#i tried to voice to my ma that that hurts me and that didn't work out

[cosmicrot]

I am extremely and horrifically unwell rn

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 3/?)

The fire consumes everything it touches, turning what was into ashes. Curiously, Silco also leaves a trail of destruction in his wake.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, creampie, blood and violence, biting, threat of death, choking, canon-typical Silco violence, death of secondary characters being referenced, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut). Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2

Pay attention to the tags. If you're uncomfortable with violent situations or explicitly intense acts, PLEASE DO NOT READ. Once again: this is NOT a fluffy romance. Our protagonist has her own issues, and to be clear, while there are violent themes, Silco would never harm his dove. You have been warned—proceed at your own risk.

"I heard that Silco seems to be sponsoring a prostitute."

The bottle on its way to your lips stopped midway. Kate's words echoed like thunder, even though they had been spoken in an almost murmured tone. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for a sentence like that, not even the most horrible, bitter drink Zaun had to offer.

Beside you, Kate seemed almost uncomfortable. There was no accusation in her voice, but something about her tone overflowed with sadness, perhaps even anguish. The kind of look that made it clear she already knew the answer even before making the statement. She still insisted on visiting you, despite the apparent control Silco had over the brothel.

The brothel, which until two months ago had been your refuge—a place where the outside world and all its horrors were muffled by artificial lights and drunken laughter—now felt more like a prison. A suffocating space filled with glances you didn't want to interpret. That's why, on the night Kate showed up, you suggested going somewhere else. Somewhere Silco's shadow didn't hang over you.

Vander's statue was a landmark. For many, it symbolized the resistance and hope that had long since vanished. A kind of silent guardian of Zaun, a reminder of better days. Some people even wished the metal structure would come to life, that Vander would return to protect his people. But to you, that monument meant something deeper. Vander had saved you once. You'd made a promise to him—a promise you had yet to fulfill.

"Yeah... I heard about it."

"It's you, isn't it?" Kate shot back immediately. Her voice was soft, almost delicate, like a confirmation rather than an accusation.

You couldn't look at her. The thought of being called Silco's prostitute made something inside you churn, heavy as lead. Dealing with him in the privacy of a room was one thing, but carrying that title... it made you feel dirty in a way no amount of long baths could wash away.

"How did you find out?"

Kate sighed, fiddling with the ballerina pendant on her necklace. She always did that as a way to calm herself, an almost involuntary motion. "I did my research."

"You should've been a cop, not a designer." you tried to joke, but the humor fell flat, hanging in the air with no response, no laughter. Kate didn't take the bait. She simply said your name, with a sweetness that hurt, like she was trying to soothe a wounded animal. Reluctantly, you finally looked at her. That's when you noticed the worry etched into her green eyes, a worry you didn't feel you deserved.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice hoarse, almost harsh. "It could be worse. Silco could've just kidnapped me."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're still in danger."

You let out a low grumble, almost childish, like a petulant kid trying to dodge a scolding. She was right, but you preferred to live in ignorance.

"If I figured out who the 'prostitute' was, others can too. And if the chemical barons realize Silco has any interest in you, they'll try to use you to get to him."

"I know how to protect myself, Kate."

"From pickpockets and creeps, maybe. Not from assassins."

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

The words escaped your mouth with force, your voice laced with irritation, hitting a sharper tone than you'd usually use with her. You stood from where you'd been sitting at the foot of Vander's statue, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control. But, if you were honest with yourself, the idea that you still had control was a cruel joke. Overnight, your life had taken a turn you hadn't planned for—or asked for. To say you were angry would've been a massive understatement. And now Kate was pressing all the wrong buttons.

"Come with me to Piltover."

Her voice was firm, serious, but there was something more. A kind of unshakable hope glimmered in her green eyes as they locked onto yours, as if she could see something you couldn't. And there was something else... something that made your stomach twist. Affection. "Alright, so the place I'm staying in is the size of a shoebox," Kate continued, a small, awkward smile appearing on her lips, "But we can make it work together. Silco has no power in Piltover."

Those words. That tone. That damn hope. They doused your anger like a bucket of ice water. What remained was pure, raw shock as you stared into her emerald eyes. You saw it. The resolve. The conviction. And damn it, she was willing to risk everything... for you. Suddenly, it all made sense: why she kept coming back, even knowing the risk. Even indirectly challenging Silco. Because, in her mind, you were worth it.

Kate spoke your name again when she noticed your mind wandering for too long, her tone sweet as honey. "Please, come with me."

At some point, the lines had blurred for Kate, and considering Silco's actions, this practically put her neck on a silver platter. Bile rose in your throat, and you wanted to vomit.

"It's better if we don't see each other anymore." your voice came out dry, cutting. The tone was rehearsed, even if you hadn't prepared these words. You took a step back, putting space between the two of you. "Whatever you think we have, it's nothing more than professional."

Kate's eyes widened, shock written across her face as if you'd slapped her. The pain that followed nearly made you falter, but you pressed on. You had to, for her sake.

"I can't believe you're naive enough to think I feel something for you, let alone want to run away."

"What?" Kate whispered, her voice barely audible, but you saw it. You saw her eyes start to glisten with tears.

"I pity you." your voice was a venomous whisper. "Falling for a prostitute? Seriously? Kate, I expected better from you."

"Why are you acting like this?" her voice trembled, heavy with pain. "This isn't you."

"What do you know about me?" you shot back, your voice as sharp as shattered glass. "Oh, come on, sweetheart... it was all an act. Did you really think I cared? It was in my best interest to keep some naive girl paying my way. All I had to do was say a few sweet words."

She called your name again, her voice breaking, a final, desperate attempt to pull you back from the edge. A futile attempt.

"But now I don't need you anymore."

You saw it. The exact moment the first tear slipped from her eyes, just before Kate turned and ran. Without another word. Without looking back.

You stood there, motionless, like an extension of Vander's statue. Frozen. Empty. Guilt weighed on your shoulders like lead, but you didn't allow yourself to feel anything beyond the void. If Silco was horrible, you were a monster. Maybe that's what you deserved. Maybe, in the end, you and he were cut from the same cloth.

But your self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Breaking hearts, are we?" Silco's voice resonated in your ears, low and dripping with acidic humor. "And here I thought you were the merciful one."

The surprise lasted only a second when you heard his voice—low, laden with that familiar arrogance that made the air around you feel heavier. For a moment, you almost believed it was just in your head, a ghost of guilt or confusion tormenting you. But a single glance was enough to confirm it wasn't your imagination. Of course not. It was obvious Silco would know where to find you.

Especially since you'd abandoned the brothel in the middle of your shift. Someone had likely informed him that his latest acquisition had walked out unexpectedly.

The scent of burnt tobacco hit you before you fully saw him, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to control the surge of emotions bubbling up inside you. Anger, frustration, maybe even a touch of resignation. You inhaled deeply, as if the tobacco in the air could numb whatever was consuming you. But it was futile.

The bottle was still in your hand—a bitter consolation. You lifted it to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat. The mediocre alcohol was doing its job but was nowhere near enough to drown out the chaos in your head.

"How long have you been spying on us?" your voice came out calmer than you'd expected, a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

It was impressive, even to yourself. You should've been furious; after all, everything in your life had started crumbling because of him. Because of his manipulations, the insidious control he wielded over everyone and everything around him. The last month had been hell, and Silco had been the chief architect of your downfall.

And yet, here you were. Talking to him. Not smashing the bottle over his head.

"Long enough to understand what you're trying to do." he finally said. His voice was calm, but it carried an undertone of subtle disdain, as if the situation were almost amusing to him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Silco move slowly, leaning against the base of Vander's statue. He crossed one ankle over the other, assuming a relaxed posture that seemed devoid of any threat. But you knew better. Beneath the casual façade, there was an almost palpable tension, like that of a snake ready to strike at any moment.

"Driving her away, keeping her safe... all so I have no reason to go after her." he continued, his eyes boring into your back, savoring each syllable in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "Such nobility on your part. A shame it's all for nothing."

The words hung in the air between you, as dense as the cigar smoke swirling around him. You wanted to retort, but your throat went dry, the words catching somewhere between pride and fear. He knew. He knew exactly what you were doing. And worse, he seemed to find it amusing.

Without warning, he pushed off the statue and took a step toward you, closing the already narrow gap between you. Your heart leapt in your chest, but you stayed rooted to the spot, your hands gripping the neck of the bottle, channeling your fury into the inanimate object.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"Drinking won't make it go away." he said, his voice now almost gentle. Almost. The soft tone only made the harshness of his words cut deeper.

You barely had time to process the emotions boiling within you when Silco reached out and took the bottle from your grasp. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your fingers stretching out in a nearly desperate attempt to reclaim it. But he held it out of your reach with an ease that made your blood boil.

Your gaze locked onto his, and like a thread on the verge of snapping, you finally broke. It was as if everything you'd been holding back had been unleashed all at once, a storm of emotions sweeping away any control you had left. Before you could even think about the consequences, your body had already made the decision.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space, the liquid spilling onto the floor in a dense pool alongside the faint clatter of the cigar falling. A small fire ignited mere inches from your feet. It was that sound, along with the smell of smoke, that finally pulled you back to reality.

Your arm was raised, caught firmly in Silco's grasp. His fingers wrapped around your wrist with enough force to stop you but not to hurt. You realized just how close you were to his face—mere centimeters away from striking him.

And that's when you saw it: his face. For the first time, Silco looked genuinely surprised, frozen in place. His good eye was wide, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened. It was almost impossible to imagine a man like him with such an expression. But the moment didn't last. Like a mask falling and quickly being replaced, his expression shifted in an instant. The shock gave way to his familiar façade of coldness and absolute control.

You, however, didn't back down. There was no regret in your eyes, no hesitation in your movements. Your emotions were a haze, but you kept them locked behind a hardened, defiant expression.

"Leave her out of this, Silco!" you said, your voice low but carrying a weight that cut through the silence like a blade. The words were laden with something you couldn't quite name—anger, sorrow, perhaps something deeper. "I'm the one you want? Well, here I am, right in front of you."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the space between you. Silco didn't respond immediately, but his eyes didn't leave yours, as if he were analyzing every nuance of your expression. Searching for something—maybe doubt, maybe fear.

In a swift, precise movement, he pulled you forward, erasing the distance between you until your body was pressed against his. The heat radiating from you was palpable, even through the layers of clothing, and the subtle scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume filled his senses, igniting something you couldn't quite interpret.

His other hand moved just as firmly, gripping your chin with enough force that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. The touch was almost rough, a blend of control and anger that reverberated through you down to your bones. Silco's mismatched eyes burned with a fierce intensity, so piercing it seemed impossible to look away.

"Don't test me." he growled, his voice low and laced with latent danger. "My patience has its limits."

And then, with calculated abruptness, he let you go. The movement was so sudden that you almost stumbled backward. He stepped away, creating space between you as if he needed to regain composure, though his arrogant demeanor remained intact.

"What are you going to do?" your head tilted slightly to the side, your tone laden with challenge. "Kill me?"

You weren't naive. His threats weren't empty words. You knew Silco was holding himself back—why exactly, you weren't sure. Perhaps it was the mounting tension between you, an invisible thread that seemed to pull you closer to something as destructive as it was inevitable. Anyone else who dared to attack him would have already lost an arm, or worse.

And yet, you didn't back down.

"Or maybe with me, it's different." your voice dropped to a sharp whisper as you took another step forward, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. "Because you know, Silco, that no matter how much you threaten me, I doubt you have the guts to actually do anything to me."

Silco's eyes narrowed at your words.

"You think you know me, don't you?" he shot back, his voice laced with disdain. "You think you understand what I want, what I'm capable of."

"Then tell me if I'm wrong."

It was you who closed the distance between the two of you, ignoring the crunch of glass shards beneath your feet with each step or even the crackling fire nearby. The phantom of his grip still burned on your wrist, but you didn't rub it. You wouldn't show weakness—not now.

Every muscle in his body seemed tense, ready to strike, but he didn't move. He didn't raise a hand to push you away, nor did he take a step back. Instead, he let you approach, let you bridge the gap until you were so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

"You're right. With you, things are... different." he admitted, his voice now almost regretful, as though confessing something he hated to admit even to himself. "But don't be mistaken. I'm still the man who built an empire on blood and fear, and I wouldn't hesitate to remind you of that if necessary."

The shadows cast by the light made Silco's silhouette even more intimidating. His orange eye seemed to pierce into your very soul, devouring you, like staring into the abyss and having it stare back.

"Go home." his face was mere inches from yours, close enough for you to see every line, every scar etched into his marked skin. He was trying to maintain composure; that much was clear. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

You raised your chin, your body radiating a fierce pride that defied any implicit threat in Silco's words. Any sense of self-preservation had already been smothered by the chaotic mix of emotions boiling inside you: burning anger over Kate's situation, frustration with Silco's manipulations, and, above all, the overwhelming attraction clouding your judgment.

You knew you were tempting fate at this point, provoking the beast, pushing Silco to a dangerous edge. But honestly? You didn't care. Maybe, deep down, a part of you wanted to see how far he would go, how much he could tolerate your words before finally losing control.

"I didn't think a simple fuck would destabilize the great Eye of Zaun this much." your voice dripped with sweet venom, every word as sharp as a blade. You saw the muscle in Silco's jaw tighten, and it only fueled your audacity, like pouring gasoline on a fire. "A whore was enough to make you lose your grip... how pathetic."

The words came out drenched in scorn, and you savored every syllable as though you were exposing an open wound, pouring salt on it with relish.

You barely had time to react before you were slammed against the wall, the cold surface digging into your back with force. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and before you could even try to recover, Silco's hand was at your throat, squeezing just enough to send a wave of panic coursing through your entire body. Your mouth opened instinctively, searching for the little air you could manage to pull in, your chest rising and falling in short, desperate movements.

Your hands shot upward, but not to fight him—you knew that would be useless. Instead, you grasped his wrist, your fingers digging into his skin with force, your nails leaving small marks. The touch was deliberate, as if trying to remind him that you would still fight back, even if the odds weren't in your favor.

"You want to know what's pathetic?" he growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. "You." his thumb pressed firmly against the pulse point on your neck, feeling the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat beneath your skin. "I could snap your pretty neck and leave your body here for the rats to feast on."

The words were cold, cutting like steel against your skin, but there was something else beneath them. A suffocating heat seemed to hang between you, an almost palpable field of tension. It was dark, twisted—a desire that seemed to want to consume you both. Your breaths mingled in the closeness, a suffocating dance of anger and something more, something neither of you was willing to admit.

"Keep talking." he murmured, his voice dripping with dangerous, lascivious undertones. "I want to hear what insults that pretty mouth of yours will throw at me."

Your body betrayed you in the worst possible way. The initial fear that had tensed your muscles began to shift, the adrenaline coursing through you dulling the pain and heightening every sensation. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing like a warning of how precariously your life hung in his grip. But it wasn't just fear making your heart race—it was him.

Silco was close. Too close. His body practically covered yours in that position. His scent filled your senses, erasing any remnants of rational thought. His eyes burned into yours, that hypnotizing contrast—one eye filled with the intensity of anger, the other an empty abyss, equally devastating.

And then you saw it in those piercing mismatched irises. Hidden beneath the anger. An unmistakable flicker of desire. It was raw, overwhelming, and dangerously familiar. You recognized it because you felt the same. Your body seemed to plead against your will, the proximity igniting something dark and unspoken between you.

Your lips parted, and the words slipped out in a rough whisper before you could stop them.

"I hate you."

Your voice broke, but not from weakness. There was weight in it, a hatred so dense it seemed to poison the air around you—a hatred for everything he was and for everything he made you feel. A hatred for him, but perhaps an even deeper hatred for yourself, for wanting him despite knowing how wrong it was. You hated him. You wanted him. And in that moment, it was impossible to tell where one feeling ended and the other began.

Silco's fingers tightened around your throat just enough to send another wave of alarm through your body. His eyes—those mismatched irises that burned with something dark and ravenous—studied you intently. A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, revealing the jagged edges of his teeth, a threat and a twisted invitation all at once.

"I know you do, dove."

He leaned in closer, the distance between you shrinking until his nose brushed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the scarce space separating your lips. Silco's free hand moved upward, gripping your jaw firmly, though his thumb traced the delicate line of your cheekbone with an almost cruel gentleness. It was a stark contrast to the strength of his grip around your throat, and that duality sent heat coursing through your veins.

He pressed his body even closer against yours, pinning you completely against the cold wall, as if he wanted to crush you there, as if he wanted to make sure you had nowhere to escape—as if you belonged to him. Every inch of his presence was overwhelming, suffocating. You felt the weight of his thigh shift, sliding between your legs and applying an unrelenting pressure that stole any breath you had left in your lungs.

And then he claimed your lips.

It was a shock—a collision as overwhelming as the shove against the wall. His lips crashed into yours with a force that shattered any remnants of resistance you might have had. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was raw, primal, a clash of teeth, tongue, and desire that had been restrained for far too long. He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you, as if every part of you needed to be consumed until there was nothing left but him.

You tried to regain control, but there was no space for it. He allowed no room for anything but his all-encompassing presence, the way he took everything you were, claiming the right to possess every piece of you. His fingers around your throat tightened—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you aware of his power, enough to make you feel it.

His touch was possessive, almost as if he were branding you, inscribing his presence onto you in a way that no one else could erase. And as he deepened the kiss, you realized, with a mix of anger and fascination, that he was getting exactly what he wanted.

Your hands, which had been gripping his wrists in a desperate gesture, slid downward to clutch at the rough fabric of his vest. You pulled him closer, ignoring the pain that radiated through your body. There was something strangely comforting in the brutality of his touch.

The kiss wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a collision of wills, a clash of searing fury and uncontrollable desire. It was a war with no victors, only the promise of mutual destruction. You matched his every advance with equal intensity, every bite and scratch an attempt to wound him, to leave your mark on him just as he was leaving his on you.

It was twisted, and you knew it. The hatred you felt for him was intoxicating, burning inside you like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. But what was worse—and you hated to admit it—was the fact that a part of you wanted this. You found a strange solace in the shared violence, as though, in some perverse way, it was the only truth between you. This contained violence was a language you both understood perfectly.

Your teeth sank into his lip with force, and the metallic taste of blood spread between you before he finally pulled back. "You don't own me." you whispered breathlessly, resting your forehead against his.

His hand slid down, gripping your thigh with bruising strength as he hitched it up to his waist. You gasped, feeling the hardness of him against you, a visceral reminder of how much he wanted you. Silco pressed his body even closer to yours, the cold wall at your back seeming to vanish against the searing heat of him in front of you.

"Not yet, dove. Not yet."

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco chuckled darkly at her feeble attempt to slap him again, his eyes glinting with humor as he once again grabbed her wrist. However, he released her grip without much resistance, watching curiously as her hands slid downward once they were free. He reveled in the way her hands shook as she fumbled with the clasps on his pants, anger and desperation rolling off her in waves and clouding her ability to complete a simple action that she could do even with her eyes closed.

He grabbed her hands, stilling their movements. With deliberate slowness, he guided them to the fastenings of his trousers, showing her how to undo the clasps and zippers. His hands covered hers, helping her slide the fabric down enough to free him, revealing the hard length of him, already straining towards her.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he felt her fingers brush against him, the slightest touch sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He was so hard it almost hurt, his cock throbbing with need. He wanted to bury himself inside her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.

But first, he had other plans. With a sudden movement, he grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was wrapped around his waist. He pinned her against the wall, the rough brick scraping against her back. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way, revealing the lacy edge of her stockings.

"Look at you," his mocking tone, as if he were not equally thirsty. "So desperate for it, so needy. You want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could see?"

He rocked his hips forward, grinding his hardness against her core dress. The friction made them both gasp, pleasure sparking through their veins. Silco's hands slid higher, cupping her ass, kneading the firm flesh.

"I should make you beg for it." the whisper left his lips, his breath hot against her ear. But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. He was too far gone, too consumed by the need to have her. Right there, at that exact second.

"Don't you dare." her voice tried to be threatening, Silco realized, but at that moment her threat sounded more like a plea than anything else. "Otherwise I..."

"Otherwise, what? You are not in a position to make demands."

Despite his words, she did what she always did. She ignored him. Her eyes rolled back with a boldness only she could muster as she brought her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting out to wet each one before returning them back down. She fingered him, spitting, with some difficulty due to the awkward angle. Silco's head fell forward, falling onto her shoulder as she continued to pump him. His hands returned to her thighs, adjusting his grip to keep them steady. Then when she adjusted him against her entrance, Silco couldn't help but hold his breath.

The sensation was almost too much to bear, the tight grip of her walls around him sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He gritted his teeth, fighting back a groan as she sank down onto him, inch by torturous inch. For God's sake, how he missed that.

But even as his body reveled in the feel of her, his mind was racing with dark thoughts. This wasn't lovemaking, not by a long shot. This was a fuck, plain and simple, a coming together of two people driven by anger and lust and a desperate need to hurt each other. It was twisted and wrong and so fucking good that it terrified him.

His hands gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her down onto him, burying himself as deep as he could go. The angle was brutal, almost painful, but it only served to fuel the fire raging inside him.

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against hers with a force that made her cry out. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a physical manifestation of the dark hunger that consumed them both. He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her writhe, that had her clawing at his clothes and screaming his name.

"Mine." his voice murmured, more to himself than to her. It wasn't a statement of possession meant to irritate her, since she seemed so absorbed in her own pleasure that she didn't even notice the words leaving his lips.

His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her tightly as he thrust into her, his movements hard and fast. Silco could feel her body tensing above him, could hear the way her breath hitched in her throat as she neared her peak. The knowledge that he was the one pushing her to this point, that he was the one making her lose control, filled him with a sense of satisfaction. He wanted to break her, to shatter her in a way that only he could, so, remake her in his image.

But even as he thought it, he knew it would be an almost impossible task. She would never give in to him. Not easily. She was too wild, too defiant, too stubborn to be tamed. And God help him, but that was what attracted him. That fire, that passion, that refusal to submit even in the face of his worst brutality. It called to something deep within him, something he'd thought long dead.

That's why he wanted to try. Someone who had been a revolutionary was anything but someone who gave up easily.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, his mismatched eyes boring into hers with an intensity that bordered on frightening. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with lust and something else, something darker that he couldn't quite name. It unsettled him, the way she looked at him, like he was her salvation and her damnation all rolled into one.

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. He bit down hard, leaving a bruise in the shape of his teeth. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, mixing with the salt of her sweat. It was a heady combination, one that made his head spin and his cock throb with need.

And then she was coming, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the rhythmic squeezing of her muscles pushing him over the edge. He let out a guttural groan, his hips losing their rhythm as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his seed.

For a moment, they were frozen in place, their bodies locked together in the aftermath of their release. Silco could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, could hear the ragged sound of her breathing as she tried to catch her breath. And for a fleeting second, he wondered what it would be like to hold her like this, to wake up next to her and see her sleep-tousled hair spread out on the pillow.

Well, if everything went the way he planned he would see this scene.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ 

The post-climax sensation that always followed those moments left you vulnerable, as if every layer of yourself had been stripped away, leaving you exposed and defenseless. This time was no different, though the intensity was greater. It had been quick, physical—an explosion of mutual rage converted into something far more primal.

Your body ached, especially your back. The constant friction against the rough wall during the act had taken its toll. And yet, there was no regret. You had wanted it—the brutality, the intensity, the force. Silco's body also bore the signs of weariness; you could feel it in the way he leaned against the wall, seeking support for both himself and for you. His arms still held you, firm but no longer tense—just enough to keep you close.

His arms tightened around your waist for a moment, holding you firmly against him as if trying to prolong the contact, before slowly lowering you back to the ground. Even then, he kept one arm around your waist, his open hand pressed against the curve of your lower back, steadying you until the trembling in your legs subsided. No words were spoken.

After what felt like an eternity, you began adjusting your clothes. Each movement was mechanical, automatic, as though your mind had shut off, unable to process what had just happened. Across from you, Silco did the same.

Without the sexual intensity or the anger that had dominated the air minutes ago, the silence now felt even heavier. A kind of emptiness that made room for dangerous thoughts to take shape in your mind. But you didn't want to think. Not now. Thinking meant facing the consequences, and you simply didn't have the strength to deal with that yet.

You turned to face him. Silco, as always, seemed ready to say something. But before he could open his mouth, before he could release a single word or give you that smug smile that always made your blood boil, you struck him.

Your slap wasn't as strong as you wanted—it was all your exhausted body could muster—but it was enough. Silco froze for a moment, his eyes widening more from surprise than pain, but he said nothing. He didn't react. And somehow, that infuriated you even more.

Without waiting for a response or reaction, you turned and walked away.

[...]

The following days passed. The path to the brothel, the routine, the people you crossed paths with—it all seemed normal, yet strangely distant. Neither Kate nor Silco appeared, and you were grateful for that. Still, the peace was an illusion. Your mind offered no respite, replaying the memories of that night every time you closed your eyes. The touch, the anger, the desire, and, finally, the emptiness—it all returned like a silent torment.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the movement around you. It was a physical jolt—a body colliding hard against yours—that finally pulled you from your trance. The impact was so abrupt that you nearly fell.

"Hey!" you snapped, irritated, but the person was already gone, running into the growing crowd around you. It was only then that you realized something was wrong. Urgent, desperate voices overlapped around you.

"A house is on fire!" someone shouted, the phrase ringing out like an alarm. "Hurry!"

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Your legs began running, following the crowd heading in the same direction. As you turned the corner, the chaos came into full view.

The flames danced wildly, consuming the modest building like ravenous predators. Thick smoke filled the air, burning your nose and throat, making it difficult to breathe. People ran back and forth, some coughing, others carrying buckets of water in a frantic attempt to contain the fire. Children cried as adults tried to organize some form of aid. It was pure chaos—stifling and inescapable.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes locked on the fire that seemed to grow with every passing second. But then, another jolt brought you back—this time, more deliberate.

When you turned, you found a figure that seemed out of place amidst the surrounding chaos. She was tall and muscular, with an imposing presence. The red cloak she wore draped over her shoulders, concealing her left arm in an almost calculated way. She wasn't looking at the fire—she was looking at you.

"Silco sends his regards." before you could react, she dropped something to the ground.

Your breath hitched. The world spun. Pain bloomed in your chest, spreading like poison as realization set in. A necklace with a ballerina pendant. You knew that necklace.

And it was covered in blood. Part 4

┊ TAG LIST ┊

@fandomsinthegalaxies

@defmxl

@aise-30

@cold-blooded-girls

@queenofspades6

@heidiland05 If you want to be added to the list, let me know in the comments.

[loveforeren]

୨⎯ If we only had more time⎯୧

Pairing: Eren Yeager x Sick!Reader

Synopsis: You and Eren had been together since your sophomore year of high school. You guys were now in your sophomore year of college when you got devastating news. You were sick, and not just any type of illness. You didn't have long to live. They told you that they don't know what the illness is or how to treat it. So all you can do is wait for the day you die. There's only one problem you have approximately 2 months lefts and you've been avoiding Eren due to it. You haven't told him, and you were being put in the hospital..very soon.

Content Warning: Sick Reader, Angst, Small Argument, Unknown Illness, Sad Ending.

A/N: I wrote this because I was bored...I don't write angst often loves. I'll be posting a either longish Kokushibo fanfic or another Miguel snippet soon. Also, yall should listen to Promise By Laufey.

You look out the window to see Eren's car pull up in front of your small townhouse. Your body shakes at the thought of telling him. You watch as he walks to the door and knocks. You take a deep breath before slowly creaking open the door.

It's been months since you got the devastating news. The news you weren't going to live much longer. They don't know what the illness is or how to cure it. The only thing they know is it's causing your body to break down and destroy itself at a rapid pace. They're trying every medication they can think of and nothing works. When you told your parents they broke down in tears begging the doctors to help their child. When you told your friends they cried for hours and promised to make the most of the time you had left. There was one person you didn't tell, Eren, your boyfriend. You couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't bare to tell him, but you couldn't put it off any longer. You were being put into the hospital sometime this week or next and you couldn't put off telling him any longer. You knew he was worried because, for the past few weeks, you haven't been around him as often. You couldn't the pain your body was in was too much to bare. You had to tell him today. You had no choice.

"Hey Ma." He said with a grin.

His arms wrapped around you and he buried his face into your neck.

"H-hey Eren." You stumble over your words. Your body shakes and your chest starts to hurt slightly.

"What's wrong? You're shaking." Eren points out as you tried to calm yourself

You pull him over to the couch sit him down and sit next to him. Your heart was beating out your chest.

"Eren...I need to tell you something." You murmured loud enough for him to hear.

He looks at you with his beautiful green eyes piercing you. Your chest started to hurt more and more by every passing second.

"So..I-.." Your words get caught on your throat.

Eren notices this and puts his hand on your thigh.

"Ma, calm down. Take your time." He said.

You took a few deep breaths and started bouncing your leg to calm yourself.

"A few months ago, I went to the doctor for a small little check-up. You know I was in pain for some reason." You say trying to keep your tears in.

Eren nods, and you can already tell he's getting anxious by the way your acting.

"They didn't know the cause of my pain, so they ran a few tests...They made a discovery. My body has been destroying itself slowly..and-" you words get caught in your throat but you force yourself to continue.

"They said I don't have much longer to live.." you say quietly looking away from Eren.

"Baby. What do you mean you don't have much longer to live? You're sick? Why didn't you tell me this?" Eren asked question after question.

You look back at him and see his beautiful green eyes starting to flood with tears. His hair became disheveled from him raked his hands through it trying to calm himself.

"I..couldn't tell you." You said now tearing up too.

"Why not!" His voice boomed through the small place you were in. His tears finally escaped and ran down his face rapidly.

"Because I was fucking scared Eren! How can I tell the man I love I was going to die? I didn't know how and I didn't when to tell you." Your voice raises as you start to cry too.

"Y/N you're fucking dying! I deserve to know the love of my life is dying!" His voice cracked.

"I know. I know I'm sorry Eren I didn't know how to tell you." You rasped out.

"I-isn't there any medicine you can take?" Eren stumbled over his words.

You watch Eren's face scrunch up. You thought he was mad at you until he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms snaking around you. His head on your shoulder.

"We've tried everything..nothing is working." You say as tears pour down your face.

"I don't wanna lose you. I can't lose you." He cried.

You cried just as much as your body ached slightly but you didn't even care at this point.

"I'm sorry Eren. I'm so sorry." Your voice cracked.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It's been a few days since you told Eren. Ever since then, Eren stuck to your hip. Going to every appointment, sleeping over at your house, going with you to the store. Wherever you were Eren was bound to be. That was until the doctors advised you to stay in the hospital full-time.

"Eren I have to go the doctors said I should stay in the hospital." You said as he hugged you tightly.

"I know...I just-...just let me hug for a few more minutes and I'll drop you off there." He rasped out trying to not cry.

He stayed there hugging you tightly for a few more minutes then let go of you. His beautiful green eyes filled with sadness.

"I'll drop you off now.." he said looking down his fist clenching slightly to stop himself from crying.

The drive there was silent besides your stuff the doctor said you could bring rattling around in the back of the car. Eren's hand stayed on your thigh the entire time. You could feel whenever he was getting extremely anxious because his grip on the thigh would strengthen.

When you guys finally made it there you watched as Eren parked the car and then rested his head on the steering wheel.

"Eren.." you say quietly.

It seems like he's in a trance because he didn't hear him.

"Eren." You say again.

His head snaps up to look at him and you see his eyes filled with tears again. His eyes were red as tears spilled out.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to calm down before we go in there." He says.

Your heart was breaking. You hated seeing him like this because of you. You hated that you were going to leave him so soon.

Your hand went up to his cheek, and he nuzzled his face into your hand. His lips kissed your hand gently. As he took a few deep breaths to pull himself together.

"I love you...I love you so much Y/N" He said his voice laced with worry.

"I love you too." You kiss him gently as he tries to calm himself.

It's been a few weeks since you've been in the hospital, and Eren was there every single day. He only went 3 places his house, school, and the hospital. You could see the stress eating away at him. Especially when you have coughing fits, or your body would randomly aches for hours. You didn't want to tell him just how painful it was. If you had to explain the pain in one word it would be excruciating, absolutely excruciating. You couldn't tell him that though worrying him would only cause you more stress. Today the doctor was going to ask you about the pain again, usually, Eren is at school. This time he was here and you knew you couldn't lie. The doctor has caught you in your lies at least 4 times. There was no use in trying to lie.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"So Miss Y/N, How has your body been feeling lately?" The doctor asks with a clipboard in their hand.

"Ah...Doctor Hange...My body..uhm.." you try to tell the doctor but Eren's presence was scaring you. You didn't want him to worry.

"It hurts a lot when I breathe in the left side of my chest, my legs ache if I stand for too long, my head hurts a lot, and...I've been experiencing dizzy spells. If I'm being honest...my whole body hurts..ears are constantly pounding.." you say quietly.

You watch as Eren's face turns into a sad frown and his hands fidget together.

"I see...I'll come back to you after I look at the test that we ran the other day," Hange said walking out quietly.

Eren quietly scrambled over to you and laid on your lap. Your hand strokes his head as he shakes.

"Ma, I..I love you.." he whispered.

"I love you too 'Ren" You smile bitterly.

He lays on your lap for about 10 minutes before Hange came back in trying to hide their grim expression.

"Miss Y/N I would like to speak to you privately." They said.

Eren looked at you about the protest but you sighed.

"Eren..go please you can come back in once we are done."

︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Doctor Hange told you the most devastating news you could hear. Your body seemed to be deteriorating even faster than before. Your pain was only going to get worse and worse. They said there was some more medicine you could try but it wasn't guaranteed to work. They also quietly stated you could get euthanized but they were strongly against it. They told you that they didn't want you to stress and to tell them what you wanted when you were ready. You quietly stated that you wanted the pain to end early, and that if that was the only way then so be it.

After Doctor Hange was done, Eren walked back in frantically. His eyes shoot to your very troubled expression. As of that moment, he didn't know that you had chosen to end your life. You had to break the news to him, and you hated that.

"Hi, Eren." You say with a say sad smile.

He quickly scrambles by your side and holds your hand.

"So...I was talking with the doctor, and they said I had two options.." you stated eyes looking down to avoid his sad expression.

You explain them and watch as his face darkens. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was either when you were in bad condition to basically pull the plug or to let you suffer. Both options were terrible.

"There's...nothing else we can do..?" He asks quietly gripping your hand.

"No...I'm sorry.." Hange said.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Days have passed and like Hange said you've only got worse. You lost so much weight, you were pale, your eyes could barely stay open, you threw up everything you ate and drank, and your breathing was labored. Eren stayed through it all. But unfortunately, it was the time your vitals weren't looking good, and the doctors could tell.

All of your friends and family were there to say their last goodbyes to you. It was bittersweet they knew you'd get peace but they'd also lose you. Eren stayed in the room watching from a distance with a grim expression. He wanted to cry but he simply couldn't as of now. His body wouldn't allow it. Maybe it was saving up for when you departed. Or maybe it was because he cried so much that he simply couldn't anymore.

After all your family and friends left, Eren came to you holding your hand gently. You smiled sadly. He lay there in a comfortable silence until he felt you fell asleep. He soon after followed suit. The exhaustion taking over.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Eren~" you giggled.

Eren turned to see you smiling brightly and hugged you tightly.

"Baby, please don't go.." Eren begged.

You smile softly and kiss all over his face gently. Each kiss you whispered something you loved about him.

"I'll never truly leave you, my love." You said sweetly.

You were shining so brightly like when you guys were in high school. He knew this was goodbye. You turn to hear someone calling you and smile. You began to walk away fading in the distance as Eren chased you.

"Y/N!" He screamed stumbling to the ground.

Eren jolted from his sleep and saw you with a sweet smile on your sickly face. He put his hand on your face you felt cold. His body froze shockingly still.

"Baby?" He said his throat beginning to tighten

"Nurse!" He screamed so loud that entire side of hospital probably heard.

"No, no, no please!" He cried

You died with the illness finally staking its claim on your life. Eren never truly got over your death. How could he? Still, that dream gave him some comfort.

[wildheartsalwaysburn]

OP men taking care of their SO

Gn!Reader (I tried)

Characters: Trafalgar Law, Eustass Kid, Sanji, Bartolomeo, Corazon

CW: mentions of ED (starving, vomiting, overexercising), bad body image/body dysmorphia, cursing, SH, slight nsfw for Kid

Notes: I'm in a terrible mental state rn, kinda relapsing. OP hyperfixation fixes stuff so I decided to write some HC how they would act when noticing their SO is struggling with an ED.

Trafalgar Law

he had a bad feeling about your eating habits a while ago

noticing you rush to the bathroom after every meal and "showering" excessively

but didn't mention cuz he knows to leave people alone (he's the same tbh)

it hit him during the monthly physical examination

he listens to your heartbeat and notice it being really low

"y/n, would you step on the scale?" he asks in a cold but also concerned tone

as he notices you getting anxious when standing in front of that thing, he sighs and puts a hand reassuring on your shoulder

"it's ok. I'm here. Just step on it, please." his voice still concerned but warm and soft

he looks at the low numbers in shock and takes you carefully from the scale before you can see the numbers

"y/n-ya. What's wrong?" he'll take your cold hands and sits right in front of you

if you break out in tears, he'll just sit there and hug you tightly, til you calm down by yourself

if you stay cold and stubborn, he'll get annoyed but also takes care of you

either way, you talk a lot and will make a rehab plan, he'll watch over you as much as he can

he won't miss a moment to show you how much he loves and cares for you

"you're the most beautiful soul I know, y/n-ya."

"I know it hurts, but I cannot lose someone I love dearly, again."

"We get through this, ok?"

all in all, he's a doctor and acts like one, but he'll support you whenever needed

Eustass Kid

he notice during working out together

the last times you'd been skipping meals and even alcohol, working out without him even in the middle of the night

first he thought you'd simply want to get stronger than him and teases you daily

but on that day you've overdone yourself, your body can't take it anymore and you get dizzy and weak all of a sudden, letting the weights fall down with a thud

"y/n?! Fucking seriously?" he first yells at you (rule: never let weights fall down)

you sink on your knees, mumbling sth like you'd be fine

"Fine my ass!" he swears and lifts you up to carry you to his room

"what the hell are you thinking?!" he's clearly pissed

he'll put on his too big warm clothes and coat, still staring at you angrily

forces you to drink water and hot tea, he still stares at you

"so what the fuck is wrong with you, y/n?" angry, annoyed tone

when you start to cry, he's overwhelmed and feels bad not being able to help, so he just sits there and pets your head

when you glance back and pout/get angry you'll get into a fight and storms out throwing the door

just to come back and hug you tightly after finally understanding

his soft side comes out when you tell him you feel weak and ugly and fat

he laughs: "stupid girl/boy! you're the strongest pirate I know! and the sexiest! besides me"

if you don't or don't smile enough (which will be most likely the case), he'll just tower over you and wrap you up in his arms, roaming with his hands over your body and repeat how amazing you are

he'll get overprotective, remind you to eat enough through the day (sometimes forces you to)

He makes you different playlists to lift up your mood

also he'll seek help from Killer from time to time (but won't tell you)

Sanji

He’ll notice when you stop joining to cook in the kitchen

Notices your rapid weight loss really quickly

Sits down next to you, lights up a ciggy and asks worried what’s wrong

Poor boy thinks it’s his fault

Eventually he’ll tear up and just hug you, telling you how much he loves you

“You can tell me everything, ma chère!”

You instantly felt understood and tell him

He’ll look at you in shock, not understanding how such a beautiful person can think of themselves like that

“But you are the most beautiful woman/man, I know, y/n-swan”

He cups your face and gazes into your eyes before kissing you softly

“We get through this, together. I promise.”

And he’ll make it true. He’s the most supportive boyfriend

Forehead kisses, reassuring soft hugs and touches, always keeping an eye on you

Spa Days, telling you every second how much he loves and adores you, would never force you but beg you to try his food at least

Makes the most delicious looking meals

Reads all about EDs so he won’t accidentally hurt you even more

Will hold you in his arms when you’re freezing or crying

Hides the scale

All in all the perfect man

Bartolomeo

He’ll notice when following you to the bathroom after dinner

Already had a bad gut feeling about your bruised up and red hands

He holds them all the time so he knows their appearance by heart

“Y/n-chan? Are you ok? I’m here for you! Are you sick?”

Music plays from inside and the tab runs

When you came out after minutes, eyes swollen and red, hands wet and even redder than before you’ll earn a concerned look

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, y/n-chan.”

Weirdly sniffs and notices the smell of vomit

Eyes in shock and starts crying

“No no no no my dearest y/n-chan!! Please don’t tell me it’s true!”

Wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace, crying his eyes out

Overdramatic as fuck

Eventually taking your weak body to a quiet room, cleans your face and gives you something to drink

Will listen to each of your words really carefully to understand

Always pleasing you, always bring you water and tea, will not force but desperately beg to you eat something

Will accompany you to the bathroom any time, watching that you don’t hurt yourself anymore

Around you 24/7, will provoke and beat up everyone just trying to say something bad about you

Literally overprotective l, like a guard dog

Will try to lift your mood by telling stupid jokes and stories, tattle about Law and other “not cool non strawhats”, showing off his collection

Proud as hell every time he’ll make you laugh and forget that illness for a second

Corazon/ Rosinante Donquixote

He’ll notice when picking you up as usual

“Y/n, you’re so tiny?!”

Shocked at first and lifts you even higher

Can’t believe you’re that light, you’ve always been to him, but now it’s different

Immediately throws you over his shoulder, covering you with his warm feather coat

“We’re going to a doctor, no back talk.”

His tone is stern but also warm and caring

Carries you to different doctors and hospitals, always holding your hand or thigh to show you he’s there

Will yell at anyone who says that can’t treat you

Throws literal tantrums at some doctors for being “incapable”

Will end up trying to fix and heal you himself

Showers you in love and care, eg bringing you water, tea, let’s you borrow his lighter to fidget with (even lend you his cigarettes if you smoke)

Will always smile at you and be more clumsy on purpose to make you laugh again

Will cook for you, whatever you want, burns it a few times by accident

Let’s you wear his clothes, when you feel bad about your body

Or wraps you up in them to get you warm

Will be extremely careful when touching, hugging or lifting you up

Afraid he’ll break you

Will inform himself about EDs to make the best of it

Never leaves your side, towering above or behind you, so no one can hurt you

Even lends you hit hat from time to time if he can’t be around for a moment, so you won’t feel alone

Gets sentimental when you sleep and he drinks, petting your head, sits right next to you talking about how beautiful and amazing you are

"I love you so much! You deserve everything in this world, my heart!"

[demitrasgf]

Baked with Love 𐙚⋆°.⋆♡

───────── ୨ৎ ────────────

demitra kalogeras x female reader

warnings: pet names (mama, baby, gorgeous, pretty girl), fluff.

A/N: this is my first fanfic so if it’s bad i’m sorry, i tried my best😭

───────────────────

As I stepped into Demitra's kitchen, the warm lights and sweet aromas enveloped me, instantly making me feel at home. The rain pattered softly against the windows, a soothing background hum that seemed to match the rhythm of my heart whenever Demitra was near. She was already elbow-deep in flour and sugar, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she worked on our nighttime baking project. I couldn't help but smile, feeling grateful for this cozy night in with the woman I loved.

Demitra glanced over at me with a soft smile. "What are you thinking about, mama?" she asked, her voice low and gentle.

I raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across my face. "You," I replied, my voice low and flirtatious. "I was thinking about how adorable you look when you're covered in flour."

Demitra chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, yeah? Well, I think you're pretty cute when you're trying to sneak a taste of the dough," she teased, her voice playful.

I laughed, feeling a sense of ease and comfort with Demitra. "Hey, someone's got to make sure it's edible," I replied, winking at her.

Demitra snorted, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Edible? You're the one who's always adding extra sugar because you think it needs it," she teased, shaking her head.

I grinned, unrepentant. "Hey, a little extra sugar never hurt anyone," I said, sneaking a pinch of flour off Demitra's nose.

Demitra laughed, her eyes sparkling. "You're such a goofball," she said, shaking her head. She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

I felt a shiver run down my spine at her touch. "You love me anyway," I said, smiling up at her.

Demitra's expression softened, her eyes filled with affection. "I do," she said, her voice low and gentle. "Now, are you going to help me finish these muffins, or do I have to do it all myself?"

I raised an eyebrow, a playful smile spreading across my face. "Oh, you think you can handle these muffins all by yourself?" I teased, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Demitra chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I think I can handle it," she said, her voice confident. "But if you want to try and take over, be my guest."

I snorted, rolling up my sleeves. "Game on," I said, my voice playful.

Demitra grinned, her eyes flashing with excitement. "Bring it on, mama," she said, her voice dripping with sass.

And with that, we both dove into the muffin-making process, our hands touching and our laughter mingling as we worked together.

As we worked, our playful jabs and teasing turned into gentle touches and flirtatious whispers. Demitra's hands brushed against mine, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't help but steal glances at her, my heart racing with excitement.

Demitra caught me staring and raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "See something you like, mama?" she teased, her voice husky.

I felt my cheeks heat up, but I didn't look away. "Maybe," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Demitra's smile grew wider, and she leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear. "I think I see something I like too," she whispered, her breath sending shivers down my spine.

Demitra's whisper sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but lean into her touch. "You're such a pretty girl, Ma," she whispered, her lips brushing against my ear.

I blushed, feeling my heart flutter. "You're making me blush, mama," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Demitra smiled, her eyes sparkling with adoration. "You deserve to blush, gorgeous," she said, her voice filled with affection. "I love the way you light up when we're together."

Demitra's words made my heart skip a beat. I smiled, feeling a sense of joy and contentment wash over me.

───────────────────

A few minutes later, me and Demitra were almost done preparing the muffins to go into the oven. Demitra was acting strange, her eyes darting around the kitchen as she measured out the flour. I raised an eyebrow, noticing the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Hey, what's going on?" I asked, my voice curious. "You're being kinda suspicious."

Demitra's smile grew wider, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she slowly backed away from the counter, her eyes locked onto mine.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized what was happening. "Demitra, what are you doing?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Without warning, Demitra scooped up a handful of flour and tossed it at me. I shrieked, laughing, as the flour exploded around me.

I quickly retaliated, grabbing a handful of flour and throwing it back at Demitra. She shrieked, laughing, as the flour covered her.

Demitra's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the desire burning in them. Without another word, she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine.

I melted into the kiss, feeling the flour-covered chaos around us fade away. All that mattered was the woman in my arms, and the love we shared.

As we kissed, the tension between us grew thicker, like the flour that covered our skin. Demitra's hands roamed over my body, sending shivers down my spine. I felt myself getting lost in the moment, in the sensation of her lips on mine.

Suddenly, Demitra pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You're a mess," she said, her voice husky.

I looked down at myself, laughing. I was covered in flour, my hair a mess, my clothes stained. "So are you," I replied, smiling.

Demitra grinned, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess we made a bit of a mess," she said.

I nodded, feeling a sense of joy and abandon. "Definitely," I replied.

Without another word, Demitra pulled me close, her lips meeting mine in a fierce, flour-covered kiss.

As we caught our breath, Demitra smiled mischievously. "We can't leave the muffins unfinished," she said, nodding towards the kitchen.

I laughed, feeling a sense of normalcy return. "You're right," I replied, smiling.

As we mixed the batter, the sound of the spoon scraping against the bowl filled the air. The smell of flour and sugar wafted up, making my mouth water. Demitra's hands brushed against mine, sending shivers down my spine. I felt a spark of electricity run through my body as our fingers touched.

A few minutes later, we slid the tray into the oven, setting the timer. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted from the oven, making my stomach growl with anticipation. Twenty minutes later, the timer went off, and we took the muffins out of the oven. They were perfectly golden brown, with a crispy crust giving way to a soft, fluffy interior.

Demitra and I exchanged a look, and without a word, we knew what we had to do. We grabbed a muffin each and took a bite.

The flavors exploded in our mouths, and we both let out a satisfied sigh. "Mmm, these are amazing," Demitra said, her eyes closed in bliss.

I nodded, my mouth full. After swallowing, I replied, "Definitely. We make a great team."

Demitra smiled, her eyes sparkling. As we savored the sweetness of our freshly baked muffins, we shared a tender kiss, the warmth of the oven and the love in our hearts lingering between us.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hide

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: You can't hide anything from your mothers

Your hood stayed up as you limped home. The stones on the pavement made your socked feet ache but you gritted your teeth and continued on.

You glanced down the street and hurried on. You couldn't spy either of your parents' cars parked so you slipped inside without a care in the world.

In your rush, you had completely forgotten that both of the cars were at the mechanics so both of your mums were definitely home - especially since their training had finished hours ago.

It was totally wishful thinking to believe that they would have stayed out for team bonding or something.

You almost groaned and slammed your head into the hallway wall when you heard the low hum of chatter from the tv and the sizzling of food in a pan.

"y/n?" Pernille called when she heard the front door shut," Is that you?"

"Er...yeah!" You chuckled awkwardly," I'm...I'm just taking off my shoes." You stared at your shoeless feet. You were silent for a moment, keeping up the charade before you made a break for the stairs.

You nearly got there too, nearly got to safety upstairs but then there was a hand on your backpack and you were slowed to a halt.

"You're home a bit late," Magda said, still holding onto your backpack.

"Yeah, I stayed behind to work in the library," You lied," I must have forgotten to text you."

Magda sighed. "Don't let it happen again."

"I won't."

She still didn't let go of your backpack.

"Ma," You said," I should go and put my stuff away."

You could hear her impatient foot tapping and your throat bobbed in worry.

Your mothers had adopted you nearly two years ago now, a girl that they had met while in Denmark during the offseason. They had bonded with you instantly and soon you had made the move with them to London.

So, you knew them both well enough to know when they were getting a little ticked off at you.

"You know the rules," Magda said," Hoods and hats off in my house."

You tugged your hood down but didn't turn around.

"Better," Magda said," But what about my hug? I don't want you escaping upstairs for the rest of the evening before my hug."

You cursed your past self for creating the routine of giving your Ma a hug when you got home from school. Hugging her now would require you to turn around. You just needed a moment to put on some concealer.

"I won't disappear. Let me just put my stuff away."

Before Magda could decide, Pernille spoke up. Her voice took a dangerously hard edge yet still softened enough to remain nice - like she was about to soothe a wild animal. "y/n...can you turn around for me?"

You tried to laugh it off. "I've had a long day. Let me just put my stuff in my room."

"y/n, I need you to turn around," Pernille insisted.

"Mum-"

"y/n."

Tears sprung to your eyes.

"Please don't make me."

Gentle hands moved from your backpack to your shoulders and Magda turned you around.

Both she and Pernille looked horrified at what they saw.

You knew what they were looking at. Your left eye was bruised and swelled almost shut. The corner of your mouth had a dribble of blood rolling down it. Your nose was slightly off-centre.

Pernille made a keening noise that broke you instantly.

You burst into tears and buried yourself in her waiting arms. Magda joined you in the hug too, pressing her front against your back so you were sandwiched tightly between your mothers.

"I was just...I was just leaving, I promise, Mum. I promise. I didn't do anything but they jumped me." Tears flooded your cheeks and once you started speaking, you couldn't stop. "They took my shoes, Ma. They took my shoes."

You wiggled your toes.

Pernille guided you to the sofa, sitting on the ottoman in front of you. Her hands ghosted over your cheeks, not willing to touch you in case it hurt you further. "Who jumped you, y/n? Who hurt you?"

"Some people in my maths class," You blabbered," They don't really like me. They make fun of me having you and Ma and my accent and...and...and..."

"Shh, shh, it's okay, y/n. It's okay. We're going to make this all better. It's all going to be okay."

Your Ma was a few feet away, close enough that she could hover over you but far enough away that her anger couldn't scare you away. Magda got angry quiet, her rage simmering just below the surface. "Hello," She said into her phone," I need to speak to the headmaster. It's on behalf of my daughter...Yes...It's extremely important. Yes, I'll hold."

When she looked back at you, you were sat in Pernille's lap, looking a lot smaller and younger than you actually were. You were sobbing and she could see that Pernille looked halfway to tears away.

You looked pathetically young in your school uniform, your favourite hoodie tucked under your blazer and your socks having holes in them from when you walked from school to home without any shoes.

Magda paced the length of the room, her phone still pressed against her ear, on-hold music ringing through it.

Pernille whispered things into your ear, a hand coming up to brush through your hair. "Is your nose okay?"

"It's not broken," You replied. Your sobs had diminished to silence although tears still rolled down your face. You were content to sit there in your Mum's arms forever. "But it still hurts."

A hand was thrust into your view. "For your eye," Your Ma said as she helped to press the cold compress to your swollen eye," It'll help."

"All the doctor's will be closed by now," Mum said," Is it bad enough that you need to go to the hospital?"

"I don't need the doctor," You said," I just want my shoes back."

"We can get you new shoes, y/n/n."

That just caused more tears to drop down your face. "You can't. They were special. They were the shoes I wore to the adoption ceremony. Mum, they're special." You blew out a noisy breath. "And they took them from me."

Ma came to crouch in front of you, her phone still pressed to her ear. "What are their names? Tell me their names?"

You rattled them off without even stopping to think - first and last name and what form group they were in. Ma pressed a kiss to your temple before her eyes lit up with malice as she spoke into her phone.

"Yes, is this the headmaster? I would like to report-"

Her voice faded away as she headed to the kitchen and you curled up more incessantly into your Mum's side, wishing nothing more than to just merge with her very being so she could keep you safe and protected within her.

But you couldn't so you settled with getting as close as possible.

You remained tucked under her chin as she held the cold compress Ma had given you. Your eye and nose ached as did your jaw. You looked down at your toes. You wiggled them.

Ma appeared in front of you, taking a seat on the ottoman. She took your hands.

"Those little-" She said several words in Swedish that you didn't quite recognise but got the gist of," -Were still in the school, the little idiots. Your shoes have been recovered and those punks have been expelled - effective immediately."

"They're lucky we're not pressing charges," Pernille said through gritted teeth.

"I'll go and pick your shoes up tomorrow morning," Magda continued, taking your hands and laying kisses across your knuckles.

"I can get them, Ma," You said," Just tell them to leave them at reception."

"You're not going back, y/n," Pernille said from behind you," Not to that school. Not ever again."

You glanced between your parents in confusion. "When...You two didn't have time to discuss it with each other."

"We don't need to discuss anything when we're on the same page," Pernille replied," We talked about it when we adopted you, that if you ever came home from school injured then we'd pull you out immediately."

"There's a lovely online program we can sign you up for. No bullies, no one beating you up or making fun of you for having two mums or an accent. You can work at your own pace and you won't have anyone telling you to hurry up."

"Really?" Your voice sounded so pathetic in your own ears that you nearly started crying again.

"Really," Your Mum confirmed, pulling you tight against her," But not for another few weeks."

"We'll get you all sorted once you're feeling better."

Your Ma joined you on the sofa, curling up into your Mum's side and holding your hand, fingers rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles.

[sunny374940]

Don't do that again

And I'm back at it with those two. Emmrich gets sick and won't admit he needs help. Free continuation of my story Adventures in baking, which is here https://www.tumblr.com/sunny374940/769611729043931136/adventures-in-baking?source=share

.................

Rook was bored. There were no outings planned for the day, he wasn't on cooking or laundry duty and he had been poking around the Lighthouse for a better part of the morning. The others were all engaged in some of their own projects and he didn't want to intrude.

He was moping outside on the stairway, worrying about the battles they were yet to face, when he decided to see what Emmrich was doing. Maybe he could convince him to take a break and spend some time with him. Yeah, that would cheer him up. And surely Emmrich would be happy to see his partner? lover? something? They haven't really given a name yet to whatever it was between them and it was driving Rook mad. But right now he wanted company, not to solve the mystery of their relationship, so he got up and went to Emmrich's room.

Rook knocked on the door and waited for Emmrich to answer. But there was no sound coming through the door, so Rook opened it carefully and entered the room. Emmrich was sitting at his desk, slumped over a thick tome. He didn't seem to have heard Rook’s knocking and startled when he saw him approach. The abrupt shake of his body sent him into a coughing fit. Rook eyed him suspiciously.

“Emmrich, are you alright?”

“Yes dear, right as rain,” Emmrich said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and appeared to reconsider his answer. “Perhaps a spot of cold, nothing to worry about, I assure you.” He tried for an encouraging smile, but its effect was quite diminished by his red cheeks and glassy eyes.

“You have a fever,” Rook accused him with narrowed eyes. “You should rest. You’re always badgering us to take a break and now you won’t take your own advice.” There was a tinge of worry in Rook’s voice.

“Nonsense,” said Emmrich. “I am perfectly capable of judging my needs and right now I need to work. Was there something you wanted? Or have you only come to pester me about my supposedly failing health?” He said tersely. There were dark circles around his eyes and his hands seemed to be trembling where they were resting on the desk.

Rook’s eyes widened at Emmrich's words. "I see you are busy,” he said, feeling more than a little hurt. “I’ll leave you to your work, see you around, Emmrich.” He turned, not meeting Emmrich's eyes, and left the room. He didn't hear the quiet “Rook, wait”, as he was closing the door. He ran straight to Harding, to enlist her help.

“Hi Rook, whatcha doing?” she asked, looking up from her gardening with an easy smile.

“Emmrich'ssickIneedyourhelpplease,” he spilled in a single breath.

“Woah, slow down, I didn't catch all of that,” she laughed, but her merriment was quickly exchanged for concern, when she saw the worry on his face.

He took a deep breath, wiping a hand across his face, and tried again. “I went to see Emmrich and he seems to have a fever and he's coughing horribly. And he's being stubborn and insisting that he's fine,” Rook sighed. “I don't know anything about medicine, but you understand herbs, right? Do you have anything that could help him?” he asked hopefully.

“Hmm,” she hummed, thinking for a moment. “I've managed to grow thyme and peppermint here, those could work. Let's gather some and we'll go make him tea. Oh, and my Ma swears by chicken soup, she would make me some every time I was sick as a kid. Aw, but he doesn't eat meat, so that's out the window. We could maybe ask Lucanis for help figuring something out?”

“You’re the best,” Rook smiled brightly. “Let’s get to it.” They picked some of the herbs and walked together to the kitchen. Lucanis was standing at the counter, cutting up vegetables for lunch.

"Hello, Rook. Have you come to make a mess of the kitchen again?” he teased.

Rook opened his mouth to defend himself, but Harding spoke up first. “Actually, we need your help, Emmrich is sick and we thought some soup might make him feel better. And herbal tea, but I can make that.”

“Mierda, I told him that all that trudging in the nasty water in the Wetlands was bad for him,” Lucanis sighed. “He was shivering a lot the last time you came back.”

Rook cursed himself internally. Emmrich asked to be included in their expeditions to Hossberg, saying something about putting the spirits of the dead there to rest and Rook didn't even notice that he was suffering the whole time.

Harding placed a hand on his arm. “Hey, he's gonna be fine,” she said. “I can see you beating yourself up, but it's not your fault. He can make his own choices.” She gave him a small smile. “Let's get to work, so you can go back to him, alright?”

“Alright,” he said gratefully and went to fetch water. As they were brewing the tea and making a start on the soup, the kitchen door opened and Emmrich staggered inside, leaning on a walking stick with white knuckled hands.

"Rook, you’re here,” he rasped, chest heaving with the effort of staying upright. “I meant to apo-” He got no further than that and fell down on the floor unconscious. They rushed forward to help him.

“Is. He. Dead?”

“Spite, for fuck’s sake,” Lucanis mumbled wearily. Though Emmrich wasn't looking very much alive from Rook's viewpoint. The redness of his cheeks from earlier that morning had been exchanged for a sickly pallor, the circles around his eyes were even more pronounced and his breath was coming quick and shallow. Rook stood frozen to the spot, unable to act in the face of Emmrich's collapse.

It was his fault, again and again. Why did he have to drag Emmrich everywhere? And why didn't he notice sooner that something was wrong? He couldn't bear to lose him- But Harding's words cut through his self-pity.

"Rook, come on, help us get him to bed, he's burning up!”

“Shit, yeah, sorry,” Rook stammered and rushed to assist them. Together they managed to move Emmrich into his bed and Rook was left in charge of the patient, while Harding and Lucanis brought in the tea and soup. He got the fire going and dragged a chair over to Emmrich's bedside.

“Right as rain, my ass,” Rook grumbled as he was mopping Emmrich's brow with a damp cloth, trying to bring down the fever that was ravaging his body.

At last Emmrich's eyes opened. He looked around blearily, until his eyes alighted on Rook's face.

“Hello there,” he said, his voice so weak it made Rook wince.

“Hi. Are you still going to insist that you're fine?” Rook asked, his annoyance at Emmrich not caring for himself coming back again now that he didn't have to worry whether he would wake up. Whether he would make it…

Emmrich glanced aside, looking embarrassed. “I… am sorry about earlier. I truly didn't want you to worry about me. You have so much on your plate without me adding to it.”

Rook chuckled mirthlessly. He was wringing out the cloth into a bowl on the nightstand without looking at Emmrich and said: “Yeah, well, I think I ended up worrying a lot more, so that didn't work out much.”

He turned back to him and immediately regretted his words at the look of profound sadness on Emmrich's face. He found his hand where it was lying on the bedcovers and gave it a small squeeze.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I'm not angry, you just scared me. I was worried I'd lose you. Just… don't do that again, alright?”

Emmrich simply nodded, the small movement drawing another coughing fit out of him. Rook helped him sit up and pressed the tea into his hands. Emmrich drank gratefully, a little color returning to his cheeks. He leaned back against the headrest and looked at Rook with a shy smile.

“Would you care to keep me company a while longer? I hear bedrest is an awfully dull endeavor without the right companion.”

Emmrich patted the space in bed next to him, inviting Rook to join him there. Rook wasted no time getting on the bed, settling close to Emmrich, shoulders touching. They sat there, Rook doing most of the talking, until he noticed that Emmrich had fallen asleep, head leaning against Rook's shoulder, his breath coming deeper, calmer. Rook smiled to himself and closed his eyes as well, enjoying his partner's presence.

[luvinqstvrnz]

A/N: I've read a lot of other fics, but I wanted to write my own; Keep in mind this is my first time posting/writing a fic to be posted publicly (lmk if there's anything I can do to improve)

Summary:

You've been with Chris for a year or two now, but you never knew exactly what he did and how he made his money, curious you decide to follow him after he leaves your apartment...

Content warnings (MDNI): Fluff, use of pet names, use of y/n, drugs, etc.

dealer!Chris x f!Reader

You and Chris have been together for about a year and a half, he's always been so secretive about what he does when he leaves after you guys have been together for a few hours (or days), you knew he had 2 triplet brother's that he lived with and everything they did on the regular.

Chris never told anyone publicly about your relationship afraid of how the internet and how they would react, he didn't want you getting death threats or anything crazy so you both mutually decided not to be public about your relationship on the internet.

You knew about Chris's job as a YouTuber but what could he possibly be doing at 12am for hours before he talks to you again? One night you decide to follow him when he leaves your apartment, trying to be very sneaky about your every move. Eventually all of his driving around lead you to a warehouse. You knew about the warehouse him and his brother's had but this was not it. You carefully stepped out of your car making sure you didn't alert anyone in the area around you. You watched quietly as Chris walked up into the warehouse and quickly followed behind him, making sure no one saw you.

As you tip toed past the other people in the warehouse the overpowering stench of weed hit your nostrils.

“Jesus Christ...”

You say softly under your breath; You've never been around this much in your life, what in the world was this place? Suddenly you see Chris emerge from behind some door.

“What the fuck do you mean we don't have enough to fulfill this order? I specifically told you-”

You hear him raising his voice to another guy in the warehouse, you've never seen Chris yell at anyone besides his brother's. You felt a bit turned on by him, the way he put other people in there place. You've never seen this side of Chris before...

Suddenly a hand reaches from behind you and grabs your shoulder, making it so you can't move.

“Yo Chris! Who's this chick? Do you know her?”

You've never heard this voice before, you had no idea who this was. Chris immediately looks over and sees you standing there, all you can do is stare at him. You're frozen, it's like someone paused you, you had no idea what to do.

“Y/n? What the- How the fuck... How did you get here?”

Chris says to you in a calm but stern voice, nobody knew of this place but him and the people who worked for him.

“I-I.. I-”

Your words were frozen, you couldn't mutter a word.

“Let her go. I'll take it from here...”

You hear him command the man behind you and he grabs your hand and leads you out of the warehouse.

“How did you get here? Are you hurt?”

He asks you lovingly. You just shake your head, you've never seen this side of Chris. Where did all of this come from? How did he keep this a secret from everyone for so long?

“You could've gotten seriously hurt... Why the fuck did you even think to follow me?”

He sounded stern and aggravated, he still sounded caring though, it was like he was mad but relieved you were okay.

“I-.. I really just wanted to know where you keep going when we part... I didn't ever think it would be... This?!”

You tried your best to keep your composure, you didn't want Chris getting upset at you, or anyone for that matter.

“Look, I'm sorry I never told you ma... It's just no one could or can ever know about this, not even Nick or Matt know.”

He paused and looked at you, trying to find understanding in your eyes.

“I can see why you don't want anyone to know... I'm sorry...”

He looked at you softly and leaned in to kiss you. He kissed you softly and bit your lip lightly as he pulled away.

“Do you want a ride home ma?”

You thought about it for a while and finally accepted, you didn't know what would happen if you went home with him right now but you knew he wouldn't do anything you wouldn't want him to.

He drives you to your appartment and let's you out of the car. He walks you up to your door and stops you before you go inside.

“I didn't know if you'd exactly want me to come in with you but uh... If it's okay with you... I'd like to.”

Chris doesn't normally ask to stay, he usually just stays without question. This worried you a bit.

“Of course you can stay... Why wouldn't you be able to?”

A wave of relief washes over him as he steps inside right after you, he leisurely walks over to your couch and crashes down on it, causing it to bounce with him.

“I'll be over there in a second, let me change real quick my clothes reek...”

You finished changing and walked into your living room, Chris was spread out on your couch watching his phone. You walked over and sat next to him, he placed one of his arms around you and pulled you close to him.

“So...”

He said slowly, trying to start conversation, you could tell he was a bit nervous considering everything you've seen tonight.

“So?”

He looked at you, his eyebrows were a bit furrowed and his eyes were wide.

“You're not... Mad?”

You just stopped and looked at him lovingly. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and played with his hair.

“No, Chris. I'm not mad.”

He looked at you relieved and kissed you softly. You kissed him back, you started thinking of earlier when he told off one of the other people at the warehouse and your thighs lightly squeezed together. You pressed your lips onto his more passionately and cradled his face in your left hand.

“Y/n?”

He broke the kiss and looked at you but you ignored it and kept kissing him. After a few minutes of making out with him, you guided him to your breast's, your nipples were already hard from thinking about that time in the warehouse and kissing him. You felt him squeeze your breast's and pinch your nipples from above your tank top. Eventually you get on top of him and straddle his lap, slowly rubbing yourself against his length, it didn't take long for him to get hard. You kissed him and dry humped him for a few minutes until you heard his phone ring.

“Fuck!”

He whispered, he looked at you to make sure it was okay if he answered it, you nodded, he composed himself and answered his phone.

“Yeah, I'll be back in a minute.”

He said to someone over the phone and hung up.

“I'm so sorry baby but I have to get back to the warehouse.”

“It's okay Chris, don't worry about it.”

You watched him leave, knowing it wouldn't be the end of this interaction...

[moonydustx]

hey! how are you?

so, I've feeling kinda of pretty bad lately, and today I tried to bake a cake to my bf and his family and I half burned the cake and burned my hand on the process, so now I'm feeling like crap and my hand it's hurting like hell :')

could you please, if you want of course, write something similar to Sanji and fem reader? With a lot of comfort please? Your writting always comfort me, so thanks <3

hope you're good.

heey! First of all: I really hope you're feeling better! I think your request is so sweet, it's one of the things I can see Sanji doing. Despite all this womanizing side of him, I see him being a very sweet boyfriend.

I hope you like it and thank you very much for appreciating my work <3

--

requests here | rules and guides | masterlist

Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

The Cake

Sanji x F!Reader

warnings: just our dear F!Reader trying to cheer Sanji's spirits with food and having some incidents.

glossary: Ma belle - my beauty/my pretty, Mon coeur - my heart, amour - love (yes, I have him speaking French in this one because it's incredibly delicious to me)

Some days felt heavier than the next. Sometimes you just wanted to hide, or just avoid talking to anyone. This same maxim would apply to anyone, including Sanji.

You had noticed your boyfriend was feeling down the last few days, you just didn't know why. The times you asked, he would let the question fade away with some other compliment or conversation, avoiding the main topic.

Could something be wrong with you? No, impossible. Even discouraged, Sanji continued to treat you like the most precious thing his eyes could have seen. It should be something different. Maybe it wouldn't make him say what hurt him, but an idea that crossed your mind could help cheer him up.

The first step was to ensure that you were left to look after the ship while the others explored the island and he seemed to want to complicate that part.

"Ma belle, are you sure you don't want to go? I can stay." Sanji proposed and saw you vehemently deny it."

"Do not even think about it." you turned him around by the shoulders, guiding him to the outside of the Sunny. "You already have the shopping list and you're the cook."

"Okay." He found the behavior strange, but he didn't want to bother you with thoughts lost in his head. "I promise to come back soon!"

"Don't worry about that either." tiptoeing, you reached his cheek and placed a quick kiss. "Enjoy the day."

As soon as he left the ship, you started to put your plan into practice. Going through some books in the small library - which were mostly books for Robin and Chopper - you could find a copy of recipes. You knew some more basic cooking dishes, a cake was not included in it.

Remembering what you had seen Sanji do countless times for countless dishes, the first thing you did was separate ingredient by ingredient, quantity by quantity. Flour, eggs, baking powder, chocolate. It was impossible for a chocolate cake not to bring at least a little joy to him.

Dirtying a lot more dishes than you expected and spreading twice as much flour around the kitchen as you actually used in the recipe, you soon managed to put the dough on a small plate and then in the oven, crossing your fingers that it would work. The baking time passed quickly and you could see the cake rise through the glass.

"What are you doing?" Sanji's voice startled you, placing some bags on the table, he seemed genuinely curious. "It smells good."

"It's a little surprise for you, it's practically ready." you moved away from him, motioning for his arms to wrap around your waist.

"What did I do to deserve such a surprise?"

"Besides being a fantastic boyfriend, I've seen you a little sad." You said it clearly, you didn't provide reasons that prevent you from taking the information to him. "I'll understand if you don't want the cake or talk about it."

"Mon coeur, don't worry about me, really." the taste of cigarettes didn't bother you when his lips touched yours. "I swear this has nothing to do with you."

"Still, that doesn't stop me from wanting to see you happy, doesn't it?" he just agreed, you're letting go. "I'll go see our cake."

As soon as you were late opening the oven, the first thing that bothered you was the immediate hot breath in your face, but the cake looked beautiful. Under Sanji's watchful and caring gaze, you can feel the trust placed within you.

Confidence enough to simply forget about wearing any kind of gloves and place both hands straight onto the hot board. Your scream was the thing that brought Sanji back to reality.

"Shit!" you fell into a sitting position, the cake sliding down and stopping between your legs. "I can't believe I did that."

"Calm down, love." Sanji immediately - and wearing gloves - first took the cake and placed it on the top of the stove. Soon, he grabbed you under the arms and lifted you to your feet. His eyes met yours on the verge of tears. "Let me see."

"It hurts." Your voice came out much more sly than you expected, the burning sensation spread across both palms of your hand.

"I know babe, let me see, okay?" he asked gently, taking your wrists gently. "That was a bit ugly, we need to add water first."

With one hand gently holding both of your wrists and the other guiding you around your waist, Sanji took you to the edge of the sink, turning on the cold water.

"It's going to bother you a little." his warning wasn’t enough to prepare you for the sensation. Out of instinct, you tried to retract your arms, but his hand held yours firmly under the current of water. "I'm so sorry, just hold on for a little while, can you do this for me?"

"How could I be so stupid?" Taking advantage of the proximity, you let your body lean towards his chest. "I'm useless."

"Don't talk about yourself like that." some kisses were distributed on the top of your head and the hand that was on your waist, caressed one of your arms. "I think it's good."

He took your hands away from the water and could notice your palms were still red. Damn, that would bother you for a few days. Without much explanation, Sanji guided you to Sunny's infirmary and placed you sitting on the stretcher, while rummaging through some drawers.

"What are you looking for?" You asked, watching him. In fact, you just didn't want to have to look at your hands.

"Chopper once said he had separated an ointment…Here!" he lifted the small tube and walked towards you. "They're for burns. I'm going to pass them and then I need you to be a little more careful with your hands, what do you think mon coeur?"

With a murmur you nodded, watching him fill two fingers with the substance and lightly run them across the palm of your hand. Pausing every time he saw you squirm a little.

"You did very well." he warned as soon as he removed his fingers from your hand. "Now come here."

Intertwining part of your body with his again, Sanji guided you back to the kitchen and without any effort, placed you sitting on the counter. You watched him walk back and forth as he picked up plates, cutlery and cut the cake.

"I don't believe." you sighed in frustration, seeing that the cake had turned out much less soft than you expected. Instead of giving you a plate, Sanji placed a generous portion on a single plate. He took the first bite and prepared another. "It must be horrible."

"It's not horrible, amour, it's quite the opposite." he insisted and tasted the piece of cake once again. "Try it."

Opening your mouth and accepting the piece he offered you, you tasted the cake. It wasn't bad, actually. But it was far from what you had expected, especially visually.

"Cakes are complicated recipes and in addition to the ingredients, they also depend a lot on the temperature, how you open the oven and even the weather." a smile dared to cross your lips as you reveled in seeing Sanji explain with so much wisdom. "I bet you did everything right."

Another growl came from you, this time partly out of frustration and partly because you were eating yet another piece he was offering you.

"I really loved it." He placed a light kiss on your lips. "And well, about these last few days… Sometimes I miss Baratie, sometimes I think about how everything must be there."

"I can imagine." the saddened smile indicated that Sanji was still disturbed by such a feeling. "Sanji, you know we can write to them."

"I know, it's just a feeling that appears occasionally, but it soon passes." He tried to look excited and put the cake aside, fitting himself between your legs hanging on the counter. "Especially when I look at you, when I imagine everything we are and what we can be."

"I love you amour" You tried to bring your hand to his face, but the groan of pain came out automatically.

"And about that, young lady, can we make a deal?" he asked and you immediately agreed. "You will keep an eye on that hand and let me take care of and pamper you, no complaints."

"Sounds interesting to me."

"And once you get better, I can teach you a few things about cakes, what do you think?" your smile gave more than any other answer Sanji could have expected. "I love you and you will always be my favorite cook."

[the-kr8tor]

HIIIIIIIII SWEETHEART I LOVE YOUR WRITIN STYLE EVERY FANFIC I READ FELT SO NATURAL AND REAL!!! 💗💗💗 was thinkin, could you write a hobie fic how would He react to y/n dyeing their hair I just recently dyed ma hair and had this idea in the back of ma head, HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY OR NIGHT, LOVE 💗 YOU AND ADMIRE YOUR WORK💗💗💗😊😊😊

Thank you hun! You're so sweet, I'm glad you like my fics ❤️ hope you like it! Thank you for requesting!!!

Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Mention of injury, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie wakes up groaning, he instinctively lays his hand on your side of the bed, trying to find your warmth. He finds your pillow cold, fighting to keep his eyes open, Hobie blinks away sleep. Craning his creaking neck, he glanced at the clock– 1:00 pm.

"Ah, fuck" he moves his aching legs off the bed, the fight with mysterio last night left him worse for wear. Hobie sits on the edge of the bed, contemplating whether or not it's worth getting out of bed today.

He stretches his back, arms wide, Hobie yawns loudly enough to get your attention. He waits for your sweet voice to ask him if he's okay, but the whole flat is dead silent.

He raises his brow, "lovey?" Hobie calls out.

Hobie stands up, wobbling a bit on shaky legs. Maybe you're in the living room? He comes out of the bedroom, roaming his eyes to find your familiar form. It's the weekend, why aren't you home?

His anxiety gets the best of him, mind jumping to conclusions, they're not all good.

"Love?" He calls out again, a bit desperate this time. Hobie scratches his neck, maybe you're in the bathroom?

He heads towards the bathroom door, knocking tentatively "oi you in there?" He knocks twice, thrice, but no one answers.

Hobie wiggles the doorknob, he finds it unlocked, opening it slowly, in case you don't want to be disturbed. "You decent?" His voice echoes out in the tiled room.

Hobie's eyes widened at the red-stained tub, crimson splotches covered the once white bathtub. His heart stops, where are you? Who hurt you? Is this the work of mysterio–

A hand touches his shoulder, waking him up from his daze. His spidey senses betraying him, he slightly jumps at the contact.

"You okay, Hobie?" You ask him, slowly turning him around to face you.

He takes note of your hair in a towel, the white cloth stained pink, where it's closest to your hair. Your hand, and fingernails stained, like you've been trying to scrub it off, but gave up halfway.

He connects the dots, a sigh of relief escapes him.

"Yeah, 'm fine" Hobie tries to put his forehead against yours, but you stop him with your palm, shielding him.

"You might get it on you" you smile, apologetically.

"Right, where were you?" He pulls away, opting to hold your waist instead, Hobie rubs circles on your hips, effectively grounding him.

"I borrowed a hairdryer from the neighbor's" you show it to him, "mine fizzled out for some reason. You missed me?"

"No," he pinches your nose teasingly, you pout at his answer "I'll fix your old one for you, can I see?" Hobie tugs at the towel on your head.

You still pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, feigning sadness.

"Fine," he rolls his eyes "I missed you, now may I see your hair?"

"Only because you asked nicely" you change your pout to a smirk rather quickly.

Tugging off the towel, you let your hair breathe, the bright cherry red color a stark difference to your natural hair color.

Hobie whistles "Goddamn, look at you, lookin' like a proper punk!" He cups your jaw with both hands, moving your head from side to side. "Hmm, you missed a spot" he points out.

"What? Where?!" You rush to the mirror, trying to find the spot you didn't color in.

"Right, here" he pokes the side of your head.

When you turn to look at him, so you could ask him to show it to you, Hobie leans towards you, crashing his lips to yours, stopping you mid-turn.

You smile into the kiss, Hobie grabs a handful of your newly colored hair, ignoring that it might stain his hand so he can pull you closer, deepening the kiss. You hug his torso, stabilizing yourself as your legs wobble.

Oh, he definitely likes your new hair color.

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I definitely didn't base this when I colored my hair red, once lol. I made the description of the hair as vague as possible, hope it worked well.

Thank you for reading! Consider reblogging if you enjoyed ❤️❤️❤️

[eclipsedrgn]

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑬𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

5 years later, you are living your best life in california but you didn't realize you were never going to get that happy ending.

TW🔞 mature content, suicide, depression

California had become your sanctuary, a far cry from the shadows of Gotham that had once consumed your life. You had spent the last five years building something new—something simple and pure, far removed from the chaos that had torn you apart. Your daughter, Amara, was your light, and your days were filled with moments that reminded you of just how far you had come. The boys still visited regularly—too often for you to catch your breath at times, but you didn’t mind. You loved them, and seeing them happy and healthy filled the holes that Gotham had left in your heart.

You had even managed to put the past behind you, at least mostly. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Amara the full truth about her father. Instead, you offered her a softened version of Bruce Wayne—the protective, loving, and kind man he had been before everything fell apart. She was too young to carry the burden of the real story, too innocent to understand the pain that had consumed both of you after Jason’s death. And for now, that was enough.

It was a Monday morning like any other. Amara was at school, and you were working your usual shift at the nearby café, smiling at regulars and enjoying the quiet rhythm of life you had built. The bell above the door chimed softly, signaling a new customer, and you looked up from behind the counter, ready to greet them with the usual warmth.

But the words died in your throat as soon as your eyes locked onto the familiar, piercing blue ones staring back at you.

Bruce.

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. You blinked, your mind struggling to process what you were seeing. You hadn’t seen him in five years—not since you left Gotham behind, not since you promised yourself you’d never face him again. But there he was, standing in front of you like a ghost from the past, his face etched with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Sorrow? It didn’t matter. He didn’t belong here. Not in your new life.

“(Y/N),” he mumbled, his voice low and rough, as if the sound of your name caused him pain.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. The sight of him, the sound of his voice, brought everything flooding back—the years of betrayal, the pain, the abandonment. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, didn’t trust yourself to keep the anger and hurt in check.

Without a word, you turned to your boss, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in. “My ex is here,” you said, your tone trembling. “I need to go.”

Your boss, a kind woman who knew your story—at least parts of it—nodded quickly, her eyes filled with understanding. “Go out the back. Take your time. I’ve got this.”

You gave her a shaky smile, grateful for her kindness, and hurried out the back door, your hands shaking as you fumbled for your phone. The second you were outside, you dialed Jason’s number, your breath coming in short, panicked bursts as you waited for him to answer.

“Ma?” Jason’s voice came through, sharp and filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Jason,” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder as if Bruce might be following you. “He’s here. Bruce is at the café.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Jason cursed under his breath. “Fuck. Okay, stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“I’m heading to my car,” you said, your voice still trembling as you started walking quickly across the parking lot. “I don’t want to be here when he—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. A strong hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun around, coming face to face with Bruce. He stared down at you, his eyes filled with something dark and unreadable, and your breath hitched as you tried to yank your wrist free from his grip.

“Let me go,” you hissed, your voice low and full of anger.

But Bruce didn’t release you. He just stood there, staring at you, as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

You glared up at him, your anger boiling over. “What, Bruce? Are you here to drag me back to Arkham? Is that what this is about? Because if it is, I’m not going quietly.”

For a moment, Bruce’s expression didn’t change. He just stood there, his grip on your wrist firm but not painful, his eyes locked on yours. You could see the storm brewing behind them, the way his jaw clenched as if he was holding something back.

“I’m not here to take you anywhere,” he finally said, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion.

“Then what do you want?” you snapped, your chest tight with anxiety. “Because I don’t have anything to say to you.”

You tried to pull your wrist free again, but he still wouldn’t let go. His gaze softened ever so slightly, but there was something desperate in the way he was holding onto you, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d vanish. And maybe, in a way, you had. You had built a life without him, without Gotham, without the pain that came with it.

“I just want to talk,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, anger bubbling up inside you. “Talk? What could we possibly have to talk about, Bruce? You made your choice years ago. You left me in that hellhole, and I’m not going back. Not to Gotham, and certainly not to you.”

His jaw tightened at your words, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he just looked at you with those same sad eyes, the weight of everything between you hanging in the air like a suffocating fog.

“You need to let me go,” you said, your voice shaking with emotion. “I have a life here, Bruce. I moved on.”

Bruce’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something—pain, regret, maybe even fear. But then he spoke again, his voice steady but soft. “I… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” you snapped, frustration mounting.

He hesitated, his grip on your wrist finally loosening. “That you were pregnant.”

Your blood ran cold, your heart stopping in your chest as the words sank in. He knew. He knew. Somehow, despite all your efforts to keep Amara a secret, Bruce had found out. Your mind raced as you tried to figure out how, when, but none of it mattered now. What mattered was keeping Amara safe.

"How did you know?" You whispered, "How did you know about her?!"

"Harley slipped up..."

You yanked your wrist free from his grasp, stepping back quickly as you glared up at him. “You don’t get to know her, Bruce.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened, the sadness in them deepening. “She’s my daughter.”

“She’s my daughter,” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “And you don’t get to walk back into my life after all this time and just claim her. You lost that right when you left me to rot in Arkham.”

Bruce flinched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze lowering to the ground. “I didn’t know what they were doing to you. If I had—”

“Save it,” you interrupted, your voice cold. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You didn’t care then, and I don’t need you to care now.”

He looked up at you again, his eyes filled with something close to desperation. “I do care.”

You shook your head, backing away from him. “It’s too late, Bruce. I don’t need you, and neither does Amara. We’re fine on our own.”

Before Bruce could respond, you turned and walked quickly toward your car, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel his gaze on your back, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t let him back into your life. Not after everything you had been through. Not after what he had done.

As soon as you reached your car, you climbed inside, locking the doors behind you. Your hands were shaking as you dialed Jason’s number again, your breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

“Ma?” Jason answered immediately, his voice tense. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the car,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “He knows, Jason. He knows about Amara.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Jason cursed softly. “Fuck. Okay, stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you glanced in the rearview mirror. Bruce was still standing in the parking lot, his hands in his pockets, watching you from a distance.

“I just want to go home,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again.

The roar of the engine filled your ears as Bruce’s firm grip on you didn’t relent, even as you screamed, fought, and kicked against him. Your mind was racing, panic taking over as you were hoisted into the Batplane like a prisoner. You were desperate, your thoughts only on Amara. She was waiting for you, expecting you to pick her up from school like any normal day. You couldn’t let Bruce drag you back to Gotham, back to the nightmare you had barely escaped from. Not again.

“Bruce, stop!” you shouted, your voice hoarse from screaming. “I need to go back! Amara’s waiting for me!”

Bruce’s face remained as unreadable as ever, though his grip tightened slightly as he sat down in the cockpit. With a calmness that only further infuriated you, he lifted his phone, dialing quickly.

Your heart sank as you heard him speak into the device. “Jason,” Bruce said, his voice rough but composed, “I have her. Bring Amara to the manor.”

“No!” you screamed, struggling harder against his hold. “You can’t take her! You can’t bring her there!”

But Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver. His jaw clenched, and he didn’t even look at you as the Batplane took off, soaring into the skies above California. “It’s the only way,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than to you.

The cold, metallic walls of the Batplane only deepened your sense of dread. You knew this feeling too well—the feeling of being trapped, of having no control over your own life. You tried to reach for the controls, but Bruce’s hand shot out to stop you, his grip still firm but not painful. His silence cut deeper than any words ever could.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why now, after all this time?"

Bruce remained silent, his blue eyes focused on the horizon ahead. You wanted to hate him, to scream at him for doing this to you. But beneath all the anger, there was something else—something that hurt more than anything.

Fear.

You were terrified. Not of Bruce, but of the possibility that this would all unravel. You had built a new life with Amara, and now everything was being torn apart. If Bruce knew about her, what else could he take from you?

Minutes passed like hours as the Batplane crossed the distance between California and Gotham. You had stopped screaming, though your heart was still racing, your mind spinning. And when the Batplane finally landed in the familiar shadows of the Batcave, your stomach twisted with anxiety.

Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt and, without a word, lifted you into his arms again. You didn’t fight this time. The shock and exhaustion had left you numb, your thoughts jumbled as he carried you out of the plane and into the dimly lit expanse of the cave.

The moment you stepped onto the Batcave floor, you heard voices. Familiar voices.

“Mom? Bruce, what the hell are you doing?” Dick’s voice rang out, his footsteps hurried as he rushed over.

Tim followed closely behind, his expression a mix of confusion and alarm. “Bruce, stop—what’s going on?”

But before either of them could intervene, Bruce was already moving, carrying you toward the mansion’s inner halls with grim determination. He didn’t respond to his sons, didn’t look back as they trailed behind him, their voices growing more frantic.

“Bruce, stop! Let her go!” Dick shouted, his voice desperate.

Tim’s voice was filled with disbelief. “You can’t do this! What are you thinking?”

Damian, however, stood in the background, his arms crossed, a scowl plastered on his face. His cold, calculating eyes watched the scene with thinly veiled contempt. “Who is this woman?” he muttered, his voice laced with disdain. “Another one of Father’s… harlots?”

You barely registered Damian’s words as Bruce carried you through the manor and up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized where he was taking you.

The master bedroom.

Your pulse quickened as Bruce reached the door, his grip still firm but not harsh. Without a word, he opened the door and threw you inside, locking it behind you before you could even react. The heavy door slammed shut with a finality that made your stomach churn.

“No!” you screamed, pounding against the door with all the strength you had left. “Bruce, let me out! I don’t belong here! Let me go!”

But the door didn’t budge. From the other side, you could hear Bruce’s voice, low and full of regret. “I’m sorry. But this is the only way to get you home.”

Home.

You pressed your forehead against the door, tears burning in your eyes as you pounded your fists weakly against the wood. This wasn’t home. It hadn’t been for years. Not since the day Bruce had sent you to Arkham, not since everything had fallen apart.

“Bruce, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Please don’t do this.”

But the only response was silence.

Meanwhile, back in the Batcave, chaos was unfolding.

Jason had arrived using the Zeta Tube, his expression dark and his steps hurried. And with him was Amara, her small hand wrapped tightly around his as they emerged from the glowing portal. Jason’s face was set in a hard line, his jaw clenched as he scanned the cave for Bruce.

“Where is he?” Jason demanded, his voice rough with barely restrained anger.

But before anyone could answer, Amara spotted her older brother. Her face lit up, her bright eyes sparkling as she let go of Jason’s hand and rushed forward. “Dickie!”

Dick smiled through the tension, dropping to one knee to catch her in his arms. But before Amara could reach him, a flash of steel cut through the air, and suddenly, a katana was pointed directly at her throat.

Damian.

The youngest Wayne’s face was set in a deep scowl, his eyes sharp and distrustful as he held his blade steady. “Who is this child?” he asked coldly, his gaze never leaving Amara’s terrified face. “And why is she in the Batcave?”

“Damian, no!” Dick shouted, his voice filled with panic as he rushed forward, his heart stopping as he saw the fear in Amara’s wide eyes. “Put the sword down!”

Jason’s entire body tensed, his eyes flashing with fury as he stepped forward, his hand already reaching for his gun. “You little shit, if you don’t move that sword right now—”

Tim’s voice cracked with urgency. “Damian, stop! She’s just a kid!”

But Damian didn’t move, his grip on the katana unwavering. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Amara, his voice dripping with contempt. “A kid? Father brought this child here, but she’s no family of ours.”

Amara’s lip trembled, her small body frozen in place as she looked up at Damian, tears welling in her eyes. “Jayjay…” she whimpered, her voice trembling with fear.

Jason took another step forward, his hand still hovering over his gun. “Damian,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Put the fucking sword down. Now.”

For a moment, it seemed like Damian might refuse. His eyes flicked from Amara to Jason, his scowl deepening. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he slowly lowered the katana, the blade clinking softly as it hit the stone floor of the Batcave.

Amara let out a shaky breath, her tiny body trembling as she rushed into Dick’s arms, burying her face in his shoulder. Dick held her tightly, his own heart pounding as he shot Damian a furious glare.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dick snapped, his voice trembling with anger. “She’s your sister!”

Damian scoffed, sheathing his sword with a dismissive wave. “Sister? Father never mentioned any child. She’s just another stranger.”

Jason, who had been seconds away from pulling the trigger, let out a low growl, his body still tense with barely restrained rage. “You touch her again, and I swear—”

Tim quickly stepped in, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder to stop him from escalating things any further. “Jason, don’t. Not here.”

Jason clenched his jaw, his eyes still locked on Damian, but he nodded reluctantly, stepping back as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked down at Amara, who was still clinging to Dick, her small body shaking with fear.

“We need to get her out of here,” Jason muttered, his voice rough with emotion. “She doesn’t belong in this fucking circus.”

Tim nodded in agreement, his face filled with concern as he glanced toward the stairs leading to the manor. “We need to talk to Bruce. Figure out what the hell he’s thinking.”

Jason glanced at Amara, his heart breaking at the sight of her scared, tear-streaked face. “I’m going to get her out of here,” he said quietly, his voice softening as he knelt down beside her. “Hey, kiddo. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Amara sniffled, wiping her eyes as she looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “I want to go home, Jayjay.”

Jason’s heart clenched, and he nodded, scooping her up into his arms as he held her close. “I know, sweetheart. I’m going to take you home.”

But as he turned to leave, the sound of footsteps echoed through the cave, and a familiar figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

Bruce.

His eyes swept over the scene in front of him—Dick holding Amara protectively, Jason’s tense, angry stance, and Damian’s cold, calculating expression. For a moment, his face softened, his gaze landing on Amara, but it quickly hardened again as he looked at his sons.

“Amara stays,” Bruce said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Jason’s eyes darkened, his grip on Amara tightening as he took a step toward Bruce. “Like hell she does.”

But Bruce didn’t back down. His gaze flickered to Amara, who was clutching Jason’s jacket tightly, her tear-streaked face peeking out from behind her brother’s shoulder.

“She’s my daughter too,” Bruce said quietly, his voice filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

Jason’s eyes narrowed, his body trembling with rage as he glared at Bruce. “You don’t get to decide that. Not after everything.”

The tension in the Batcave was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken anger and unresolved grief. Jason’s fury had been building since the moment Bruce dragged you back here—back to the city that had chewed you up and spit you out, leaving you to fend for yourself in Arkham. For years, Jason had kept the truth of what happened to you a secret, only revealing bits and pieces to his brothers when necessary. But now, standing face to face with the man who had abandoned you, with Bruce demanding to be part of Amara’s life, Jason couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The words exploded out of him like bullets from a gun, each one laced with venom. "You don’t get to decide shit about Amara, Bruce. Do you even know what you put her mother through? Do you know what she went through in Arkham?"

Bruce’s face paled at the accusation, his expression shifting from firm resolve to uncertainty. His blue eyes flickered with confusion, as if he couldn’t understand what Jason was getting at. "Jason—"

"Do you know what they did to her in that hellhole you left her in?" Jason spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "They fucking raped her, Bruce. The guards, the inmates—they took turns with her like she was some kind of goddamn toy. You left her there to rot, and they broke her."

Bruce froze, his eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, too horrific, too painful to fully comprehend. Bruce's entire body stiffened as the weight of Jason’s accusation settled on him like a heavy blanket.

Dick’s face drained of color as he stood holding Amara, his arms tightening around her protectively. His jaw clenched, his heart breaking at the image Jason’s words conjured in his mind. He glanced down at Amara, her innocent face nestled against his chest, oblivious to the horrors being discussed. He needed to get her out of here.

"Tim," Dick called out, his voice trembling with the effort of keeping himself together, "take Amara upstairs. Now."

Tim’s eyes filled with tears, but he quickly nodded, rushing over to take Amara from Dick’s arms. "Come on, kiddo," Tim whispered, his voice breaking as he gently lifted her into his arms. "Let’s go see Alfred. He’s making cookies."

Amara blinked up at him, her small face full of confusion, but she didn’t protest. She didn’t understand why the grown-ups were acting so strange, why her big brothers seemed so upset. She clung to Tim, her little hands grasping at his shirt as he carried her up the stairs, her bright smile slowly fading as she sensed the tension in the air.

As soon as Tim disappeared with Amara, Dick’s composure shattered. He turned to Bruce, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and fury. "Is that true? Is that what happened to her in Arkham?"

Bruce didn’t answer, his throat tightening as he struggled to process what Jason had just revealed. His mind was racing, images of you flashing before his eyes—the way you had looked at him when he locked you in that room, the way you had screamed for him to let you go. He had thought he was doing the right thing, sending you to Arkham to keep you contained, to keep you from spiraling out of control after killing the Joker. But now, hearing what had happened to you, knowing that he had left you to suffer through something so horrific, the weight of his decision crushed him.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Bruce whispered, his voice hollow.

"Why didn’t I tell you?" Jason’s voice cracked with disbelief. "You didn’t care. You didn’t care enough to check on her. You left her there, and now you want to waltz back into her life and play happy family with Amara? Fuck you, Bruce."

Bruce’s fists clenched at his sides, guilt and regret crashing down on him like a tidal wave. But before he could respond, a loud, sharp sound rang through the manor—a gunshot.

The sound reverberated through the halls, echoing in the cavernous space of the Batcave.

Everything stopped.

Dick and Jason’s eyes widened in horror, their bodies freezing for a split second before the weight of what had just happened hit them like a sledgehammer.

"No," Dick breathed, his voice barely a whisper as he turned toward the stairs. "No, no, no."

Jason was already moving, his heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted toward the stairs, his boots slamming against the cold stone. "Mom!"

Bruce’s face drained of color, his entire body going numb as the realization settled in. His legs moved on their own, following after Jason and Dick, the panic seizing him in a way that left him breathless.

Damian, who had been standing off to the side, scowled as his brothers ran past him. "What now?" he muttered, irritation lining his voice.

But when he caught sight of Bruce’s expression—the way his father’s face had gone pale, the terror in his eyes—Damian’s scowl faltered. He hesitated for a moment before following the others, his confusion growing with each step.

In the kitchen, Alfred had been preparing tea when the gunshot rang out. His hands trembled, the teacup slipping from his grasp and shattering against the floor.

"Dear God…" Alfred whispered, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear the hurried footsteps from the Batcave, the frantic voices of the boys as they raced up the stairs.

Upstairs, in one of the manor’s hallways, Tim had been gently carrying Amara, trying to distract her with stories about Alfred’s famous cookies. But the moment the gunshot echoed through the manor, Tim’s heart dropped into his stomach. He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as Amara looked up at him with wide, confused eyes.

"What was that?" Amara asked, her voice small and scared.

Tim’s eyes welled with tears, his throat tightening as he held her closer. "It’s okay," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s go see Alfred."

But even as he said the words, the truth hit him like a freight train. He knew, deep down, what that sound meant. And it tore him apart.

Jason reached the door to the master bedroom first, his heart slamming against his ribs as he threw himself against it, his voice breaking with desperation. "Mom! Mom, open the door!"

Dick was right behind him, his eyes wide and frantic as he pounded against the door. "Mom, please! Let us in!"

Bruce arrived next, his face pale and his breathing shallow as he grabbed the handle, trying to open the door. But it wouldn’t budge. The lock held firm, keeping them out—keeping you in.

"Mom!" Jason screamed, his voice hoarse as he slammed his fist against the door, his strength failing him for the first time in years. "Please, don’t do this!"

But there was no response. Only silence.

The gunshot still echoed in his mind, loud and deafening, and Jason’s chest tightened with a fear he hadn’t felt since the day he had lost you the first time. The day he had come back from the dead, only to find that you were gone, locked away in Arkham, lost to him.

And now, it was happening all over again.

Bruce’s hands shook as he fumbled for the key, his fingers trembling as he unlocked the door with a loud click. The door swung open, and Jason was the first to rush inside, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes landed on you.

You were sitting by the door, slumped against the wall, your hand still holding the gun that had been pressed to your temple just moments ago. Blood pooled around you, staining the floor, and your eyes—those eyes that had once been so full of life—were now closed, your face pale.

Jason let out a guttural scream, the sound tearing from his throat as he fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached for you. "No… No, no, no… Mom…"

Dick followed close behind, his face contorting with grief as he took in the sight of you lying there, lifeless. His heart shattered into a million pieces, and he collapsed to the floor beside Jason, his hands shaking as he tried to reach out, but couldn’t.

"Mom, please…" Dick sobbed, his voice broken. "Please don’t leave us…"

Bruce stood frozen in the doorway, his entire body numb as he stared at the scene in front of him. He had failed you. Again. The weight of it crushed him, the realization that he had pushed you too far—that he had been the cause of your suffering. His legs buckled, and he sank to his knees, his face buried in his hands as the sobs overtook him.

Damian stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock and confusion as he watched his brothers fall apart. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say, what to do. He had never seen his father like this, had never seen his brothers so broken. And he didn’t understand why this woman—this stranger—had caused them so much pain.

In the kitchen, Tim held Amara tightly, his own sobs muffled as he rocked her gently, trying to keep her from hearing the anguished screams coming from upstairs.

The room was deathly silent save for the heart-wrenching sobs that echoed through the walls of Wayne Manor. Jason sat on the floor, cradling your lifeless body in his arms, rocking you gently as if it could somehow bring you back. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his chest tight with the overwhelming grief that crushed him from every side. Your blood soaked through his clothes, but he didn’t care. He held onto you as if letting go would make the reality of your death even more unbearable.

Dick knelt beside him, his hands trembling as he stroked a lock of your hair, his eyes red and swollen from the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since they had found you. His heart shattered as he looked into your eyes—eyes that once held so much love and life—but now were dull and lifeless. The realization hit him like a freight train: they were too late. He had lost you.

Jason’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, as he rocked back and forth, his face buried in your neck. "Mom… please…" he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Please come back… don’t leave us…"

But you were gone. And nothing—no amount of pleading, no amount of tears—could bring you back.

Dick’s sorrow turned to rage, his blood boiling as he turned his gaze toward Bruce, who stood frozen in the doorway. Bruce’s face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief, his breath shallow as he stared at your body. The weight of what he had done—what his choices had caused—was crushing him, but it was too late. He had failed you in the most unforgivable way.

"This is your fault," Dick growled, his voice low and dangerous. He stood slowly, his hands clenched into fists as he glared at Bruce, his eyes filled with fury. "You did this."

Bruce didn’t respond, his throat tightening as the words cut through him like a knife. He couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t argue. Deep down, he knew Dick was right. He had put you in Arkham, had abandoned you to that nightmare, and now… now you were gone because of him.

"You left her," Dick continued, his voice shaking with anger. "You left her in Arkham to suffer, and now she’s dead. Our mom is dead because of you."

Jason’s body shook with silent sobs, his grip on your body tightening as Dick’s words echoed in the room. "We lost her," Jason whispered, his voice barely audible. "We lost her…"

Bruce’s heart shattered as he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on your lifeless form. "I… I didn’t know," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I didn’t know what they were doing to her…"

Dick’s eyes blazed with fury as he stepped forward, his finger jabbing toward Bruce’s chest. "You should have known! You should have been there! But you weren’t! You weren’t there when she needed you, and now she’s gone."

Bruce recoiled at the accusation, guilt and regret tearing at him from the inside. His legs felt weak, his breath shallow, as he took a step back, his entire world crumbling around him. He had failed you in the worst possible way, and now, there was no way to make it right.

Dick wiped the tears from his face, his voice trembling with emotion as he spoke again. "Amara will be under my care from now on. Kori and I will raise her. We’ll give her the life Mom wanted for her—a normal life. Away from all of this."

Jason’s breath hitched, his sobs subsiding slightly as he slowly stood, still holding your body in his arms. His eyes were red, swollen, and filled with an emotion that Bruce couldn’t quite place—grief, yes, but something deeper, something darker. Jason met Dick’s gaze and gave a small, shaky nod, as if silently agreeing to Dick’s decision.

Dick turned to Bruce one last time, his voice full of venom. "You don’t get to have her, Bruce. You don’t get to be her father. You lost that right the day you left Mom to rot."

Without another word, Dick turned and walked toward the door, his heart heavy with the weight of everything that had just happened. Jason followed closely behind, carrying you gently in his arms, his face pale and drawn with grief.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, the tension was palpable. Tim sat on the floor, his back against the wall, holding Amara tightly in his arms. Tears streamed down his face as he clung to her, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. He had tried to keep her distracted, tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, but the gunshot had shattered that illusion. He knew what had happened. He knew you were gone.

Amara squirmed in his lap, her innocent voice cutting through the silence. "Timmy… what was that sound?"

Tim’s throat tightened, the lump in his chest making it difficult to breathe. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, couldn’t bring himself to tell her that her mother was gone. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he whispered, "It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay."

But even as he said the words, he knew they were a lie.

Damian entered the kitchen, his face as cold and emotionless as ever. He glanced at Tim, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a sigh. "She’s dead."

Tim’s heart clenched, and he let out a choked sob, his arms tightening around Amara as if holding her close could somehow protect her from the truth. "Don’t say that," Tim snapped, his voice breaking. "Don’t say that in front of her."

But Amara had already heard. She had heard Damian��s words, and though she didn’t fully understand them, she could sense the weight of the news. Her tiny hands gripped Tim’s shirt tightly, her small voice trembling as she whispered, "Where’s Mommy?"

Tim’s chest tightened, his sobs muffled as he buried his face in Amara’s hair, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume him. He couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet.

Damian, for once, remained silent. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a deep frown. He hadn’t understood what his brothers were so worked up about—why they cared so much about this woman. But seeing the way Tim clung to Amara, the way his brothers had fallen apart upstairs, a small part of Damian—one he would never admit out loud—felt… something. Something he couldn’t quite place.

But he didn’t know how to respond. So, he said nothing.

Back in the master bedroom, Bruce stood alone. The sound of the door closing behind Jason and Dick echoed in his mind, but he didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the spot where you had been, where Jason had cradled your body, where Dick had delivered his damning words.

His knees buckled, and Bruce fell to the floor, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them. The weight of his choices, the consequences of his actions, crushed him.

He had lost you. And in doing so, he had lost everything.

The silence of the room was suffocating, the only sound the faint echo of his own ragged breathing. The world seemed to close in on him, the guilt, the grief, the overwhelming sense of failure consuming him whole.

He had failed you.

He had failed his family.

And now, there was no way to make it right.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

weather the storm

this is part of the Valentine's Day Exchange @outsiders-gift-exchanges. My valentine is @dreaming-mousey, I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

Summary: Two-Bit is home alone when a battered Johnny Cade shows up at the door. Two-Bit makes sure he knows the kid knows just how loved he is.

Summer in Tulsa was almost unbearable. The heat stuck to everything like molasses. No cool wind to be found.

Two-Bit was home, sprawled out on the couch. The fan whirred above him. It clicked with every turn. He inhaled breaths of thick air.

Two-Bit dropped a hand over his eyes. His head hurt something awful, probably because he hadn’t had enough alcohol and was starting to get a hangover. He mentally cursed himself for not swinging by Darry’s to grab a beer. And with his sister becoming a teenager, his mom refused to have any alcohol in the house. Two-Bit agreed with that, he didn’t want her turning out anything like him. He didn't want her to feel the itch he felt when he saw a bottle.

Two-Bit was just about to cut his losses and try to sleep it off, when the door opened. Two-Bit almost didn’t notice the sound of the door opening, under the fan's clicking, it was almost inaudible. The floorboard creaked just loud enough to alert him.

Two-Bit sighed and pushed himself up to see over the back of the couch. He thought it was gonna be his ma or sister, but it wasn't. Johnny Cade was standing in the entryway.

The kid looked deathly pale, whole body shaking. When he caught Two-Bit’s eye, Johnny grasped behind him for the door handle as though wanting to leave.

Two-Bit stood up and put a gentle hand out towards his friend. Johnny was a jack rabbit about to spring away. He tried to keep his voice as gentle as possible, “Johnny, it’s alright. You okay?”

Johnny turned back to Two-Bit like he was facing the executioner. As Two-Bit padded closer to him, he saw the kid sporting bruises and cuts all over his face. He was holding his wrist to his chest protectively. He looked close to tears. There was blood dripping from his nose.

Two-Bit sighed softly, “Come on, Johnnykid.” Johnny was clearly frightened but he’d sought shelter with Two-Bit and that meant everything. He trusted Two to keep him safe. “It’s okay.” It felt like he was talking to a frightened animal. Two-Bit offered Johnny a hand.

Johnny looked at it for a long moment. “Is your mama home?” The question was asked not with hope, but with fear. Two-Bit’s heart clenched. It was so unfair that Two-Bit had a loving family when Johnny had no one. No, Two thought, he has me.

“Nah,” Two-Bit shook his head. “She’s at work, my sister’s at a friend’s house. It’s just you and me here.”

Johnny swallowed thickly and put his hand in Two-Bit’s. With that permission given, Two-Bit gently guided Johnny up the stairs to his bedroom. Usually when Johnny stayed over, he slept on the couch, but tonight Two-Bit knew Johnny’d feel safer close to him.

He liked places to hide.

Two-Bit closed the door behind them and pulled the curtains closed. They were cocooned in the small bedroom. Johnny's shoulders slumped.

The kid sat down on the floor by the bed, curling his knees to his chest. Two-Bit plopped down beside him and reached underneath the bed for his makeshift first aid kit. It was there only for Johnny.

As gently as he could, Two-Bit pulled Johnny’s wrist away from his chest and started to look it over. Johnny was silent as Two-Bit accessed him. Two-Bit wasn’t as good at this as Darry, but he was a passable medic when Johnny needed him.

Johnny sniffed quietly, “I don’t think it’s broken. I think I just fell on it wrong.” Johnny’s voice was so soft as though he was scared of breaking the silence.

Two-Bit nodded. “Just ice I think. You can have Darry check on it tomorrow to make sure.” 

These nights had been happening more and more. Johnny would come into the house late at night with his face busted and bruises all over him. If Two-Bit’s ma was home, she’d give him something to eat, make him take a shower, and make sure he had plenty of blankets before going to sleep. 

Two-Bit was no good at that kind of thing, the best he could do was clean up the blood and give Johnny a quiet place to lay low until he felt safe enough to leave. Maybe that's why Johnny would come to him, because he wouldn't ask questions.

The blood on Johnny's was tacky as it started to dry. Two-Bit smeared it away with a wet cloth, not as gentle as he should have been. But Johnny didn't say anything.

It seemed like Johnny was trying to get even smaller. He ducked his head down and pulled his knees flush to his chest. “Just the same as always,” Johnny murmured. “I didn’t even do anything this time.”

Two-Bit wanted to tell him that Johnny never did anything wrong. The things his parents beat him for were as simple as breathing. Two-Bit wasn’t the responsible one in the group, he wasn’t the best caretaker, but he loved Johnny like a brother. If Johnny asked, Two-Bit would take him under his wing. He’d feed him and make sure he had a bed every night. But Johnny would never ask and Two-Bit would never offer.

“I know,” Two-Bit had a real hard time being gentle, but he always tried with Johnny. God knows that kid didn’t have enough of that in his life. Two-Bit hissed under his breath when he moved Johnny's hair out of his face and found a long gash on the crown of his head.

Two-Bit sighed sadly. “They got you real good this time, kid.” 

Johnny swallowed thickly, “Yeah. My ma…she took something. I don’t know what it was.”

“Powder or pill?”

“Powder,” Johnny confirmed. Two-Bit buzzed his lips. He didn’t envy the kid one bit. His dad was a piece of shit before he left but at least he didn’t do anything like that. Johnny’s folks were rough on him normally, he couldn’t even imagine what they’d be like on something. 

Two-Bit remembered the first time he met little Johnny Cade. The boy had been sitting on Mrs. Curtis’s lap, crying as she tended to a cigarette burn on the back of his hand. Ponyboy had already been attached to the older boy and was sitting beside him holding his other hand. 

Looking at Johnny now, he still saw that little boy deep inside. But he was hidden by a teenager who had seen too much of the world and its cruelty. There was a burn scar on the back of his hand from that day. Sometimes Johnny would run a finger over it without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” Two-Bit murmured. He set aside the dirty rags. Johnny deserved so much better than that. Hell, most of them in the gang deserved better. Two-Bit used to be so jealous of the Curtis brothers, not anymore. He was not the only one with an alive parent who loved them.

Johnny shrugged with one shoulder. “Doesn’t fix it.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Two-Bit agreed. He wished it did. “How does that feel?”

Johnny scrunched his face up and nodded, “Not too bad. It’s been worse.” And then, Johnny did something that surprised Two-Bit to no end. He leaned his head on Two-Bit’s shoulder, a tear slipping from his eye. 

Two-Bit sighed. Goddammit. Johnny wanted so much to be seen as an adult. He tried to pretend the violence didn’t affect him but he was still just a kid. Ponyboy may have been the youngest, but it was Johnny who they all looked out for, Johnny who they fed and clothed. Johnny was theirs and no one was allowed to hurt him.

“You’re safe here,” Two-Bit said in a poor resemblance to Soda's comfort. He winced internally, but it didn't seem to bother Johnny. “If anyone tries to hurt you here, I’ll kill them myself.”

Johnny laughed a little, sniffing back tears. “I know. You’re pretty tuff.”

“So are you.” Two-Bit smirked. He puffed up just a little, knowing Johnny thought that. “You want to take a shower?”

Johnny shook his head, “I’m so tired, Keith.”

His true name sounded strange on Johnny’s tongue. It softened something inside of Two-Bit. God Johnny must have been real fucked up. “I know, Johnny. You can sleep in my bed, I’ll steal my ma’s.”

“Stay?” Johnny asked. “I know it’s stupid, but…I just keep thinkin’ that one of them is gonna barge in here. I’ll stay on the floor.”

Two-Bit rolled his eyes. As if he was gonna make the kid sleep on the floor. “Come on, I don’t smell that bad, you can share with me.” 

After checking another half dozen times to make sure it was alright, Johnny crawled into the bed.

Two took the side closest to the door so Johnny was safely tucked between him and the wall. The curves of their spines were touching lightly. Two-Bit could feel Johnny’s soft breathing.

Tomorrow would be another day, one where Johnny's face was bruised. Just a normal day. But for the night, he was safe beside one of his best friends.

[puddingcatbeans]

timkon; bad nights happen (i'm just a call away).

Kon snaps awake. He stares up at his ceiling, trying to figure out what woke him. The rest of the house is still asleep---Pa is snoring gently, Ma is breathing steadily, Krypto is snuffling at his feet---and the farm is quiet. A quick glance at the clock shows it's barely past 4am. So what...

A buzz somewhere under the covers. Kon swipes his hand through the tangled mess of comforter and pillows, digging out his phone.

[Tim] hey arre u awske

[Tim] sry nvnr mind

Kon squints at the phone. Tim never has this many spelling mistakes unless he's absolutely shitfaced or high on painkillers. Did he get hurt on patrol again?

Just as Kon is typing a reply, his phone starts vibrating with a call. He nearly drops it in his hurry to pick up.

"Tim? What's---"

"Good, you're up." Kon sits up, suddenly wide awake. The voice on the other end is deeper, gruffer, with a very distinct edge of an accent. "How fast can you make it to Gotham?"

Kon wastes a second making sure he's really awake. "Why are you on Tim's phone, Hood?"

"Don't worry about it. Now answer my question."

Kon is already grabbing the nearest shirt. "What happened to Tim?"

"He's here, he's not bleeding or missing any other internal organs," Hood says. There's some shuffling on his end, and what sounds like a muffled protest.

With Kon's hearing, he can just about make out Tim's familiar cadence, but not the words. He relaxes slightly at the sound.

"Nope, nuh-uh, baby bird, I told you to call him. Didn't you want proof?" Tim's voice tapers off, and Hood's voice comes back clearer. "So, Superboy. I'm giving you five minutes, or Timberly's next panic attack is on you."

Kon is already in the sky.

He touches down on the window sill of a modest apartment just outside Park Row. A safehouse, probably. He can hear two heartbeats inside, one steadier than the other. He knocks, knowing better than to set off all the alarms by trying to go in on his own. Jason appears, helmet off and looking exhausted.

"What's going on?" Kon asks, slipping inside.

"Fear toxin. New strain or some shit, antidote isn't working right. He keeps having flashbacks to when you were dead."

Kon sucks in a breath. He's heard how messed up Tim was that horrible, horrible year when he was gone. Even after he came back, after Batman came back, sometimes Tim still gets this look in his eye. Haunted, broken. It hurts to see him like that and know that Kon caused part of it.

"---tried to call the speedster, too," Jason is saying, leading him down the hall. "But he's currently not in this dimension or whatever. Anyway. Just come here and convince Tim you're not a hallucination, okay? I'll buy you a beer tomorrow."

"I'm a minor," Kon says, distracted. Tim's heartbeat has sped up again, his breaths hitching.

"A milkshake, then." Jason knocks on the doorframe before stepping into the bedroom. His voice turns almost gentle when he goes, "Timmy. You still with us?"

There's a lump of blankets on the floor next to the bed. Tim peers out at them, and even from across the room, Kon can see him shaking. He's pressed up against the nightstand, eyes darting back and forth, trying to see everything all at once.

"Hey, Rob," Kon says, stepping forward. "Heard you missed me."

Tim stares. "Kon," he whispers. "You're alive."

"Yeah, buddy." Kon kneels down in front of Tim. Up close, he looks even worse: heavy eyes bags, tears stuck on eyelashes, scratches on his arms from his own fingernails. Distantly, he's aware of Jason backing out of the room. "Hey. What do you need?"

Taking in a wavering breath, Tim reaches out. His fingertips are ghosts against Kon's skin, tracing their way up from his collarbones to his jawline, his cheekbones, his nose. Kon holds still. When Tim meets his eyes again, his breathing is still too shallow, but slower.

"You're alive," Tim repeats. "You're real."

When Kon opens his arms, Tim falls into them. Kon wastes no time in pulling the other boy into his lap, tangled blankets and all. Tim is clutching him back just as hard, fingers digging into the rumpled flannel that he threw on, face mashed against his neck. Without meaning to, Kon runs his TTK through Tim, checking for injuries. Somehow, this seems to reassure Tim further, causing him to slump against Kon like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

"You're okay," Kon says quietly into Tim's sweaty hair. "You're safe. Batman is back, Bart's back, I'm back, I'm here. You're nineteen, you survived, and you're not alone anymore."

Tim's exhale sounds more like a sob. Kon pretends he hears nothing. He just sits there and holds onto Tim as his best friend shakes apart in his arms. He sits there and breathes as Tim slowly puts himself back together.

[kittyadore]

Hi Hi 👋🏼 can you please do an earth 42 miles x reader when it's Halloween and they go out trick or treating together 💟

halloween

—𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦!42 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴

—𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

—𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵; 1,4𝘬

—𝘢/𝘯; hi lovelies, thank u so much for the request !! i had fun writing this, i really think e!42 miles is a cutie. sum e!1610 miles coming soon hopefully, please leave requests so i know what you guys want to read. also thank u so much for the 140 (i think) likes under my previous post, as its my first ever, it means a lot to me💝💝

As October descended upon Brooklyn, whispers of Halloween's approach filled the air. Your eyes sparkled with anticipation, and you couldn't contain your excitement for the upcoming festivities. But Miles, with a furrowed brow, scoffed at the idea, preferring solitude over celebrations.

Undeterred by Miles' grumpiness, you decided to transform his home into a magical realm of Halloween delight. His mother approved of your brilliant ideas, so the boys' opinion couldn't change anything. Armed with a vivid imagination and an overflowing box of decorations, you set out to infuse the flat with the spirit of the season.

While you took your time adorning his bedroom with ghostly figures, cobwebs, and some pumpkins, your boyfriend observed you from a distance, a skeptical expression etched on his face. Despite his reservations, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity as your enthusiasm filled the air.

Subsequently, you transformed the living room into a haunted haven. With Rio's help, you strung orange and black streamers, hung paper bats from the ceiling, and carefully arranged a display of glowing jack-o'-lanterns. Miles' grumpiness wavered as he watched your infectious excitement, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the evening came, you turned your attention to cute couple Halloween costumes. You spent hours crafting intricate outfits-a brooding vampire for Miles and a whimsical fairy costume for yourself. Miles grumbled about the discomfort of wearing a costume, but deep down, he couldn't deny the sparkle in your eyes, even though he tried to fight it.

"You're trippin, ma." The boy intervened firmly as he shook his head in disbelief. "I am not wearing that, no way." The sharp tone of his voice struck through your heart, slowly breaking it into pieces. You knew he wasn't the type to participate in adorable couple activities, but you didn't understand why couldn't he spend his time with you, at least during such fascinating time.

"Oh come on, Miles, why not?" You pouted, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a disapproving gaze. You were sure of his opinion, but deep down, you still had some hope, that the captivating season could soften his heart, even the tiniest bit. "It's like you don't love me anymore, Miles. You never do anything fun with me, we barely even spend time together. You're always out doing your 'important work', putting off our plans" You snapped at him, with slight wrath audible in your voice

"I get it, you might not be a fan of all those 'cringy' couple activities, but please, can't you enjoy your time with me for once?" You continued, your gaze shifting from his face to his torso. You could notice the confusion on his face, as you weren't the type to talk to him like this. "But alright, if you don't want to, I can just go out with someone else. You have fun here"

Miles made his way up to his bed, sitting down beside you, letting out a sigh, as he entwined his hands with yours. Staring into his eyes, you could see them filling up with agony, clearly hurt after hearing your truthful speech.

"Look, mami. I'm sorry I haven't given you enough time lately, you know, I just cant explain it. I want to keep you safe" Your boyfriend started the same answer you hear every time you would bring up his job. It was different though, he never really genuinely apologized to you. Sure, a quick 'my bad' or 'i'll do better' usually left his mouth, but you've never heard him say 'i'm sorry'. He put his head down as he continued.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, you know I'm not happy about me canceling our dates either. I can dress up and go trick-or-treating with you, ma. I hate seeing you like this, I'll do better, princessa."

Miles stole a quick kiss on your lips, then on your forehead as he got up from the bed, reaching over to your Halloween costumes. His lips shifted into a soft smile as he felt a wave of warmth strike through his heart.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you two emerged from his house, you adorned in vibrant fairy costume that shimmered under the moonlight. You fluttered your wings, casting a spell of enchantment that swirled around Miles.

Miles, reluctantly participating, donned a simple costume, a bloodthirsty vampire. Deep down, he couldn't resist your excitement, and a flicker of curiosity ignited within him, as you took the lead.

Hand in hand, you set off into the moonlit streets, where houses were adorned with cobwebs, glowing pumpkins, and haunting decorations. Children, disguised as witches, superheroes, and ghosts, giggled and chattered as they darted from door to door.

You, with your infectious laughter, skipped ahead, your voice like a melody in the night. Miles trailed behind, his grumpy attitude slowly giving way to the passion he hadn't felt in years.

At each house, children eagerly showcased their costumes, their eyes shining with anticipation. Your eyes danced with delight, and your laughter filled the crisp autumn air. Miles, though initially skeptical, found himself chuckling at your excitement, realizing that Halloween held a joy he had long forgotten.

As you continued your journey collecting candy, you arrived at a house unlike any other. It's porch was adorned with shimmering lights, and a melodious tune drifted through the air. You approached, your hand entwined with your boyfriends' and your eyes wide with wonder, and rang the doorbell.

The door creaked open, revealing an elderly man dressed as a magician. With a flourish of his wand, he produced a basket overflowing with candy. As he handed you a treat, he leaned in and whispered, "May the magic of this night bring joy to even the coldest of hearts."

Miles was taken aback by the man's words. Perhaps there was more to Halloween than he had ever realized. A seed of enchantment had been planted within him, sprouting into a newfound appreciation for the night's festivities.

Eager to share this newfound delight, Miles' coldness dissipated like mist in the morning sun. He engaged in playful banter with fellow trick-or-treaters, admiring their costumes and sharing in the joy of the evening.

As the moon reached its zenith, you approached the final house on your route. The porch was transformed into a whimsical wonderland, complete with floating candles and mystical creatures. Your eyes sparkled, and Miles' heart swelled with anticipation.

You knocked on the door, and it swung open to reveal a woman dressed as a fortune teller. Her voice was soft and melodious as she greeted you. Miles exchanged glances with you, feeling as though you had stumbled into a magical realm.

The fortune teller handed you each a small, golden envelope. "Open these when the clock strikes midnight," she whispered, her eyes twinkling with mystery.

With a sense of wonder pulsing through your veins, you and your boyfriend bid the fortune teller farewell. You made your way back home, your pumpkin buckets filled to the brim with sweet treasures.

As the clock neared midnight, you sat on the couch, in the decorated living room. With a hushed countdown, you opened your golden envelopes in unison.

Inside, you discovered handwritten notes, each containing a heartfelt message from the other. Words of love, appreciation, and gratitude spilled from the pages, filling your hearts with warmth.

You and Miles exchanged smiles, your souls intertwined in a magical moment. You realized that the true enchantment of Halloween was not just in the costumes or treats, but in the bonds that were strengthened and the love that was kindled.

As the clock struck midnight, Miles took your hand in his and whispered, "Thank you for showing me the magic of this night, ma. I'm sorry for being so harsh with you and canceling our dates so often. If they are as amazing as this one, it will never happen again." Your eyes shimmered with happiness and you let out a quiet laugh at his words.

Under the moonlit sky, the two of you shared a tender kiss, the magic of the night enveloping you. In that moment, you knew that love, laughter, and the spirit of Halloween would forever illuminate your lives, casting away any shadows of coldness that may try to linger.

[blakeromanissuperior]

I'll Look Your Way- (Stolas x Blitz)

Warning: fluff, slight tickling (for like a second or two), baby talk, strong language, and a little angst in the beginning

Note: please enjoy, I hope this heals the pain that the new episode brought. This is taking place a day or two after the fight with Blitz and Stolas.

It has been a couple of days since Stolas and Blitz split contact, and it hasn't been easy on either of them. Blitz is laying on the couch crying as he looks at all the old selfies he took with the owl, he wishes he could fix this. Suddenly Loona's door opens and she steps out "hey Blitz, Tex invited me to another party. I'm going out" she waited a few seconds but no response, she raised an eyebrow and got a little angry. "Blitz are you deaf, damn you are so insufferable sometimes!" Again no response, that's when Loona walked around to the couch and ripped the blanket off her adopted father. "Blitz I swear you are so fu-" she pauses when she sees her adopted dad looking up at her with tears pouring down his face. The hellhounds ears lowered when she saw the imp, she knew something bad happened because Blitz doesn't cry much. "I'm sorry loonie.... You shouldn't s-see me like t-this.." The imp stuttered out, which made his adopted daughters heart break. She sat down and pulled the smaller demon into a hug "dad..... What happened?" She asked hoping maybe he'd open up to her, he clearly wasn't fine and she wouldn't take a bull shit excuse. Blitz sighed and explained "Stolas gave me this Cristal but I can't see him or hear his voice anymore, I really screwed up Lonnie. I was so blind and only thought he wanted me for sex, when he really just wants me to look his way." Blitz choked on his tears and hugged onto his adopted daughter tightly, Loona didn't want her dad to hurt. "Well I can drop you off at his castle on my way to the party, do you want me to do that dad?" Lonna asked softly, she watched as blitz nodded into her shoulder. "Thanks Lonnie, I love you so much." Blitz mumbled which made Loona chuckle "I love you too dad, now come on I'll help you pick out an outfit!"

Stolas sat in the living room with his make up ruined from the nights of crying, hell he still is crying. He's listening to every voice mail or voice message him and blitz had sent to each other, he missed him dearly. He didn't hear the front door to the palace open and poured another glass of wine, he thought he could drink to forget. But the drinking only makes the memories stronger, but he kept doing it because he felt something other then numb. No matter how many happy pills he takes it doesn't work, he's lost and hurt from breaking the string that connected him and the imp. Eventually the sadness turns to anger, he yells and throws the wine glass at the wall. "Damn it, stop letting your feelings get to you Stolas!" The British owl prince put his hands over his face and leaned over, tears that are much warming then he's ever felt running down his face and soaking his hands. That's until his breath hitched at a voice that he loved so dearly, a voice he knew was one that he would always have, one that made him know he'd be okay. "Dad..... Why are you crying?" His daughter Octavia asked as she walks over with her bag from the weekend at her mothers, Stolas tried to give a dumb excuse. "Oh hello my owlet, don't worry darling I'm just stressed out from my work!" He wiped his tears and reassured his daughter, suddenly an idea popped into his head. "My dear, we should watch a movie and you can pick which!" He smiled softly, Octavia's eyes lit up and the angsty teen practicality jumped into her dad's arms. "I'd love to, can it be a scary movie?!" She asked wiggling her fingers towards her dad, he giggled and patted his daughters head. "Sure darling, whichever you want!"

Blitz looked in the mirror and smiled "wow hunny you really know how to rock, I love this outfit!" The imp was checking himself out, which is normal "damn I really do look hot!" That comment made Lonna laugh to, her and her dad are ready for their nights. They left the apartment and went to the car, Blitz is driving though because he's overprotective. They drive through pentagram city and talked about whatever, until they reached Loona's stop. "You be safe now Loonie, don't get to messed up please!" He said rubbing her head, she gritted her teeth with a growl. "Yes I know dad, I'll be fine. Go make things right with that clingy, rich, asshole plaything of yours." She groaned and got out of car to go into the party, Blitz sighed and prayed it wouldn't go bad. He waved goodbye to his daughter and started driving to the palace, he made sure to give himself a pep talk. "Okay Blitz you got this, can't fuck this up now. Go tell him how you feel, you got this!" He mumbled as he got closer to the palace, when he arrived he felt his heart stop. He stayed in the car for a couple minutes trying to figure out how to apologize, then he got out and knocked on the door.

Stolas cocked his head at the movie his daughter put on. "So he puts people in traps so they'll have another chance at life?" He asked with a little bit of a surprise in his tone, Octavia nodded and muched on her popcorn. "Yeah exactly!" She smiled but that was short lived when a knock on the door came, stolas sighed and paused the tv. "Hold on my owlet, someone needs me." He ruffled her hair before going to answer the door, and he finds Blitz on the other side. "Stolas please just listen to me, I'm sorry. I want you I really do, I was so blind I thought you only liked the sex and us being friends with benefits. I really do love you and I'm sorry, please let me look your way..... I will look your way." The imp cried and hoped the owl would forgive him for not seeing it sooner, instead Stolas picked him up and hugged him close. "Oh Blitzy that's all I've wanted to hear from you, I'm so happy you feel the way I do. I'll take care of you forever, I promise!" He wiped the imps tears and smiled he deeply loves this boy with all his heart, even if he's lower class. Stolas giggled and gave Blitz bird kisses on his face and neck, the imp giggled and pushed at the Royal owl who's he's longed to love. "Stolas hey quit it!" He laughed and so did his new lover, Stolas smiled softly at the imp. "My daughter is making me watch some movie called saw, wanna join?" He asked and Blitz nodded excitedly, he's always loved horror movies. "Of course, I love the Saw movies!" He smiled and Stolas carried him in gently, he sat down with Octavia. "Blitz is joining us Octavia, we are together now." The owl smiled at his daughter and Octavia smiled to, she didn't mind Blitz that much. "Okay dad's congratulations, I'm proud of you!" She smiled and Blitz face lit up, the imp hugged onto Stolas arm and giggled. "She called us dad's!" Which made stolas giggle at how excited Blitz was, he wiggled his fingers over the imps stomach, which definitely got him to let go. Stolas and Octavia laughed at Blitz and the way he made a dying Segal sound, Blitz giggled and climbed on to Stolas lap and jumped as Stolas moved his hands near him. "Hey watch it!" He yelped but calmed down when Stolas wrapped him in a little hug, he gave Blitz a kiss on the cheek. "Darling relax I'm not gonna do that again, besides a movie as a little family is better then anything else." The prince smiled and turned his attention to the tv along with the rest of them. He was happy he had his imp, he was happy he looked his way after all these years of begging.

[bellysoupset]

The “sick but caretaker doesn’t believe them” troupe has been absolutely stuck in my mind!!

I keep thinking of a scenario where Wen/Vin have a bit of an argument or disagreement and they part ways. After a bit they meet up again where Vince starts feeling a little sick but Wendy thinks it’s him playing it up for her since he feels bad about the argument. However suddenly, it hits him like a train and Wendy feels sorry for laying of his comments

We haven't been in a scenario where Vince/Wen would work like this... Until now. A little more lighthearted than your normal "caretaker doesn't believe them" fic, though! I just can't see Wendy being mean like Bell.

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Wendy let out a squeal as Ma scoffed and planted her calloused hands over Wen's, sinking them in the dough, "what?" the woman said roughly, forcing Wendy's fingers in, "you're disgusted by the food?"

"No!" She said quickly, "I just didn't want to mess it up-" and now she was all sticky and had no idea of what to do next. Couldn't even scratch her nose because there was flour up to her elbows and sticky dough keeping her fingers glued together.

"There's no messing it up," Magda rolled her eyes fondly, "don't just stand there like a statue, knead it, Wendy!"

"Sorry! Sorry-" Wendy chuckled, starting to press the dough in. It seemed like she was making a bigger mess and she had no idea how Ma was so calm, considering Wendy's mother would've been having a stroke.

"Aw, there you are," Vince's voice rung through the kitchen and Wendy looked past her shoulder. He was standing in the doorway, sweaty and panting from being in the yard playing basketball with his dad and his sister, "I lost you."

"Don't come into my kitchen all sweaty, Vicenzo!" Ma cried out, but her son ignored her, all but draping himself on Wendy, resting his chin to the top of her head.

"Vince, you're all sticky," Wendy whined, cringing. Vince had been all over her lately and after his little jealous episode with Max, she had thought it was over with, but nope. He seemingly didn't want her out of his eyesight even for a minute, causing for some embarrassment with his family.

"Uhm," Vince pouted, squeezing her despite Wendy's complaints, "what are you cooking?"

"Ma's teaching me how to make gnocchi," Wen perked up, continuing to push around the sticky mess, that was slowly coming together, "scratch my nose?"

Vince scratched it for her, still refusing to let go, paying no mind to Wendy squirming or his mother complaining about his presence. He was like a furnace and Wendy more than once tried to push him off of her, to the point she was getting increasingly frustrated. There was being loving and there was... Whatever this was.

"Vince, let go off me," she jammed her elbow on his chest, not to hurt him, but so it was uncomfortable enough he'd stop hugging her like an octopus. He pulled back, frowning and seeming terribly upset.

"I don't feel well, can't we just cuddle and watch a movie?"

Wendy had to restrain herself not to eyeroll, while Ma let out an open snort, "you're not six, Vince, learn how to share your friends. Get out of here."

He glared at his mom, then at Wendy, and turned around without a word. Wendy cringed, it was really hard to annoy her boyfriend and she didn't want to find out how it was being in his bad side.

"Okay, now where was I- Right, the potatoes," Ma wasn't bothered at all by her son's behavior, pulling Wendy be the elbow and demanding her attention.

It was almost an hour and a half later when she was released from her almost-mother-in-law claws, feeling incredibly accomplished with herself.

Vince was draped in the living room couch, while Liv was cuddled up on his side, both of them watching Inside Out. He raised his eyes when Wendy walked in, but other than that said nothing and Wen pouted.

"Aw, honey, don't sulk," she grinned, running to the couch and jumping over them. Livia let out a squeal and Wendy attacked her with kisses, before turning to do the same to her boyfriend, but Vince had an angry frown on and instead he moved so he was sitting up.

"I'm not sulking," he scoffed, pushing himself up and Livia nearly fell off the couch. Wendy caught her by the armpits, pulling the little girl up to sit on her lap and taking her previous spot, so she could be in the small edge that Vince's body left on the couch.

"Do you think he's sulking?" Wendy grinned to Livia, who had wrapped her arms around her neck. Liv studied her brother, before nodding enthusiastically.

"Very."

"Very? He's sulking very much?" Wendy leaned in, kissing Liv's nose, "how can we cheer him up?"

"Wendy, get off of me," Vince groaned, clearly not in the mood. Wen's amused smile wavered and then vanished as Vin pushed her thigh, all but shoving her out of the couch.

"VIN!" Livia cried out as they both fell on the rug, her shrill voice muffling Wendy's much more pissed off, "Vince, what the fuck?"

Her desire to yell at her boyfriend though disappeared in an instant, because Vince was sitting up straight, hunched over his middle, a hand hovering over his lips.

"MAAAAAAA Vinny's SIIICK!" Livia yelled, getting up, and Vince winced at the screaming, while Wendy scooted closer, planting a hand on his shoulder.

She cursed herself, he was so warm. Wendy had erroneously assumed it was because of the basketball game. She rubbed his back, "Vin, honey, let's get you to a bathroom, c'mon-"

"No," his voice was thick with nausea and Vince squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing convulsively, "not- Not-"

"Liv, stop yelling!" Sophia exclaimed, entering the room holding a popcorn bucket and shoving it in her brother's chest, "Babbo told you, you looked green earlier... Couldn't you have gone sit in the bathroom like a grown up, Vin?" she sounded annoyed and Wendy shot her a glare.

"Soph, not now," she said gently, while Vince hugged the bowl, a small burp coming up as well as some watery saliva. Both women cringed, while Livia let out a loud "eeww."

"Liv, shush it," Sophia glared at her baby sister, as if she was being all that much thoughtful. Livia pouted, glaring right back.

"You shush it," she showed her tongue, causing the teenager to do the same and Wendy rolled her eyes at the interaction, thanking God she was an only child, then jumped slightly as Vince gagged and an impressive wave of his liquified lunch fell in the bowl.

He panted over the bucket, clearly feeling like hell and Wendy rubbed his back, heart clenching as Vin let out a little moan and heaved again. Over his head, Sophia gulped up, paling and just like her brother did, she turned a little green.

"Sophia, get out of here," Wendy sighed, "I got him."

Soph gulped down, nodding and grabbing Livia, who let out a squeal at being picked up as if she was a doll.

"But Vin is sick, Soph, I wanna be with him-" Wendy heard the little girl whining at being carried away. Under Wen's hand, Vince let out a relieved sigh.

"Thanks..." He croaked, resting his forehead on the edge of the bucket.

"No, don't thank me," Wendy sighed, sitting next to him, "I should've heard you when you said you felt sick."

"I didn't- I didn't say it like that-" He tried to argue and she shook her head, frustrated.

"Vince," she pushed his curls back, away from his sweaty forehead, "I shouldn't have brushed you off, I'm sorry."

He leaned against her hand, moving so his mouth was once again hanging over the bowl and spat the saliva pooling in his mouth, "Gon'be sick..."

"That's okay, get it up," Wendy moved so she could hold the bowl with her free hand, not trusting his weak grasp, "you're gonna feel better soon."

Vince let out yet another airy, empty burp and gagged once, twice- He lurched forward with another heave and she cringed, the bucket getting considerably heavier as her boyfriend turned inside out.

He coughed, then let out a moan, head hanging and a line of drool falling from his lips, "M'sorry..."

"Don't apologize for being sick," she berated him lightly, kissing his feverish forehead, "you know this stuff doesn't gross me out."

Vince gulped down, then forced up a bigger burp and spat another foul mouthful of liquid, before leaning back and away from the bucket.

"Done...?" Wendy wasn't sure she believed him when he nodded, he was still really pale. Still, she took the bucket and planted it on the coffee table, carefully moving on the couch in order to rub Vince's arm, "deep breaths, honey."

"I'm really..." His voice broke and Vince cleared his throat, "really sorry."

"Honey, don't-"

"No, not-" he pressed a fist to his mouth, muffling a burp and gagging. Wendy's hand shot to retrieve the bucket, but he settled back down, "not about this."

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"Bou'everything...Else," his voice was thick with nausea and Vince closed his eyes, breathing through another wave of queasiness. Wendy frowned, unsure of what he meant, but not liking one bit the direction this conversation was heading to.

She combed her fingers softly through his hair, nails on his scalp, and Vince opened his eyes once more, turning his head so his forehead was against her palm. His dark eyes had little pained lines around them and he looked damn close to tears, causing something horrible to settle in Wendy's stomach, "Vin?"

"You're working so much because I left," he blurted out, then glared at her when Wendy promptly opened her mouth to retort, "no. Don't lie to me."

"I- I'm not- I..." And she wasn't. Wendy loved her job and she loved all of her hobbies and her classes, she wasn't doing any of that to get back at him or to fill in any voids... But she missed him. She missed him so much, being in Doveport for such an extended amount of time just highlighted how much she adored being Vince's company.

It wasn't the sex that she missed or doing all the cutesy couple things that they couldn't thanks to the long distance — although, those as well — but it was him. She missed how warm her boyfriend was and and how upbeat and caring he was, how he refused to kill even a spider and the way his hair products had started to take over her vanity back when they shared a town. She missed his cooking and how Vince never ever shouted no matter how annoyed she made him and the way that he looked in those rare mornings where Wendy managed to wake up before him...

"Wen?"

"I miss you," she was choked up all of sudden, "but I'm not- I'm not-"

Vince frowned, then moved slightly on the couch, so he could get closer to her. Wendy felt another stab of guilt, why was he comforting her, when he was the one so sick?

"Hey, it's okay-"

"Is this why you're all over me?" Wendy realized, moving her hand from his hair and sitting up straight, "because you're guilty?"

Vince's eyes were dazed with fever as he shook his head, "I miss you," he said, in a small voice, before he jostled with a cough, hand rushing up to his mouth. Wendy helped him lean forward to cough, only to immediately be forced to grab the bucket as the fit turned into gags.

He held it with a groan, face twisting in disgust since it hadn't bee emptied, and Vince gagged harshly. Wendy held the bucket as well, her free hand rubbing his back up and down, while her mind whirled. She hadn't thought things were bad between them, they were making long distance work, right? They were great at it...

"Aw, piccolino," Giuseppe stepped into the living room and caused Wendy's head to snap. She was always a little amazed by how young Vince's dad looked, although he was well into his sixties. The man was wearing the basketball shorts from when he had been playing with Sophia and Vince, but now with a dad sweater on top, creating the weirdest combo, "Wendy, let's get him to bed, okay?"

"No," Vince moaned, gagging once more and spitting up another mouthful, "I wanna go home..."

It was like his father had been slapped and Wendy cringed in sympathy. Surely Vince's parents hadn't expected him to no longer consider his childhood home... Well, home.

"I got him," Wendy said gently, "really, I got him."

Giuseppe blinked quickly, collecting himself, "of course, sweetheart. You just holler if you need anything?"

"Yeah," Wendy's whole face was aflame, as Vince took measured breaths, trying to get his stomach in check. Without thinking she added, "I'm sorry" and the older man waved her off, face turning all wrinkly as he smiled.

"You got him," he said in a soft, fond manner, that caused Wendy's eyes to well up in tears unprompted, "I'm not worried."