with trees, providing cover from the cloudy, gray skies as the car drove along. Minghao caught a glimpse of the manor through the tunnel of trees, intrigued to see what state it was in since the hospitalization and death of his grandfather.

He hadn’t been to this estate since he was a young child, visiting with his mother until he threw a fit about going again. Since then, he had not stepped foot on the grounds, preferring to spend the holidays with his mother instead in their ancestral home.

Now he was in his late twenties and returning to the vacation home of his maternal line after being bequeathed the estate in his grandfather’s will. The car broke through the line of trees, taking a slight curve, forest on one side and a stone wall that dropped into a lower valley on the other.

The manor was just as he remembered, imposing and gray with gothic overtones and the facade made almost entirely out of stone. The angled roofs curved at the base and sharp spires at the ridges along the roofs. The majority of the stone was limestone, edged with a darker color of stone.

As the car pulled up, a light wind blew, the mix of orange gold, and brown leaves blowing across the stone, hitting the wall overlooking the valley. Minghao settled back in his seat, looking up at the imposing mansion, wondering the state of the interior. Outside, the place looked well kept but the inside could be an entirely different story.

The car pulled to a stop, the engine cutting and silence falling over the interior as the driver got out. He made to open the door himself but the driver beat him to it. Minghao got out, buttoning his coat as he looked up at the manor, thanking the driver. Up close, the estate looked almost immaculate. The windows had the curtains drawn, not allowing him to see inside the house.

The front door opened and a rather serious and proper looking man exited the house, followed by an equally serious and proper looking woman. They waited as Minghao turned to look at the driver unhooking the luggage from the back rack. Minghao walked over to greet the couple.

“Good afternoon,” the woman said, curtseying while the man bowed his head. “You must be Minghao,” the man asked to which Minghao nodded. “Yes,” he said softly. “You’ve grown quite a bit since we last saw you,” the woman spoke. “I used to attend to you when you were a child,” she continued.

“Your bags will be brought into the red room,” the man interjected. “It’s the only renovated room.” Minghao nodded. “And you two are?” Minghao asked. “I’m Klaus,” the man introduced before gesturing to the woman. “And this is Renate.”

The woman nodded, giving Minghao a kind smile. “Please, come this way,” Renate said, gesturing to the house. They walked in silence to the house, up the steps and into the foyer. Minghao looked around, taking in his surroundings with an impressed air.

The foyer was small but spacious enough with a small coat room off to the left and to the right was the library, the door opened. “That library was your grandfather’s favorite place in the house,” Renate said, noticing Minghao’s wavering attention. “How many bedrooms does this place have?” Minghao asked, changing the subject.

“Ten,” Renate answered as the driver and one of the staff started bringing in his trunks. “Right, this way,” Klaus said, gesturing to them to follow him, leading them through the foyer and entrance hall and disappearing through an open doorway.

“Shall I give you the tour or would you like to rest?” Renate asked. Minghao looked around once more before turning to look at her. “I think a tour would be nice,” he said. “Will give me an idea of the condition and state of the house,” he continued, looking around once more. “Yes. I think a tour is in order.”

Renate took him around the house, showing him the different rooms. From what he could see, only a handful of the rooms were in need of renovations and a few could use upgrades but were not in dire need. The kitchen was functional and cozy with a large dining room attached.

Also off the kitchen and next to the dining room but not attached, was a decent sized sun room. On the opposite side of the house from these rooms was a guest suite where his things had been brought. “I had this room made up for you since it’s the only guest suite on the main floor,” Renate said as Minghao looked around. “It’s also the only one that has been renovated.”

Minghao stopped and turned to look at her. “It’s perfect,” he replied. “I think I’ll freshen up before dinner,” he continued, crossing the room to where she stood in the doorway. “If you could please produce a set of keys for me, I would appreciate it,” he added. Renate’s smile fell. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I’m the owner of the estate now,” Minghao answered. “I don’t want to have to seek you out to unlock doors in my own home.” Renate nodded, clearing her throat. “I shall see if I can’t locate the other keys. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere,” she replied. “Dinner will be in an hour.”

She left, closing the door behind her and allowing Minghao his much needed privacy. He moved over to his luggage and opened the top trunk, finding some of his clothes. He would unpack later, first he would explore the guest suite and see what he could find and if there were any secrets.

The guest suite was large, a massive four poster bed stood in the middle of the room, the headboard pushed against the outside wall. Thick, velvet drapes hung from the intricately carved wooden frame. Standing at the foot of the bed was an ornate bench carved, stained, and lacquered just like the rest of the furniture. Minghao walked over to a small seating area past two pocket doors that shut to close off the area from the bedroom.

On the opposite side of the bed from the sitting room was the entrance to a private ensuite bathroom with marble floors, two pedestal sinks sat under golden framed mirrors. A massive soaker tub with golden clawed feet stood opposite the sinks. A pipe protruded from the wall above the tub, curving downward and providing a shower head.

Minghao returned to the bedroom area and walked over to the bed, falling onto it and staring up at the drapes. Though he vaguely remembered this house from his childhood, nothing about it had seemed familiar since entering and he wondered how much had changed from when he was a child.

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thoughts and he sat up as the door opened, a young maid poking her head into the room. “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said softly. “I’ve come to unpack your luggage.” Minghao relaxed. “I see,” he said simply. He had assumed, incorrectly, that he might be allowed to unpack his own luggage but he was proven wrong again and again.

“Knock yourself out,” he replied, gesturing to the collection of trunks waiting at the end of his bed. The maid opened the door and Minghao realized it was not one but two maids. “We’ll work quickly and when we’re done, we can show you where everything is,” the first maid offered. Minghao nodded and got up as they started to get to work. “I’ll just get out of your way,” he said, walking towards the door and slinking out of the room.

He still had time before dinner would be ready so he decided to explore the first floor a bit more. As he walked past the foyer, he noticed a door with a round window and walked over, peering into the window only to see nothing but darkness. “The elevator,” a voice said, making Minghao jump. “Your grandfather lost a lot of mobility before he was hospitalized so he had this installed to make getting from the ground floor to the top floors easier.”

Minghao turned to look at the door once more. “Does it only go up?” he asked. “Sir?” Klaus asked. Minghao looked at him. “Does it go downstairs, too?” he asked. Klaus nodded, grimacing. “Indeed it does but there isn’t much down there except storage and cobwebs.” Minghao snorted and turned back to the elevator door. “Does this even work?” he asked, reaching for the door.

“Don’t!” Klaus snapped, making Minghao retract his hand quickly, almost as if he had been burned. “My apologies,” Klaus said, regaining his composure. “The elevator is turned off and very dangerous when not operated properly.” Minghao nodded, wide eyed. “Duly noted,” he said. “Is there another way downstairs then?” Minghao asked. Klaus gave him a surprised look.

“I’d like to see everything,” Minghao added. Klaus nodded. “I’m sure, sir,” he explained. “But you have more than a day to do so,” he continued. “How about you focus on relaxing today and tomorrow you can tackle the basement?” Minghao stared at Klaus but conceded. “I suppose the basement could wait,” he said softly. “Good. Dinner should be ready soon,” Klaus added, giving Minghao a nod and turning on his heel in the direction of the kitchens.

Dinner was a private affair as Minghao sat at the formal dining room alone. After eating, he returned to his room where the maids showed him exactly where they stored everything and even packed his luggage away. He thanked them and called it a night, getting ready for and settling down into the oversized bed.

Falling asleep in a new environment was always difficult no matter how comfortable things seemed and only after tossing and turning for hours did Minghao finally manage to drift into a dreamless slumber.

The following morning, he was woken by Renate. He cleaned up, dressed, and had dinner before he decided to explore the rest of the house, starting with the upper floors. He made a mental note of which rooms he wanted to renovate before finally being given a set of keys; a skeleton key for all the interior doors, a key for the exterior doors, a key to the storage sheds and garages, and a key for the attic which coincidentally also worked for the basement.

Minghao was more than pleased to be allowed to finally inspect the basement and Klaus had been right. It was a storage place for old furniture, all coated in a thick layer of dust, with cobwebs in every corner. As Minghao worked with some of the estate workers to shift the furniture aside he discovered something no one had mentioned to him. A massive vault door.

When asked, Klaus and Renate admitted they knew of the existence of the vault but that they didn’t know what was inside it. Neither also claimed to have knowledge of a combination. Minghao stood in front of the door for hours, trying to figure out the combination, trying several different ones but none of them seemed to work.

Days passed by and he grew more and more restless at not being able to open the vault. While inspecting the library for a book to occupy his time, he found a bright blue book, a copy of On Blue Water by Edmondo de Amicis. It was placed amongst a shelf of brown bindings and looked oddly out of place. Minghao walked over, inspecting the book and carefully removing it from the shelf.

He flipped through the pages, finding blue ink circling parts in the book. Starting from the first instance, he saw the number eighty-seven. The next was forty-two, followed by seven, ninety-nine, sixty-three, and finally four. He walked over to the desk, grabbing a pen from the stand and a blank piece of paper as he wrote the numbers down, taking into consideration the arrows drawn below each number.

When he was done, he returned the book to the shelf he found it and quickly made his way downstairs to the vault door. He followed the combination, hoping it would be correct and when he heard the click, he nearly cheered in relief. He lifted the handle, releasing the mechanism holding the door shut and pulled it open. Whatever he had been prepared to find beyond the metal door, it was not this.

Inside the vast vault was a collection unlike anything he’d seen. A collection of art. As he realized what he’d stumbled upon, he shut the door quickly and headed upstairs to seek out either Klaus or Renate. He needed to make a long distance call.

When you received the call from Germany, you could hardly believe it. A colleague of yours called to explain he had suggested your name to a potential client. Someone had just unearthed a rather large collection in an estate in the Bavarian Alps and needed an expert eye to evaluate and appraise the pieces. They were willing to pay handsomely as well as fund your trip from Portugal, where you currently called home.

You jumped at the chance to set your own price and also for travel to the remote location in Germany. The trip was long, arduous and by the end, you wanted nothing more than to never step foot on a train or ship again. You arrived in Innsbruck, Austria after taking train after train in Italy and that was only after taking a ship from Lisbon through the strait of Gibraltar into the mediterranean and to the Italian capital of Rome. You still had a drive from Innsbruck to the remote estate in the mountains but a car ride where you could sleep off your trip was more than welcome.

You woke up as the sun was setting, the car climbing into the mountains and you could see the valley below was bathed in shadow from the sun setting behind the crest of the mountains behind you as the car turned, following the curve in the road. A tunnel of trees lined the road, wind starting to whip violently as the car drove on and soon the forest opened up to show a massive mansion nestled in the mountains.

It was impressive with the dark storm clouds looming overhead, the light from the sun blocked by the mountain to your left yet golden rays of light hit the clouds behind the estate, making them look ever so darker as the car pulled up next to a blue Roadmaster.

You opened your door, refusing to wait any longer. A bed inside the estate was yours and you were ready to collapse into it and sleep off your travel. The driver unpacked your things, setting them down by the back of the car as the front door opened. A stern looking older woman greeted you, introducing herself as Renate. She had one of the young men from the garage carrying your things and welcomed you to the estate, guiding you inside.

The foyer was grand and dark with white tile flooring. The door to your right was open, displaying a few coats hanging up in what you surmised was the coat room. The door to your right was shut. As the door closed behind you with a loud click, you walked further into the house. “Your rooms have been drawn for you upstairs,” Renate said, guiding you towards the stairs.

You followed her up the sweeping staircase, looking overhead and taking in the details of the intricate and massive chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Once on the landing, you followed her down one of the halls to a door which she opened for you. “This will be your room for the duration of your stay,” Renate explained. “Your things will be brought up to your room and the maids will unpack your things,” she explained. “I will take you to meet the owner of the house now.”

You followed her back down the hall to the stairs as a door opened, revealing an elevator and the driver bringing your luggage upstairs. You continued down the steps to the ground floor and followed Renate through another hallway to a door where she knocked before opening it. “Sir, there’s a Miss Y/N here. She’s just arrived,” she announced, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter.

Inside the room was a dark parlor decorated and furnished in the Victorian style. It was a cozy room, a massive fireplace with a roaring fire took up a great deal of wall space with built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace. Sitting in front of the fireplace was a seating area, two couches facing one another with a low table between them. Perched on one of the couches was a young man.

He had reddish brown hair, a slender build and was currently immersed in a book he held. At the mention of your name, he looked up and your breath caught in your throat when his gaze met yours. His eyes were red and orange, like fire. The pupils in the middle were vertical slits. “Perfect,” he said, snapping the book shut and setting it down on the table.

Renate gave a curtsey before exiting the room and shutting the door, leaving you alone with the man who now stood before you. He had his hands tucked into his pockets. He wore a simple black turtleneck under a thicker sweater with a v-neck. His trousers were a medium brown and made of what looked to be tweed. He wore simple brown plain toe derby shoes to complete the look.

“Based on Renate’s introduction, I can assume you are Y/F/N Y/L/N?” he asked, a neutral expression on his face. You nodded slowly. “And you are?” you asked, walking forward, intent on shaking his hand. “Minghao,” he answered as you held out your hand. Xu Minghao,” he added, taking your hand and shaking it briefly. “I assume you know why you’re here?” he asked and you nodded once more.

“For my expertise,” you answered. “I doubt you’d invite me here based on my good looks,” you joked. Minghao let out a chuckle, returning his hand to his pocket. “So,” you said, looking around the room. “Where is this collection?” Minghao smiled again, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch across from him. You did so as he sat back down.

“Before we get into the thick of it so to speak, I’d like to set your payment, something you agree is fair and we can sign off on,” he explained. You nodded, narrowing your eyes. “My usual rate is a twenty percent cut of the collection, were you to sell it,” you explained. “Only twenty?” Minghao asked, tilting his head. “The more priceless a collection, the more money I get,” you added.

“If your collection is only worth a million, I would get two-hundred thousand. That’s a pretty fair price for evaluating and appraising the pieces. Especially with the amount of research I end up doing,” you said as Minghao nodded along. “I understand that,” he explained, leaning back against the couch. “I think what you do is worth more,” he added. “I’m willing to go up to thirty percent.”

Your brows rose, eyes widening. “Thirty percent? Goodness, you’re generous,” you said, your lips pulling back into a smirk. Minghao mirrored your expression. “So we’re in agreement?” he asked. “Thirty percent?” You nodded in response. “Sounds reasonable to me,” you answered. “Good,” Minghao replied. “Dinner should be ready,” he added. “How about you get changed and join me?”

You returned to your room, changing out of your clothes and into something more appropriate for dinner. You returned downstairs to the foyer where you were greeted by a stern looking man you had yet to meet. “I’m Klaus,” he introduced himself with a small bow. “Dinner is being served and Mr. Xu has asked me to escort you to the dining room.”

You followed him through the halls until you reached a door which he then opened and gestured for you to enter. Inside was a large dining room with a table large enough to seat 12. Sitting at the head of the table was Minghao. When you entered, he stood up quickly as Klaus exited, shutting the door behind him. “Please,” Minghao said, gesturing to the seat adjacent to him.

You walked over, thanking him and moved to sit. Minghao was quick to pull the chair for you and move it again when you sat down before returning to his chair. You thanked him as the door behind you opened and a small service staff entered, setting a few platters down on the table in front of you and Minghao. “I asked them to make something new,” he explained as they removed the lids, showing a vast array of dishes that all looked amazing.

“Something with goat,” he added as he inspected the dishes. “Please,” he continued, gesturing to the food. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like.” You thanked him, digging into the food in front of you, not realizing that you were ravenous until the food was in front of you.

Silence fell over the room as you ate, no conversation was being had until Minghao spoke up. “So you traveled from Portugal?” he asked as he cut his meat. You nodded, wiping your mouth before speaking. “Yes,” you answered. “I had an apartment just outside Lisbon.” Minghao looked up at you.

“Had?” he asked, picking up on your use of past tense. “Yes,” you answered. “I travel for work and often only rent places for as long as I’m there,” you explained. “The job in Lisbon lasted for almost a year,” you continued. “The collection I was tasked with evaluating was massive and ended up being worth a whopping eighty-seven million pounds,” you added. Minghao’s eyes widened. “Eighty-seven million pounds? Good gracious,” he said softly. “And you got twenty percent of that?”

You smiled, picking up your glass of wine. “It’s not a bad business to be in,” you explained. “It certainly isn’t,” Minghao said with a chuckle as you took a sip of wine. “My father was an appraiser,” you said suddenly. But he never made it a lucrative business like I did. We struggled a lot and he would disappear for months on end, never so much as sending a letter or calling,” you continued.

“My mother, God rest her soul, worked 12 hour shifts at the local textile factory just to make sure we had food on the table.” Minghao kept his eyes on you as you spoke. “As soon as I was able, I started working. Mainly bookkeeping and typing,” you continued. “I was able to put myself through college with a combination of working and scholarships,” you said with a smile. “I immediately made a name for myself, assessing art collections left and right in America until my first overseas assignment in London.”

Minghao couldn’t help but smile. It was clear you took great pride in your work. Your smile, nostalgic, slowly fell as a memory came into the forefront of your mind. “That’s where I was living when the war broke out,” you said, a bitter tone in your voice.

Minghao couldn’t help but feel a similar anger and hatred towards the war. He’d been living in China at the time, deep in a remote area and away from the cities for protection. The war hadn’t hit him but you, living in London, he could only imagine how it affected you. The destruction and danger lurking around every corner.

“I worked as an air raid warden during the first few years but in the last couple, I was promoted to evacuation officer,” you explained. “It was stressful, being in the midst of all the bombings and trying to keep my cool and help direct evacuees,” you continued. “But I learned a lot about the world and myself in those years.” Minghao took a sip of his wine. “I can only imagine what you went through,” he said softly, making you look towards him.

“I was hidden away in China,” he continued. “We didn’t see much war where we were,” he added. You smiled sadly. “China is a pretty big place,” you replied. “I’m sure places like Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong saw most of the action,” you added. Minghao nodded. “I’m sure they did. I’m sorry you had to go through that. Especially so far from home.”

You shook your head. “Home is wherever I rest my head,” you replied. “My family is all gone now. It’s just me.” Minghao felt his heart sink slightly. He knew what it was like to be alone in a sense but he still had family that was alive, he was just estranged from them so it wasn’t entirely the same feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied but you smiled, dismissing his apology. “It’s all right now,” you answered.

“Less to worry about,” you added as you picked up your utensils. “Dinner is delicious by the way,” you added, changing the subject. Though you maintained this calm, unbothered air, Minghao could see right through it. One of his many talents as a draconian descendant.

He wouldn’t push it though. It wasn’t his place. If you wanted to talk about it, you would.

The next couple days, Minghao showed you the house so you could familiarize yourself with the layout. On the third day, he finally took you to the basement, opening the vault and showing you the contents. As you entered, carefully examining the works with gloves, you cataloged things slowly.

“So,” you said, returning to Minghao who was standing outside the vault. “I have good news,” you said softly, lowering your clipboard. “Everything is labeled and there is a box full of documents, which I can only assume are the auction and purchase records. Whoever owned this collection took great care in keeping records which makes my job much easier,” you said with a smile.

“Lunch is almost ready,” Minghao replied. “Shall we eat first and then you can go over the records after?” You nodded, smiling at him. “Sounds superb.”

After a quick lunch of soup and sandwiches, you returned to work, pulling out the record boxes and going through them, matching the papers to the items. “This is incredible,” you breathed, pouring over the records. “Not only are the dates of purchases listed but the prices are also listed. This is an incredibly well documented collection.” Minghao smiled as you flipped through page after page.

It took a few days but you finally had a partial appraisal for the ceramics. “Two hundred thousand?” Minghao asked when you showed him your numbers. “Two hundred and forty-three thousand, six-hundred and fifty-seven to be precise,” you answered. Minghao let out a laugh. “And that’s just the ceramics?” he asked to which you nodded. “I expect that to be the lowest number of this collection,” you answered.

Your assumption was proven to be correct when you came back with the values for the other categories.

Minghao stood, reading over your numbers as you sipped whiskey from a crystal glass. “Are these numbers accurate?” Minghao asked. You nodded. “I’m nothing if not accurate,” you replied. “Are they lower than your projection?” you asked, suddenly worried about his response.

During your time at the estate, you’d taken a liking to Minghao, something you normally never allowed to happen with clients. It was easy to like him. He was handsome, charming, well-spoken, intelligent, and incredibly witty. He was good company during your meals and late at night when you were working on your estimates. You’d become very close with him, especially after he told you about his parentage and his nature as a half dragon. You’d never met someone like him before.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re higher,” he added. “I expected a much lower number.” You smiled at him, setting your glass down and getting up to join him, taking the paper from him. “A great number of these items date back as far as the 8th century,” you explained.

“Like this one,” you said, pointing to an item on the list. “A silk print from eighth century China,” you said. “Or this one. A nineteenth century watercolor. There’s only one of these in existence. And this thirteenth century oil painting? The art community thought this was lost forever.”

“A lot of these items are worth even more because of the war,” you continued, handing the paper back to him and picking up your glass, downing the rest of the amber liquid. “A lot of art was lost, destroyed by the Third Reich. The Nazi stole a lot of art and we’re still trying to recover it. Most of the stolen art may never be recovered,” you continued.

Minghao held the paper in his hands but his eyes were on you. “A lot goes into appraising,” you explained. “Condition, rarity, age, authenticity, subject matter, and size are a few of the things I look at when appraising art collections. Many of these items are unique and only a few versions of them exist,” you continued, moving to the bar cart to pour yourself another drink.

“And every single one of these artists or sculptors are dead,” you continued, popping the top off the decanter and pouring more liquid into your glass. “Which makes these even more valuable. They can never be replicated by the original artist.” You placed the lid back and turned to face Minghao, holding the glass in your hand. He was still staring at you, a look of something you couldn’t place in his eyes.

He set the paper down and stalked forward slowly to where you stood until he had you caged in against the bar cart. “You know,” he said softly, eyes dipping down to look at your lips. “You’re incredibly sexy when you talk about this,” he said, tilting his head to the side. You swallowed nervously. “When I talk about art?” you asked, feeling a heat settling in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” he replied, taking your glass and drinking it in one go before setting the empty glass on the cart. “When you talk about something you’re passionate about.” He leaned in closer, lips inches from yours. You felt a shiver run up your spine, desire mixing with the sexual tension that hung in the air.

“I’m passionate about a lot of things,” you said, one of your hands moving up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Oh?” Minghao asked. “Like what?” He was teasing you now, the smirk on his face gave it away. He wanted to see how far he could take this. How far he could push you before you gave into him.

“Art, cuisine, fashion,” you said softly. “Photography, travel… sex.”

The next moment, Minhao closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours as his hands moved to your waist. You kissed him back with as much hunger, hand grabbing him desperately. Your lips parted, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss as you felt one of his hands move down, cupping your ass and squeezing. Minghao pulled back, looking into your eyes, breathless as he spoke. “Maybe we should—”

“Take this somewhere else?” you asked, hopefully finishing his sentence. He nodded, pulling you into another kiss. “Your room or mine?” you asked as he left a trail of kisses down your neck. “Mine’s closer,” he murmured, his long fingers swiftly undoing the tie at the top of your blouse..

“Lead the way,” you said, pushing him back playfully. Minghao’s fingers instead closed around your wrist, pulling you from the bar cart and dragging you from the parlor, across the foyer to a pair of double doors you’d seen and knew was probably his room. When he parted the doors, he quickly pulled you into the room before shutting the doors.

You only got a brief look around the room before he was on you, kissing you and pulling at the buckle of your skirt belt, quickly undoing it and unzipping the skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. You stepped out of the mess of fabric, letting him pull your green blouse off and tossing it to the floor with your skirt leaving you in your lingerie.

You felt slightly self conscious under his gaze as his eyes wandered, taking in your figure. You slowly moved back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed still in your heels. Minghao moved over, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, lips trailing down your neck to your chest. He glanced up, meeting your gaze before he started kissing his way down your stomach as he slowly knelt down.

He worked slowly, removing your shoes, one by one. You glanced up, eyes widening as you caught sight of your reflection in a massive mirror that stood across from where you sat. “My, that’s quite a mirror,” you said softly as Minghao continued to remove your shoes, humming in response.

Once your shoes were dealt with, Minghao’s hand slid up your legs, undoing the clips of your garter belt and then sliding your stockings down your legs, dropping both of them on the floor with your shoes before he got back up, climbing onto the bed over you as you scooted back. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, hands moving to slide your garter belt off along with your panties.

You let out a gasp as you felt two of his fingers spread your lips, finding your clit and muttering softly under his breath about how wet you felt. You tried to say something, to bite back, but your words failed you as he drew his finger in a languid circle around the sensitive nub.

You whined, hips bucking as he took his time, teasing you with long, drawn out massages. He chuckled, kissing down your chest and stomach again. He settled between your thighs, moving his fingers and pushing them into you slowly as his tongue descended onto your clit, tasting you with a groan.

Your thighs tried to close on his head but he pulled back, lightly smacking the inside of your thigh with his free hand. “Keep them open,” he growled before going right back into it. You moaned loudly, unrestrained, quickly reaching up to cover your mouth. Minghao reached up, grabbing your wrist and pulled your hand from your face.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t cover your mouth. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel.” You nodded slowly, moving your hand down to the sheets and gripping them as Minghao returned his attention to your clit, his fingers moving inside you. He pumped them at a steady pace, stopping to curl them up and making your back arch as you moaned again and again.

“That’s it,” he said softly, watching as your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. “Does it feel good?” he asked. You nodded with a whimper. “Yes,” you breathed. “F-feels so good!” Minghao smirked as he continued to curl his fingers, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. “You gonna be good and come for me, sweetheart?” he asked. Your thighs had started to tremble, the tension in your body ready to snap at any moment. You whined in response.

“I need to hear you say it, bao bei,” he murmured, drawing out his motions, making them as slow as possible. “Yes!” you cried. “M’gonna cum!” Minghao resumed the same quick pace, rubbing against your walls as he drove you over the edge and your orgasm crashed down on you. You gasped, spewing out a slew of curses mixed with his name as he helped you ride out your high.

“Good,” he said softly. “Good girl.” You attempted to push his hand away when it became too much and sensing what you were silently asking for, Minghao removed his fingers, giving you a break. He cleaned his fingers, getting up from the bed. You heard him move around the room but were too exhausted to open your eyes and see what he was doing.

He returned to the foot of the bed and when nothing else happened, you finally opened your eyes and saw him standing at the foot of the bed. He held something in his hands. “I’d like to ask your permission for something,” he started.

You looked at the item in his hands and noticed it was a camera. You looked up to meet his fiery gaze. “I’d like to photograph you,” he continued. “Like this,” he added, gesturing at your posture. You pushed yourself up. “You want to photograph me naked?” you asked, slightly amused. Minghao chuckled, lowering his gaze to his camera. “No,” he replied, shaking his head before looking back up.

“I want to photograph you in the middle of sex.”

To say you were surprised was an understatement but you weren’t entirely turned off the idea. “And these would be for your eyes only?” you asked softly. Minghao nodded as he prepared the camera. “I plan on turning one of the bedrooms into a dark room,” he explained, raising the camera to look through the viewfinder and pressing the shutter button, before lowering it and smiling at you.

You leaned back, spreading your legs. “How do you want me?” you asked playfully as he raised the camera again, snapping another picture. You laughed and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed and grabbing at his belt loops, pulling him closer to undo his pants, starting with his belt. You unzipped his pants, pulling them down enough to pull his cock free from the confines of his underwear.

You wasted no time in taking the head into your mouth, surprising him into letting out a groan, his head falling back, exposing his long neck. You took more of him in your mouth, keeping your tongue flat against the underside as you took him further. You heard the snap of the camera and pulled back until just the tip was in your mouth, tongue swirling around the head.

You heard another snap followed by the automatic wind of the camera and kept going, each time taking him further and further into your mouth as you drew him to his full length and hardness. “Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” you heard him groan, snapping another photo. You pulled back, moving your hand up and down the shaft and looked up at him.

“You gonna fuck me already?” you asked mischievously. Minghao tossed the camera onto the bed and pulled his sweater over his head, discarding it on the floor before pulling off his shirt and adding it to the growing pile. You scooted back to the middle of the bed, removing your bra and tossing it aside as he climbed onto the bed, trailing wet kisses up your stomach, stopping to nip at the skin under your breast. His tongue brushed over your nipple, swirling around it before he continued up your chest, running his tongue over your skin.

At the junction of your neck and shoulder, he sank his teeth into your skin, making you cry out and your body jerk suddenly. He used your movement against you, moving closer and taking his cock in his hand. He guided the head to your folds, rutting against your for a moment before pushing into you, letting out a growl as your warm walls enveloped him.

He grabbed the camera from its resting spot and sat back, holding it up to snap a photograph, aiming the lens at the place where your bodies met. “Oh fuck,” you gasped as he thrusted into you, bottoming out and his cock nestling against your cervix. He snapped another picture of your nude body before tossing the camera aside once more and grabbing your hips.

He neither eased you into it or warned you but started a rough, brutal pace immediately, hips snapping forward and burying his cock into your cunt repeatedly. You cried out in both shock and pleasure at the intensity at which he started right away. Your fingers curled into the sheets, thighs spreading more as he pounded into you. “You’ll cum if you go too fast,” you mused, eyes fluttering shut as you felt him throb inside you.

He chuckled, a breathy sound as his grip on you tightened. “I have more stamina than that, beibei,” he said softly. He gave you another harsh thrust, enjoying the way your breasts bounced with each snap of his hips. The room was full of the sound of skin against skin and your moans. It almost drowned out the sound of the rain outside. Almost.

Minghao slowed his pace before pulling out of you. You protested but he simply grabbed your hand and pulled you up as he shifted behind you, pushing you on to your hands and knees as he re-entered you from behind. You moaned, head dropping as he grabbed your hips, resuming that same merciless pace only now he was hitting even deeper.

“Look up,” he murmured in your ear. You did as he said, raising your head until you met the gaze of your own reflection. “Oh shit,” you gasped, walls clenching around him. He grabbed your chin, pressing his chest against your back as he leaned over you. “I want you to watch me fuck you,” he growled into your ear. “Watch yourself cum.” You moaned but maintained eye contact with him through the mirror. In the darkness of the room, his eyes glowed and he seemed even more dragon-like than before.

You pushed back, meeting his hips and thrusts with as much force as you could muster but you were getting weaker with each snap of his hips against your ass. His cock seemed to swell inside you or maybe it was your walls clamping down and not wanting to let go but he filled you so deliciously and with each rut, you were pushed closer and closer to your climax.

“That’s it,” Minghao said, his breath hot against your skin. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and let go.” His freehand moved from your hip to between your thighs, working your clit in time with his thrusts as he propelled you over the edge. You came with a scream as a loud clap of thunder shook the house and the very mountain it stood on.

Minghao fucked you through it, chasing his own high as he finally released inside you, painting your walls in his hot thick cum. There was more of it than you could initially comprehend, filling your walls and no doubt every crevice of your womb. Pregnancy was the last thing on your mind and you moaned, pushing back onto him, milking him for every bit of cum he had.

“Careful sweetheart,” Minghao purred into your ear, moving his hand to your throat and holding it firmly but not squeezing. “We have all night,” he continued. “I’m not done with you just yet.

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #mfu net #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #minghao fanfiction #minghao fanfic #minghao smut #minghao x reader #kwanisms kinktober 2024 #kinktober 2024

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shaiyasstuff · 28 days ago

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my little demon | rafayel | episode two

synopsis : You accidentally summon a demon. He's annoying, endearing, and suddenly leaving. You hate it, hate him. Except, maybe you don't. And maybe that's the worst part. content : demon!rafayel, fluff, poor references to hell, comedy now playing : I.F.L.Y - Bazzi

previous episode

Sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows, warm and golden as you hummed to yourself, carefully decorating a tiny piece of cake like it was a masterpiece.

Pure bliss.

Until—

“Oh my fucking— Rafayel!” you yelped, nearly flinging the frosting knife across the room.

There he was. Smug. Smirking. Hovering horizontally above your kitchen counter like a cursed screensaver.

“Surprise,” he said, as if he hadn’t just shaved a few years off your life expectancy.

You glared, clutching your chest like an old Victorian woman recovering from scandal. “I have a front door, you know?”

He blinked, deadpan. “I’m a demon.”

You sighed, pointing your spatula at him. “Still rude.”

He shrugged. “Still me.”

His eyes flicked to your hand, then he slowly lowered himself into a standing position, circling the kitchen counter with the hesitant guilt of someone who just broke something expensive.

“Okay, don’t get mad at me,” he said, voice way too careful.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He lifted a hand, finger pointing delicately. “Uh… that.”

You followed his gaze—down to your hand.

Your hand.

Which was now fully embedded in the cake you had just spent the last two hours decorating with painstaking precision and a frankly concerning amount of emotional investment.

You stared in horror. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Rafayel winced. “Still cute though.”

A second passed. Maybe two.

Then—

“I’m going to fucking. kill. you.” you hissed, eyes narrowing into murder as you turned to Rafayel, who immediately threw his hands up in surrender.

“H-Hey! Aren’t we the best of buds?” he stammered, inching backward.

Your hand slid toward the sink. Fingers curled around the nearest knife. You smiled sweetly—dangerously.

“One.”

His shoulders jumped, wings twitching. “Wait, let’s talk about—”

“Two.”

“Okay but violence isn’t necessary!” he yelped, already halfway to launching himself back into the air.

—•

“Ow~” he whined dramatically, clutching his head like you’d just decapitated him.

“Oh, shut up,” you rolled your eyes, rubbing the spot where your fist had connected. “You can’t feel pain from mortal weapons, dipshit.”

Rafayel pouted, lips jutting out like an offended child. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t sting emotionally.”

You snorted. “Demon logic is so weird. You can’t get hurt by swords or bullets, don’t bleed, don’t age—but you get bruises from a punch?”

He mumbled, sulking. “Your punches are very emotionally charged.”

You scoffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, beloved,” he sighed, draping himself across your kitchen table like a tragic opera star, “here I remain.”

You finally graduated—thank every cosmic force out there—and moved back into your family home not long after.

A bittersweet return, quiet in all the ways that once made you feel small.

Rafayel, of course, had not gotten his promotion yet. Which meant, tragically, he was still here. Still hovering.

Still dramatically consuming ungodly amounts of strawberry milk tea on your couch like a bored Victorian ghost with access to food delivery apps.

But if you were honest—annoyingly, frustratingly honest—you were grateful.

He was there the first night you came back. When the silence in the house cracked open old memories and the air still smelled faintly like your parents’ perfume.

You cried. A lot.

Ugly, snotty, gut-wrenching tears that made your chest ache.

Rafayel didn’t say much.

Just sat beside you, shoulder against yours, unusually quiet. A small flick of warmth—his hand brushing yours, his presence a strange comfort in a place that felt like a museum of what once was.

And then, in the middle of your breakdown, he said, “Okay, hear me out. What if we painted the living room black and added lava lamps?”

Which is how you ended up redecorating. Not just patching walls and changing curtains—but reshaping the house into something that felt more you.

Less like a shrine to loss, more like a new beginning. Chaotic, weird, and questionably stylish. Very you-coded.

With a hint of demon flair.

Now, as you gently rub the fading bruise on his forehead three months later, it’s safe to say the demon had somehow—unfortunately—wormed his way into your life.

A permanent fixture. Like a stray cat that never left. Chaotic, needy, weirdly comforting.

“Alright, Beelzebub, that’s enough feigning,” you muttered, rinsing your hands at the sink as you cast a dramatic glance toward the tragic remains of your once-beautiful cake slice.

Behind you, Rafayel let out an indignant huff, arms crossed, still floating a few inches off the ground. “I’m offended. I’ve achieved more than Beelzepoop ever did.”

You turned, one brow raised. “You? Achieved more than the actual Prince of Demons?”

He blinked at you with a ‘do-you-even-know-who-you’re-talking-to?’ expression. “Obviously.”

You snorted. “Right. And I’m Aphrodite in a hoodie.”

He scoffed, dramatically wounded. “Double offence. First, rude. Second, Greek mythology isn’t even real.”

“Says the guy named Rafayel who fell out of the Void and into my kitchen.”

Unfazed, he grinned. “You’re more of an Astaroth anyway.”

You blinked. “She’s literally a high-ranking demon of seduction.”

He winked. “Exactly. She’s hot. Fits.”

You groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m adorable,” he corrected, spinning in midair like it proved something.

Unfortunately… you didn’t have the heart to argue.

You made your way to the living room, Rafayel trailing behind like a chatty shadow, going off about how if you were really Astaroth, you’d at least know how to flirt properly.

“Please,” you scoffed, flopping onto the couch with the grace of someone utterly done. “Astaroth rides a dragon. She’s not just some seductress—she’s a badass.”

Rafayel wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, well, she’s also kind of a bitch in real life.”

You blinked. “You know her?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he casually pulled a full strawberry milk tea out of thin air and took a long sip like this was completely normal behavior.

You threw your hands up. “How?? Where are you getting these?!”

He shrugged, all too pleased with himself. “I’m a demon.”

You leaned forward, peering suspiciously behind him like he might be hiding a demonic vending machine in his spine. “Do you have, like, a secret stash somewhere? Is there a boba dimension?”

He ignored you entirely, now launching into a rant. “Everyone hypes up Astaroth, but Lucifer? Total icon. Charisma. Style. Actual management skills. Way cooler.”

You stared at him. “Did you just turn a boba flex into a Lucifer TED Talk?”

He grinned mid-sip. “Yes.”

You slapped both hands over your face with a long, tortured groan. “Please just get your promotion already and get out of my life.”

Rafayel pouted, hovering above the floor like a levitating drama queen, legs crossed and all. “Can’t you just admit you love me already?”

You lowered your hands, stared at him flatly. “No.”

Not even a blink. Just pure, stone-cold deadpan.

He gasped. “Heartless.”

You smirked. “Soulless.”

“Touche.”

—•

“Rafayel.”

“Yes?”

“Please stop hovering above me and let me sleep.”

A pause.

“…But I’m making sure you don’t get nightmares.”

“You are the nightmare.”

“Flattered.”

As much as Rafayel would have loved to keep teasing you—dangling upside down, whispering nonsense just to hear you groan—he let you sleep.

With a quiet sigh, he lowered himself onto his feet, the air stilling around him. He padded over to the chair beside your bed and sat down, elbows resting on his knees, watching.

Your face was soft now, pressed into your pillow, lashes brushing your cheeks, brows no longer drawn tight from stress.

Just peace. Just you.

His eyes softened.

“I lied,” he whispered, so quietly it was barely a breath. “I’m never getting that promotion.”

You didn’t stir.

“Because I don’t want to leave.”

He stood, the shadows folding around him as the edges of the room began to shimmer. The void called—quietly, like a familiar echo.

Before stepping through, he looked back one last time. His gaze lingered on you, curled beneath the blanket with your arm half-hugging your pillow, utterly unaware.

A slow smile tugged at his lips.

“Cute,” he murmured.

And then he was gone.

As Rafayel stepped onto the warm, scorched ground of his domain, the familiar heat curled around his boots like a welcome—and a warning.

He didn’t make it three steps before a demon rushed up to him, breathless and flustered. “Sire! The demons in the western region are acting up again! You can’t just disappear like that—”

Rafayel winced, rubbing his ear with an exaggerated groan. “Fuck, stop yelling. You’re worse than a smoke alarm.”

The demon blinked, wide-eyed. “But—”

“Relax.” Rafayel shot him a look, half-irritated, half-amused. “I was gone for like, what, three days? What, did the entire underworld fall apart without me?”

“…Yes.”

He sighed. Loudly. Dramatically. “Hell really needs to learn how to function without me. I’m starting to feel needed. It’s gross.”

“Well, you are the king…” the demon muttered, almost under his breath.

Rafayel stopped.

Slowly, he turned.

His usual laidback grin was gone—replaced by a sharp, twisted expression as his crimson eyes gleamed with something far less forgiving. The air around him crackled, heat rippling like a warning.

“And?” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Have I raised a bunch of scum who can’t get things done without hand-holding?”

The demon flinched, shrinking slightly under his glare.

Rafayel stepped forward, his voice cold now, all traces of sarcasm stripped clean. “Tell me—was I gone long enough for discipline to rot?”

“N-No, sire.”

“Then act like it.”

And just like that, the fire behind his eyes dimmed, and returned to their original colour, his smirk slowly returning as he stepped back. “Good chat.”

Rafayel skipped away happily, his coat fluttering behind him, humming some off-key tune as he thought about your sleeping face.

The way your lips were slightly parted. The softness in your brow. The rise and fall of your breath.

Utterly peaceful.

Utterly unaware.

Back near the gates of the palace, the demon who had been scolded turned to another, wide-eyed. “Has he forgotten he’s actually the King of Hell?”

The other demon shrugged, deadpan. “Who knows. But best let him be.”

A pause. Then, under his breath, “He’d rip your head off if you said anything.”

They both nodded solemnly as Rafayel twirled joyfully into the distance like the most dangerous fever dream anyone’s ever had.

—•

“Ugh, where is it?” you grumbled, crouching to look under your bed, then climbing onto chairs to peer above the cabinets like some caffeine-fueled treasure hunter.

You’d been tearing the house apart for the past hour, desperate to find one thing—your favorite hoodie.

It was Sunday.

Which meant hoodie, knee-high socks, hot chocolate, and absolutely zero responsibilities. A sacred tradition.

But the hoodie in question? Nowhere. Gone. Vanished like it had sensed you needed comfort and decided to flee out of spite.

You stomped your foot in frustration, letting out a noise of sheer despair.

“Woah, woah, woah— any harder and you’ll punch a hole through the floor,” came a voice from behind you.

You spun around, already bracing for nonsense.

And there he was—Rafayel, stepping out of the void like he owned the place, wearing a tired, lazy smile… and your hoodie.

Your favourite hoodie. Your favourite colour. Slouchy, warm, irreplaceable.

On him.

You stared.

He grinned. “Miss me?”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare sharp enough to kill gods.

“Raf. Five seconds.”

The grin on his face faltered. He tilted his head innocently. “Huh?”

“Five,” you repeated slowly, taking one deliberate step toward him.

Panic flickered in Rafayel’s eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it right before you threw a toaster at him for ‘accidentally’ eating your cheesecake.

“H-Hey! What did I do this time?!” he yelped, backing up slightly.

“Four.”

He clutched the hoodie tighter around him like it might shield him from divine wrath.

“Okay, okay, wait, let’s talk about this like two emotionally mature beings—”

You didn’t blink.

“Three

“It was just a hoodie,” Rafayel sulked, rubbing his butt as he floated midair with the wounded pride of a dethroned drama queen. His pout was deep. Tragic. Oscar-worthy.

You, on the other hand, were seated triumphantly on the couch, smug and cozy, wrapped in your hoodie like a warrior draped in victory.

The very hoodie you had pried off his smug little body after chasing him down the hall and delivering a perfectly executed flying kick to his ass.

Hot chocolate in hand. Feet propped up. Hoodie reclaimed.

Peace restored.

“I think you bruised my ego,” he muttered.

You took a sip. “Good. Maybe next time you’ll ask before committing hoodie theft.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re warm-blooded lint with wings.”

“Still cute though,” he grumbled.

You smiled into your mug. He wasn’t wrong.

You took a deep whiff of your chocolatey masterpiece, eyes fluttering closed in bliss, before cracking one open to look at the demon still sulking midair.

“Any luck on that promotion?” you asked casually, lifting the mug to your lips.

The moment the hot liquid touched your mouth, you hissed and pulled back, fanning your scorched lips. “Shit. Too hot.”

Rafayel shrugged, utterly unbothered, leaning back into his crossed arms like he was lounging on an invisible beach chair. “Wouldn’t know. Hell has a weird system. Something about karmic paperwork and sin-to-chaos ratios.”

You snorted. “Or maybe you’re just not as overqualified as you thought you were.”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “How dare you.”

You smirked. “I dare. Daily.”

“Cruel woman,” he muttered, flipping upside down dramatically.

“Underachieving demon,” you shot back.

“Still adorable,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. But you didn’t deny it.

You set your mug down with a satisfying clink and patted the empty space beside you. “Okay, friendly cuddle time.”

Rafayel scoffed like it was the greatest inconvenience in all the realms—but he still floated down and plopped beside you, limbs sprawling dramatically.

Without hesitation, you climbed over his lap, curling into his chest like you’d done it a thousand times before.

Because, at this point, you basically had. You let out a long, contented sigh. “Ah yes. I have a life-sized heater,” you murmured, poking his chest playfully. “And it’s squishy too.”

He grumbled, arms automatically winding around you like muscle memory. “I can’t believe you’ve reduced me to this level of uselessness.”

You gasped, hand flying to your chest. “Excuse you. Being a heater is not useless. Heaters save lives.”

He opened his mouth—probably to make another sarcastic comment—but you cut in, smirking against his sweater.

“You’re my emotional support demon.”

He froze for half a second.

Then exhaled through his nose, a quiet chuckle escaping before he tucked you a little closer.

“Lucky for you,” he muttered, “I’m warm and emotionally damaged.”

You looked up at him, head resting against his chest. “How are demons born, anyway?”

Rafayel paused, lips quirking slightly in thought. “Well… we’re not born, exactly. It’s more complicated than that.”

He reached up, gently tugging your hood over your head like he was tucking you in, and let you snuggle closer, his voice softening like he was about to tell a bedtime story.

“Lower-level demons,” he began, “are usually breathed into existence by Lucifer. They’re formed from whatever’s around—ashes, stone, shadows. Sometimes even stranger stuff. Like a cursed gust of wind. Or basement mold.”

You blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” he muttered. “There’s a demon literally made out of melted wax and self-doubt.”

You laughed, and he smirked, letting the sound of it settle between you like warmth.

“Hell’s weird,” you said.

“Hell’s home,” he corrected, mock-offended. Then, quieter, “But you’re warmer.”

You grinned, eyes alight with curiosity. “Okay, tell me something that’ll blow my mind.”

Rafayel looked down at you, your cheek smushed against his chest, hoodie half covering your face. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, hesitation—but it vanished just as quickly, swallowed by the usual smugness.

“Demons can’t fall in love,” he said quietly.

You jerked back a little to look up at him, brows furrowing. “What? Really?” Horror bloomed across your face. “So there are no demonic romances? No succubi falling for their victims? No tragic love stories in the fiery depths?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re being sarcastic.”

You gasped, hand over your heart. “No, I’m not! That’s genuinely tragic!”

He blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to actually care.

And for once, you didn’t tease. Didn’t smirk. You just looked up at him, genuine and a little sad. “That sucks, ‘yel.”

He glanced away, voice softer than before. “Yeah. It does.”

“But why, though?” you whined, dragging out the syllables like a child denied candy.

Rafayel smirked, leaning his cheek against the top of your head.

“It’s just the way it is. Though…” he drawled, smug creeping back into his voice, “you and I are an exception.”

You scrunched your nose. “Ew.”

He pulled back, lips parting in exaggerated offense. “Hey!”

You shrugged, grinning. “Sorry, I don’t do forbidden interdimensional romances on Sundays.”

He pouted. “So picky for someone who literally climbed into my lap ten minutes ago.”

“You’re warm,” you retorted.

“And devastatingly charming.”

“Mm. Debatable.”

“Rude.”

“Truthful.”

He sighed, cradling you a little closer. “One day you’ll admit you’re madly in love with me.”

“One day,” you echoed, eyes drifting shut, “when hell freezes over.”

“…You do realize I could make that happen, right?”

You groaned into his hoodie. “Go to sleep, demon.”

He chuckled, low and lazy. “It’s Sunday. Do you really want me to sleep when I could be entertaining you? Come on, ask me something. Anything.”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think, though the question had been sitting on your tongue for a while now. “Okay. Will you promise to visit… even after you get promoted?”

For a moment, he went still.

Then, with a half-hearted smirk, he leaned back. “Hmm. Probably not.”

Your heart sank.

“Unless,” he added, casually, “you promise to stop kicking my ass.”

You snorted, trying to keep it light. “Fine. I’ll just summon another demon.”

His eyes flicked to yours, a little too sharp, a little too fast. “Hey.”

You smiled, teasing. “What? Maybe one who doesn’t steal my hoodies.”

But he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I’ll get jealous,” he said, and though the words were laced with his usual dramatics, his voice had dropped—lower, quieter, like something unsaid was bleeding through.

You froze, the playfulness fading just enough for the air to shift.

“I’m serious,” he added, eyes meeting yours now, too steady for comfort. “I’d hate it.”

You swallowed, caught off guard by the weight in his tone. “Why?”

Rafayel didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking, the warmth of him wrapping around your shoulders like static. The kind of closeness that wasn’t just physical—it pressed against your chest, your breath, your thoughts.

“Because I’m not just any demon,” he said softly, eyes flickering to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “You didn’t summon them. You summoned me.”

And suddenly, the room felt smaller.

Quieter.

Too quiet.

You swallowed, your breath catching somewhere between your ribs and throat.

His words hung in the air—weightless, yet crushing.

You summoned him.

Not them. Not anyone else. Him.

You tried to laugh, tried to pull the teasing tone back into your voice, but it came out thinner than you meant. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“I’m not,” he said, gently—too gently for a demon who once tried to convince you to paint your kitchen black. “I’m just… saying what you won’t.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of your hoodie—his hoodie, your hoodie, yours now—and you stared down at your lap like it might anchor you.

“Rafayel—”

“Do you know what it means,” he cut in, his voice almost a whisper now, “for a demon to not want to go back?”

You looked up.

He wasn’t smirking.

No sarcasm, no smugness. Just ocean eyes too open, too raw.

“It’s not that I hate hell,” he said. “It’s home. Fire, brimstone, endless bureaucracy… all the fun stuff.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“But you,” he continued, “you’re warm in a way I didn’t think I could still feel. You make things quiet, even when you’re yelling at me. You make me stay.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, painfully loud.

And when you didn’t answer, when you just sat there frozen, unsure of what to do with the sudden tenderness filling the room like smoke, he leaned back.

Just a little.

Just enough to give you space again.

“I know,” he said softly, a rueful smile playing on his lips, “demons can’t fall in love.”

“But I think if we could…”

He trailed off, letting the silence finish the sentence.

You looked at him—really looked at him—and felt something shift. Something dangerous. Something irreversible.

And you weren’t sure if you were ready for it.

But you wanted to be.

“You can’t fall in love,” you said, barely above a whisper. “But… you can feel, right?”

The question sat there between you like something fragile, something sacred.

Rafayel didn’t answer at first. He just looked at you, really looked—eyes burning a little softer now, like dying embers that still held heat. His smile faded into something quieter, more honest.

“I can,” he murmured. “Not the way you do. Not the way mortals write songs about. But I feel.”

You nodded slowly, gaze dropping to your hands. “So… what do you feel now?”

He exhaled, and for once, it wasn’t exaggerated or dramatic—it was careful.

“Jealousy,” he admitted, almost embarrassed. “Warmth. Frustration.”

A beat.

“Peace. When you’re around, it’s—quiet.”

You looked up, heart caught between disbelief and something deeper.

“And when I’m not?”

He gave a crooked smile. “Louder. Colder. Boring as hell.”

You laughed, breathless.

He leaned forward again, resting his forehead gently against yours.

“I don’t need to love you to want to stay,” he whispered. “But I think… whatever this is, what I feel when I look at you—it’s the closest I’ve ever been.”

And you let your eyes close, just for a second.

Because even if it wasn’t love—not yet, not exactly—it felt like something just as terrifying.

Because somewhere between the banter, the teasing, and the endless pestering—between flying kicks, hoodie thefts, and boba-fueled late nights—you’d fallen.

Fallen for the demon who hovered too close.

Who made your life unbearably loud, yet somehow quieter.

Who never once asked for a place in your heart, but carved one out anyway.

Even if you didn’t want to admit it.

Even if you told yourself it was just comfort, just company, just friendly cuddle time.

It wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Because when he looked at you like that—tender, hesitant, a little afraid—you knew.

You’d fallen for your emotional support demon.

And hell, maybe he’d fallen too.

Rafayel pulled back just enough to look at you, and for a breath, everything was still—charged, heavy, full of everything neither of you had said.

Then he blinked.

“Wait a second,” he said, squinting at you dramatically. “Are you blushing?”

You immediately recoiled, shoving his face away. “Oh my god, Rafayel—”

“I knew it!” he cackled, twisting away to hover mid-air as you tried to smack him again. “You like me!”

“I literally just said—!”

“Emotionally support demon, huh?” he teased, spinning like an obnoxious orbit around your couch. “More like emotionally devastatingly handsome demon—”

“I take it all back,” you muttered, grabbing a throw pillow and chucking it at him.

He caught it mid-spin, grinning like he’d just won an award. “Too late! You fell. I’m basically your forbidden fantasy.”

You flopped back onto the couch with a groan, covering your face with both hands.

And somewhere above you, between the laughing and the twirling and the smug declarations, Rafayel slowed. Hovered.

He looked down at you—at your half-smile hidden behind your fingers—and said, quieter this time, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah… I think I’ve fallen for you.”

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neuvilletteswife4ever · 8 months ago

Note

What if reader could not feel any physical pain (yandere harbingers)

YANDERE FATUI HARBINGERS X READER WHO CAN'T FEEL ANY (PHYSICAL) PAIN

(Suicidal reader too)

WARNINGS:

Implied suicide, self harm, experimentation, harming others, obsession, kidnapping, Dottore, needles, non consent.

"Aren't you ashamed for escaping, my love?" Dottore asked as he had just injured (experimented) you badly. Your body was bleeding, but you didn't feel any PHYSICAL pain. Only MENTAL pain. Your mental health was fucked up. But they didn't care how drained and sad you were. As long as you were by the Fatui Harbingers side, everything was fine.

Dottore was experimenting on (hurting) you for one reason. He wanted to PUNISH you for escaping. While he knew that you didn't feel the pain. He knew how sad you were. How sad you were for getting this fate. But it's all your fault. Your fault for escaping.

As your body was bleeding you stood there, with no signs of pain, only sadness. The Fatui Harbingers bandaged the injured places as they kept telling you that it was your fault. Your eyes had lost it's spark. There was no life in them anymore. They had killed your mom, dad, siblings, friends, everyone around you. They said that your friends and family were trying to "take you away" from them.

Obviously that was all bullshit.

Childe hugged you from behind as he whispered threats in your ear. "Escape again and we'll make sure you don't see the light anymore" or "Try escaping again and you're getting chained to the bed for the rest of your life". He said it in such a lovesick voice. There were practicallly hearts in his eyes.

Arlecchino kisses your hand as she says:

"Don't ever escape again. Do you know how worried the children of the hearth were?" She said, as if TRYING to make you feel guilty. You did the right thing...right?

As the Fatui Harbingers worship you, you said you were hungry out of nowhere. "I-Im..hungry.." You managed to mutter out. Just because you couldn't feel pain didn't mean your BODY could withstand the pressure and all that.

"Of course darling, I'll tell the maids to cook you the best food in Teyvat." Columbina says in a heavenly voice while having her eyes closed as usual.

"N-no..I want you guys to make it for me..isn't it best for my "lovers" to make it for me..?"

No way in hell would you call them your lovers. All the Fatui Harbingers looked really shocked to hear you call them that. Their obsession grew 1000x more after you called them that for the first time. They were all red from blushing.

"Oh uh- of course!" Scaramouche says while covering his face due to it being red. The Fatui Harbingers left immedietaly to make you some delicious food. However. They forgot to put the chain on your ankle as they always do. Now, you could finally end this miserable life of yours. You had been Suicidal for a while now.

The windows were all locked. Of course they were..you managed to grab a sharp object with the last strength you had and threw it at the window. It wouldn't budge.

"Oh Archons, save me!" You prayed quietly

And then the window broke. Were you really gonna end your life? Yes you would. Were you really gonna jump down from a 100 meter palace? Yes you would.

As soon as you were about to jump, you felt a sharp pain in your back and then you blacked out.

You woke up to all the Fatui Harbingers sitting beside you with food. It looked like some of them were gonna cry. Was their darling really gonna commit suicide just to not be with them?

"Do not EVER do that again." Capitano said in a strict and deep voice.

Poor you. You will NEVER be alone from now on. Say goodbye to your privacy, because now their possessiveness and obsessiveness has grown by 100 000x

Request anything yall. Smut, angst, male reader, pregnant reader, ANYTHING. Anything is allowed, just not anything that is about homophobia, racism and pedophilia. Just make an explanation about what you want the POV to be about. Not just "male reader", explain what the pov should be about. Hope that makes sense cause it's really hard to make these povs up by myself 😭🙏

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wcnderlnds · 8 months ago

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loser of the year | peter maximoff

SUMMARY: peter thinks you hate him because you avoid him at all costs but he soon figures out why. WORD COUNT: 1243 WARNINGS: none! brief mention of she/her A/N: i couldn't think of a name so spotify did me a solid and played my fave simple plan song and i rolled with it.

Peter couldn’t understand it. Days, heck, weeks had been spent with him trying to figure out what he’d done wrong for you to constantly avoid him but he was coming up blank. Nada. So, if he hadn’t done anything then what was the reason? Why did you always avoid him in the hallways? Why would you always make an excuse to leave whenever he came over when you were talking to Scott or Jean? It absolutely baffled him. Drove him insane actually. Once Peter got something in his little speedster head, he tended to obsess over it. He also didn’t like when he couldn’t figure something out. And, you were the biggest puzzle of all.

It happened again one day when you were sitting in the common room of the mansion. Lazily, you were laying across the couch, legs dangling over the arm while your head rested on the other side. Scott was sitting in the chair next to you, the two of you chatting about Logan’s latest lecture. Peter had been speeding through the hallways causing his trouble like always when he came to halt hearing your voice.

He jumped into the free chair on the other side of the couch, blowing a bubble with the gum in his mouth. “What’re we talking about?”

“I have to go,” you mumbled as you got to your feet. “See you later, Scott.”

Once you left, Peter scoffed, arms crossing over his chest like a spoiled child. “What’s her problem?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“She hates me, dude. I don’t even know what I’ve done,” Peter threw his hands up in the air, his frustration more than evident.

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“Pfft, yeah right. That’s why she always leaves whenever I show up. Whatever, doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Completely fine. I don’t want to talk to her anyway.”

It wasn’t like you wanted to avoid Peter – you really didn’t but you didn’t know what else to do. Usually, you were this confident person who could strike up a conversation with anyone. The easiest thing in the world for you was to make friends but when it came to Peter that all flew out of the window. He made you nervous. One look at him and you were flustered. It was like you lost your tongue, you couldn’t speak a word to him or even look at him unless you wanted to look like a human tomato. It was a problem – a huge problem.

Of course, you’d had crushes before. Many times but this was different. Never had you been so flustered by someone that you couldn’t stand to be around them. This was all new for you. Sure, Peter was attractive. He was probably one of the most attractive guys you’d ever laid your eyes on but what really drew you to him was his personality. He was so fun, carefree. Everything seemed like it was one big adventure with him. Not that you’d really had a full conversation with him but you’d seen how he acted during training. Scott had told you many stories about Peter. It really seemed like everyone loved him. Sure, maybe he came across a little annoying at times but you found that endearing.

Lost in thought, you were walking through the hallway, a book in hand. It wasn’t until you were hit by a brick wall - or what felt like a brick wall at least anyway - and knocked to the floor when you came back to reality. Your eyes instantly bore into Peter’s who had managed to knock the two of you down to the floor, his body laying on top of yours. His hands braced either side of your head so he didn’t completely crush you.

“Oop, my bad.”

Your cheeks instantly turned red at his nonchalance. How could he be so collected when his body was literally pinning yours to the floor?

“Wasn’t paying attention,” he added.

Okay, so, he knew he should get off you. He knew he should get up and let you go on your way but this was the first time he’d got to speak to you without you instantly rushing off. What was a few more minutes pressed together on the floor? He looked at your face, your eyes avoiding his now, the faint tint of pink on your cheeks. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you squeaked out. Suddenly, you forgot how to breathe.

“What’s your issue?” Peter blurted out.

“What?”

“With me? Why’d you act like I’m the walking plague and avoid me at all costs? If I said somethin’ to ya at some point then I’m sorry but I’ve been wracking my brain and I don’t think I have.”

“I…” The words got lost on your tongue. ‘Seriously, get it together, brain,’ you thought. “You didn’t.”

Peter scrunched his face. “Then what is it? What’d I do to you?”

With his face so close to yours, his body pressing into you so you could feel every part of him, it was like someone had removed your brain from your head. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in there. “Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed as he noticed you avoiding his gaze at all costs. Then, it hit him. The way you couldn’t look at him, the blush on your cheeks. You liked him. A smirk graced that stupidly handsome face of his as he finally got off you, holding his hand out to help you up. Of course, you took it. His hand felt warm in yours, a little sweaty but you figured that was just because he had spent five minutes in that compromising position with you.

“You like me,” he pointed accusingly at you. His tone was smug. So damn smug.

“Wh-what? No!” A bold face lie.

“That’s why you avoid me. You got yourself a little crush on ol’ Quickie. I mean, who can blame you?” His grin lit up his whole face.

Now you really were flustered. Credit had to be given – he’d figured you out within five minutes of being around you and that was exactly why you had wanted to avoid being anywhere near him. This was going down as one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Your hands went to cover your face that was now burning hot.

Peter shoved his hands in jacket pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “S’cool, babe. Think you’re pretty cute too.”

That made you peer at him through your fingers. “Really?”

“Yeah when you’re not avoiding me anyway.”

“Sorry.”

He waved his hand at you to dismiss your apology. “All good. I’ma need you to stop running away everytime you see me, though.”

You nodded, bringing your hands away from your face. Suppose that was something you could do now you’d broke the ice. Or, well, Peter had broken the ice. You’d done nothing but say five words and break the world record for blushing. “Okay, yeah but… uh, I do have to go. Um… need to return this book.”

He stepped out of your way, letting you pass. As you walked away, he called after you with that shit-eating grin still on his face. “See ya, cutie. Might ask you on a date next time I see you if it doesn’t make you spontaneously combust.”

Peter snickered to himself, feeling pretty confident with himself as he walked away. Meanwhile you were sure you were about to melt into a puddle on the floor.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff imagine #my fics

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 10 months ago

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Chapter 19: I Know Who You Are

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter nineteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 14.5K (It's a behemoth and oh my stars I didn't mean to do this)

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Angst, Drinking, ANGST, Sexual References, Talks of Pregnancy/Abortion, Some steaminess (barely), Family Problems, Self-deprecating thoughts, Awkward Situation, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Not going to lie, this one is ANGSTY and it's dramatic... ENJOY!

Soldier Boy POV

Ben couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The words you'd said still hovered between the two of you like an anchor sinking from a ship and lodging itself in his heart to tug him under. At first he thought that he'd imagined you saying it, that he was still reeling from using his newfound powers, but the ringing in his ears was not a side effect of that.

It had been exactly 37 seconds since you said it, and in those 37 seconds Ben couldn't do anything but stare into your beautiful wide eyes and try to remember how to breathe. The look on your face was identical to the first time you told him you loved him, hands gently cupping his cheeks and making him feel like the boy who used to climb up the tree outside your window just to glimpse your smile.

But now what you said was different. What you said didn't bring warmth, it brought destruction, it broke through everything he was.

As soon as you said it a wave of shock crashed over him, followed by another more powerful wave of guilt. It wasn't guilt for getting you pregnant or guilt because the two of you weren't careful. Ben was not upset about that. He would have loved to see you pregnant, see you glow as you wore those cute overalls and prepared for a child that he gave you. To see you smile at him every day and let him make love to you, show you how excited he was to share this with you. Show you how you were the only person he wanted a family with, the only person he ever wanted to be bound to. He had wanted to give that to you and that wasn't a lie. When you first spoke those words to him so long ago about wanting to have a family, wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you, Ben had wanted to be the one to give you those things.

He would have done anything to make you happy, still would. But now he was upset with himself. Guilty that he wasn't there for you when you needed him the most, guilty that he allowed himself to stay away as long as he had, and guilty that he hadn't fought harder to get back to you.

He imagined those years without him raising a child on your own, the sleepless nights you must have had, the way you must have never had a moment of quiet-.

Ben felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into despair when he thought of the years you must have spent alone raising his child, loving his child even though he threw you away.

She loves me that much? How can I ever deserve her?

Ben still didn't breathe, noting the way Legend, Butcher, and Hughie have fallen silent where they stand behind the two of you. Even Legend had stopped smoking his blunt, something that Ben wished he could take a hit from.

I'm a dad and I-

Ben's memories of his own father came up like the rising tide, the shit his father said to him, the way his father pushed him away, the way his father was never there when he needed him to be and the way that his father always made him feel like he wasn't enough, just as your mother made you feel.

Even after all this time, I did become him, I abandoned her and then I abandoned my kid. I wasn't there when they needed me the most, I am a fuck up I- Ben swallows, the overwhelming thoughts dragging him further and further beneath the waves. How could she still want me? How can she say that I've never disappointed her when I did this?

You drop your hands from his cheeks and he misses the warmth they brought, but worse is the look in your eyes. You look scared. It was the same look you'd had on your face this morning when he woke up with you in his arms.

Ben hated that, because he knew why. He knew that you were scared to tell him this because you thought he would leave you again, that you still didn't completely believe that he was never going to leave you again, and it broke something deep inside of him that he tried to hide away for decades. He wished that he had never done those things to you, wished that he had earned back your trust already, wished that you would let him make love to you to show you how much you meant to him, but deep down he knew that he was willing to wait for you even if it took the rest of his life, he would make you trust him again.

At least she's touching me and looking me in the eye now.

But he knew that he still had a long way to go.

“Right.” Butcher clears his throat awkwardly. “Don’t forget to fill up the tank.” He tosses his keys towards you and you catch them in your hand while Ben continues to stand there.

Honestly he still wasn't sure what to say. He was stuck somewhere between guilt and shock and he wasn't sure how to make his body move. Pretty soon he would die from asphyxiation. He hadn’t taken a breath since you said it.

Butcher, Legend, and Hughie walk into the house behind them each wearing a bewildered expression. Ben had been to Legend's summer house many times in the past. He had memories of orgies and parties that went on for days, both of which you never went to, and Ben always ended up at your apartment trying to sleep it off while you sketched quietly beside him. He still couldn't understand that, how you were able to sit there with him and act like your heart wasn't breaking each time he did that.

The silence grows between you and Ben can't find the words to fill it, because he has no idea what to say, no idea how you can look at him when he did this to you, when he got you pregnant and then abandoned you like you didn't matter.

"Look I-" You stammer, looking down at the ground for a minute to take a breath before you raise your eyes to look at him. "I didn't want to tell you like this, but I can't leave her. We have the same last name and the first thing Homelander's going to do is make that connection. I mean, Legend and I made up the story about Indigo being my mom, but Rosemary she-"

Ben's entire body explodes again with emotion and shock as you utter the name Rosemary. He hadn't heard it in over eighty years, the last time was at his mother's funeral. The day that you crossed the gravesite, pulling away from your family, swaddled in another ridiculous dress that your mother picked out, and took his hand, refusing to let it go. You were always there for him.

And then I wasn't fucking there for her.

“I just can’t leave her, not with him.” You whisper, glancing up into Ben's impassive face but he can't say anything.

How can I when she named our daughter after my mother?

“I know it’s a lot to take in. I tried to tell you this morning, but then Butcher walked in and I didn’t want to do this in front of him and- and-“ You were babbling now, a nervous habit that Ben hadn't seen you do in ages, but was now rearing its ugly head all over again. “And you don’t have to come with me-“

You were mistaking his silence for fear, mistaking his silence as him pulling away all over again. He could see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice as it trembled.

“Rosemary.” Ben whispers, your daughter's name, his daughter's name, interrupting you. He barely breathes it, so low that he's not sure you heard him, saying the name with a reverence that he'd never used before. It was the first thing he'd said since you told him that he was a dad.

“Yes?" You look confused.

“You named her after my mom?” Ben’s eyes catch yours, deep green and open. He could feel his own heart flutter when he asked you that, heating in his chest so hot that he thinks it might melt out of it, through the bones and sinew. If that happened he would catch it and give it to you as if you already didn’t have it.

Ben can hear your heartbeat stutter when he asks you that. It was surprising, surprising that after everything that happened you still did that for him, did that to remember him.

He watches the end of your lips twitch in a smile.

“Yeah. You loved your mom. And did you think I was going to name her after my mom? Really?” You smile faintly at him with the joke.

Ben almost smiles at the thought. There wasn't any way that you wanted to remember your mother. Hell, all Ben wanted was to help you forget her, to undo the damage that she'd done to you all those years ago, because he saw how her influence still weighed on you, how everything that happened in the past still sat on your shoulders.

And he wanted to relieve that.

“I did try to tell you.” You repeat, but your smile drops. “Honestly I also want to stop and get some clothes from my apartment so I’m not covered in blood or rubble when I see her. It's going to be hard to explain all of this to her.”

Ben drags his eyes down your outfit again. Although this morning all he wanted was to rip it off you and study your curves with his hands, the outfit looked weathered. There was a prominent hole through the jacket and shirt, just under your left breast that Ben couldn't look away from. He knew what it meant. It was from you pushing him out of the way of Homelander. He could still feel the anger prickling beneath his skin when you again did the thing that he told you not to do. You were just so stubborn sometimes and never wanted to listen to him. Ben didn't give a single fuck that Homelander had punched him and practically choked him, the only thing he cared about was that Homelander had killed you. There were many things that Ben fantasized about doing to Homelander when he had killed you, many he wished that he had been able to accomplish before Homelander tucked his tail and flew away like a little pussy.

He cannot be what passes for a hero these days.

Then again another side of him was incredibly turned on when you faced Homelander. He'd never admit that to you, but there was something sexy about the way you threw Homelander around like he was nothing. It had taken an extreme amount of effort for Ben not to kiss you after Homelander flew away, to take you back into the ruined house and show you just how much he liked your outfit and how much he enjoyed watching you kick Homelander's ass. Of course he'd let the anger win in the moments that followed the fight.

"Okay." Ben replies.

He sees you hesitate. “I guess I’ll see you when I get back.” You reply, with a tight smile, disappointment flashing in your eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Ben’s eyebrows furrow together. He was confused. “I’m coming with you.”

“Really?" He watches your eyes widen in surprise.

Did she really think I'd let her go alone to do this?

"Yes? I told you that I didn't want you to go alone. Especially with that asshole flying around." Ben could feel himself frown.

"Okay."

Reader POV

The first ten minutes of the drive is deathly quiet. Ben doesn’t say anything and you fight to keep your mouth shut. The urge to fill the silence bristled beneath your skin, but you clamp your lips together.

Even when he said he wanted to come with me, he didn't acknowledge anything I said about Rosemary and-

“Are you sure she’s mine?” Ben finally asks interrupting your internal monologue.

You can’t help but laugh, gripping the steering wheel as you snort. “Why is that the reaction all men have when a woman tells them that they’re pregnant? Is it because all men believe that women go around plotting ways to force them into a relationship? Is that a legitimate fear that you guys have? Or is it because all men think women go jumping from bed to bed having unprotected sex with whoever they can get their hands on?”

“No I just-“ Ben sighs and doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s been staring out through the windshield, watching the outside world fade into blurred colors, glancing over at you every few seconds.

“I’m sorry.” You hadn’t meant to laugh at him, but this was all just extremely awkward.

But it shouldn’t be. You can’t help but think to yourself. If Ben had ever asked me to have a kid with him before any of this I would have agreed to it no questions asked. But now I guess it's different.

“Yes she’s yours.” You sigh, but you can’t look at him.

“But how?”

“Do you really want me to explain the birds and the bees to you?”

“Y/n.” He sighs.

“Because of all the people in the world, you probably have enough experience to know exactly how babies are made and I hate to break it to you, it has nothing to do with a stork.”

“Please don’t make a joke right now.”

“I can’t help it.” You mutter butterflies dancing the conga in your stomach. “You know how I get when I get nervous.” You could practically feel your neurons sending electrical impulses through your body, making your anxiety grow.

I really should have had that coffee this morning. Then again it might go right to my anxiety.

“Why are you nervous?” Ben asks you incredulous. He sounds surprised, like he can't understand you.

“Huh?”

“Why are you nervous? You should be fucking furious with me!"

"Ben what are you talking about?" You turn to look over at him. He looks wrecked. He's hunched in the seat, hands clenched tightly over his thighs, jaw tight.

Is he mad at me? Really? Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach to be devoured by the swarm of butterflies. I knew it. I knew he wouldn't be able to handle this-

"I did this to you and then I fucking left you. I left you when you needed me and was with those Russian fucks for forty-“ Ben’s voice breaks.

You suddenly understand. Ben wasn’t angry with you, he wasn’t pulling away, he was angry with himself. Guilty and angry because he wasn't there, because he believed that he disappointed you again.

“Ben wait a minute-“

“I should have been there every second.” He seethes, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists on top of his thighs. “I should have- FUCK.” Ben’s fist goes through the roof of the car, making the entire frame shudder.

Shit Butcher might kill us for that.

"Oh Ben-" You whisper.

“I-“ His chest begins to glow. “I said all those things, pushed you away, fucked Countess. I put you through all that shit and you still wanted to have my fucking kid? And you named her after my mom? I-"

Butcher will definitely kill us if Ben blows up his car.

You pull the car over to the side of the road, quickly unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for Ben. "Ben please it's okay." You breathe, hands finding the sides of his face. "It's okay."

"No it's not." His chest dulls, but he turns his head away from you ashamed. "You told me that you wanted a family, that you wanted someone to come home to, someone who loved you. I wanted to give you those things, but not like this. I-" Ben's voice cracks. "I'm so sorry. I-"

"Ben." You whisper, turning his face back to yours so he's looking at you. His green eyes are dim, eyebrows pushed together, mouth turned down in a frown. And you can't help but kiss him. It's the first kiss you'd had in years. Life always seemed to get in the way of that. Whether it was Rosemary or Lou, you hadn't had a lasting relationship with someone in decades, not since Ben. The most you’d done is gone out with another artist and had dinner. It had ended in an awkward kiss that felt completely wrong to you. It didn't feel anything like this.

Kissing Ben was even more wonderful than you remember. The way he softly sighs into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, the way his hands find your waist to pull you over the center console into his lap, the way your hands automatically tangle in his thick dark hair on the back of his head, and the way your entire body melted into him. Warm tingles trace down your spine as your lips move against his, every synapse in your body electrifying, as you try your hardest to tell him how much he means to you with the kiss.

"Don't you understand." You say against his lips, stroking your fingers through his hair. "You did. You gave me a family. You gave me someone to come home to, someone who loves me. And now that she’s all grown up it gets to be you. You didn’t ruin my life. I don’t regret a single moment, even with everything that happened. I don't regret having Rosemary. You gave me what I wanted. It might not have looked the way I thought it would, but it doesn't make it any less special.”

"But I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I-" Ben sighs leaning his forehead against yours and you kiss him again, his tongue tangling with yours so devastatingly languid it seems to take your next breath.

Why did I ever deny myself this?

"Ben, you're here now, and that's all that matters to me."

"But-"

"You don't need to apologize for this Ben. What happened to you was not your fault. You couldn't control being away as long as you were-"

"I could have tried harder to escape. I could have-" He swallows, eyes wide and filled with pain. "I would have tried harder if I knew that I left you with-"

"Ben." You breathe, extracting your fingers from his hair and cupping his cheeks. "Please. I don't blame you for not being there. It was out of your control. And if-" You clear your throat with a sigh. "If you really love me as much as you say, if you've really loved me all this time, then I know you would have been there every second."

"I do. I love you." He kisses you again, breathing you in, holding you so tight against his chest as if he believes that you'll fade away in his arms. "I would have been, even if you hated having me there."

"I might have at the beginning, but now I can't imagine losing you. I can't imagine you leaving me. I don't think that I'll be able to survive this time-"

"I won't leave. I promise."

"I'm starting to believe you." Your thumbs stroke against Ben's cheeks, smiling softly at him, trying to fight the urge to cry, because your emotions are getting the best of you all over again. "Now can we please go? Or are you going to blow up Butcher's car?"

"One more Sweetheart." Ben murmurs, dragging your face back to his. "I've waited forty years for this."

"Does she know about me?" Ben says from your bedroom, over the sound of the sink.

You were standing in your bathroom, washing ash and blood from your face and picking rubble out of your hair. Honestly, you looked… weathered. The revenge outfit had a large irreparable hole that went through the blouse, not to mention you'd lost another favorite jacket and you were starting to get pissed.

Two down in a week. Maybe the vintage shop across the street from Rosemary's will have a nice selection. You reconsider. Or maybe Legend will have some clothes that he doesn't want. You smile to yourself. He certainly looks the same, must have some nice vintage clothes from the "good old days". Maybe I should be more worried about the fact that I’m more upset about ruining another jacket rather than the fact that we killed two people today.

Of course, you also needed to consider getting Ben some more clothes as well. Butcher's minimal selection was dismal, then again Ben could probably wear a garbage bag and be drop dead gorgeous.

He's the worst.

"Yeah. I told her who you were." You pull off the jacket, stroking your finger around the hole in the back of it, noticing the way the singed leather melted away from the laser. "She also knows you're back. It was-um- it was Rosemary who was texting me this morning." You momentarily feel guilty again. Rosemary was not excited to see Ben, the text messages this morning were a testament to that. And you were afraid that Ben was going to get his hopes up about seeing her.

Personally you weren't sure how he was going to approach this. Your heart just about broke when he almost exploded in the car from guilt about getting you pregnant. That was shocking, but at the same time the look of anguish on his face made you feel guilty all over again for not trying to get him sooner, for not asking more questions about his death. You knew that he was more indestructible than you. Why didn't I question that?

You reach for the bottom of the blouse, pulling it from your skin, but you look at your reflection in the mirror. There were two prominent scars, each about the size of a nickel, just under the left side of your bra. The only thing left behind from your fight with Homelander.

Ben's hand against the small of your bare back, makes you jump. It was rough and familiar, brushing against your soft skin in a way that makes you want to push back into his touch, to soak up the warmth like a cat in the sun. Proving again that your body still responded to his touch the same way it had your entire life. "Let me see." He rumbles.

"What?"

Ben turns you towards him, eyes dark as they meet yours, but then they drop to the collection of scars on your torso. "This one?" He strokes the golf-ball sized, almost perfect circle on the right lower part of your abdomen.

"Countess."

Ben's jaw tightens, but then raises his hand to the scars Homelander left then to the bullet scar just over your heart. "I hate that so many of these have to do with me."

"Well you didn't do them so you should see that as a win." You joke trying to make Ben smile, but he doesn't. "Ben we talked about this."

"I know." He pauses stroking his finger on a thin line just over your left collarbone. It was new to him. "What’s this one?"

"Rosemary." A ghost of a smile is on my lips. "Didn't want to eat her broccoli when she was a kid, telekinetically threw a knife at me by accident."

"She's a supe?"

"Yeah she's like us a bit. Doesn't age, she's strong, and more invulnerable, but she doesn't have any other powers unless she touches you."

"She has to touch you?"

"Yeah skin to skin contact only and only 24 hours, that's how she got telekinesis. She touched me and, well, really didn’t want to eat that broccoli-" You shrug. You were used to her powers, happy that you didn't have to watch her age, but worried about Lou. You were always worried about Lou. “But she's not a hero, she didn't want to be one. She's a nurse, works downtown in the emergency room. Though I think she's thinking about being a doctor."

"A doctor? A female doctor?” Ben’s eyebrows furrow.

Right. He basically missed the feminist movement. Note to self, make Ben watch the Barbie movie.

"Yes a female doctor. Nowadays it happens more often than you’d think.” You laugh. “She wanted to go back to school, but then her husband died and she was taking care of Lou-"

"Lou?"

You take his hand stroking your thumb over the back. “It’s not just Rosemary-“

“Please do not tell me you had fucking twins.” Ben tenses.

“No.” You snort. “Lou is our granddaughter. It's short for Lois, though Rosie never calls her that unless she's done something crazy. She’s four, and most of the time she calls me aunty. She doesn’t know I’m her grandmother. Rosie and I, we thought it would be better if I introduced her as my cousin, not as my daughter."

“What happened to her husband?”

“Car accident. Just a few weeks after Lou was born.” Your smile drops remembering. “He was a good guy. Rosemary was head over heels for such a long time, and when he died she just crumbled completely shut down. He wasn't a supe and when she started to have a life with him I was worried about him dying. He wasn't going to live forever and he certainly wasn't indestructible. But after it happened I moved in with them for a while, helped her get through it, but it was hard."

"What about Lou?"

"What about her?"

"Is she a supe?" Ben's palm was still resting on the thin line over your collar bone and it was difficult to think with his bare skin pressed against yours.

"Not that we've noticed. Though I worry every day she will be."

"Why?"

"She's a third generation supe from our bloodline. If that gets out, who knows what'll happen. Same with Rosemary. She’s powerful and she’s only second generation from us. I’m hoping it skipped Lou.” You sigh leaning forward into his hand. "When I first found out that I was pregnant with Rosemary I was afraid that Vought would come take her away. And then when Lou was born I was so happy for Rosie, but everyday I'm scared that-" The words catch in your throat. Nothing really scared you anymore, but the thought of losing Rosie or Lou broke your heart, it was the same fear you had at the thought of losing Ben all over again.

He slides his hand up the column of your throat to cup your cheek. “Nothing will happen to them.” Ben promises. “I won’t let it.” His gaze was locked on yours, eyes filled with steely determination. It made your heart warm to know that Ben already cares about them, that he understood how important they were to you. It also made you all the more guilty for telling Rosemary everything about Ben, afraid that it turned her against him.

But I told her the bad and the good. I told her how much he meant to me, how he touched my life, our childhoods-

Images of the moments with Ben over your lifetime, the good and the bad, the moments you loved him, the moments you hated him, the simple moments that you longed for more, and the moments where Ben gave you everything you wanted, when he was exactly what you needed, as if he understood every part of you, even the parts that you tired to hide from everyone else. The moments before you were supes when Ben and you were together and he made you forget about your mother, when he walked you home as you sang drunkenly off key, and the moments where he cheered you up when everything seemed hopeless. Ben was always there for you.

You tried to tell her that, but maybe you were too jaded to tell her, maybe you focused too much on the bad. And now that meant she might not listen to his side of the story.

He drags his finger over the scar just over your heart, the one he can't seem to forget, trailing goosebumps in it's wake, while his other hand wraps around your waist tugging you forward against his chest.

By now he was wearing the pair of jeans and dark shirt he came to your apartment in, looking just as devastatingly handsome as he always did. Probably a good thing that he didn't go to her apartment in his supe suit, you didn't want Rosemary to ask him why he was wearing it and then have to tell her that he torched the TNT Twins.

Because telling her that you personally kicked Homelander's ass and that he was now going to hunt down Rosemary and Lou seemed so much easier. Not.

Why is my life like this?

"I can't put a shirt on if you keep doing that." You whisper. Honestly you couldn't think straight either.

"Maybe that's my plan all along."

"Well see, if I never put a shirt on that means that I'll be walking around in public with everyone seeing me without one and-"

Ben's eyes narrow at the thought.

“Oh do you not like that?” You smirk.

He pins you back against the counter, the marble biting into your lower back, but you don’t have time to think about it because Ben’s lips are against yours, supple and urgent, driving every thought from your mind.

Your hands come up to grip his shoulders, fastening him tighter against you while his mouth drags over your skin down your throat to your collarbone.

“Ben we have to go-“ you whisper.

“Let me do this first.” He mutters against your skin.

“Do what?” You sigh, feeling him begin to suck a mark directly over your collarbone. “Ben-“ You try to say his name to make him stop. Showing up to Rosemary’s apartment with a hickey was the last thing you wanted. But instead of his name coming out in the harsh whisper you intended, it comes out as a moan.

Ben’s body tightens around you, gaze meeting yours. His eyes are dark pools filled with promises that make a shiver travel down your spine. “I’ve waited forty years to hear you say my name like that again.” His lips fall back to the same spot. “And I look forward to hearing it like that in the future.”

Part of you is screaming too soon! But there’s another part rattling the bars of her cage that screams more! At the top of its lungs.

Ben continues to kiss along your neck, beard scratching against the soft skin in a way that makes you sigh and move your hands up to tangle in his hair.

You can feel Ben’s smile. “That’s my girl.”

“Only yours.” You whisper before you can stop yourself causing Ben to raise his head from your collarbone.

“Damn right.”He growls.

And there goes my last shred of willpower. Fuck.

Rosemary’s apartment building sends a deep feeling of dread through your system. You were happy that you got to change, happy that Ben got to change, but now thanks to the man sitting in the front seat across from you there was a large purple mark just on your collarbone that was barely covered by the long sleeved sweater you had on.

Please let Rosemary not see it.

Ben wasn’t helping. Since your apartment he hadn’t let go of your hand. The entire ride to Rosemary’s he held it over the center console of Butcher’s car, slowly stroking the back of it with his thumb making warm tendrils creep up your arm and settle in your heart. It was just like the night after the restaurant when Ben drove you home and he showed a softer side of himself that you hadn’t seen in forty years.

In the past 48 hours Ben had been more attentive and loving than he ever had and it made you hopeful for the future, hopeful that this really was going to work.

But you were still afraid that this was happening so fast. You weren’t expecting yourself to be so open to forgiving him, to be so ready to let him back in, to let him pick up the pieces of your heart but there he was holding duct tape with his piercing eyes and annoyingly gorgeous face.

“This is a nice apartment building.” Ben says looking up at the towering behemoth.

“She really likes it.” You shrug. “It’s close to a lot of schools and Rosie’s job. I kinda thought it was too uppity.”

“Neighborhood looks safe.” Ben gets out of the car.

“Yeah it-“ You begin to say trying to open your door but as soon as you do Ben is there opening it for you. “Oh thanks.”

“You look surprised.” He smiles.

“It’s just been a while since someone has opened a door for me.”

Ben’s smile twitches for a second. “Y/n?”

“Yes Ben.” You smooth the front of his shirt.

“How many others have there been?” He asks quietly.

You pause for a second hand still on his chest. As ridiculous as it might seem to some people, the truth was there hadn’t been anyone else.

At first it was difficult to find time for anything eat alone that in particular. Chasing a toddler around that occasionally picked up the couch and threw it across the room with her mind was enough to keep anybody busy, not to mention that you didn’t want to leave Rosemary alone with anyone for a night. And when Rosemary finally went off the college and you started to sell your paintings you started to get more comfortable being on your own again. You’d gone out to dinner with a few men who asked you after your show shared a kiss, but nothing ever felt right.

Finally came the one night that you thought things could be different. Max was a colleague that had flirted with you every chance he got. He wasn’t bad looking, reminded you a bit of Ben and your friend Adam Winthrop growing up. Max was also an artist who came to each of your shows, talked you down from the ledge whenever you thought the work wasn’t good enough and always took you out to get a drink after a show to make you feel better. He was sweet, funny, but when you were with him something always felt different.

But one night you figured why not? So you gave in, went back with Max to his apartment, but you couldn’t go all the way. It felt wrong. You could tell how much he liked you, how much he wanted you, but you didn’t want him. And it felt wrong to use someone. To make them believe you had feelings for them only to push them away.

So you told Max the truth and he respected you, didn’t make anything weird between the two of you, acted like nothing happened.

But now standing here in front of Ben with him asking you that question apart of you wished you had found someone else.

“Why?” You ask slowly.

Ben shrugs. “I don’t know you just haven’t- I mean we haven’t talked about that and-“

“I have never asked you how many people you’ve slept with. And I really don't think this is the best time?"

“I know that you've never asked but the last time I saw you I mean-" Ben's hand gently touches your waist, stroking against the top of your favorite worn pair of jeans.

You knew exactly what he was thinking about, he was thinking about the night you shared together, when he was everything you wanted, and he made you feel special loved, when he was gentle and made love to you the way you always imagined.

And yes maybe sex was off the table for a while, but it would come up again, eventually.

"Ben, can we talk about this after we get Rosemary and Lou back to Legend's?" You whisper placing a hand on his chest before you can stop yourself. You weren't sure if you'd ever be able to stop touching him, if you'd ever be able to stand in his presence and not feel warm or happy. You never expected it to be like this again, and certainly not so soon.

Ben looks disappointed for a moment, his green eyes flashing in the brilliant sunlight as it begins to sink behind the buildings. The wind carried the smells of summer, ice cream, beer, sunscreen, and just a hint of rain, rustling through the trees on the edge of Central Park. There would be a storm soon and you hoped that you were on the road before it hit. You hated driving in the rain.

"Okay." He releases your waist and takes your hand once more. "But we are going to talk about it right?"

"I don't see why it's so important." You steer him towards the front double doors where the doorman, Rodger, stands in a green and gold suit.

"Welcome back miss." Rodger smiles and opens one of the heavy glass doors for Ben and you.

"Thank you Rodger. How's the wife?" You flash a winning smile at him, still holding on tight to Ben who walks silently next to you.

"She's doing a lot better. The treatments are going well. She seems more like herself each day." Rodger smiles wider, eyes misting a little bit.

"That's wonderful to hear. Tell her I say hello." You say continuing to the gilded elevator that sits on the other side of the large marble lobby of the apartment building.

The truth was you knew that his wife was doing better, just as you knew she was receiving her treatments. Last Christmas Rodger had broken down when he was letting you up to see Lou and Rosemary and told you that his wife was diagnosed with lung cancer and because they didn’t have the money for treatment, it would probably be her last Christmas. Rodger was one of the kindest people you knew, and you didn't want him to lose his wife, so Rosemary and you both decided to shift around the generous funds that her grandfather left you, to send an anonymous donation so Rodger's wife could get treatment.

"Of course miss."

The elevator door closes, leaving Ben and you alone again, playing a cover of "Don't Stop Believing" on the piano.

Ben tugs you close and kisses you softly, so soft that it makes your eyes flutter while he smiles down at you. "I love you."

"What did you do?" You joke, nerves of Rosemary seeing Ben gone for a moment.

"You have such a big heart." He strokes his finger down your cheek, eyes soft as he gazes at you.

"He was going to lose his wife." You murmur. Ben was doing it again, seeing through you, understanding you even without knowing the whole story. It was like he always had a way of laying you bare, able to see your thoughts and secrets even though he wasn't a mind reader. "He loves her so much and for him to lose her like that-"

Ben hugs you closer to his chest. "I understand what that's like."

You see where his mind is, see that it's on a beach overseas, with blood soaked sand and your body lying in his arms as you draw your last breath. It hurt you to see the pain in his eyes, the loss even when you were standing right in front of him, even when you were in his arms, pressed against him in the way that always made you think that he was made for you just as the way you were made for him.

How could I ever forget how he made me feel? How wonderful it was to be with him when all you could see was the boy you grew up with?

"I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere. I promise." You kiss him gently on the tip of his nose. It was more to reassure yourself than anything else. Rosemary was not going to react well to seeing him.

Might as well rip the band aid off right now.

The hallway is quiet, carpet plush and thick beneath your shoes and Ben and you make your way to the door at the end of the hallway. The blue paint is supposed to be calming, but your anxiety spikes as you raise your free hand to knock against the front door.

Please let her be here and not be kidnapped by Homelander.

The door opens.

Rosemary is dressed for work. Her maroon scrubs are clean and neat, her dark hair pulled back in a bun, her make up soft. She looks calm, but you can see the coming storm, just as you felt the coming storm outside the building, feel the electricity against your skin before the thunderclouds rose on the horizon. As soon as her eyes meet yours they narrow.

She's pissed.

"What are you doing here? I told you that I didn't need you to watch Lou tonight. Her babysitter is coming." Rosemary glances at Ben once, frown deepening as she notices his hand holding yours. You knew she was still holding back what she wished to say, choosing rather to ignore his presence rather than tear him apart here.

"I know. I'm not here for that. We have to go." You say, not wanting to discuss the full gravity of the situation in the hallway, but Rosemary shifts to block the doorway.

"You're not coming in. Not with him." She spits the word 'him' like it's a curse and you feel Ben's body tense in surprise.

I should have prepared him for this.

"Hi I’m-" Ben begins to say, trying to smooth things over.

"I know who you are." Rosemarys eyes narrow and flick back to you. “I can’t believe you fucking forgave him.”

"I-"

"Before you say you didn't that fucking hickey on your neck says otherwise."

Your cheeks flush bright red in embarrassment, shifting the sweater to hide it again. “Rosie-“

“No no no. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Rosie-“ Ben tries to say.

"Don't you dare call me that." She snarls, face contorting in rage, burning so hot that you could practically feel the air around her raising in temperature. "You don't know me. We're not friends. And I don't care what she says, you're not my dad. You're just the asshole that fucked my mom, got her pregnant and then ripped her heart out." Rosemary spits. “Do you have any idea what you put my mother through? Do you have any idea?"

Ben's body is still tense beside you, pulled so taunt that you don't know how he hasn’t snapped "I know and I apolo-“

“You think one measly apology makes that okay? MAKES ANY OF THIS OKAY?”

“Can we please not do this in the hallway?” You sigh. The last thing you wanted was Mrs. Norbert, Rosemary's prehistoric nosy neighbor coming out into the hall with her yappy French poodle, the same one that always snapped at your ankles and at Lou when you ran into her in the lobby.

“He’s not coming in here.” Rosemary stands her ground in the doorway.

"I know that you’re angry, but I need you to put that aside right now because there are more pressing things we have to worry about.”

"Like what?" Her eyes narrow at you. "Oh let me guess, you guys fucked again, you're pregnant and now you're going to-"

"Don't you dare speak to her that way." Ben roars trying to step in front of you, but you put your hand up to stop him.

Rosemary might be your daughter, but to Ben she was someone who insulted you, family or no, he wasn't going to sit back and let her treat you that way.

"Ben." You say once to calm him down. The last thing you wanted was for him to go nuclear right now. "Rosemary please. I know that you're angry, but we're not here for some big reunion. This is more important than any of this. This is about keeping Lou safe."

At the mention of her daughter's name, you see Rosemary's resolve waver. Her eyes flick to Ben again, once more sizing him up. "Fine." She opens the door wider, so Ben and you can come inside the apartment.

The creative chaos of the living room soothes some of your nerves, but not all. This was going poorly. Well, worse than poorly. Rosemary could barely look at Ben let alone speak to him without looking like she'd smelled something rancid.

You knew it would be bad, but you didn't think that it would be like this.

Apart of your heart broke for Ben. You saw how he acted in the car when you told him he was a father, how upset he'd been at the thought of getting you pregnant and then abandoning you. And now Rosemary was basically making him feel like a deadbeat probably wasn't helped either.

All you hoped was that Ben wasn't focusing on what his father used to say to him about being a disappointment, hoped that he wasn't reliving the memories of everything his father shouted at him at night before Ben fled to the solace of your bedroom.

Because the truth was you weren't disappointed and certainly were not disappointed when you got pregnant. Heartbroken yes. Scared shitless, again yes. But not disappointed, you'd never say that about him or to him, not as long as you lived. You knew exactly what those words would do to him, exactly where they would transport him. And you refused to be the reason Ben was reminded of his father.

"Aunty y/n!" Lou crows as she weaves through the apartment, leaping off the teal colored couch and into your open arms. She squeezes you tightly, burying her face in your neck. To see her safe brings relief washing over you, the same feeling you felt when Rosemary opened the door, but tenfold now knowing that Homelander has not taken either or them.

And he won't ever.

"I missed you." She whispers.

"I missed you too honey." You smile down at your granddaughter. She leans back to glance at her mother who still stands at the front door, holding on to the handle like it's her last nerve. Ben is standing close to you, looking at the little girl in your arms, face impassive, but his eyes betray him, caught somewhere between shock, anger, and just a twinge of guilt.

Please don't be guilty Ben. You think to yourself, trying hard not to reach out and touch him.

"Mommy why were you yelling at aunty y/n?" Lou looks at where Rosemary stands awkwardly by the door glaring at Ben.

"Because I didn’t tell her my friend Ben was coming." You say rubbing her back softly.

"Him?" She points at Ben.

"Yes. And don't point honey it's rude."

"Hi." Lou gives him a toothless smile and waves her chubby hand at him, her dark hair flopping away from her face as she does so.

Ben blinks at her for a moment, before his mouth begins to quirk in a half smile, shoulders still tense. But you could see that he was trying, and it meant something that he was despite Rosemary practically tearing him a new one in the hallway.

"He looks like mommy." Lou giggles cuddling into your neck to look at him.

It was the one thing that you hadn't prepared Ben for, how much he looked like Rosemary, how similar they were. You knew that somewhere deep down he was probably thinking the same thing.

Rosemary's eyes skate to Ben who stares back at her with the same intensity, but something passes in the air between them, something that you can't place.

"Yes. Yes he does sweetie. Now why don’t you go get your art kit for me, and we’ll go." You put her on the ground and Lou scampers off to her bedroom while the three of you stand there in awkward silence.

"Why do we have to go? I thought you didn’t expose yourself because you didn't go to Russia to get him." Rosemary asks. She still wouldn’t say his name. Then again you weren't expecting her to call him dad.

HA. Like that would ever happen.

Ben scoots closer to you reaching for your hand, but when Rosemary narrows her eyes at him, he pauses halfway. So you take his hand instead. "I did expose myself."

"How? Because of him?"

"Look I get that you're pissed, but I'm asking you to put it aside for one second so we can talk about this."

"Fine." Rosemary crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm listening." She still looks angry.

And you know what you're about to say is going to make her even angrier.

"We went to talk to the TNT Twins and things went south." You begin, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Why?"

"I'll explain that later. But all you need to know is that things went badly and Homelander showed up."

Rosemary's hands tighten on her biceps so tight that her knuckles turn white at the mention of Homelander. Like you Rosemary didn't have any experience with him, only that she also knew there was something off about him.

"What did you do?" She whispers.

"It's not what she did, it's more what that fucker did." Ben almost spits, his skin heating where it rests in your hand.

"Ben." You say squeezing his hand softly as a warning. He gains control. "There wasn't a choice. We got into a fight-"

Rosemary's eyes widen, inhaling sharply. And before she can stop herself, she touches your shoulder, eyes tracing your body as if looking for injuries. "Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

"Yes Rosie I'm fine, but he knows who I am and that means-"

"He knows who we are." Her eyes flick in the direction Lou went to grab her bag. "Shit."

"You can say that again." Ben mutters.

"Give me five minutes." Rosemary looks from Ben to you for a moment. "But this doesn't change anything."

"I know. Just go. We'll wait here." You reply with a tight lipped smile.

You hoped that one day this would get easier, that Rosemary would be able to look at Ben or have a conversation with him without killing him. The three of you seemed to be practically immortal, that was a long time to hold a grudge. And you didn't want there to be a division in your family. You'd lived with one before and you didn't want to go back through that, the awkward holidays, passive aggressive letters, and tense conversations. You didn't want that for your new family.

Maybe if I show her how much Ben has changed she'll warm up to him.

"Are you okay?" You whisper.

Ben was looking around the living room with an unreadable expression, flicking through the photos on the back of the couch of Rosemary, You, and Lou to the hand drawn pictures on the refrigerator in the kitchen.

"Ben?"

"Yeah." He mutters. "I'm fine."

But you could tell he wasn't. He wasn't really focusing on anything, and even his tone of voice was strange, hollow, but before you could press him further Rosemary and Lou come back into the room.

"Here let me-" Ben steps forward to take one of the large duffle bags from Rosemary, attempting to help, but Rosemary yanks the bag out of his reach.

"No I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything from you."

"Rosemary-" You sigh.

"And she doesn’t either." Rosemary gestures to you with the bag. "Do you have any idea what you did to her? How much you hurt her? And now you think you can just waltz back in here and say 'oh I’ll fix it' like you didn’t fuck up her life?"

"Rosemary!" You shout eyes flicking to where Lou was standing with her TMNT backpack on with wide eyes.

"No. You might not be able to say it to him. But I will. We don’t need you here. We've survived the past forty fucking years without you and we'll survive the next million!"

"Rosemary stop." You step forward this time to move between them, but Rosemary doesn't back down.

"Stop what?" She shouts. "Stop reminding you of what he did? I'm sorry, but I'm not going to just look into his eyes and forgive him like you did-"

"I DID NOT LOOK INTO HIS EYES AND FORGIVE HIM.” You snap, but then stop to take a breath. “We are working through it-"

"Uh-huh sure." Rosemary rolls her eyes. "Just stay away from Lou and from me." She moves around Ben with Lou in tow, storming through the front door of the apartment and leaving you and Ben in the living room.

Oh yeah… This is really working out for the best.

The ride to Legend's is dead silent, all three hours, broken up only once when you stop for gas, but even then Rosemary won't speak to you. She barely makes eye contact as she takes Lou to the bathroom, leaving Ben and you to stand at the car, watching the rain soak through the cracked pavement outside. But even Ben has been more quiet than usual, staring through the windshield of the car lost in thought, and you didn't ask him to fill the silence. You figured that with everything that happened over the past few hours, Ben deserved some silence.

When Lou and Rosemary got back to the car, Ben had silently taken the car keys from you and slid behind the wheel. He knew how much you hated driving in the rain.

Legend didn't require an introduction to your daughter, but it had been an awkward meeting for Butcher and Hughie who breezed through the front hallway on the way up the stairs to their bedrooms.

And finally when it was just Ben, Rosemary, Lou, and you standing at the foot of the stairs, you still had no idea what to say, or if there really was anything to say. You knew that Rosemary didn't want to talk out everything in front of Lou.

By now it was past midnight and you could see that Lou was already starting to sway on her feet. It was hours past her bedtime, but she was still in good spirits. Lou never seemed to stop smiling, she was happy all the time, excited to try new things, and it always reminded you of the way Rosemary used to be when she was a child and as an adult before she lost her husband.

"Rosemary-" You begin to say, throat tightening.

"I'm going to take Lou to bed. We can talk in the morning." She doesn't look at Ben or you, but you could tell that she was tired. She was still wearing her maroon scrubs, hadn’t changed out of them, too worried about Homelander, but her hair had pulled free of the bun and her makeup was a little more smudged under her eyes now. "Say goodnight Lou."

"Goodnight aunty y/n." Lou says tottering over to you, and you stoop down on the ground to hug her close to your chest the anxiety about Homelander prickling under your skin once more.

“Tomorrow can we paint some?” She gives you a wide toothless smile.

She'd lost one of her front teeth a few days ago, and was particularly proud of the hole it left behind. She'd been excited to meet the tooth fairy, even wrote a thank you note and drew a picture of her holding her tooth out for the fairy.

“Whatever you want sweetie.” You smile as she pulls away, brushing her dark hair from her wide eyes.

But instead of going back to where Rosie is holding out her hand for Lou, she turns and hugs Ben’s leg where he stands next to you. Her head barely reaches the top of his knee, but it doesn't dissuade her from hugging him with all her might.

Ben stiffens, unsure what to do.

“Goodnight Ben.” Lou looks up at him with the same smile she had for you.

You feel your own lips begin to pull up at the edges to see how much Lou wanted Ben to like her, how much she was trying to make him feel at home. It warmed you heart.

Ben looks stunned for a minute, eyes flicking to yours wide, and Rosie looks angry, but slowly, Ben begins to smile. “Goodnight honey.” He rumbles giving her a pat on the head, because he's still not sure exactly how to handle this.

Lou smiles pleased with herself then lets Rosemary take her away waving once from over Rosemary's shoulder at Ben as Rosemary climbs the stairs in the direction of the room that Legend saved for them.

Ben stands there watching them go for a minute, lost in thought. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Lou? She loves you. Of course there’s a lot to love.” You smile, trying to take his hand, but Ben pulls away. His rejection pricks at your heart, you couldn't tell why he was doing that, why he was pulling away from you again.

Is he angry? At me? At Rosemary? Or Is this him being angry at himself all over again?

You thought that he was doing better up until you went to Rosemary’s apartment, thought that he wasn’t as upset about leaving you in the past. But now you weren’t sure.

“There’s a lot to hate.” He mutters, his eyes won't quite meet yours and the fear of him leaving begins to creep back, shuddering through your bones like the chill of a winter wind.

“As there is with anybody-“ You try to recover from his rejection, searching his face to understand why he was acting so different.

“I want Rosie to like me. I’m her father-“ He turns to stare at you, green eyes dark, filled with an clouding of emotions that strike you straight in the heart. It wasn't happiness, it wasn't love, it was something different, something that made a lump lodge itself in the back of your throat.

“I know Ben. She just needs some time-" You begin to say, reaching for him, but Ben steps away from you again, refusing to let you comfort him.

"Why did you tell her all those things about me? Did you really hate me that much?” Ben shouts, voice reverberating up the staircase, so loud that you're sure other people can hear you.

"What are you talking about-"

"All the shit that happened between us. Everything that happened that night. Everything I did-“

"She asked me for the truth and I didn't want to lie to her-" You try to explain.

You hadn't. You wanted her to know the truth about her father, just as she knew that truth about you. You thought that she deserved that. And it wasn't like you told Rosemary when she was three. You told her everything that happened when she was twenty three and she had just started seriously dating her future husband, when she was scared because she’d never felt that way about anyone before. And it reminded you of how you felt about the boy Ben used to be.

"I wish you had. Damnit y/n I'm her father, she should like me!" He seethes, fists clenched. Ben towers over you green eyes blazing in the soft light coming from the lights that line the hallway.

And somewhere deep down you start to feel angry. It comes surging up like the roar of a crowd pricking at the back of your spine until you can’t take it anymore.

"It's been 4 fucking hours since you met her, GIVE HER TIME."

"I can't believe you did this." Ben spits glaring at you.

"Are you serious right now?" Your mouth opens in shock.

Was this just some kind of joke? Is he really mad at me for this? Does he really think that I would do something like this purposely?!

"Did you really hate me that much? Did you really feel the need to turn her against me? Make her not love me?"

"I didn't turn her against you Ben. And I didn’t make her not love you." You snap back. "Yes I was angry with you, but that didn't mean that I didn't want you with me every single second in Rosemary's life. I didn’t want to do that alone. I shouldn’t have had to but I don't blame you for that. I’ve told you that-“

“Yeah you’re really showing that. You turned her against me. Made me some villain. Made me some monster who fucked you and then left-“

“I THOUGHT THAT’S WHAT YOU DID DIPSHIT!” You poke your finger into his chest. “Just because I’ve chosen to begin to forgive you does not mean I forgot what you did and what you said to me that night. But I’ll say this.”

He tries to open his mouth to retort, but you speak first.

“Every time something happened with Rosemary I turned to tell you and you weren’t there.

When I went into labor I wished you were there to hold my hand and tell me that everything was going to be okay, I wished that you were there smiling down at her when you held her for the first time. When she took her first steps and fell on her butt I wished you were there to swing her around and make her laugh. When I showed her how to paint for the first time I wished that you were there to see how she was covered in paint from head to toe. And I only told her those things about you because she asked and I don’t lie to my family. I’ve never lied to Rosemary and I’ve never lied to you. Ever.”

Ben stands there stuck straight each muscle clenched, wether it be in frustration or anger you don’t care. Your own anger was coming back, unlocking from the place you shoved it down when you thought you needed to be the perfect person you wanted others to see you as and not the broken girl who lived with a hole in her heart for so long.

“And yeah maybe you can be in here and pout and fucking blame me for her hating you. And maybe I shouldn’t have told her those things but I did. I told her the good and the bad about you just as she knows the good and the bad about me. She can make her own decisions because she’s a damn adult. And don’t you dare say that I didn’t want you there every second. Because I did. Even though you fucking ripped my heart out and stomped all over it I still wished that you could have been there for her, could have filled her life with love as much as I did.”

"But you still did it." Ben growls.

And you realize that maybe this is it, maybe that this is the one thing that pushes him away from you.

"Fine. Hate me if you want. I'm going to get a drink. Don’t follow me." You snap before turning and stomping towards the kitchen, away from him, all the while hoping that he’ll follow after you.

But he doesn’t.

Despite wanting to grab one of the bottles of whiskey in Legend's kitchen, you restrain yourself and instead turn to the coffeemaker. It was fancier than yours, but you supposed that coffee would taste the same. You busy yourself with the steps of making the coffee to stop going over what you and Ben just yelled at one another, but your hands were still shaking.

Did he really think I didn't want him there? I mean yeah I was pissed from everything that happened, but I didn't want Rosemary to grow up without a father. I would have told him eventually that I was pregnant, I didn't want to do that alone.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee and lean back against the counter as you take a sip remembering the day you took the pregnancy test. It was more obvious than anything else, not the lack of your period but the morning sickness. You never got sick. You remembered being afraid at first, the thought of raising a child alone scared you. You weren't sure you even wanted to be a mother, because of everything yours put you through. But then you thought of Ben. Yes you hated him, but the baby might be the last part of him that existed anywhere. If you decided not to have it, Ben would really be gone and you would be alone all over again. So you decided to have Rosemary and you never regretted that decision. Especially now that she had Lou.

You roll the cup in your hands, feeling the warmth of the mug transfer into your palms.

Maybe I shouldn't have told her everything I did. But she knows everything about me. She knows that I killed Countess. She knows the good and bad about me. It felt unfair to only tell her the good about Ben, she deserves to know the truth. She's just upset. Honestly, she's also a upset with me as well for forgiving him or partially forgiving him.

You move to the kitchen table, stretching out in the worn wooden chair and place your mug down on the circular dark wood table. You wanted Rosemary to warm up to him, but at the same time you didn't want to get in between them. She needed to do this for herself and you didn't want to force them together.

You hear someone enter the kitchen. Probably Ben. But when you look up you realize that it's Butcher.

He stands just on the edge as if he's debating whether or not he wants to come in.

"Didn't realize you were still up." He raises an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise love?"

"You realize that the V is completely out of your system right now right? And I could slowly peel your skin from your body with my mind if I wanted to?" You mirror his eyebrow raise while taking a sip of coffee.

"Eh. Worse ways to go." Butcher shrugs. "Anything stronger in here than coffee?"

"Top cabinet above the refrigerator. The good stuff is in the back. Legend usually tries to hide it from himself."

“Why?”

“Because he thinks it’s a waste to drink the good stuff when he’s really drunk and can’t appreciate it.”

“Seems fair.” Butcher finds the bottle of whiskey easily, moving to the cabinets to find a glass. “You want a cuppa?”

“I told myself I wasn’t going to-“ You pause for a moment thinking of how wonderful it would be if you could just forget for a few minutes. “But sure.”

“Coffee not working?”

“It never has.” You take the cup gratefully from his outstretched hand as Butcher folds himself into the chair next to you. It was weird to say the least. The only thing he had done was act hostile to you and now him being nice was enough to give you whiplash.

The rest of the house was completely silent, except the soft turn of pages. You figured that meant Rosie was reading one of her books to distract herself from everything that happened earlier.

I should be in there talking to her. Trying to explain all this.

But you were tired and still reeling from your fight with Ben and didn’t feel like getting into it with Rosemary for the second time today.

“So why’d you do it?” Butcher takes a big swig from the glass in front of him.

“What?”

“You lied about your powers to Vought for years. Why?”

You roll the glass between your fingers, watching the amber colored liquid slosh against the sides. “I’ll answer that if you answer my question.”

Butcher pauses. “Fine.”

“What did Homelander do to your wife?”

Butcher freezes, leaning back in his chair, one hand on his thigh curling into a fist.

"Legend told me that you had this thing for him because of it-" You continue cocking your head to the side examining Butcher's sudden tense stance.

“Not important.”

“Then I guess you won’t find out more about me.” You shrug.

After the past few days you didn't understand how you were here drinking with Butcher of all people. You still didn't completely trust him and you didn't like that he wanted to use Ben like he was his own personal nuclear bomb.

You both sit in the silence for a few minutes waiting for the other to break.

“He raped her.”

The words are heavy, expelled in a breath after Butcher drains his glass. For a minute you see his tough exterior crack, see the vulnerability in his stature, but then it's gone again. You feel your heart thud once in your chest, jaw locking. It only proved again how messed up Homelander was.

“Is she-"

"She's dead." He pours himself another full glass from the bottle of whiskey.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, starting to understand why he hated Homelander so much. Honestly if Homelander did something like that to my family I would rip him limb from limb.

For the first time since you met Butcher, you feel sorry for him, you understand where the sadness in his gaze comes from and where the tough exterior seems to mask the vulnerability underneath.

But at the same time, you refused to underestimate him.

Butcher nods once then glances over at you expectantly as if re-asking his question with only a look.

“It’s never been about the power for me. Or about proving how powerful I was to other people. I got the injection because Ben asked me to. It wasn't because I wanted to be superhuman or god-like or special. Plus I figured as soon as Vought or the government found out what I could really do then I’d never see the light of day again.”

"But how did you keep it a secret from Vought? They have so many fucking connections." He presses.

"Honestly Ben and I didn't figure it out until the 60s."

"Why is that?"

"The first time I died it wasn't a supe that killed me so there wasn't a change. But later when more supes started coming out of the woodwork, that's when we realized it. And I didn't care."

"Somehow you had to care." Butcher leans forward in his chair, looking at you like you're crazy.

"I didn't have a reason to. Ben liked the spotlight and I didn't."

“Is that why you stopped being Indigo?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question cowboy.” You tap your glass with a smile. “Who’s Ryan?” You had heard Hughie and Butcher whisper the name a few times, figured that it was another supe they were planning to merc.

He hesitates. “Homelander’s kid.”

“He has a kid?” Your mouth drops open in shock.

How does Butcher know that? Is it because he's so obsessed with Homelander that he's going to ask Ben to go after Homelander's son? No. No way. Like hell I'm gonna let this guy kill a kid.

You try to think of a reason why Vought would keep Homelander's son out of the media, a reason why they wouldn't show that the golden boy had a perfect son.

“But how I mean-“ You stop tracing Butcher's face, watching the way his eyes harden, and how his jaw locks together and you realize why Butcher knows about Homelander's kid. “Your wife.”

Butcher doesn’t answer, doesn't confirm what you've said, instead he pours more from the bottle into his glass.

Wow that’s fucked up.

“I’d say I'm sorry again, but I don’t think it’s going to help and honestly I thought my life was way more fucked up than yours. Guess not.” You take a sip from the glass in front of you. It burns pleasantly as it travels down you throat reminding you how much you missed it. “It got old quick.”

“What did?” Butcher looks up from the wooden table.

“Being a hero dealing with all that Vought shit. Plastering a smile on my face, flaunting in front of the cameras, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Ben liked it. He was always in the spotlight, the golden boy and I was too, but we’d been doing it for years and I always- I don’t know- wanted a family.”

Your mind suddenly goes back to the night you told Ben that, the night that you told him what you wanted and how today Ben professed that he wanted to be the one to give you those things, always had wanted to give you those things.

The fight you just had resurfaces in your mind, thinking of how angry he was at you for telling Rosemary the truth about him.

I made my choice. She made hers. One day I think she'll warm up to him, but until then he's just going to have to get through this.

Just because you believed that did not make it any easier. Your heart was tearing in two. You wanted Rosemary to love him the way you did, but at the same time you were scared all over again that this would all be too much for Ben, too dramatic. He didn't like drama, never seemed to.

“Really?” Butcher doesn’t look convinced by your confession.

“Yeah. Plus I was pregnant with Soldier Boy's kid. Vought was obsessed with Ben and I know that if they knew about Rosemary they wouldn't hesitate to take her away. It would have been worse if they knew what my power was. I doubt they would have let either of us vanish into thin air. But even before that I was seriously thinking about getting out-“

“And Soldier Boy fucking Countess was the final nail in the coffin eh?” Butcher's smirk makes your stomach flip flop.

You were still trying to forget that. Really trying to forget that.

“Yeah.” You grumble into the glass momentarily remembering the night at the premiere, but this time seeing them together doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. And instead it’s replaced by Ben the past few days, the one that continued to reassure you of his love, the one who continued to hold you close to him, the one that kissed you whenever he could, the one who patiently waited for you, and the one who reminded you of the boy you lost all those years ago.

Butcher watches you for a moment. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”

You look at him surprised. It was the first time that Butcher seemed to actually, well, give a shit.

“Thanks. It was.” You wait a second. “So how did you meet Hughie?”

“Why is that important?”

“Because he’s nothing like you. He’s a good kid.”

“You sayin I ain’t a good person love?”

“Yes that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Butcher has the audacity to smile. “You know what I think? I think you pretend to be a good person but you’re really just a bitch who probably didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.”

You lean back in your chair feigning shock. “Is it that obvious?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “I don’t see how you got mixed up with Soldier Boy in the first place.”

“I did tell you.”

“What?”

“I didn’t lie about some of the things I said to you the first time we met. Ben and I grew up together. We were friends before all of this.”

“And you what? Followed him?”

“Something like that.”

Butcher sits there for a second tapping his finger on the crystal glass in his hand. Everything in Legend's home was vintage or old, the glasses included. You could remember drinking out of these same glasses years ago, on the porch behind Legend's house the day you realized you were pregnant and you told him you were leaving.

Legend didn't know, but you think deep down he did. Anyone who knew Ben couldn't dismiss how much Rosemary looked like him. Not to mention Legend knew what happened that night between the two of you.

Butcher opens his mouth, but as he does, Ben appears in the kitchen doorway. He still looks a little angry, frown prominent on his face, but his green eyes look from the glass to Butcher to you.

"That's my cue." Butcher grunts. "See you in the morning poppet." He vanishes down the hallway behind Ben leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. It seems smaller with him standing there in the door, blocking most of it with his broad shoulders and wide stance.

"Are you going to come to bed?" He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway.

"Are you going to start yelling at me again?" You raise an eyebrow.

"I wasn’t fucking yelling." Ben grumbles. "And even if I was, you weren't exactly whispering."

"Sounded like yelling to me." You frown at him, before looking down at your glass again.

So much for an apology. Then again I probably owe him one too.

Ben’s jaw tightens. “Please come to bed.” His voice is composed, but you can still hear the tinge of his anger seep through.

"Surprised you said please. Finally using those manners I've heard so much about." You snark before you can stop yourself.

That is not helping anything.

"Come to bed." His teeth are gritted together.

“Why?"

"Because I said so."

"You are not my dad Ben. You can't just order me around."

"Just fucking come to bed!" He snaps straightening from the door, eyes blazing.

"Why is it so important I come to bed Ben? You need me to read you a bedtime story or something? Or is it because you want to have sex? I hate to break it to you, but I don’t really feel like having sex with you right now. And I don't think I will anytime soon if we keep fucking fighting about stupid-“

“Because I can’t sleep without you there damnit! I never have been able to even when we were fucking kids!"

You pause shocked. Ben had never admitted that before. You were still trying to get used to when he admitted that he loved you how open and vulnerable he’d been, but this-

He’s frowning at you waiting for you to say something, but when you don’t. He turns and stalks back towards the stairs to descend into the basement where the bedroom the two of you were sharing was.

Guilt breaks something in your chest, because now sitting out here felt like a punishment for him and you didn't think that was right.

Damn it.

You wash out the mug in the sink followed by the glass, but you look at the half-full bottle on the table.

Maybe I should bring it with me?

It swings from your hand as you walk down the dimly lit hallway descending into the fully furnished basement. You weren't thrilled with the room, had insisted that Legend change the sheets and spray down the room before you could sleep in there. You knew him, and knew exactly what had happened Legend's house since he had it custom built years ago.

Ben is sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a blunt that he probably got from Butcher, who seemed to have an endless supply for Ben, much to your annoyance.

"I'm such a fucking pussy. I shouldn't have said that." He mutters more to himself than to you. His gaze is lowered on the shag carpet.

It was the first time that you'd heard him say something like that since he came back to you, something that sounded more like Soldier Boy than the boy you grew up with, sounded more like Ben's father.

"Ben." You sigh, putting the bottle on the bedside table, before you tilt his head back to look at you, hand cupping his chin. "You're not a pussy. I can't sleep without you either and there’s nothing wrong with that. I don't want you to feel like you can't say stuff like that to me. I love you and I won't judge you for that or think less of you. I will judge you for saying stupid shit like you did earlier."

“I’m sorry.” He sighs out a breath of smoke. “I just hate that she doesn’t like me. I’m her father she should like me-“ He repeats the same idea from earlier.

“She just needs to warm up to you."

“Maybe.” Ben mutters. "Or maybe she won't."

He looks upset. But not his usually angry upset, more disappointed and you decide that’s worse. Ben was so strong and didn’t allow himself to give in to his emotions the same way everyone else did. You hated that about him, but you were the only person who knew why. Ben's father had made him believe that showing emotion made you weak, you were there a few times that he yelled at Ben, heard the horrible things that he shouted at his only son, and it broke your heart. If it was your lot in life to bring him peace, to show him love, and to teach him that it was okay to be vulnerable, you happily would bear that cross.

You gently push back on his shoulder so he’ll move his forearms where they rest on his thighs and so you can sit on his lap. Ben’s arm comes around your waist to hold you to him, while the other continues to rest between you when he takes another drag from the blunt. “Ben, I promise she will.” Your knees rest on either side of his hips as you balance on him, ignoring the urge to wrinkle your nose at the smell.

“Your family never seems to like me.”

“She’s your family too and Lou loves you.” You brush his hair back from his face and he leans forward into your touch. "She's an excellent judge of character. Pretty soon she's gonna be drawing you in the family portraits and once that happens you're in, there's nothing stopping you."

Ben's mouth twitches but he doesn’t smile. "She's cute."

“She is. And if she likes you, you’re doing something right.” You smile at him. “And my family liked you it was just my mom who thought you were the devil. My brother thought that you were okay and my dad liked you plenty. Remember he never ratted you out when you slept in my room?”

“He was a good man. We would talk sometimes.” Ben blows out a lungful of smoke and this time your nose wrinkles at the offensive smell, before you realize what he’s just admitted.

Ben notices your discomfort and flicks the blunt into the ashtray shaped like a naked woman on the bedside table.

“About what?” Your father had never mentioned any conversation with Ben or at least you didn't remember him saying anything about Ben, beside your father's usual questions as to what Ben and you were going to do that day.

“You.” Ben whispers, not meeting your eye.

“When?”

“Sometimes I’d come try to see you when you were out with Howard." Ben sighs his name. "Ended up talking with your dad.”

“Are you serious?”

He nods hands gently stroking along your waist.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you came by?”

“Didn’t think it was important Sweetheart.” Ben pauses eyes flicking up sheepishly to look at you. "I didn't want you to think that I was hanging around waiting for you to get back. I was but-" You can tell that it pains him to say it, like he didn't want to admit he cared, but the thought that he came by to check on you made you happy.

“What did you say about me?”

Ben presses his lips together.

“Ben?”

“He wanted to know how your artwork was coming along, what we had done in the past week. Stuff like that. One time he said he didn’t like Howard either.”

“What?" Your hands tighten on Ben's shoulders in shock.

“He said that he hated the way you looked whenever Howard came around and then he said if he was gonna give his permission for anyone to marry you it was going to be me.” Ben shrugs it off as if he hasn’t said the most shocking thing you’ve ever heard in your life.

Your father would ask you about Ben occasionally and only when your mother left the room. He always seemed pleased when Ben would come pick you up, one time he gave Ben some money so he could buy tickets when you both went to a carnival, but you had no idea that they had talked about Ben marrying you.

“Hold on. Did you-" You pause for a second. "Did you ask my father if you could marry me?”

“No.” Ben answers quickly.

“Well then did he say why he didn't like Howard?"

“He said he liked how happy I made you. Said that you would always be singing in your room after you saw me.” Ben smiles one of his hands curving around your hip to hold you steady on his lap. “I told him I was sorry he had to hear that. You have many talents y/n, but singing is not one of them.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you. There’s about a million tapes of you trying to sing, not to mention you trying to dance. I wanted to jump out the window when you dragged me to that Solid Gold Music Video shoot.“ You roll your eyes at him.

Ben presses a hand to his chest as if offended. “You don’t like the way I dance? Because I happen to remember a few times that we’ve danced together and you certainly seemed to be having a good time.”

“I’m a good actress.”

“Sure.” Ben snorts. “Then again I think I’m good a few other things too. Things that I wouldn’t mind showing you sometime.” His arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you into his chest, lips catching along the shadow of your jaw.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself I’ll say that.” You laugh.

"Mhmm." The rumble of his answer seems to vibrate down your spine spreading warmth in its wake.

"Ben." You warn, as his hands begin to play with the bottom of your shirt.

"I know." He whispers raising his eyes again to look at your face with a soft smile, but you can still see a flicker of disappointment behind them.

Deep down you knew that you were getting closer to forgiving him, but it had only been two days, and everything between the two of you was still a little rocky. You wanted things to calm down again before you took that big step with Ben again. You didn't want to rush it, and you could see that Ben didn't want to either.

"How about tonight, we do something a little different." You trace your index finger over his lips, loving the soft curve beneath the pad of your fingertip.

"What do you mean?" He looks confused.

"You'll see." You murmur against his lips as you drop your mouth down to his, losing yourself in him all over again.

A/N: I know it's been a while guys and I know it's crazy to end it on another cliffhanger but... I'm sorry, not sorry? I hope y'all enjoyed this one. I'm sorry it took me a while to get it out, the writer's block is turning into a soul sucking abyss, but honestly, what's new? 😂 Hope that y'all enjoyed this one and I'm excited to hear what y'all think!

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the series let me know:)

(Also if you have asked to be apart of the taglist and you are not being notified- I am trying to fix it, but it's being weird. Please let me know if you haven't received a notification.)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

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omgbilly · 7 months ago

Text

☆ cruel ☆

𝟙𝟠+

𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕦𝕪. 𝕞𝕕𝕟𝕚

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝕦𝕟𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕧, 𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝, 𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕥, 𝕕𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜, 𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕩, 𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕘𝕖 (𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕓𝕦𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕠𝕓𝕧𝕤) 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚.𝟝𝕜

“He’s a child,” you seethed, slamming the door to the ragtag group’s shared space wide open as you burst inside. “Butcher, you had absolutely no right.”

Hughie and MM followed you inside with Butcher trailing in just moments behind. Kimiko, who had already made it inside before you threw the door open and moved through the threshold with the same intensity as an electrical storm, left Frenchie’s side to grab your arms in a firm but gentle manner. Her wide eyes searched your face, before looking over to MM and Hughie, for any unspoken explanation as to what had transpired in the minutes she had been away. MM made a gesture of bickering and yapping with his hands before pointing to you, and tilting his head back towards Butcher as he followed.

Hearing the heavy fall of his boots, you whirled around, pulling yourself from Kimiko’s hold on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, anger swelling in your chest, as you stared down the source of your wrath before you stormed away, down the hallway and out of sight.

A tense and uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. Butcher sighed heavily, his thick, dark eyebrows furrowed as he brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose before he turned on his heel and followed you. Kimiko worriedly began to follow but MM intercepted, grabbing her arm and shaking his head, silently cautioning to give you the space that you needed right now.

You turned into one of the few empty rooms in the office space of the historic triangular-shaped Flatiron building. The gritty, utilitarian condition of the room left a lot to be desired as you glared out a set of dusty glass panes to one of the many arched windows in the back room, shoulders tight and arms crossed firmly over your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his dark trench coat clad figure approaching. He stopped a few feet away from you.

“Alrigh’, let’s ‘ave it,” he grumbled, his voice tired and low as he shut the door behind him, “get it off your chest—”

“How can you be so fucking cruel? You are all that kid has, and y-you couldn’t even show him an ounce of kindness,” you interrupted him, your gaze at the bustling city outside unwavering. You felt your jaw clench as your anger refused to subside. The tightness in your chest didn’t falter but you felt a lump in your throat as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You didn’t know Ryan well but his heart was so gentle and kind, and to see the way Butcher’s words cut him down so much broke something inside you today.

You continued, your words laced with venom, “You don’t treat anyone like we’re all in this together. Everyone, to include your Boys, is just a…a means to end with you, you Machiavellian bastard. You’re a ruthless, cruel bastard.”

“Cruel?” Butcher growled, his volume and tone caught you off guard, making you flinch and begin turn towards him. His long strides closed the distance between you in seconds. His large hands grabbed you with such force, you let out a startled cry as he spun you around to face him fully.

You squirmed in his grasp. You slammed your hands against his broad chest, attempting to push him away to no avail. Butcher grabbed your wrists, his hold on you tightening like a vice grip. You cried out in pain, “Butcher, you’re hurting me—”

“Stop pissin’ about and tell me again how cruel I am.”

“You’re an asshole,” you breathed, trying in vain to pull away from him. You drew in a sharp breath when you felt your back press against the window. The cold from the glass seeped through your sweater, another reminder of the transitioning autumn air outside.

“Takes one to know one,” Butcher chuckled, moving a hand to grab your jaw. “There’s the reason yer still around, innit?

His large hand tightened around your face, making you feel even smaller in his presence. You stared at him blankly as he squeezed your cheeks tightly in his hand; unsure of what to say, prompting him to continue. Your fists clenched at your sides.

“If I was so bloody cruel, what does that say about you? I’ve seen the way yer eyes light up like a right fuckin’ Christmas tree when we torture them cunts—it’s fuckin’ diabolical. You want to prance around like some holier-than-thou little princess when you’re up to your tight little arse in mud just like me. I shouldn’t ‘ave yelled at the kid, I get it, but don’t fancy yerself to be better than me because yer just as vile as the rest of us. Just as cruel as me. Go on, bird, whadya got to say to that?”

You couldn’t contain your rage any longer. You threw your clenched fist against his jaw as hard as you could. He stumbled backwards, releasing his grip on your face. Refusing to lose your momentum over him, you raised your fist to strike him once more but he had all-too-quickly recovered, his hand reaching to grab your wrist with all-too-painful a grip. Your hardened gaze met his, a trail of blood seeping from his mouth, as he looked at you with a fire that wasn’t there a moment ago.

He leaned in closer to you, his lips parted, but you braced your hands against his broad chest and shoved him away.

“Not even if you were the last fucking person on Earth.”

He grabbed you once more, pulling you closer, unwilling to give you the option to retreat again. He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Trust me when I say I’m the only one who can fuck you the way you need to be fucked.”

His words sent shivers down your spine. The feeling of his breath against your ear and neck made your body erupt in goose bumps. You were painfully aware of the throbbing ache in between your legs. It had been far too long since you had been thoroughly used and abused and your body had no trouble reminded you of that fact. Butcher had pulled away from you, a stupid, knowing smirk plastered across his face.

“Then shut up and fuck me, Butch—”

Butcher wasted no time as hungrily swallowed his name as it left your lips, groaning deeply against the soft feeling of your mouth on his. His hands feverishly pawed at your sweater, his lips fervently moving along with yours as if he were a starved man finally feasting on a forbidden meal. The metallic taste of his bloody lips enveloped your mouth. Backing you against the wall once more, his mouth moved from your lips to leave sloppy bites along your jawline, trailing to your neck. His beard scraped against your delicate skin as he went, leaving the most delectable burn.

Your fingers gripped the leather collar of his black trench coat, helping to remove the bulky article from his broad shoulders. It fell to the floor below with a thud while he continuing his vicious assault against your neck. You kicked off your boots to join his discarded coat. He wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing tightly. You let out a choked groan, earning a devious grin from Butcher against your goosebump-enveloped skin. His free hand moved south to your hip to roughly pull your lower half against him. A moan escaped your lips when you felt his hardening length straining against his jeans.

Your fingers trembled as they fumbled with his belt, desperate to touch him, to feel him. He let out a hearty chuckle as he pulled your sweater over your head, throwing it to the ground to join his discarded outerwear.

“Nah, love, you haven’t earned it yet,” his voice dripped with desire, his eyes half-lidded and predatory as they took in your aroused desperation. He made quick work of your pants and underwear before tearing away at your bra. There was vague sound of the clasps snapping at the back as he removed the garment left your body completely bare in front of him.

Still fully clothed, Butcher knelt down in front of you, taking in the sight before him. He grabbed your hips to stabilize you against the wall, prompting you to hook your right leg over his shoulder. His warm breath against your inner thigh sent a shiver coursing throughout your entire body as he pushed himself further between your legs. He traced the seam of your pussy with his tongue before moving to circle your clit. Your head lolled back against the wall behind you, your fingers tangled once again in Butcher’s hair as he thrust two of his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, Butcher,” you moaned, pulling his hair tightly, earning a moan from the man below you. His moan vibrated against your clit as he continued sloppily licking and sucking your most delicate parts.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten when you looked down to see him watching you writhe at the pleasure he was giving you—that only he could give you. It was enough to make you completely come undone. He slipped a third finger inside you, stretching you wider. Your hips bucked against his face, desperate for more, and he knew you were getting closer to your release. He increased his pace, sucking painfully on your clit until you couldn’t bear it any longer.

“C’mon, dove, give it to Daddy,” he murmured against you. His words were enough in and of themselves to push you over the edge as you felt that familiar white hot heat course through your veins, your orgasm shuddering through you.

He shrugged off your leg, standing to undo his belt. He pulled out his cock, already rock hard and leaking from his own arousal. “On yer knees,” he growled, stroking himself at sight of the panting, shivering mess of you. “Put that loud gob of yers to good use.”

“Shut the fuck up, Butcher, before I—”

“Before y’what? Finish that fuckin’ sentence.”

“Before I leave. I already got what I needed. I could give two fucks about you finishing.”

He grabbed your shoulders and forced you to your knees. The feeling of the hardwood floors beneath you was the least bit comfortable but you knew this time, it wasn’t about your pleasure. This was all his. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, giving your hair a sharp tug. You winced, opening your mouth to protest when he shoved his thick, trembling cock inside. Butcher immediately began thrusting himself into your mouth, taking full advantage of your inability to bitch at him for it. Your tongue circled around his shaft as he fucked your mouth relentlessly. His dark hazel eyes looked down at you, watching you intently, as he forced himself as deep as he could down your throat; committing the sight of you gagging on the length of him with tears welling in your eyes to memory.

Butcher groaned loudly as pulled his cock out of your mouth, leaving you coughing and breathing heavily. He continued stroking the length of himself, his own chest heaving just as much. It took all he had in him to not coat your throat with his sticky, hot release.

“What is it?” you growled, trying desperately to not show him just how much you enjoyed yourself, “Age catching up with you?”

He let out a loud breathy chuckle as he kneeled down to be eye level with you. He gripped your face with both hands and pulled you in for an angry kiss, teeth clashing in a fury of your tongues battling for dominance. He pushed you backwards; his weight driving you backwards as the back of your head crashed against the cold, hardwood floor below. You winced at both the pain and the cool feeling against your bare body.

“Think that’s why ya get yerself so riled up,” he muttered between his rough kisses, “yer desperate f’me to put ya back in yer place; desperate for Daddy to fuck ya senseless.”

You groaned as he pushed your knees apart abruptly, positioning his cock at the entrance of your aching pussy. You brought your legs up higher around his waist; the coarse fabric of his old jeans rubbing against your thighs. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt him press against your drenched folds.

“Get on with it,” you growled as your fists balled up the fabric of his ribbed black sweater, his muscles tensing at your touch.

“Say it,” he grinned, his hand slipping down to tease his cock against you.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy,” you groaned through clenched teeth, desire overwhelming your anger and shame in your pathetic mewling. “Please fuck me, Daddy.”

Butcher wasted no time as he rammed his thick cock inside you. You winced at the sensation, letting out a loud moan as he rutted into you thoroughly. His rough hands grabbed your hips tightly for additional leverage, leaving bruises in their wake, as he continued pumping into you—offering no adjustment period to the sheer size of him. The sound of skin against skin and the obscene squelching sound of his cock thrusting in and out of you in a fast-paced rhythm filled the air.

“Fuck, love, quite the tight cunt ya’ve got,” he whispered into your ear, sweat beading on his forehead. A few strands of his dark, tousled locks fell in his face, clinging to his furrowed brow.

You could only moan in response, the tightening coil in your stomach threatening to unravel you once more. Your hands found the back of his head and you pulled sharply, earning an approving groan from the back of Butcher’s throat. It was like music to your ears. You nuzzled your face into his neck, biting him sharply when he angled his hips to stroke an especially sensitive spot inside you. His hand found its way around your throat once more, squeezing until your vision blurred and your head felt fuzzy, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming feeling of having him inside of you and on top of you.

In a blur of body parts grasping about, your fingers clawed at his back to leave deep pink wounds to accompany the scars littered across his broad and toned frame. It was all too much for you to bear, and in a moment you were overcome by your climax, catching even yourself off-guard as you were left shaking and breathless.

Butcher’s own release wasn’t long after; the feeling of your cunt clenching tightly around his cock sent him over the edge as he spilled his cum inside of you. He let out a deep moan as he fucked his way through his orgasm. He rolled over to lie next to you on the cold floor, sighing as he pulled out of your warmth.

The two of you laid there for a moment, chests rising and falling in unison as you both let your heartbeats settle, coming down from your respective highs.

“Your hatred,” you panted, “is going to be the end of you, you know.”

“Yea, either that,” he agreed, finally, “or you.”

#ending was totally rushed but c'est la vie #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher x reader smut #billy butcher smut #billy butcher brainrot go brr #smut #the boys fanfic #writing #fanfiction

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retiredteabag · 5 months ago

Text

The Open Window Lets The Rain In

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next part

pairing: satoru x reader (semi suguru x reader)

synopsis: Your time at Jujutsu Tech was something of a sanctuary for you. The position you were born for did not allow you wishes of your own. Resigning yourself to your destiny, you savor the moments you have with your friends. And don't dare to wish for more.

tags/warnings -angst to eventual fluff, multi pov, canon compliant, series, mentions of child abuse, manipulation, malnutrition, violence, injuries, and smoking-

In your younger, and more venerable years, you would have never left the estate unattended. Maybe that is why, after everything that unraveled today, the lingering thought on your mind was how strange it felt to not fear solitude unchained.

"Do you ever feel like...she's not fully there?" Suguru murmured, filing through his bag, unpacking into his dorm once again. The boys had just made it back from the bullet train to Tokyo.

The summer break had been a nice respite for the two strongest, but there was nothing they enjoyed more than being in school, cracking jokes, and wasting time together.

"Huhh? Suguru, you seriously think too much." Satoru rolled his eyes beneath his glasses. He was splayed across Geto's bed, staring at the ceiling. "What does that even mean?" He giggles.

"Just-" Suguru sighs, "I don't know." He shakes his head in a 'never mind' type of way, and pulled out his uniform jacket, going to hang it up in the closet.

"Ughhhhh don't do that Suguru, you know you get in your head, right? Just say what you mean." Satoru pulled himself up and took off his shades, watching as Geto stretched his jacket onto a hanger.

Geto pauses to think, "You remember when Shoko was talking about marriage and stuff?" He began.

It had been in the middle of second year, the group had just been getting to know you. You had been starting to feel at home in Tokyo. One warm day, you and Shoko were laying out in the school yard, sunbathing and giggling about nonsense.

"They're trying to pull me away from missions, ya know? Totally sucks, I feel like I'm gonna be missing out." Shoko sighed, her eyes closed.

You both were on your backs, you turn to face her and grin, "You're just too important Ieiri, can't be loosing our precious healer!" But Shoko doesn't laugh.

"I just hate all this 'duty stuff'. I don't want to be...I don't know..." She runs a hand down her face. "Holed up in a lab all my life while my classmates eliminate curses and- and save people."

You continue to stare in her direction, hoping she'll meet your eyes. "You are saving people E, you must know that. Don't let the fomo get to you."

"I do, of course, but... I don't want to be valuable like this. I want... ugh" She cuts herself off as the two boys in your class make there way into the courtyard. Satoru takes gaping steps in the grass.

"What do you want Shoko? Hmm??" He squats down and hides her face from the sun. She attempts to shove him back but infinity gets in her way and she grimaces. "I want you to mind your own business, Gojo."

"Awe you're no fun." Gojo pouts. Plopping himself to your left. "What are you girls whining about anyway. It's so somber out here."

Neither of you said anything, you didn't want to speak about something Shoko didn't want to share. "Are we discussing our dreams, ladies?" He turned to look at you but you just roll your eyes. "Suguru?" He calls in a high pitch voice, "Suguru, have you got a dream?"

"Screw off, Gojo." Shoko sat up and threw Satoru a dirty look.

"Just askin'. I'll have you know I dream about my Digimon trading collection all the time."

The four of you sat in silence for awhile. It was strange, being amongst a group friends and not feeling left out. Eventually Shoko turned to look at Geto. He was always kinder.

"Have you got a dream?" She asked.

Gojo made a puking noise, "Oh my goooooshh not this again, I was kidding you know."

Suguru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I do, if you're talking about outside of the Jujutsu world."

"Do share with the class." She smiled. Satoru threw a silent tantrum, pulling up a chunk of grass at your side.

"It's pretty typical. Get married, fall in love, the normal stuff."

That really sent Satoru over the edge. "You've GOT to be kidding me." He wheezed. Suguru just raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Oh, you are soooo cringy." He plopped himself back on the grass and made one of the blades into a kazoo.

"Don't listen to him Geto, he's immature."

"AM NOT!"

You all chuckle. Eventually Shoko nods, "Yeah. That sounds nice." The two of them share a moment of ease before she finishes, "Sounds...normal."

You can hear Gojo mentally plugging his ears at this discussion. But eventually Shoko looks down at you. "What about you," she calls your name. "Do you want a family and all that?"

You were hoping she wouldn't have said anything. You were content to hear them speak about their perfectly attainable dreams. But you weren't sure if you were comfortable enough to bear your true feelings out in the open like this.

"Ummm..." You mumble. Having also taken up anxiously pulling at the weeds in the lawn, you fiddle with some between your fingers. "Meh, ya know?"

You shrug, twisting your lips. Shoko does look at you this time, "Meh? Really? I would have though you would be a total romantic!" She pushes at your shoulder and you smile.

"Well, I don't know..." You wish the boys weren't there to hear about all this, but they had gone silent. Listening intently. Even Gojo appeared to have his eyes closed, not interrupting this time.

Shoko pokes at your side, "What do you mean you don't know.... oh my gosh don't tell me-" She gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, "did you get your heart broken over in Kyoto?!" She leans in closer to grasp your shoulders, shaking you violantly. You break out in giggles at the thought.

"No! N-no, Shoko!" You laugh.

"Well what is it? Even the big guy over here got all cheesy." She pulls back and smacks Geto in the chest.

In the moment of light humor, you puff out a breath, "It's not that, its just..." You try to find the words. Knowing they wouldn't understand but hoping they might. "That type of stuff isn't really in the cards for me."

It took a moment but it seemed as though time stopped. It got quiet and Shoko hesitated before laughing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The sun suddenly feels too bright behind your eyelids, you lift yourself up, crossing your arms over your knees, grateful Satoru is still laying prone on the grass below you. "I'm not really..." you hesitate, trying to be nice, "The same at you guys."

Shoko laughs again but it's clear she's confused. She yanks at your ear, and you pretend to smile while tugging her hand away. "I have a...I don't know...I have a life laid out for me, right?" You turn to your right and see Shoko and Geto staring at you now, brows furrowed.

"No, no, no, its not- ugh this is coming out wrong..." You giggle, adjusting your hair, suddenly flustered by their avid attention. "I just... hate the idea of loving someone and then...dying, right? That would be pretty bad..." You mumble off.

There's silence and it's starting to feel awkward again, just as you're about to break it and apologize, Suguru speaks up.

"You can still marry though. I mean...your life isn't just Jujutsu."

You smile at him. "Right..." You agree, but you know he's wrong. They would never understand. The only person who might is Satoru, and he wouldn't talk about it, even if he wanted to.

Because, Suguru is wrong, your life IS Jujutsu, it was what you were born and bred to do. The scars on your neck stand as proof. You were nothing more than a weapon.

And wishing for more would give you nothing but unnecessary hope to eventually be crushed under the weight of reality.

That had been almost a year ago now, Satoru couldn't believe Suguru was still thinking about that time. Gojo hates thinking about it, actually. And he certainly didn't want to be talking about it right now.

"Yeah. I remember, why are you bringing that up?"

Suguru puts his clothing into the closet and kicks a pair of shoes under a desk on his way back to his duffle. "Just that, I don't think she really confides in us. I feel like she's being used by the higher-ups."

Gojo stops flipping his sunglasses around in his hands and shoves them up on top of his head. "Really, Suguru." His voice is lower than usual. He's looking directly at the boy before him, and he shoves himself off the bed as he proclaims, "You're an idiot if you think she's the only one."

While you're classmates were unpacking at school, you still had to wait the full deration of break before returning to your sanctuary. You had spent the day meticulously preparing your few items for the return journey. Moseying throughout the establishment you had been raised in.

Today you would be seeing your one and only friend that knew you fully.

You had always felt comfortable in the silence with Kaito. In your first year back from school, the boy wanted nothing more than to hear of your adventures learning your technique, of your daily life, of the friends you had made.

It was not uncommon for the pair of you to fantasize of a life beyond the boarding you grew up within, but as your naivety fled from you, so too fled the wishful dreams you carried in your youth.

You had always assumed Kaito felt the same...

It started the night before summer breaks end. Kaito told you to meet him in the far gardens that next morning. Him, unwatched as an unskilled member of the staff, you, now too important to be enslaved to the ring. You were thrilled to be able to have a moment alone. To feel normal, to feel like friends... like kids.

Kaito seemed off even then. Asking you with a far away look about your time in Tokyo. About the sorcerers you met, about your new life.

Hours later, you would sit, alone in the garden playing back the words you had shared.

"They work us to the bone, Kai, sometimes I wish I was still here with you." You had said.

You hadn't meant it. Every day you were at Jujutsu Tech was an insurmountable gratitude. There was almost nothing you would give it up for. But Kaito was still stuck at the estate, only a few months left in his contract, and you didn't want to flaunt the joy he had yet to experience away from the place.

"Can't be that bad..." He gave you a faraway smile.

"I'm serious" you fibbed, "It's like I'm always on a mission, and when I'm not, I'm stressing over all the homework they give us." You roll your eyes, not looking back to the boy fiddling with his hands.

He looked so much like a man now. "You would probably do well there, Kai, you were always smarter than me." You make to look at him but notice he's fallen behind, focused on a patch of weeds growing behind a fence.

You make to call for him but he beats you, muttering your name, and some unintelligible phrase.

"What?" You turn fully now, taking a step towards him.

He swallows. "You don't have to go back." He says with more finality.

And you don't know what to say.

He can't be serious. You were well past pretending to have a life of your own. You chuckle, thinking he must be joking. "Why, should we run off and join the circus?"

There is nothing but humor in your words, but his eyes are more serious then you've ever seen them. And suddenly you know what was coming. Perhaps it had always been there, but you simply could not allow him to say it. You're filled with panic at the thought.

Later you would sit on a stepping stone, pulling up grass like Satoru once had, knowing that there had been nothing you could have said to have prevented it from happening, but at the time, you couldn't help but try.

He says nothing. Looking at you with intensity.

"No." You want to turn away from him. Shut the whole discussion in a box and never think about it again. But you stare at him with might. Begging him to see the severity of your expression. "No. Kai, no."

"Please." And then he's begging you. Just like he used to when you would tell him to not patch up your wounds. Like he used to when you would give him too much of your food. Like he used to when the teachers would torture you for something so trivial. He says your name again.

"Please." He calls to you, "Don't you see, it's always been you. You're all there is for me, you're all I want." And though you hear his words, you have already deigned to ignore them. Still, he does not stop.

"You have to know." He keeps calling your name, hoping you would soften, "I would do anything." "Stop." You've chosen a new tactic. Perhaps if you are mean. Mean to him and he won't say it.

But he says it anyway.

"You're all I have ever loved."

And there it is.

"Kai." You close your eyes. Hoping this is a nightmare.

"I've already thought about it!" He's known you long enough to tell you are attempting to block him out, "We could do it. I've saved up, and I'm of age now, listen-" He smiles painfully "-you don't have to go..."

He's coming closer to you but you're stumbling back. Refusing to allow yourself any comfort.

You have to try, "You don't... get it." You whisper.

"I do. I do!" He raises his hands. "I promise you, we could do it. Come with me! Let me...let me show you." He reaches for your hand but you spin from him, stumbling.

"Please stop... I can't- I can never- you don't see." You are unsure of how to say it. This has all come as a shock.

But then he's grabbing your shoulders and spinning you around. He's looking you dead in the face. Those words coming from him like a dam you cannot contain. "I love you. I am in love with you. Please. Please don't go back. You don't have to fulfill-" He laughs, feeling enlightened, "Sorcery. You don't have to do it."

Even through his laughter though, you know. He knows. You both do. That there might have been something there. Maybe because you shared each other's struggles. Maybe it was strung in after all those hours together in that hell... but you both also know it would never work.

Because your destiny has already been chosen for you. And you were not made to love, or be loved.

"We could be married. And be done with it." He looks so certain and there is a tiny, muted part of you that wants to believe him. "Don't go back..."

And despite your knowledge of that muted space in your heart, the overwhelming response has been waiting for him to finish.

"We can't." And a stupid part of you wants that to be enough. For him to turn from you and never speak of it again.

But Kai has always been resilient in his own way.

"We can! I love you.... do you hear me? We can-"

"No. Kai. Stop." You pull your hand to put distance between you two.

And after years with the boy, you can see the emotions raise in him. "Is there someone else?" His gaze falls, "Someone... at that school?"

And this being his reply draws out the most ridiculous laugh from you. Does he think that is why you're turning him down? That you've fallen for some other man?

"No! Kai, please. No." But the humor is far from your voice.

The silence that follows is painful.

"This is so-ugh...Kaito. Don't you get it?" You're looking at him, gently now, but he just seems incredulous.

"Don't you see I can never marry?" There.

And oddly enough, though you were certain you had come to terms with it, it feels good to say it out loud.

"I have a path laid out before me." Before he can interrupt you shove out your hand, "And I care too deeply for you to put you in a position like that."

You're resolved. And maybe he's finally seeing it now.

"I'll never be able to live that way. God, Kai, I thought you knew!" You roll your eyes. Hoping to play the whole garden fiasco off but he won't turn from you.

"No." He's shaking his head. And suddenly he looks more like a boy than he has in years.

"Yes. Kaito. You will find some girl and love her, and live long lives together, and be happy. I am certain. But that life... we are different in this way." He hasn't stopped shaking his head.

"You're wrong. You don't see it now... but you will." And for the first time this evening he isn't making sense to you, "You will find it...and live that way. I'm sure."

"Kaito..." You sigh. But he's done now. And it has ended poorly for both of you it seems.

He's turned from you.

"You're leaving. Today, aren't you, on the train?"

You swallow thickly. Nod, and finally say, "Yes." Instead of 'I have to".

"There's nothing." His shoulders shake. And he hiccups. "There isn't anything I could say. To change your mind, is there?"

Everything in you is saying to follow him now. To wrap your arms around him like you did when he was a small child. To say something about your duty to make this a little better.

But if you are kind now, perhaps he will never let this go... and that, that is more cruel than anything you could say. So instead of being kind, all you say is,

"No. There's nothing."

And then he's gone. And he's left you alone in the garden.

It takes hours for your first tears to fall.

And you miss your train.

Four and a half hours away in Tokyo your friends eat dinner.

As they eat, they wonder where you are and why you haven't come.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

taglist @giyuuuuuu4ever

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