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stylesispunk · 5 months ago

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Silent strain | part iv

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

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summary: Time passes by and Joel still doesn't come back. The baby arrives and you feel lonely.

w.c: 10,5k

warnings: angst, mentions of birth, fluff, mentions of blood, not proofreading. Paragraphs in bold indicate flashbacks & paragraphs in cursive indicate journal entries. Reader cries a lot in this one, we didn't have a good week.

a/n: chapter four is here! Thank you to everyone who take their time to leave comments and share this story, which was supposed to be only 3 chapters but became longer. I hope you like this one. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Since you had met Joel, this was the first time you had ever been in a room without him. You were surrounding by walls in a safe place that it was foreign for you, sitting alone on the edge of a bed that you had just shared with Joel the night prior, now feeling impossibly lonely without him around. The weight hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the reality that Joel had left and you didn’t know if him and Ellie would be alright.

The weight of it hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the overwhelming reality that Joel had left. That you didn’t know if he and Ellie were alright. If they ever would be. A tight knot formed in your chest, pulling tighter with each passing minute.

Your mind raced, thoughts of where Joel might be gnawing at you. Were they already on the road? Were they safe? Had they run into trouble? You tried to push the thoughts away, tried to convince yourself they were fine, that Joel would protect Ellie like he always had. But the fear lingered, gnawing at you in the quiet of the room.

You stood abruptly, the need to do something, anything, to shake off the growing anxiety driving you to your feet. Pacing around the bedroom, your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, trying to think, trying to breathe through the tightening in your chest.

But no matter how hard you tried; the worry wouldn’t leave. Each time you circled the room, it felt as though the walls were closing in a little more, trapping you in this unbearable uncertainty.

And then, as you turned again, your eyes landed on something that stopped you cold.

There, on the chair by the window, was Joel’s shirt. Not just any shirt—his favorite one, the one he always wore, the one that had become your favorite too. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from your lungs. You stepped closer, almost as if in a trance, and your trembling fingers reached out to touch the fabric.

The scent of him still lingered in the material, that familiar mix of worn cotton, faint sweat, and the earthy scent that was unmistakably Joel. The tears that had been building in your chest all day finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks as you clutched the shirt in your hands.

Life in the QZ didn’t leave much room for joy. Every day was a struggle, ration cards barely covering enough food, let alone anything extra. But you had managed to save up just enough to get him something special.

The shirt.

You had seen it hanging in the back of a small booth during one of your shifts at the QZ market. It wasn’t much—faded, a little worn—but it had a softness to it that you thought Joel might appreciate. He never said it out loud, but you could tell his clothes were becoming threadbare, the weight of the world making even the little comforts seem unattainable. You wanted to change that, even in a small way.

The look on his face when you handed it to him had been one of complete confusion, like he didn’t quite know what to do with kindness anymore.

“Why’d you get me this?” Joel had asked, his brow furrowing as he held up the shirt, inspecting it like he thought there was some kind of catch.

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “I just… thought you could use something new. You’ve been wearing the same damn thing since I met you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes were still guarded, suspicious. “You used your rations for this?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a little softer, more vulnerable than you intended. “It’s no big deal. Just… thought you deserved something nice.”

Joel stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the shirt like he was afraid to accept it, afraid of what it meant. His gaze flickered to yours, and you saw something there, unreadable.

“Why’re you doing this for me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost accusing, as if he couldn’t believe that someone would care about him enough to make such a gesture.

You took a step closer, your heart hammering in your chest. “Because I want to, Joel. Because you matter to me.”

His eyes darkened, the weight of your words settling between you like a heavy fog. You could see the battle he was waging within himself, the walls he had built so high, trying to protect himself from feeling anything. But the look in his eyes softened, if only for a moment, and something shifted.

Before you could say anything else, before you even had a chance to breathe, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hand cupped the back of your neck, rough but gentle, and then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t soft or slow. It was raw, desperate, as if he had been holding himself back for far too long. The kiss stole the air from your lungs, a surge of warmth flooding through you. He kissed you like he needed it, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, and in that moment, you knew that this was more than just a Kiss, it was the first crack in his armor.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Neither could you.

“You shouldn’t be wastin’ rations on me,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, almost tender.

You smiled, your hands still clutching the fabric of his shirt. “Not a waste. Not at all.”

Joel’s lips twitched, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a small, real smile.

From that moment on, the shirt had become his favorite. He wore it often, and every time he did, it reminded you of that day, of the first time he had let you in.

From that moment on, you had become the most precious thing he had in the world.”

Tears blurred your vision as you sobbed into the fabric, holding onto it as if it were him, as if it could somehow bring him back. The ache in your heart was unbearable, the reality of his absence crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You whispered his name through your tears, wondering where he was, if he was thinking of you too. If he missed you, and of course he did, you thought. But what was really eating you was his safety. The fear clawed at you, the unknown hanging over you like a dark cloud.

"Please come back," you whispered to the empty room, your voice breaking. But the only answer was the silence, the vast, aching silence that now filled the space Joel had left behind.

At the same time, miles away, Joel lay on the cold floor of an abandoned house, his body limp, covered in sweat and blood. His breath came in ragged gasps, barely enough to keep him conscious. The world around him blurred, the edges of his vision darkening as pain coursed through his body. His grip on reality was slipping, but one thing remained constant in his mind: you.

He tried to focus, tried to stay awake, but it was getting harder. The wound in his side throbbed with every shallow breath, blood seeping through his clothes and pooling beneath him. The searing pain was relentless, but what hurt more was the thought of you, alone, without him.

Ellie was beside him, frantically trying to stop the bleeding, her hands shaking as she applied pressure to his wound. "Joel, stay with me," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Joel’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, his gaze unfocused. He could hear her voice, but it felt distant, muffled, like she was speaking through water. His thoughts drifted to you—how you had always been the one to keep him grounded, to remind him there was something worth fighting for.

He thought of your smile, the way your eyes would light up when you laughed. He thought of the shirt you'd given him back in the QZ, how he hadn’t understood why someone like you would care for someone like him. He thought of the nights you spent together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and how your belly had grown your baby inside.

The thought of not having the chance of meeting his baby was pulling the string to life now.

"Joel, stay with me!" Ellie’s voice broke through the fog again, more urgent this time. She was crying now, her hands stained red as she tried to keep him alive. She had seen too much death, lost too many people, and she couldn’t lose him too. Not now.

Joel’s breath hitched as his body fought to stay conscious. He thought of you one last time, of the child growing inside you, the life he had left behind to protect Ellie. He had made a choice, but now, as the darkness threatened to pull him under, all he could think about was getting back to you.

His hand twitched, reaching for something—anything to hold on to—but all he felt was the cold, hard floor beneath him. His eyelids grew heavier, his body weaker, but somewhere deep inside, he clung to the hope that he would see you again. That he would make it back to you.

"Please," he whispered, though it was barely audible. He wasn’t sure if he was begging Ellie to save him or if it was a prayer to the universe to bring him back to you.

Ellie’s hands didn’t stop, her desperation fueling her as she fought to keep him alive. "I won’t let you die," she swore, her voice raw with emotion. "I won’t."

But as Joel’s world faded to black, the only thing on his mind was you, and the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch, everything that had kept him going. The thought of you was his last tether to the world, the only thing he could hold onto in the darkness.

And then, there was nothing.

you stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the window, your body still heavy with exhaustion and the weight of your sorrow. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of Joel’s shirt, the scent of him lingering in the fibers, a bittersweet reminder of his absence.

A gentle knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You sat up slowly, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks, the reality of the past few days crashing back over you like a wave. “Come in,” you called, your voice hoarse from crying.

The door creaked open, revealing Tommy standing in the doorway, a worried expression etched across his face. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room. “I thought I’d check on you.”

You forced a small smile, but it felt fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. “I’m okay,” you lied, though the truth hung heavily in the air between you.

Tommy’s gaze fell to the shirt in your hands, his expression shifting to one of understanding. “You miss him,” he stated rather than asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, the tears welling up again, and you quickly blinked them away. “Of course I miss him. And I don’t know if he is okay.”

Tommy moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I wish I could tell you he is. But… we’ve been through a lot, and sometimes, we have to trust that they’ll come back to us.”

His words brought some comfort, but it was fleeting. “What if he doesn’t?” you whispered. “What if he and Ellie are hurt?”

You wanted to believe him, to cling to that hope, but the uncertainty gnawed at you. “I just want him back,” you admitted, the ache in your heart making your voice crack. “I want them both back, we were supposed to be a family.”

Tommy’s expression softened; the concern etched on his face deepening. “I know,” he replied, his voice steady. “You’re right. You three are a family, and it’s not fair for you to feel this way.”

The raw emotion in your words hung heavy in the air. You could feel the tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. “It just feels so empty without him.”

He nodded in understanding, his gaze unwavering. “Joel’s a fighter, and so are you. Just hold on to that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that hope can keep us going even when things seem dark.”

“But what if hope isn’t enough?” you asked, frustration creeping into your voice. “What if he’s out there, and I’m just stuck here waiting?”

Tommy sighed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not just waiting. You’re doing something important right now by taking care of yourself and that baby. Joel would want you to stay safe and strong. You’re both his world.”

His words made you pause. You had been so consumed with worry that you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider what Joel would want for you, for the baby. You needed to honor his love by taking care of yourself, even if it felt impossible at the moment.

“I know you’re right,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It’s just hard to think of anything else when all I want is to be with him.”

Tommy reached over, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, you have to keep yourself strong for my baby nephew or niece there” he said pointing at your belly, “And I heard that there is a delicious breakfast waiting for you at my house.”

A small smile broke through your sadness at Tommy's words. The thought of food, especially something delicious, made your stomach rumble. “Breakfast, huh?” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. “Is it worth the trek over there?”

Tommy chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “You bet it is. Maria’s been in the kitchen since sunrise, whipping up all sorts of goodies. You can’t say no to her pancakes.”

The mention of Maria made your heart feel a little lighter. She always had a way of brightening your day, and the thought of spending time with her and Tommy brought a hint of normalcy back into your chaotic world. “Alright, I guess I can be tempted by pancakes,” you said, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Just give me a moment to get ready.”

As you stood up and moved towards the small mirror on the wall, Tommy turned to leave, but not before he added, “And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you, and Joel will come back. You have to believe that.”

You nodded, feeling the flicker of hope ignite once more within you. “I will, Tommy. Thank you.”

As the weeks passed, life in Jackson continued to move forward, albeit without Joel. You immersed yourself in the routine of the community, trying to find solace in the familiar faces and daily activities. However, your heart remained tethered to the memories of him, each thought a bittersweet reminder of what was lost.

Paul’s presence became more pronounced during this time. His visits were frequent, and he often lingered a bit longer than necessary, his laughter ringing through your home, filling the silence left by Joel. At first, you welcomed his company, finding comfort in his kindness, but gradually you began to notice the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his touch was a little too warm, a little too intentional.

You were oblivious to his growing intentions, too consumed by thoughts of Joel. Every time Paul made a gesture that hinted at something more—like the way he’d offer to carry things for you or the way his smile seemed to brighten when he caught your eye—you brushed it off as friendly camaraderie.

But in the quiet moments, especially as your pregnancy progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder what Joel would say or do. You often imagined him here, by your side, offering his protective presence and the warmth of his love.

One afternoon, while you were resting on the porch, Paul joined you, bringing along a small basket of fruit. “Thought you might like a snack,” he said, settling down beside you. “You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, taking a piece of fruit and munching on it absentmindedly. Your mind drifted, imagining Joel’s voice teasing you about how much you were eating, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought.

Paul watched you, his expression softening as he leaned a bit closer. “You know,” he started, hesitating for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’re pretty amazing. I admire how strong you are, going through all this without—”

“Without Joel?” you interjected gently, your heart clenching at the mention of his name. “I don’t really feel strong. I just… I’m doing what I have to do.”

Paul nodded, a hint of disappointment flickering across his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Right. Just know I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”

You offered him a grateful smile, but inside, the ache for Joel was relentless. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that Joel would come back, and that you could return to the life you had built together. But every passing day made the reality of that hope feel more distant.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow across the horizon, you felt the familiar pang of loneliness creeping back in. You were in Jackson, surrounded by people, yet the emptiness inside you was profound. No amount of comfort from Paul could fill the void that Joel had left behind.

February 15

It’s been weeks since Joel left, and I’m still struggling to accept it. I find myself waking up each morning, hoping that it was all just a nightmare, but the empty side of the bed reminds me of the truth. I miss him more than I can put into words.

Tommy and Maria have been amazing, and I’m grateful for their support. They try to keep me distracted, to make me feel like I’m not alone, but the truth is that every moment feels heavy without him here. Even the laughter we share feels tinged with sadness. I want to be strong, for my baby and for Joel, but some days, it feels like an impossible task.

And then there’s Paul. He’s kind and thoughtful, and I can see that he cares about me. I appreciate everything he does, but it feels wrong to let myself lean on him. My heart belongs to Joel, and nothing will change that. I’m still waiting for him to come back, to hold me again and make everything feel right.

I can’t shake the fear that I might never see him again. What if something happened? What if he’s in pain? My heart aches with every unanswered question. I wish I could tell him that I love him, that I’m thinking of him every second of the day.

But then, I think of the baby. The baby needs me to be strong. I need to focus on keeping myself healthy for them, even when it feels like my heart is breaking. I can’t forget about them in the midst of all this pain.

I keep reminding myself that I’m not alone. I have Tommy and Maria, and even Paul, though it feels complicated sometimes. I just wish I could feel whole again.

As I sit here writing, holding onto this shirt of Joel's, I hope that wherever he is, he knows how much I love him. I hope he’s safe and that he’s thinking of me too. I’ll keep writing until he returns. It’s the only way I know how to keep our story alive.”

It was one of those quiet evenings when the weight of Joel's absence seemed unbearable. You hadn’t seen much of Tommy or Maria that day, and Dr. Paul had stopped by as usual. This time, though, he lingered longer, suggesting he bring you dinner to keep you company. You hesitated, but the idea of eating alone in the house that felt more like a stranger’s shelter than a home wore on you. So, reluctantly, you agreed.

The two of you sat across from each other at the small table, plates of food in front of you, but you barely touched yours. Paul, on the other hand, seemed relaxed, making light conversation about the community, about his work. You nodded along, offering small smiles, but your mind wandered, as it always did, back to Joel.

After a while, Paul cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between bites. His eyes lingered on you, a softness there that made you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "You know," he began, his voice gentle but carrying a certain weight, "you won’t be able to do this alone forever."

You furrowed your brows, not quite following. "What do you mean?"

Paul leaned forward slightly, his expression serious, yet warm. "Raising a baby... it’s not something you should have to handle on your own. You’ll need someone by your side. Someone who can help you, take care of you and the baby."

Your heart skipped a beat at the insinuation, and for a moment, the room felt too small. The air thickened as you stared at him, realization dawning slowly. He wasn’t just offering help out of kindness. There was something more to his visits, to his attentiveness, something you hadn’t seen until now.

You swallowed hard, a flash of anger mixing with the ache of missing Joel. You pushed your plate away, your appetite completely gone now. "Joel’s gonna get back," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "He’s coming back."

Paul blinked, taken aback by your response. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out how to respond. "I understand that you care for Joel," he said carefully, his tone measured, "but he left, didn’t he? He made a choice."

Your jaw tightened, defensive walls going up. "I don’t care about Joel. I love him. I’m in love with him. He’s doing what he has to. He’s coming back for us. I know it."

Paul’s gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes—concern, perhaps, or frustration. “I just don’t want you to set yourself up for heartbreak. You deserve to have someone who’s here for you now, not just someone you hope will come back.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t know what we have, Paul. You don’t understand the bond we built, the things we’ve been through together.”

His expression shifted slightly, a mix of empathy and something you couldn’t quite place. “And I respect that. But you also need to think about your future—about your baby. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s...”

“Stop,” you interrupted, the word bursting from you like a shield. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I won’t allow myself to entertain that thought. Joel will come back for us and before the baby arrives.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the only sounds coming from the gentle crackling of the fire in the corner and the distant hum of life outside. You could feel the weight of the unspoken hanging between you, a chasm created by the gulf of your differing hopes.

Paul opened his mouth, clearly torn on how to respond. “Look, I’m not trying to come between you two. I just—”

“I know,” you interjected, your voice calmer now, but still firm. “You care. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, for the baby. But my heart belongs to Joel, and it always will. It’s not fair to me or to him to act like that connection doesn’t exist just because he’s not here right now.”

Paul sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Okay. I hear you. But just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Whether it’s just as a friend or... more. Just think about it, alright?”

You nodded, though your heart felt heavy. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he wanted to help. But every time you thought of Joel, a warmth spread through you that no one else could replicate.

“Thanks, Paul,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “But I think you should go.”

Paul's face fell at your words, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. The warmth that had been there moments before faded, replaced by a guarded expression. “I understand,” he replied softly, his voice steady despite the obvious hurt. “I just wanted to help you, to be there for you in any way I could.”

You felt a pang of guilt for turning him away, but you had to be firm. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Paul. Really. But from now on, I think it’s best if we keep things more... professional. I need to focus on me and the baby right now. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

He nodded slowly, processing your words. “Of course. I can respect that,” he said, though the disappointment lingered in his eyes. “I’ll check on the baby and make sure you’re both doing okay, but I won’t push for anything more.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved that he seemed to understand. “That’s all I need for now. Just someone who can help with check-ups and advice. No more dinners or flowers or anything like that. I need to keep my mind clear.”

Paul inhaled deeply, nodding again. “I get it. I really do. Just know that if you ever change your mind or need anything, I’m here.”

As he stood up to leave, the atmosphere in the room shifted, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging heavily in the air. You felt a mix of sadness and relief wash over you, knowing that you had made the right choice for your heart, but also recognizing the friendship that was slipping away.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softening again as he moved toward the door. “And take care of that little one. I’ll be around to check on you both.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, forcing a smile even though your heart felt heavy. As he stepped outside, the door closing gently behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You stared at the empty chair where he had just sat, the silence of the room settling around you. The reality of your situation loomed large; you were alone in a world where you were still waiting for Joel, still holding onto hope. The ache of missing him was as familiar as the beating of your heart, a constant reminder that some connections could never truly be replaced.

As you turned your gaze back to the window, you let your thoughts drift once more to Joel, the warmth of his memory wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You closed your eyes and whispered his name, hoping with all your heart that he was safe, that he was thinking of you too, and that one day soon, he would return to fill the void in your life.

You were about to give birth and Joel would be here by then.

The day had finally arrived, but as you lay in the infirmary, the pain of contractions rippled through you, sharper than you could have imagined. Each wave of discomfort was accompanied by a fresh wave of disappointment and anger, emotions that seemed to swirl together in a chaotic dance within you.

You gripped the edge of the bed, trying to focus on your breathing, but it felt impossible to push away the nagging thought that Joel should have been there. This was a moment that deserved his presence, his strength. You had envisioned him by your side, his reassuring voice guiding you through the pain, just as he had done so many times before. But instead, you were alone, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

“Just breathe, you’re doing great,” Paul said, trying to offer comfort as he checked your progress. His voice was calm and steady, but it did little to soothe the tumult inside you. You could sense his concern, but all you could think about was Joel, his absence a heavy weight on your chest.

“Where is he?” you gasped, the question slipping from your lips, filled with a mix of desperation and fury. “He should be here! He promised... he would be back.” The words came out more like a plea, the frustration boiling beneath the surface as you fought against the pain.

Paul exchanged a worried glance with the Tommy and Marie before looking back at you. “I know you’re scared. But you need to focus on the baby right now. You can do this.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on the here and now, but every wave of pain brought Joel’s face to your mind, and with it, a sharp pang of grief. Tommy’s hand was on yours, a steady, reassuring presence. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, though his voice sounded distant, almost muffled. “Just a little longer.”

You barely heard him, your thoughts swirling. The pressure built, and a cry escaped your lips as another contraction tore through you. Maria was on your other side, her face tight with worry. "Just breathe," she urged. "You're almost there."

You squeezed Tommy's hand harder, your nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Finally, there was a moment of stillness, a pause in the storm of pain. You felt the baby slide free, and then there was a new sound, thin and high-pitched, cutting through the air, the cry of a newborn.

But instead of relief, a hollow feeling settled in your chest. Your breath hitched, and your eyes remained tightly shut, refusing to open, refusing to acknowledge what had just happened.

Maria moved quickly, wrapping the baby in a soft blanket, her eyes filled with tears as she turned to you. "It’s a girl," she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent. "A beautiful, healthy girl."

You didn’t look. You couldn’t. “No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “I… I don’t want to see her.”

Maria hesitated, a look of confusion flashing across her face. “But… she’s your baby,” she urged gently. "She's right here. She's perfect."

Tommy glanced at Maria, then back at you, a look of worry crossing his face. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “what’s going on? You’ve been waiting for this, for her. She’s your daughter.”

You felt a sob catch in your throat, the words clawing to get out. "I can’t… I can’t do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not without him. I can't..."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Maria and Tommy exchanging a look filled with unspoken concern. Tommy’s face softened, his grip on your hand tightening. “He’ll come back,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Joel will come back. You know he would never leave you like this… not for good.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. "He left," you murmured, your voice trembling. "He left, and I don't know if he’s ever coming back. I don’t know how to do this without him. I don’t want to… I can’t look at her."

Maria’s expression softened, and she gently handed the baby to a nearby nurse, who took the little girl away for a moment. "It’s okay,” Maria whispered, sitting closer to you. "It's okay to be scared. It's okay to feel lost."

Your chest tightened, a sob breaking free from your lips. “I just… I needed him to be here,” you confessed, your voice small and broken. “I needed him, and he’s gone.”

Tommy rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, his eyes filled with empathy. "I know," he said quietly. "I know it hurts. But you’re not alone, okay? We’re here, Maria and I… all of Jackson is here for you. And Joel… I believe he’ll come back. You have to believe that too."

You closed your eyes again, feeling the exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. "I don’t know how to feel," you whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Tommy sighed, nodding slowly. “Take your time,” he murmured. “We’re not going anywhere. And when you’re ready… your little girl will be here, waiting for you.”

Maria reached out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered softly. “And she needs her mom. But we’ll take care of her for now. We’ll make sure she’s safe. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, barely, a sense of numbness spreading through you. Somewhere, deep inside, you wanted to believe that Joel would walk through that door any second now, that he’d see his daughter, hold her, and everything would be okay.

But until then, all you could do was wait.

A few hours later, the room had quieted down, the dim light from a nearby lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. You felt a heavy exhaustion weighing down on you, a bone-deep tiredness that seemed to seep into every part of your being. The adrenaline from the birth had faded, leaving you with a hollow ache that was more emotional than physical.

The door creaked open, and you heard the footsteps before you saw him.

Paul stepped inside, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey there,” he said softly, his voice low to avoid startling you. “How are you holding up?”

You nodded slightly, trying to muster a smile despite the emotional weight in your heart. “I’m okay. Just... tired.”

He moved closer, clearing his throat, looking down at you with a polite but firm expression. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low in the quiet room. “I know it’s been a lot, and you’re tired… but your baby girl needs to be fed.”

You turned your head away, staring at the wall, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest. You weren’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He took a step closer, his voice growing softer, almost coaxing. “She’s hungry. And the sooner you start, the better it’ll be for both of you. I know this is hard, but…” He hesitated, a slight frown creasing his brow. “She needs her mom.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a spark of irritation at his words. "I can’t," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. “Not now.”

He sighed, moving to the edge of the bed, his eyes searching your face for something, understanding, maybe. “Look, I get it,” he began, his tone more insistent. “But you can’t just leave her to starve. You’re all she has right now. You’re her whole world.”

You shot him a sharp glance, your frustration bubbling up. "I said no," you replied, your voice firmer this time. “Get someone else to feed her.”

Paul’s expression tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "There isn't anyone else,” he pressed. “We don’t have a lot of resources here, and formula is limited. You have to do this, or she’ll suffer.”

The weight of his words hit you, but so did his tone. The way he seemed to be blaming you, as if it was your fault that you were too broken, too overwhelmed to even look at your own child.

Maria, who had been hovering nearby, stepped forward, placing a calming hand on the doctor’s arm. “Paul, give her a minute, okay?” she said softly but firmly. “She’s just been through a lot. Let’s give her some space.”

He nodded, reluctantly stepping back. "I’m just saying,” he muttered, his gaze flicking back to you. "She’s going to need her mother sooner rather than later."

He turned and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway. Maria watched him go, then turned back to you, her eyes filled with empathy. She reached out, gently squeezing your hand. “I know he can be a bit… pushy,” she said quietly, “but he’s right about one thing. She does need you.”

You swallowed hard, tears stinging your eyes again. “I just… I can’t face her, Maria,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “Not when I feel like this. Not without Joel.”

Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I get it,” she whispered. “But you’re stronger than you think. And that little girl… she’s a part of you. And Joel, too.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of them settle in your heart. You were afraid — of loving this child, of losing her, of losing another part of yourself if Joel never came back. But there was also a flicker of something else, something deep and primal — the instinct to protect, to care, to nurture.

“I’ll bring her in,” Maria offered gently, “just for a moment. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Just… see her. That’s all.”

You hesitated, then slowly nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. Maria gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand again before leaving the room.

A few moments later, she returned with a tiny bundle in her arms. Your baby. So small, so fragile. The baby’s eyes were closed, her tiny mouth opening and closing in search of comfort.

Maria carefully placed her in your arms, and for the first time, you looked down at your daughter. Her face was so small, her skin so soft, and suddenly, without warning, a sob broke free from your chest. The sight of her, the feel of her warmth against you, tore through all the walls you’d built.

She was a piece of you. And a piece of Joel. And despite everything, despite the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, she was here, and she was yours.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tears flow freely down your cheeks. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

The baby stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for the briefest moment, and in that instant, you felt a small spark of something in your chest, a tiny flicker of love, a tiny piece of you.

"Hi, baby Rosie," you whispered softly, naming her after the flowers you’d always loved, the ones that somehow still managed to grow even in the worst conditions. The name felt right, like a promise of something beautiful amidst all the harshness. Rosie shifted slightly, her tiny fingers curling against your chest, and a small, tender smile broke through your tears.

Maria’s smile widened, a warm, proud light in her eyes. "That’s a beautiful name," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Rosie… it suits her."

Just then, Tommy stepped into the room, his footsteps soft but purposeful. His gaze fell on you, cradling Rosie in your arms, and his face softened into a gentle, almost surprised smile. "Well, look at that," he said quietly, moving closer, his eyes never leaving the small bundle in your arms. "That’s my niece."

He came to your side, glancing at Maria for a moment, then back to you. There was something in his expression — a mix of relief, pride, and a kind of cautious joy. He looked down at Rosie, and you could see his eyes glisten just a little. "She’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.

You nodded, your own emotions swirling, a strange mix of overwhelming love and the lingering ache of uncertainty. “She is,” you agreed softly, glancing down at your daughter. “She’s so… tiny.”

Tommy chuckled, his smile growing wider. “Yeah, they start that way,” he teased gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his hand lightly brushed Rosie’s head. “Hey there, Rosie,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be just fine. Got your mama right here… and your uncle Tommy, too.”

Maria moved closer, wrapping an arm around Tommy’s waist. “We’re all here,” she added, her voice soft but firm. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it. You’ve got us.”

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for their presence, their support, and their love. It didn’t erase the pain or the uncertainty, but it made it a little easier to bear. Holding Rosie closer, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the warmth of this moment, to hope — even just a little — that things might be okay.

Rosie let out a tiny yawn, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, glancing up at Tommy and Maria. "For being here… for everything."

Tommy gave a slight nod, his expression tender. "We're family," he replied simply. "That’s what we do."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. Rosie began to fuss in your arms, her tiny mouth opening and closing, searching. You glanced at Maria, who gave you an encouraging nod. "It’s okay," she whispered. "She’s hungry."

You adjusted your position on the bed, feeling a mix of nervousness and instinct kicking in. As you began to unbutton your shirt to feed Rosie, you noticed Tommy standing awkwardly nearby, his eyes wide as he realized what was about to happen.

His face turned a shade redder, and he quickly looked away, trying to give you privacy. “Uh… yeah, I’ll just… I’ll, uh… step out,” he stammered, taking a step back toward the door. He paused for a moment, then added with a slight grin, “And don’t worry, I’ll never tell Joel I saw this.”

Maria burst out laughing at his awkwardness, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, Tommy. It’s just feeding a baby. You’ve seen worse.”

Tommy’s smile widened, though he kept his gaze firmly on the floor. "Yeah, but Joel’s my brother, and I don’t think he’d appreciate me having a front-row seat to… this," he muttered, his voice light with humor but his discomfort still clear.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a bit of tension easing from your shoulders. “Thanks, Tommy,” you said, grateful for the attempt at levity in such a raw moment. “And yeah, maybe keep this one to yourself.”

Tommy gave you a playful salute. “You got it,” he said before slipping out of the room, leaving you with Maria and Rosie.

Maria moved closer, her smile warm and understanding. “You’re doing great,” she murmured. “And don’t mind Tommy. He’s just being… well, Tommy.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. Rosie’s small movements brought your attention back to her, and you focused on the task at hand. You guided her to latch, feeling a mix of discomfort and wonder as she began to feed. For a moment, all the noise in your mind quieted, and there was just the steady rhythm of her tiny breaths, the rise and fall of your chest, and the warmth of her against you.

Maria watched with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "See?" she whispered. "You’ve got this."

You nodded slowly, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you did.

A month had passed since Rosie was born, and the world outside felt heavier than ever. Each day, you rose with the sun, cradling your baby and navigating the delicate balance of motherhood in a world that seemed intent on breaking you. But the absence of Joel loomed larger than any other burden. His absence echoed through the quiet of your days, a painful reminder of the love you’d lost amid the chaos.

As you paced the small living space, the walls felt like they were closing in on you. The gentle cooing of Rosie contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in your heart. Every time you glanced at her, you felt a pang of anger bubble up — anger at the universe for taking him from you, anger at yourself for being so vulnerable, and anger at the endless cycle of survival that left little room for hope.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, Rosie cradled against your chest, her tiny fingers clutching your shirt. She was so innocent, so unaware of the weight that pressed down on you. You fought back tears as you watched her, the small signs of growth reminding you of everything you wished could be different. It felt unfair that she had to grow up in this world without her father, without the love and protection he could provide.

A knock at the door jolted you from your thoughts. You looked over, half-expecting to see Joel standing there, but when you opened the door, it was Tommy. His face bore the lines of concern, but you couldn't muster the energy to reciprocate his warmth.

"Hey," he greeted softly, stepping inside and glancing at Rosie, who had fallen asleep against you. “She’s getting so big.”

You forced a smile, but it felt like a mask over the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Yeah," you said, your voice lacking its usual warmth. "She is."

Tommy shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s been tough… I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

You couldn’t hold back the anger any longer. “What I’m feeling? I’m feeling like a single mother in a godforsaken world with no sign of the man I love! He should be here with us, Tommy!” Your voice raised, the emotion pouring out like a floodgate unleashed.

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he replied, his tone gentle but firm. “But we’re doing everything we can to find him. You have to believe that.”

You shook your head, stepping away from the door, feeling the walls close in even more. “What’s the point? What if he doesn’t come back? What if he never gets to meet Rosie? I can’t keep living in this limbo, waiting for something that might never happen.”

Tommy’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “You’re not alone, you know? Maria and I are here for you. We want to help however we can.”

You huffed, crossing your arms defensively. “Help? You can’t bring him back. No one can.” You paused. “Maria is carrying your child, Tommy. You must worry about her.”

“I do. And I also care for my niece and my sister-in-law” he answered.

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, but your frustration bubbled just below the surface. “That doesn’t change the fact that Joel should be here. He’s missing, and I can’t just sit back and pretend everything’s fine while you and Maria are about to become parents. It feels… unfair.”

Tommy’s expression grew serious. “I know it’s not easy, but you can’t push us away. We want to be here for you and Rosie. And just because Maria and I are starting a family doesn’t mean we care any less about you. We’re all in this together.”

You turned away, staring at the wall, feeling the weight of his words. Part of you wanted to reject his offer of support, to wallow in your pain and anger, but another part craved the connection and the reassurance that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you felt.

“Why can’t you just understand how hard this is for me?” you said, your voice trembling. “Every time I look at Rosie, I see everything I’ve lost. I can’t bear the thought of loving her and then losing her too.”

Tommy stepped closer, his voice lowering to a gentle tone. “You’re not going to lose her. And you’re not losing Joel either. He’s out there, and we’ll do everything we can to bring him back. But you have to let us help you through this. It’s okay to be scared, to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through it all alone.”

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, you let the anger fade just a little, allowing the vulnerability to seep in.

“Okay,” you said quietly, finally letting the walls you’d built start to crumble. “Maybe I don’t know how to be strong all the time. Maybe I do need help.”

Tommy’s face broke into a warm smile, relief washing over him. “Good. Let’s take it one day at a time. I’ll help however I can. We can figure out feeding routines, and I can take care of some chores around here. Just… don’t shut us out.”

You nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the past month’s isolation slowly lifting. It wasn’t that you didn’t want help; it was that the fear of losing Joel had wrapped around you like a shroud, making it hard to see a way forward. But with Tommy’s support, a small crack of light broke through.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggested, his voice lightening a bit. “How about I take Rosie for a bit while you get some rest? You look like you could use it.”

You hesitated, glancing at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Are you sure? I don’t want to overwhelm you with her.”

Tommy chuckled softly, a hint of warmth in his voice. “I promise, I can handle a baby. Besides, I want to get to know my niece. Just give me a moment.”

You reluctantly handed Rosie over, your heart fluttering with both anxiety and relief. Watching as Tommy cradled her, a gentle smile on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in knowing she was with family.

“See? She’s in good hands,” he assured you, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I’ll take good care of her. You just take some time for yourself.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. “Okay. Just for a little while.”

As Tommy settled into the rocking chair with Rosie, you stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. The moment you were alone, you felt the remnants of tension seep from your body, leaving you a bit lighter.

You made your way to the small bathroom, splashing cool water on your face and letting the sensation ground you. Your reflection in the mirror was a reminder of the past weeks — the sleepless nights, the tears, the fear. But beneath it all, you also saw a flicker of resilience.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped back into the living area, where the sounds of Tommy cooing at Rosie filled the space. It was a simple moment, but it felt monumental. You could see how much Tommy genuinely cared, and the thought made your heart swell.

As you joined them, settling onto the couch across from him, you watched the two of them. “What are you talking about?” you asked, a playful curiosity tugging at your lips.

Tommy looked up with a grin. “Just telling her all the stories about her uncle. I was quite the troublemaker, you know.”

“Oh really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine that.”

He laughed; the sound infectious. “You should have seen me. I could charm anyone out of trouble… except for Joel. He always saw right through me.”

You felt a small smile break through as you listened to him reminisce. It was a distraction you desperately needed, a chance to be reminded of the good things in life even amidst the chaos.

As the minutes passed, you began to feel a shift within yourself — a softening of the hard edges that grief had carved into your heart. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they once seemed. Maybe, with time and support, you could learn to navigate this new chapter alongside Rosie, surrounded by family who cared.

And as you watched Tommy bounce Rosie gently, you allowed yourself to entertain a sliver of hope. Perhaps Joel would find his way back to you, and until then, you had a new purpose to embrace, even in the absence of the one you loved.

A few days later, the air in the infirmary was thick with the familiar scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of muted conversations. You sat on a worn-out chair, cradling Rosie in your arms as you watched Paul examine her. The little one was wrapped snugly in a soft blanket, her tiny features serene as she slept.

Paul, focused on his task, checked Rosie’s vitals, his brow furrowed in concentration. You could see the care in his movements, the way he gently examined her delicate limbs and listened to her heartbeat. After a moment, he straightened up, turning his attention to you.

“She’s doing well,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “Gaining weight, which is a good sign. Just keep an eye on her feeding schedule.”

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride. “I’ve been trying my best.”

Paul offered a small smile before his expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Okay,” you replied, bracing yourself for what might come next.

Paul’s gaze dropped, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. “See, I told you he wasn’t going to come back.”

The words struck you like a blow, igniting a spark of anger deep within. “What do you mean?” you snapped, your voice rising. “You’re just going to give up on him like that?”

“I'm not giving up,” Paul said quickly, his tone defensive. “I’m trying to prepare you for the reality of this situation.”

“Reality?” you echoed, disbelief flooding your voice. “You think I don’t know what reality is? You think I want to believe he’s gone? I can’t just accept that!”

He held up his hands, trying to calm the storm brewing inside you. “I understand. But holding onto hope for too long can be dangerous. It can lead to more pain.”

“More pain?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You think I haven’t felt pain? You think it doesn’t hurt to think about him every single day, wondering if he’s, okay? Wondering if he’s thinking of us?”

Paul’s expression softened, but the seriousness remained. “I just don’t want you to be hurt even more when the reality sinks in.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, frustration and sorrow bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t get to dictate how I feel, Paul! You can’t just stand there and tell me to give up on someone I love. Joel is out there. I know he is. He wouldn’t leave us. He wouldn’t abandon me and Rosie.”

“I wish I could believe that as much as you do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you need to face the possibility that he’s not coming back. It’s not about giving up; it’s about being realistic.”

“Realistic?” you shot back, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “You think being realistic means I should stop hoping? That I should stop fighting for him? You’re wrong. If there’s even the slightest chance that he’s out there, I’m not going to let it go. Not now, not ever.”

Paul stepped closer; concern etched on his face. “You can’t do this alone. You need support, and right now, your focus should be on Rosie. She needs you.”

The mention of Rosie made the anger in your chest swirl into something more painful—guilt. “I know she needs me,” you said, your voice dropping. “But how can I be there for her when a part of me feels like it’s dying inside? How can I pretend everything is okay when I’m terrified of what the future holds without him?”

Paul’s expression softened further, and for a moment, you could see the struggle in his eyes. “I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m just trying to help you navigate this. You’re not alone in this fight, and we’re all here for you, ready to support you.”

Taking a deep breath, you felt the walls you had built around your heart beginning to crack. “I don’t want to lose him, Paul. I can’t. Not now, when I finally have a family of my own.”

“Then let us help you,” he urged, his voice earnest. “Let us be your family. We’ll do this together, one day at a time.”

You met his gaze, searching for a glimmer of hope, and found only sincerity. “I don’t know how,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your despair.

“Just start by being present,” he said gently. “For Rosie. For yourself. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. You’re stronger than you think, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

You shook your head, “No. I will never going to feel love for you, Paul”

Paul’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and hurt flashing across his face. “I wasn’t asking you to love me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with disappointment. “I’m just trying to be here for you, to help you through this.”

“Help? You mean take Joel’s place?” you shot back, frustration bubbling over. “I can’t just forget about him, Paul. I won’t. I loved him, and I still do.”

“I get that,” he replied, his tone softening. “But you need to start living for yourself and Rosie. Holding onto Joel’s memory is one thing, but shutting everyone else out is another. You’re pushing away the people who care about you.”

You carefully shifted Rosie in your arms, holding her close as you locked eyes with Paul. “It’s her and me and Tommy and Maria; they are my family,” you said firmly, the protective instinct for your little girl rising within you. “You will never be part of that.”

Paul’s face fell, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. “I understand that you feel this way, but it doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry for being honest about it,” you continued, feeling a mixture of regret and resolve. “But having a daughter and being alone doesn’t make me a damsel in distress. I’m doing the best I can, and I won’t pretend to want something I don’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he took a step back as if your words had physically struck him. “I never thought of you as a damsel in distress. I see your strength, but it’s hard to see you pushing away those who want to help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I appreciate that you care, Paul, but I don’t want help that comes with strings attached,” you insisted. “You may want to be there for me, but I’m not ready for that. My focus is Rosie, and I need to figure this out on my own.”

“I just want to be a part of your life, to support you both,” he replied, his voice softening. “I know it’s not easy, but I can be there for you without trying to replace Joel. I can respect that.”

You felt your heart ache “I said no.”

You felt your heart ache as the weight of his words hung in the air. “I said no,” you reiterated firmly, standing up from the chair, cradling Rosie closer to your chest. “I can’t do this right now, Paul. I need space.”

Paul opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but then he hesitated, the look in his eyes shifting from concern to resignation. “I get it,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just want what’s best for you and Rosie.”

You turned away, the tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. “What’s best for me is to be left alone to figure this out. I have to focus on my daughter.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, a mix of hurt and confusion in his expression, but you steeled yourself against it. You couldn’t let the guilt of his disappointment sway your decision.

“I’ll come back for the check-up,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “But I need time to breathe, Paul. Please respect that.”

As you moved toward the door, you felt a pang of regret and relief. You opened the door, taking one last look at him. His expression was concerned and sad, but you knew this was what you needed.

As you stepped back into your small, cozy home, the door closing softly behind you, the weight of the world seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. You looked down at Rosie, her tiny eyes fluttering as she began to settle in your arms. Her soft breath was a reminder that despite everything, there was love and hope right here in your arms.

“Shh, Rosie. We’re home now,” you whispered gently, brushing your lips against her forehead. “It’s just you and me, baby girl. We’re gonna be okay.”

Her little hand gripped your shirt, and the corners of your mouth tugged into a small smile. The bond you felt with her was something no one could break. As you moved toward the rocking chair by the window, the soft glow of the setting sun bathed the room in a warm light. You gently lowered yourself into the chair, cradling Rosie close, rocking her slowly.

"You're so beautiful, Rosie," you murmured, watching her tiny face relax into sleep. "Your daddy would love you so much. He'll love you so much when he gets back. He’s coming back, sweetheart. I know he is."

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that usually made your heart ache with Joel's absence. But tonight, with Rosie in your arms, that silence felt different—more peaceful, fuller. You hummed softly, rocking back and forth as Rosie’s breathing became steadier.

A melody drifted from your lips, a lullaby that Joel had once hummed to you on restless nights:

"Hush now, my darling, close your eyes,

The world is waiting, but not tonight."

Your voice trembled at the end, a lump forming in your throat as you pictured Joel. You imagined him here, sitting beside you, watching Rosie with that rare, soft smile he reserved for moments when his guard was down. He would hold her, kiss her tiny forehead, and tell you everything was going to be alright.

But as you sang, the warmth of Rosie’s little body against yours made you feel stronger than you thought you could be. She was the piece of Joel you held onto, the reminder of the life you were fighting to build, even if he wasn’t here now. You kissed her head, breathing in her soft baby scent, as you whispered the last words of the song:

"Sleep now, my love, you're safe in my arms,

One day you'll see all the world’s gleams.

But for today's, it's just you and me,

And we’ll wait for him, just wait and see."

Tears pricked your eyes, but this time, there was a sense of peace. You had your daughter, and she had you. For now, that was enough.

You rocked Rosie gently, her tiny body sinking deeper into sleep with each passing minute. Her soft breathing was steady, and her hand had finally relaxed its grip on your shirt. Carefully, you rose from the rocking chair, cradling her to your chest as you walked across the room to her crib.

“There you are, baby girl,” you whispered as you placed her down, tucking a blanket around her small form. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, her little face serene in the dim light of the room. For a moment, everything felt calm, as though the world outside didn't exist.

Just as you turned, a quiet knock came from the open door. You spun around to see Tommy standing there, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," he whispered, but the sound was still too loud in the quiet room.

You held a finger to your lips, motioning toward the crib. "Shh, Rosie just fell asleep," you murmured, stepping toward him.

Tommy nodded, lowering his voice further. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was just checkin’ in…”

Before you could respond, you noticed someone, standing behind Tommy, half-hidden by the doorframe. You blinked, your breath catching in your throat, your heart pounding in your ears.

It was Joel.

Your mind struggled to process the sight of him, standing there, looking worn and weary but alive. The moment stretched out as if time had slowed. His eyes, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in months, locked onto yours. It was as though the entire world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Ellie was there too, just behind him. Her gaze seemed lost and weary.

Joel took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, but before he could come closer, you found yourself speaking, your voice sharp and surprising even to yourself.

“No.”

He stopped, his expression shifting from relief to confusion. Ellie, standing behind him, looked just as surprised, her eyes wide, and the exhaustion in her posture deepened. The room felt tense, charged with emotions you weren’t ready to face.

“No?” Joel repeated softly, his brows furrowing, unsure of how to respond.

You shook your head, taking a shaky breath. “You left,” you whispered, feeling the weight of months of fear, anger, and hurt bubbling to the surface.

Joel took another cautious step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of rejection. When he saw none, he closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame. The familiar warmth of his embrace washed over you, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

You buried your face in his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His heartbeat was strong and steady, grounding you in a way you had been desperately missing. Joel’s arms tightened around you as if he were afraid to let go, his grip protective, comforting. He pressed his face against the top of your head, exhaling a shaky breath.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking. The tears came then, spilling over as months of fear, anger, and loneliness poured out of you all at once. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

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mediumgayitalian · 7 days ago

Text

A whisp of hair tickles his cheek, following the elbow resting on his shoulder. Lee glances over as Cass swipes the strands back behind her ear.

“So,” she says, very nearly dropping her plate. Lee reaches over and gently tilts it back upright. His sister Does Not notice.

He lets it fall. She doesn’t notice that, either. Rest in peace, Stale Piece of Olive Bread, Single Grape, and Sprig of Parsley (?). You will be missed.

“So,” Lee repeats. He follows her eyes, gaze landing on a frizzy mess of blond curls and vacant blue eyes. “…Ah. So.”

Cass’s fork twirls in the general direction of their new baby brother. Several other people in line at the braziers also look over to where she’s pointing, glance obviously back towards the two of them, leaning close, and then pretend to look away while very clearly straining to hear. What a place, Camp Half-Blood.

“We gotta fix that.”

Lee grunts. She’s right — rarely does he ever see a kid Will’s age so blasé and sad about camp for so long.

But.

The circumstances.

“We already talked to Luke, Cass.”

She waves a hand. Her fork very nearly misses his eye. Lee would like, for once, if she could maybe use perhaps one ounce of her prophetic abilities to be less of a klutz. “Eh, Luke doesn’t know everything. There’s gotta be something he didn’t try, something Will likes. I mean, I think I saw the barest little hint of a smile when Diana was cussing Michael out yesterday.”

“Achlys would smile at that,” Lee argues. “I mean, come on. He got flamed. It was embarrassing.”

“Fair, fair.”

Lee looks back at Will. He still sits at the edge of the Apollo picnic table, chin on the worn-smooth wood, poking vaguely at the food Diana got for him. There’s a decent spread — some of the roast chicken, some of the lemon potatoes, probably more vegetables than any eight year old would be willing to eat, but it’s not like they would know. Will barely eats anything. If it weren’t for the Twizzlers that keep disappearing from Lee’s stash under the floorboards, he would’ve stuck the kid on an IV already. It’s been weeks.

“We could maybe try the weapons rounds again,” Cass murmurs. “I know Luke did it on intake, but maybe —”

She glances over, peeking through the edge of her hair, and cuts herself off, mouth furrowing as she bites the inside of her cheek. The son of Hermes in question leans on one of his younger siblings, grinning as they shriek and complain, laughing as another kid empties out what looks like the entire camp stash of cutlery from her pockets. Lee’s not dumb — he saw the difference, too. There’s no demigod more kind and welcoming and determined than Luke Castellan, Lee knows it, Lee’s experienced it, but —

When Will came up Half-Blood Hill, he was sobbing. He scratched four other demigods trying to squirm his way back to where his mother was running back to her car, shoulders heaving with her own cries, face-tear streaked and laden with guilt as she watched him go. When Will was dragged to the Big House, he was there ‘til nightfall. When Will was placed, as all are, in Hermes, he didn’t leave the cabin for days.

Camp doesn’t usually see that. Luke doesn’t usually see that. And as much as the guy has seen everything, there’s nothing he can handle less than a demigod who desperately wants to go home.

It’s not something anyone brings up.

“We’ll give it a go after dinner,” Lee agrees.

It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing. It might help to get a tour of what Camp offers by someone a little more…qualified. Or enthusiastic, rather. Will’s eight, after all. What kind of eight-year-old doesn’t want to swing a real sword at a training dummy? Or, hell, at another eight-year-old? Not that there are many other eight-year-olds at camp this lovely April, but Annabeth is like…ten. Lee thinks. Eleven? Something like that. Maybe she’ll swing a sword around with the kid. She only tends to be lethal when someone is doubting her. She’ll probably be very lenient on someone who is just learning.

Well.

Like, one would hope.

Whatever. It’ll sort itself out.

He repeats it to himself as he sits down, plastering a wide smile on his face and meeting Will’s eyes. Will stares back, eyes big and dead, but Lee refuses to look away first, to look down. Eventually Will return his gaze to the brown mush he’s made out of his plate.

“Hi,” he hedges.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Will hums. From beside him, Diana sighs — that is the extent of what they usually get. A little more, actually. The hi was slightly more animated than usual. More like a single two-by-four than a rotting corpse, in terms of spirited greetings.

If Lee is anything, though, it’s annoying and persistent. It’s actually what led to his getting claimed last winter.

“You get something to drink?”

Will shrugs. Lee glances into his cup to see that he has not, in fact, gotten anything to drink.

“They’re enchanted, you know.” He taps his own cup. “Anything you ask for, you get. I get Green Apple Kool-Aid.”

“‘Cus you’re a freak,” Michael mutters. Lee shoves him off the table.

Will scrunches his nose. “…Enchanted cups?”

The look he levels in Lee’s direction is equivalent, he imagines, to the look the jury gave OJ Simpson on his first foray of the witness stand, but the allure of discontinued novelty drinks must be stronger than his suspicion, because he tilts his cup closer to him, thinks for a minute, and then says, “Coke.”

All three of them hold their breath. Even Michael, who is recovering from his recent trip to the ground. The cup slowly fills with sparkling amber liquid.

Will frowns.

“Hey,” he says, something akin to a pout taking over his face, “I asked for coke.”

The drink stops fizzing. It, too, seems to regard the young boy in confusion.

“That would indeed be Coke,” Diana says eventually.

Will scowls. (It is, probably unfortunately for him, a little bit adorable, because his cheeks are very pudgy and he has quite a lot of freckles and his whole face seems to scrunch with the movement. Like a baby hippo. Lee tries really very hard not to smile but it’s something of a losing battle, he thinks.)

“It gave me cola!”

Lee looks at Cass. Cass looks at Lee. Cass looks at Michael, then, and Lee looks at Diana, and they all kind of look at each other and envision the words what the fuck floating between them in wavy comic sans.

“That would be the case,” tries Michael. Lee can see that he tries very hard not to tack ‘you dumbass’ on the end there. Lee pats him on the shoulder in recognition for his efforts.

“I asked for coke!”

“Okay, let’s maybe back up a bit,” Cass thankfully says, before Lee can utter his very eloquent ‘huh’. “What are you asking for, hun?”

“Coke!”

“No, I — I, uh, I got that part.” She purses her lips very thoughtfully. “Are you thinking of, maybe, Diet Coke?”

“No! Regular orange coke!”

“Okay,” mutters Diana. “Okay, awesome, I love it when everything makes sense.”

“Orange coke!” insists Will again. And, like, yeah, they brought this on themselves. When Lee scraped off a portion of his food and prayed for more emotion from Will, he did not specify. He was under the unfortunate misconception that his father loved him and was not a sociopathic genie. That’s on him. But still. “The fruity one! With the orange lid an’ the F on the bottle an’ not the one with no bubbles! The coke one!”

“Are you thinking maybe of Fanta?” Cass says, finally. She makes a weird shape with her fingers. “Odd bottle shape? Neon?”

“Yes!” exclaims Will, visibly relieved. “The orange coke! The good one!”

The cup quickly ripples and changes into a liquid the approximate colour of their shirts, only harder to look at. Will narrows his eyes, drags it over, dips his tongue into it, and then lights up, chugging it down with the zeal and zest Aphrodite kids do cranberry juice.

“One thing they got right up here,” he says happily, wiping the sticky moustache off his top lip. He, for the first time, looks a little less like there is a giant aching hole in the centre of him.

All at once, Lee remembers the one time his mother took him with her to one of her conferences, deep down in Arkansas. They stopped for Wendy’s on the drive. Lee requested Coke. The cashier asked ‘what kind’. Lee stared blankly at her for a total of at least seventeen solid seconds before replying ‘uh, the…Coke…kind?’ and received a large disappointing cup of Sprite.

“Oh my gods,” he says. He now knows, he feels, at least an approximation of the shock Phaethon felt that one time. “You’re Texan.”

None of his siblings share in the euphoria of this realization. This eureka moment, really. Least of all Will, who seems to be wondering if he can, perhaps, put in a request to be claimed by another god with smarter children.

“Lee,” says Cass gently, “have you gotten dumber?”

“No, no, he’s Texan,” Lee repeats. “They’re like. They say weird shit down there.” He gestures at Will, who is rapidly shifting from bewildered to offended. Lee would feel bad if it wasn’t a little bit funny. “Coke means pop. Fixin’ means intending. Might could — actually, I’m not sure what might could means, and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.”

“It means might could!” Will cries. He throws his hands up in exasperation which would be better conveyed where his hands not still pudgy enough to have the little indents on the knuckles. Lee melts to the actual floor. “That’s like askin’ — askin’ what ‘the’ means! It means ‘the’!”

“Oh my gods,” breathes Diana, hand pressed to her mouth. “Oh my gods, he’s adorable.”

“What does ‘might could’ mean, he says! Nex’ thing I’mma hear’s gonna be some stupid Yank quest’n ‘bout y’all, I bet —”

There is a thump as Michael slides right off the bench. This time, Lee doesn’t even need to push him.

“Yank,” he wheezes, from the floor. There are real tears in his eyes. “You’re my favourite, kid, holy fuck —”

Will stomps his little foot. It’s so — tiny. Bite sized. The lights in the sole twinkle like crazy. He’s got Princess Leia on the heels.

Lee is going to melt into goo.

“Who authorized him to be this goddamn cute,” Lee whisper-yells. “Like, genuinely. Look at him.

“Believe me, I’m looking,” Cass says, smiling softly. She knocks their shoulders together, snorting as Will chokes on his own indignity, hollering something about and there’s no such thing as healthy brisket! how about that! til’ his freckly face glows.

“Oh, wait, shit, that’s real,” Lee says. “That’s — yo, he’s actually bioluminescing. Are you seeing this? I am seeing this.”

“Didn’t know that was something we could do,” Diana comments. She grabs her cup, empties it into Michael’s (making a truly — truly — rank concoction of milk and Mountain Dew, Lee physically recoils) and stares at it until it refills.

“Hey, Glowstick.”

Will freezes. The most affronted look Lee has ever seen on a child scrunches his squishy face. Cass coos. Michael starts cackling again.

“Who are you talking to,” Will demands, scowling.

Diana looks at him. She raises her eyebrows.

“You tell me, Johnny Storm.”

“That’s a — that’s a bad reference!”

“Just — here.” Diana slides over the cup before Will can get started again. “Here’s your coke, kid.”

Will squints at the cup for several seconds. Diana holds it out dutifully. Well, for a dutiful seven seconds before her arm gets tired, then she sets it down and moves her hand away.

“Mama says I’m not allowed two cokes in a row,” he says finally.

Lee glances over at Cass. She grimaces back.

Here we go.

Diana just blinks.

“What does your Mama say about throwing stones at people named Clarisse from the roof of the Big House?”

“She never mentioned.”

“Well, we’re allowed to do that here. The rules say you can have two cokes, too, if you want.”

Will screws up his face. He gnaws on his bottom lip. Lee holds his breath.

Finally, he takes the tiniest of little sips.

“I guess two cokes is kind of nice,” he says.

Lee smiles. He reaches over, paying close attention in case Will’s a biter — you never know at Camp Half-Blood — and ruffles the kid’s frizzy curls.

“Some good things about camp, huh?”

Will huffs. “It’s still not great.” He sets his cup down. His soda moustache sits at a firm handlebar. Cass muffles a snort in her hands. “But not bad for a bunch of Yanks.”

Lee decides that he will take that. A stubborn, sarcastic Will is better than a miserable one. They got time. They’ll get there.

Plus, when Michael takes a mindless sip of his Surprise Concoction and sprays it all over Diana’s face, hacking and cussing up a storm, Will even smiles.

Yeah. They might even get there soon.

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lvndosnorris · 10 months ago

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sex with lando while he wears his racing helmet. ive been DYING for someone to do this!

"no— keep it on," your voice trailed off, fingers digging into lando's wrists as he went to tug off the helmet that was still covering his head. all you could see were his eyes narrowed in confusion, your imagination left to assemble what expression he was definitely pulling as you rocked a little further onto his lap, "i've wanted you to fuck me with this on for as long as i can remember."

of course that was the truth — always finding yourself chewing on the inside of your cheek as you waited in the paddock after his races, squeezing your thighs together in a discreet manner as you let your mind run wild. you'd stumbled over your words before, coming so close to pleading for him to slip it on in the bedroom. but your mouth would open and close, dumbfounded as you pushed the thought to the back of your mind and found yourself dumbly peeling off your clothes.

"is this what you've always wanted, hm?" lando's teases surged straight through your body, fingers tripping over themselves as you partly undid his racing suit. glimpses of his chest trickled through your hazed vision, his prominent erection creating a mound beneath your clothed cunt as you whined impatiently. time was not on your side, the idea of being walked into when you were both in your most vulnerable states making your chest heave — "you need some help with that baby? does my girl need some help?"

his question oozed smugness as he lifted his hips, only slightly from the padded chair of the backroom you'd dragged him to, helping you thumb over the waistband of his boxers before tracing over his clothed length. there was a part of you that wanted to rip the helmet from him so you could taste him, the urge for his mouth against yours quickly fizzling out as he grazed his hands over yours, almost following your every move in case you dizzily failed.

your dress was already hiked up your hips, the material bunching over the expanse of your stomach as you groaned at how he simply slipped your underwear to the side. there was no need to get you ready, bottom lip drew between your teeth as you positioned yourself blindly above him — the stinging sensation of him stretching you out earning a guttural whine from you, the exact noise that lando often found himself dreaming about. it was dirty, pornographic even. but he loved it.

there was nothing you wanted more than to watch his face twist in pleasure, how his mouth would hang open as he panted. his eyes creased as they screw shut until he was seeing stars. but this was even better; his visor open, noises concealed by his helmet as you grasped his shoulders for support. each rock of your hip pushed him further inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix with little to no warning, stomach tense as you cursed at how good he felt, how big he felt.

his words were slurred as he gripped your shoulders for dear life, helping you rise and slip down on him, his cock twitching uncontrollably as he studied how different you reacted to him. it was obvious that this was a fantasy you'd been swallowing back for months, your nails etching into the padded material of his race suit as you trembled. praises of how much of a good girl you were became accompanied by whimpers, his lap bucking up to meet you halfway as he noticed how you struggled to keep a rhythmic pace.

you didn't realise you were orgasming until is crashed over you, your limbs alight with pleasure as his name fell from your lips. it was harsh, sudden, every part of you shuddering against him as he continued to fuck up into you. he could have sworn he saw heaven right there and then — your cunt squeezing him tightly, the warmth of your juices coating his shaft and your inner thighs. words failed you, cries of oversensitivity filling his ears as he stilled inside of you, soothing down your back as you stifled a worn-out giggle, "we need to do this more often."

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soggyriceee · 2 years ago

Text

strawberry | Konig nsfw

| this one is a smut, but also angst. basically, Konig gets you to use your safe word for the very first time after being gone for a year in the German base. so, I hope you all enjoy :) |

warnings: rough sex, crying (not good kind) angst, aggressive konig, not edited, will be edited in the morning

╰┈➤

Konig was always gentle during sex. and it a hundred percent had to do with the fact he was literally twice your height and then some. yes he left hickeys, small small bruises on your hips from his grasp, left your legs a bit wobbly. but those were normal considering his size. and even when you reassured him you liked that, he would always apologize profusely, getting you anything you need for hours and hours after.

but tonight, he was a whole other man. he wasn't the same kind and giving Konig. and to an extent you liked the new dominance, the new aggression. it was hot.

until it wasn't.

Konig had been between your legs, fingering and eating you out for about an hour. he was hungry, and not for edible food. he was hungry for you. that sweet pussy of yours, your tight cunt gripping his fingers or dick. he missed it while he was back in Germany for some mission he had given you little information about. all you knew was he was in the middle of Germany, killing potential threats.

already you had came 4 times (that he allowed). he was so pussy drunk, he hadn't realized the tears that brimmed those pretty eyes. in fact, his eyes were closed, his lower half grinding into the bed. you were sure he had already came in his pants at least twice at this point. he would occasionally whimper into you pussy, his hips moving faster against the bed. " fuck ive missed this pussy maus.. you dont even understand." he said into your drenched cunt. a mix of saliva and cum ran down your legs, a big puddle underneath the both of you.

"k-konig can we.. take a break please." you cried from above, your legs shaking despite his mouth simply on your thighs, leaving more and more marks. he nipped at the soft flesh of yours after those words came out, a low growl leaving his lips. " how dare you ask such a question?" he rose, pulling his pants down. and you were right.

his dick was layered in his cum, more of it dripping out from the tip. he was so agonizingly hard, he couldnt bare to fuck into the bed anymore. he needed what he dreamt of every night since leaving. and he needed it now. "imma fuck my babies into you liebling.. make you swollen with them." he said, almost to himself, as he grabbed the base of him, looking down at your pussy.

as much as you wanted him to rearrange your guts, you were drained. he had made you so overstimulated, you could barely form thoughts. it was hard trying to even raise your head from the pillow. but he didnt care. he hadn't realized it before, but as much as he does want to cherish your body like its a rare piece of art from olden times, worth millions of dollars, he loved seeing you fucked out just as much. he loved seeing how he had complete control over your body and there was nothing you could do. it sparked a whole new person in him, one that you were quickly growing scared of.

before you could process his tip sliding slowly into you with ease, his hips were already slamming into yours, his balls hitting your cum soaked ass with so much force, the sound filled the room. your hands clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, your eyes squeezing shut. " you look so fucking pretty maus.. so fucking pretty. all fucked out like this.. shit~" he groaned, his eyes watching your face twist in what he believed was pleasure.

and for a bit it was. until he raised your leg all the way up, leaving the other down. your leg fell over his shoulder and your arms flopped to your side. he was hitting directly at your cervix and it hurt. but he was in so much pleasure. his head fell back as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his lips spitting out dirty phrases in both English and German.

and of course, being away from sex for a year, Konig was beyond sensitive. he came for the first time within the first few thrusts, his head falling into your bruised breasts, whimpering out how good it feels. but that didnt stop him. he kept going.

his hand found its way to your throat, gripping it unintentionally hard. with the mix of tears and now the shortness of breath, it was all a lot on your body physically. Konig had gotten to carried away inside your pussy, the way it sucked him back in. "fuck maus.. your s-so wet.. im close again~" he whimpered, his lips latching to your breasts to find space to mark it yet again.

at this point you were literally going in and out of vision. his grip on you grew tighter as he released yet another load into you. you too felt your pussy leaking, unaware of the knot that was in your stomach. you were feeling too many things at once that you ended up going completely numb. you whimpered below him, trying to find anything to get him to realize that you needed a break. but the tears that fell from your eyes only made him wanna fuck you more.

he slid out, watching the mixture of cum literally pour out of you. your thighs were soaked and red from the constant biting and nibbling a few moments ago. your face was red as well from the lack of oxygen. he let go of your neck, licking his lips as if he was deciding what to do with you next. all he knew, was that he wanted to keep fucking you.

he grabbed your legs and pressed them together and into your chest. immediately you felt his dick slide right in, going at his fast pace yet again. "k-konig please- I-i cant" you managed to choke out, your head hitting the bed frame with each thrust he gave you. this was when the fun for you ended. it only made him more and more horny, seeing you tap out so soon after he began to fuck you.

the look in his eyes was not the same look when he came home, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand as he ran up to you, lifting you off the ground and placing kisses all over your face. no. this look was dangerous. it was almost like it was the same look he had on the battle field.

his hand went back to your throat, his head tilting to the side slightly. "shut up a-and fucking.. take it. I know.. you missed this a-as much as me." he growled, moving his hips only faster and deeper. but you couldnt take it. you truly couldnt take it.

by the time you felt your 6th orgasm approaching, you began to see white light in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you were truly at your limit. "s-strawberry" you tried to say as loud as you could. but the sounds of your cunt and konigs whimpers, he couldnt hear you. his thrusts kept going until you felt him release inside you again, his grip on your throat enough to snap your throat. and at that same time, what you though was impossible happened. you had the most painful orgasm ever, your body feeling like it was going to shut down entirely. it was like you had nothing else to give.

""fuck libeling.. gimme one more.. be a good girl." he whispered breathlessly, his hips beginning to once again, move. this time slower but still deep. but you physically couldn't take it.

once you felt yourself begin to doze off from the lack of oxygen and overstimulation, you were finally able to coherently and loudly say, 'strawberry'.

╰┈➤

you woke up about a half hour later, your throat sore and body just as sore. you tried to turn but your legs gave you a painful sign to stay put. thats when it all came back what had happened. of course, it made tears well up in your eyes. you'd just seen a side of Konig you never thought you'd see. a side of him he kept hidden from you.

you stayed completely still, looking into nothing until you heard sniffles coming from the floor behind you. of course, you tried to move but it hurt. but eventually you were able to turn to your side, a few pained moans leaving you every now and then. thats when your eyes landed on Konig sitting on the floor, head in his hands as tears seeped through his fingers.

"Konig?" you said, wincing right after. but he didnt look up. he kept his head in his hands, his chest rising and falling quick. and you knew what this was. you'd been with him for so long, you knew exactly what he was going through based off his body. but as much as you wanted to help him, you genuinely couldnt feel your legs. "please come here.. I cant get up. let me hold you." you said, reaching your hand out. but still, nothing.

you felt a pain in your chest watching him like this, unable to do anything. you wanted to help him, reassure him that everything is okay. but words only do so much for him, he needed you to physically show him everything was okay. "Konig please I-" "I h-hurt you. im s-so s-sorry." he spoke out, hyperventilating throughout all. he began to rock on the floor, crying harder into his hands.

hearing him cry, it made you want to cry with him. especially since, you couldnt do anything but try and talk to him. "Konig please." you tried reasoning with him. but he couldnt get himself off the floor. thats when you decided to drag yourself off the bed, no matter how much pain you felt. you knew that yes you needed help too, but you weren't gonna get any if your help was having a panic attack.

once you got to the end of the bed, you crawled off of it slowly, your hands hitting the ground first, legs second. you groaned at the light impact, but still dragged yourself over to Konig. he was shaking when you got to him, his cries not stopping, even when you rested your hand on his foot. "Konig please stop crying.. look im okay. im alive." "but you almost weren't." he was looking up now. seeing his red puffy eyes broke your heart. and seeing you, looking lifeless and not responding to him made him even more worried for you than you were for him. the only thing that kept him going was your pulse, and barely that.

"I-i almost k..killed-" he couldnt finish his sentence before sobbing into his hands again, shaking his head. your head dropped, you didnt know what to say. you'd never experienced this issue with Konig, with anyone before. you'd never had to use your safe word and you never expected to. "Konig.. can you look at me?" you finally spoke, your voice stern.

he looked up at you, wiping his eyes. " it was an experience, okay? yes it was scary and yes it could've gone wrong. but it was a could've situation, not a did happen situation. as much as I want to help you feel better, I cant do that if I cant see you, and talk to you like I am now." your hand took his, squeezing gently. he sniffled and nodded, looking straight into you. " right now, I need help too. so lets help each other feel better." you said, smiling softly at him.

he looked down at your neck, some of the hickies leaving behind dried blood or bite marks. some even both. his heart dropped as he ran his eyes down your body again, the thsirt he put on you the second he realized you had passed out, barely covering the similar marks on your thighs. "im.. im so sorry maus.." he whispered, shaking his head.

you smiled and grabbed his face, leaning in as slow as you could as to not hurt yourself, leaving small kisses on his cheek. " I love you Konig, okay? you got a bit carried away. you've been gone a year. its normal. unexpected, but I understand. just please, next time-" "ill treat you like your made of glass libeling." he finished, grabbing your face.

Konig knew deep down, he'd never forgive himself for this. for putting you in danger like that, for turning into the man he was on the battlefield. he'd never forgive himself, no matter how many times you told him it was okay. it wasn't. and he felt worse about being the one on the floor crying instead of showering you in love.

he stood, grabbing you with such ease into his arms, flipping you bridal style. you clung to his neck, smiling at him. "lets go give you a bath, ill order your favorite food. or I can cook. then we can watch that show you've been watching. we can do anything you want maus.. I love you." he said, walking towards the connected bathroom.

and you both did just that. the rest of the night you stayed in, cuddling and watching your favorite shows. as bedtime grew closer for you both, he began to clean the marks along your body, kissing each one and apologizing after them all. he felt so bad, and he was willing to go above and beyond, and even then some, to make you feel like the beautiful princess you were.

#konig #konig smut #konig fanfiction #konig x reader #cod #cod x reader #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #konig fic #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #mw2

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crappymixtape · 1 year ago

Text

because of you • part one

PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 2.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T O N E 🎶 good girls ( john carpenter remix ), chvrches

“Why is she even here?”

“Steve!”

A loud smack cut the air in two as Robin slapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder, rendering the rest of group there in Max’s trailer silent.

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, cheeks burning under his gaze, lips twisted into a scowl and trying hard to hold back the daggers you wanted so badly to throw at him.

“She doesn’t know what the hell we’re up against! How’s she supposed to–“

“Steve, none of us knew either, cut her a break.”

“Cut her a break and then what? We all get eaten by a fucking melted people monster?”

“That’s not fair–“

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Nancy,” you cut the girl off, standing quickly from your spot on the couch.

They’d been talking like this since you showed up. Like you weren’t right there in the room with them and honestly you kind of wished you weren’t anymore.

“I need some air,” you grumbled before giving Steve a pointed glare and shouldering open the front door.

The air outside was crisp as you sat down on the front stoop. Not a cloud in the sky and sunlight washing everything in soft golden light, but it all still felt so dark. Like it was harboring thick shadows. Long, spindly, and pitch black. Waiting to wrap their twisted fingers around you.

Waiting to dig into you and squeeze tight.

Waiting to lift you twenty feet into the air and snap your bones like twigs.

Waiting to leave you for dead.

And here was Steve fucking Harrington asking what right you had to be there. Asking what purpose were you gonna serve amongst this “holier than thou” joke of an army. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Eddie had already gotten their asses handed to them by what they’d called demobats, Steve arguably needing serious medical attention, and they wanted to go back? It took everything you had to not leave right there on the spot.

Hell, maybe you should, you thought for a minute. You didn’t owe them anything, especially Steve, but you did owe it to your best friend. The one who basically had a hit out on him. The one who wouldn’t hurt a goddamn fly, but all of Hawkins had already decided he was guilty and you weren't about to leave him.

Eddie.

❝ SO SAVE YOUR BREATH, GIVE A LITTLE OF WHAT YOU HAVE LEFT – DO THEY KNOW SOMETHING I DON’T? ❞

You met him two years ago under the bleachers at the Homecoming football game. It seemed like the perfect place to smoke the joint you’d messily rolled in the car right before you’d come into the stadium and apparently you’d been right, but someone else had already laid claim to it...

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this is kind of my spot.”

He’d been all black leather and denim. Dark curls and clove. Silver rings and chains and heavy boots and maybe you should’ve been more intimidated, but the smile lines at the corners of his mouth gave him away.

“Don’t see a sign anywhere,” you’d shot back, no hesitation. Looked over at him all skeptics and attitude and took a long drag from your joint. Blew the smoke off in his direction and it made him grin like an idiot.

“Been sellin’ weed down here for like…the last three years so–actually, yeah. What the fuck, man. Someone owes me a sign.”

...And that was it, you were a goner. Laughing mid-toke and coughing so hard you cried and it made him feel so bad he gave you a baggy for free. Eddie "the freak" Munson and you – best friends.

Skipped all the stupid dances and football games with you. Paraded around the lunch room like an idiot with you. Threw fries back at the jocks for you when they called you a loser and sat on the floor in the bathroom with you when you cried.

So fuck “King Steve” Harrington.

You had every right to be there, probably even more than he did and you were gonna tell him to his face, but—

“Can I sit?”

The sudden sound of someone else made you jump.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled and sat down next to you. Gave you a sidelong glance and a small lopsided smile. “He’s really not so bad–”

“You’re joking. Right? Tell me you’re joking.”

The boy hummed, dropped his gaze down to the rings wrapped around his fingers and twisted the one on his thumb.

“He doesn’t want me here. None of them do,” you grumbled, frustration fed further by his non-answer and it pulled his eyes back up to you.

“Hey now, that’s not true–”

“Yes it is! Even Nancy looks at me like a kicked puppy.”

That pulled a laugh from him. Made him scoot closer to you and bump his shoulder into yours. “Listen, sweetheart,” the nickname made you soften, but you tried to keep your scowl in place, “We’re all in over our fuckin’ heads, hm? And Stevie boy…he’s seen some shit. He’s just trying to–”

“Just trying to what? Be a complete dickhead about it? Mission accomplished.”

Eddie sighed and roughed a hand over his face. Rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. He knew what you felt because he’d felt it too. Knew what it was like to get laughed at and mocked in the lunch room. Knew how it was supposed to be between him and the other boy. Hell, he nearly cut Harrington’s face off with a broken bottle a few days ago, but one thing was clear.

Change was possible and Steve Harrington was proof, he just wasn’t great at showing it.

“Alright. He could be less of a dick,” he conceded, propping his chin in his hand and looking at you with his big brown eyes. How could you be mad at that?

You mumbled under your breath about that not being the only thing, but fine, okay, only for you, Eds.

Reaching over he flicked at your fingers and looked at you from under his curls with a stern pinch between his brows. “He’s helping me, sweetheart. They all are. Shit, without them I’d probably be in jail already. Or in Carver’s trunk,” he tried a laugh, but it fell short at the end with the weight of his words and it made you grab at his hand and squeeze it.

“Shut up,” you chided softly, no heat behind it. The anger that had been swelling in your chest all but extinguished.

Silence settled between the two of you then, heavy and tinged at the edges with worry. With everything that was at risk and it started to gnaw at the pit of your stomach. What if you couldn’t fix it? And even if you could, this Vecna asshole was about to end the world anyway so what the hell did it matter?

How were a bunch of kids going to do anything about it?

“Ahem,” the door knocked into your back and jolted you back to earth. Pulled a gasp from you and when you looked up over your shoulder you felt your anger return ten fold. “We’re leaving, geniuses,” Steve announced, pushing at you with the door.

“Least you know you’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath, standing up from your spot to glare at him at eye level.

“Real cute,” Steve shouldered past you on the stoop, took the last two steps in one go and turned to face you both as he landed on the grass. “For you, Munson,” he said, throwing a mask at Eddie, “Courtesy of Mayfield.”

“What’s that for?” you couldn’t help asking as Max appeared at your side and pointed so casually – too casually – at the mask.

“Gonna steal a Winnebago. Get that on, dingus. Let’s go.”

“Nice,” Eddie grinned up at the red-headed girl and yanked the mask on over his head, “Thanks, Red.”

“Let’s go,” Steve urged, waving his hands at everyone to get out of the house and you felt your heart racing.

“Steal a Winnebago? Eddie. Fuck that–”

“Honey, I’m already a wanted man–” Eddie cut you off and readjusted the ridiculous looking mask a bit. “–c’mon,” he said, tugging at your belt loop to get with it.

“I–that doesn’t mean you can just steal–”

“We’re way past that,” Dustin chimed in, shoving past you just like everyone else, “Besides, if the world’s gonna end anyway, what’s it matter?”

Shit. The kid had a point. It was probably fine. It was just a trailer. Maybe you could give it back afterward? You needed it more than they did. Right?

“Dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, now the only one still standing around. “Wait for me!”

❝ THEY TELL ME I’M HELL-BENT ON REVENGE, I CUT MY TEETH ON WEAKER MEN, I WON’T APOLOGIZE AGAIN ❞

The first time you ran into Steve Harrington was sophomore year. In the hallway before Click’s class. You were cramming everything into your bag, but struggling with your history book when you heard it coming.

Tommy Hagan’s stupid laugh.

Your stomach sank, eyes glued on your things and trying to ignore it. He was in your science class the year before along with his ditzy girlfriend Carol and they always made sure to get a spot in the back just to make out.

“Need some help?”

When you finally looked up at him he’d stopped right in front of you, the grin on his lips sharklike as Carol smirked out from under his arm. Another boy you didn’t know was standing just behind them wearing a stupid member’s only jacket, half unzipped, and had hair that sat perfectly in place. Too perfect.

“That looks heavy, hm?” Tommy said grabbing your book, voice all saccharine sweet and sharp around the edges. Flipping through the pages he pulled a face, clicked his tongue and weighed it in his hand, then made a show of dumping it on the floor. “Whoops. Sorry!” he half-laughed and your cheeks burned.

“Bite me, Hagan,” you snapped back, bending down to grab your book, and it only made his grin grow wider.

“Ooo. She’s fiesty today, Stevie. I like it.”

And then he chimed in. Stevie. The had-to-be-douchebag that everyone called 'King Steve.'

“Probably on her period,” he said scoffing a laugh, all confidence and bravado and the look on his face was so smug. Thought he was so clever and funny and when you finally turned around it was to take the two steps up to him in one.

“Really? My period? So original.”

It made him swallow hard. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he blinked back the flicker of surprise glinting in his eyes. He took a quick glance at Tommy like he didn’t want to disappoint him and then hardened his expression. Crowded down over you and nodded.

“Explains you being such a bitch.”

And it took the air from your lungs. Stuck in your sides sharp like a knife and you felt your throat tighten as Tommy and Carol snickered, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not here.

“Yeah. Bet you wish you had an excuse for being such an asshole,” you cut at him and it pulled an Oh shit! out of Tommy as he doubled over laughing, Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Your feet couldn’t carry you away fast enough as you shoved your book in your bag and turned to leave, but you refused to run. Refused to let them see weakness, and as Tommy yelled down the hallway after you about tampons you raised a middle finger high in the air to punctuate just how much you hated them all.

Eddie met you in the bathroom after that, the one nobody used on the other side of school, and you told him everything. He let you have the joint he had tucked behind his ear for emergencies, listened to you and told you they weren’t worth it. Especially not Steve. Because even though Tommy started it, Steve was the one who dug in. Could have left it alone but didn’t and that was what really got you.

How obvious it was he knew how shitty they were being, but went along with it anyway because he had to maintain his status. Had to uphold how ‘cool’ he was and keep the line in the sand drawn between him and ‘the freaks’ like you.

So he wouldn’t get a second chance.

And he wasn’t worth your time.

Not then and sure as hell not now.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART ONE OF A THREE PART SERIES, PART TWO AND THREE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Injured IV

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: Olga has the baby

Mami and Olga get pregnant a few months after your discussion. Olga moves in full time too and you get to be very helpful and do things like give her food or cuddle her on the sofa.

She gets very round very quickly and that confuses you until Mami points out it's because Olga's growing your baby brother or sister. Olga cries a lot too and everyone blames that on hormones but can't actually really give you an explanation about what hormones are so you're not entirely sure why but giving her cuddles and kisses seems to make her not cry as much so you do that.

Soon enough though, the crying stops and she can move around properly again because she's had your baby brother.

He's kind of ugly, you think when you first see him. He's all red and wrinkly and he cries all the time. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night because he's crying and look through the gap between your door and the frame to see Mami and Olga get up to soothe him.

He's named after Abuelo, who you've never met because he died before you were born. Baby Jaume is alright sometimes when he's quiet and when he first came home, Mami took a lot of pictures of your holding him and put most of them up in the house somewhere.

Jaume was fun to have at the start. He did silly things like not being able to hold up his head or puke all down Tia Alba's back when they first met.

Now though, the allure of Jaume has dimmed a little.

He's just there now, just another person in your life that you didn't quite understand.

"There he is," Mami coos as soon as she comes in the door, arms already out to pick up the baby.

Something icky makes your tummy hurt when she picks him and completely bypasses you on her way to the kitchen where Olga's cleaning up from lunch.

You hadn't eaten much, just a few bites of your sandwich, but Jaume had spit up some of his milk again so Olga was washing everything again.

You wait a little bit for Mami to notice her mistake, to notice you, but she doesn't. You can hear her laughing in the kitchen with Olga and Jaume.

You look back at your trains, dropping them as you wedge yourself under the coffee table.

Maybe when Mami can't find you anywhere, she'll notice you again.

The carpet is a little rough under your cheek but you're determined to stay where you are so Mami can find you like she did when you were much littler.

She never does though because you lay there for a long while.

Jaume is crying again. You can hear him and that makes you not want to leave your hidey hole either. Everyone goes to Jaume if he cries even if Mami is already holding him.

He cries and he cries and he cries and you cry too, hidden under the table as you wait for Mami to come find you.

You wished that she wanted to see you as much as she wanted to see Jaume. She's always smiling at him and giving him kisses and cuddles.

You get your bedtime kiss at the end of the day but that's it. Mami's busy at work and Olga's busy with Jaume and you wish you weren't here anymore.

You sniffle, more tears rolling down your cheeks even as Jaume's stop.

Mami and Olga are talking at him, you can hear them. They talk to Jaume a lot even though he can't talk back. You wished they'd talk to you more.

Sometimes, if Jaume is very good, Mami will sit with you and read you a bedtime story. If Jaume isn't very good, she sends you to bed without one because it's more important that Jaume learns to be good instead of reading you your bedtime story.

Like today.

You know you won't get a bedtime story today because all Jaume seems to do is cry.

You don't see Mami much the day after too. She goes to training before you wake up and you spend most of the day at nursery so you don't see her when she comes home for lunch too.

You don't go to nursery a lot, especially not now that Jaume is born but you go often enough that Mami and Olga shouldn't forget you.

But they do.

You sit in the office, fighting back tears as the woman hurriedly goes through everyone in your contact book. Mami and Olga have never been late to pick you up before.

You clutch a picture in your hand. You did painting today and you did one of you and Mami and Olga and baby Jaume. You want to show Mami and Olga and put it up on the fridge when you get home but the sky is getting darker and you're still waiting for someone to collect you.

Your bottom lip wobbles and you start to cry.

You're good at crying quietly now. One time you started to cry loudly at the same time as Jaume and Mami yelled at you. She apologised afterwards, saying that she was stressed and sorry but you haven't cried loudly since.

You're still crying when the door opens.

You wish it was Mami or even Miss Olga but it's not.

Tia Alba pulls you into a hug.

"We couldn't get in contact with Alexia or Olga," The reception woman says solemnly.

"Right, yes," Tia Alba says, shaking her head," I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sure there was just a miscommunication. I'll sort it out."

Tia Alba drives you home but it's dark.

There's no Mami or Miss Olga waiting for you.

"I...I drew a picture," You say softly, holding it up for Tia Alba to see," The teacher said to draw a picture of our families, so I did."

"It's beautiful, bambi," Tia Alba assures you," Very pretty. Shall we put it on the fridge?"

The fridge is different now. It used to be full of a lot of your paintings but it's mostly bare now. There's a big picture of Miss Olga and Mami at the very centre with baby Jaume a few hours after he was born.

Tia Alba hands you a magnet and you put your picture on the side of the fridge, away from the picture.

"When is my Mami coming home?" You ask.

"Soon," Tia Alba says though she glances uncertainly at the door," Hey, how about we play with your new trains?"

You shake your head. "I don't have new trains."

"What? Of course you do! Your Mami gets you a new train every week!"

You shake your head again. "Mami's busy now. I've got my old trains. Are we still allowed to play even if it's with my old ones?"

"Of course, bambi. Why don't you set up the track?"

You do so gladly and wait for Tia Alba as she speaks quickly into the phone. She turns on the tv for background noise as you both play a train game, loading and unloading resources into the back and making them zoom across the track.

There's a Barcelona match playing.

Mami plays for Barcelona. It's the very end and the team is celebrating, holding up a trophy and cheering. Mami's got the trophy in one hand and baby Jaume in the other.

"Mami isn't coming home soon," You say plainly, staring at the tv as someone takes a picture of Jaume sitting in the cup.

"Bambi-"

You look back at your trains. "I...I don't want my painting up on the fridge anymore."

"Are you sure, bambi? I'm sure your Mami will be very happy to see it there."

Mami is on the screen again, smiling with Miss Olga and baby Jaume.

"I don't want the picture anymore," You say, getting up and pushing away your trains," You should put it in the bin, Tia."

"Are you sure?" Tia Alba takes it down from the fridge and gives it to you. "But it's so pretty."

You rip it straight down the middle. "It's not real." You shut yourself in your room, pushing as many of your things behind it so Alba can't get in.

She can't get you to come out either, no matter what she promises or how much she begs. She had been getting ready for a night out with her friends when she'd got the call from your nursery teacher saying that no one had come to pick you up.

She had assumed that Alexia and Olga were running late until there had been an update on the Barcelona Instagram proclaiming that the team were meeting their youngest teammate.

You'd been withdrawn the moment she saw you. The most excited you got was when showing her your drawing and even calling that excitement was pushing it.

You'd been on the verge of shutting down for a while now but Alba can't even get into the room you've barricaded and it's all so much worse.

"Alba?" Alexia says in amusement," Why are you sitting on the floor?"

It's been hours since you originally hidden yourself away in your room. You've put yourself to bed with no bath and no dinner and Alba just sees red.

The last time she put hands on Alexia was when they were kids and Alexia had thrown her favourite playdoh colour over the fence. She could probably count the days it's been since an actual physical fight but the counter goes back down to zero the moment she shoves Alexia against the wall.

"You selfish fuck!" She says," God, I thought you were better than this!"

"Hey! Get off! What the hell?! I haven't done anything!"

"Exactly! You haven't done anything! I hope you're happy! I hope showing off your son and winning trophies is worth it!"

"Alba, what are you going on about? Are you drunk? Get off!"

"Because you're never seeing that little girl again!"

Alexia freezes like someone's just injected ice into her veins. She looks around Alba's head. Your bedroom is door shut.

"What are you talking about? Bambi? You can't take Bambi!"

"Oh, so you do know who she is? I'd say better late than never but I don't think it really applies!"

Alexia's confused. "What's going on? What's wrong with Bambi?"

"God." Alba bursts into uncontrollable laughter. "Have you always been this stupid? What's wrong with Bambi? How about you ask where Bambi was all day? Where was Bambi while you were showing Jaume off to your team and winning another stupid medal?"

Alexia thinks it over for a moment. "Oh."

"Oh," Alba mocks, face twisting up into a sneer as she shoves Alexia back into the wall again," She drew you a picture today, you know. You and her and Olga and Jaume."

"I..."

"Don't bother trying to look for it. She says that it's a lie and I can see why."

"Get off!" Alexia shoves her back, going to turn your door handle but it just won't open. She swears. She'd taught you how to put your chair under the handle in case an intruder ever broke in and how to push all of your belongings up against it in case the chair ever fell.

She knocks on the door.

"Bambi? Bambi, baby, open the door."

There's no answer and she knocks louder.

"Bambi! Come on. Open the door for Mami. I'm...I'm really excited to see your picture. Why don't we put it on the fridge, huh? Wouldn't that be fun?"

There's still nothing and Alexia feels herself grow a bit more desperate when Olga comes around the corner with Jaume.

"What's going on?" She asks.

Alexia can't answer as she slams her fist against your door, rattling the door handle.

"I'll be back tomorrow at midday," Alba says to Olga," Make sure she's got overnight clothes packed."

Alexia can't even hear her, desperate to force the door open.

"Bambi, please!"

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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annievrse · 3 months ago

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How'd You Turn It Right Around? / Act IV

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place post-time skip. W/C: 20.3k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Zou spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: Mentions of torture and violence, Doflamingo (& his past), anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, and more violence. A/N: Welcome to the final instalment of Labyrinth! I'm so beyond excited to share this with you, and I hope you find it a fitting ending for a story I've poured so much of myself into. This chapter is more reader-focused, but Law isn't far away! Enjoy!!

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

Much to your chagrin, the Palace is nothing short of elegant—it disgusts you. You sit on the highest level, gazing over a country ruled by a sadistic, arrogant psychopath, and wonder how you ended up here. You could have fought him back on Green Bit, but with Law so close and Doflamingo so ruthless, you took the first out offered to you. Law isn’t weak, you know this, but with his motive so personal, he would act irrationally and maybe get himself killed in the process. So, you took it upon yourself to save him, which cuts him deeply. You know you shouldn’t be putting him through this, but it’s his life or yours. And he deserves to live.

There’s shuffling behind you, Doflamingo’s executives preparing the chamber for something. They give you wary looks, some laced with terror and some with curiosity, and you wonder what he told them.

“Dreamweaver.”

You scowl at the name and turn. “Don’t call me that.”

Doflamingo leans against the massive throne that faces the window, his looming figure ominous. You stumble backwards, the backs of your thighs hitting the other throne behind you. There are specks of blood splattered on his pink, feathered coat, but you don’t linger on them for too long, scared of what your mind will conclude.

“Touchy,” He mutters, sucking his teeth. “Your dear Law will be here soon.”

Your eyes narrow. “What?”

A grim smile paints his lips. “I captured him, you know, so that I can kill him… if he isn’t already dead.”

You squint at him, the urge to ask what he means by that on the tip of your tongue. The awkward air between you is palpable, but you don’t turn your back to him. “You said—”

“Did I?” Doflamingo interrupts, and then you close your eyes and scold yourself for being so naive, so trusting. He lied about resigning from the Warlords, even got the newspaper to cover it, yet you believed he’d stay away from Law in exchange for your cooperation. How foolish.

“He fought so valiantly for you,” He continues, pouting. “Too bad it wasn’t enough. He’s just as weak as he was as a child.”

Vexation churns in your stomach, and you regard him with such revulsion that Doflamingo cackles. Angry tears burn your eyes as you clench your jaw.

“Who knew the brat could have someone like you caring for him? Someone with an ability so beyond the realm of human comprehension—”

“Young master,” A man says from the doorway, effectively cutting Doflamingo off. “There are some issues on the lower levels.”

He scowls, his fingers jagged. It’s too late before you fathom what’s happening. The man falls to the floor, his body writhing. His cries are broken, and you watch in horror as the man’s limbs twist and snap grotesquely. You blanch at the sight of his mangled body, his bones turning to ash under his skin.

Doflamingo's malice is unlike anything you've ever witnessed, his wicked grin stretching wider with each passing moment. He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he looks down at the man, who lies unconscious from the torment.

“They never learn, do they?”

You don’t breathe. The man’s body dangles like a marionette, invisible strings controlling his limbs.

“Stop,” You whisper. The sound is almost muted, but a strangled cry escapes your throat when the corners of the man’s mouth rise into a sick, unnatural grin. “Stop!”

Doflamingo looks over his shoulder, his arm raised as he plays with the man like a toy. “Make me.”

If you were thinking clearly, you'd realise this was a test—a twisted way for Doflamingo to gauge the limits of your power. But at this moment, all you can focus on is the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze—for Law, for this man, for everyone who’s suffered at Doflamingo’s hands. You can hardly believe you fell for his manipulative words.

Then Law’s face flashes in your mind, and you feel the tension in your fist ease. You have to stick this out. You can’t let your emotions take over—not with Doflamingo. You can’t let yourself die before seeing Law finally exact the revenge he’s carried since childhood. You cling to the loathing and raw fury that fuels you, and a smile twists your lips.

“I’m not playing games.”

The King of Dressrosa pauses his assault and drops the man to the floor, his body tumbling like slime. “I’m glad. Neither am I.”

He faces you, sunglasses reflecting the sun shining through the windows. Behind him, the man’s soul exits his body and enters Seam. You hope he has a nice time there.

A crash echoes from below, muffled by the palace's many levels, but neither of you moves. You lock eyes with him, and the way he runs his tongue over his teeth tells you everything—you’re confident no one has dared meet his gaze like this in a long time.

“Wanna tell me why you kidnapped me in the first place?”

“Fiesty.” He was having fun. Nobody has spoken to him like this before and gotten away with it.

You cock your head.

“Not one for jokes, then,” Doflamingo sighs with a hint of humour. “You possess the Sew-Sew Fruit, correct?”

Nodding warily, you watch as he gestures with his hand.

“There’s your answer.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Doflamingo pauses, almost dumbstruck. “You really don’t know what you are?”

“Clearly not.”

“Calm it with the fire, sweetheart.”

You feel your body go numb, and suddenly, you feel like you’re floating outside of yourself. “Don’t call me that.”

Doflamingo smirks. “What? Sound familiar?”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t think Law would like that very much. Though, I’ve never cared what that brat likes.”

You take a step back, gaze sweeping his body with disgust. “Are you done?”

“Who do you think is in control here, dollface? Because it sure as hell isn’t you.”

“I’m not fighting you.”

“Smart.”

A knock on the wide-open door draws you from your staring contest, and you swallow thickly.

“Yes?”

“Young master, we’re here to deliver your package.”

The thought of Law being treated like nothing more than a package ignites a searing rage inside you. Your lover sways unsteadily on his feet, clearly unconscious, as massive men drag him through the door. Sea-prism stone cuffs bite into his wrists so tightly that blood drips from his fingertips.

They throw him onto the throne, their hands moving swiftly to attach chains to his cuffs on either side of the chair. His head hangs limply, his body a dead weight. The sight twists something dark and cold in your gut.

“Pity. He’s not dead.”

You’re too immersed in a state of shock to react to Doflamingo’s comment. What happened after Green Bit that could’ve led to this?

He greets the newcomers with a casual nod—Baby 5 and Buffalo, both familiar from Punk Hazard. Doflamingo lets out a long sigh as he moves toward the chair opposite Law, stretching his arms high above his head before settling into the seat. You watch, tense, as he relaxes into the position: one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, head tilted in a way that suggests he’s ready for an interrogation—or at least, that's how it seems to you.

Doflamingo uses his strings to reel you in, his grip on you almost suffocating in possessiveness. You bite your lip, fighting back the surge of nausea. How dare he.

Law sits slumped, his hat missing and his clothes in tatters. Upon closer inspection, you see the skin of his stomach streaked with dried blood.

“Nice of you to join us, Law.”

Your eyes snap to his face, and your breath catches when his weary gaze locks with yours. It takes him a moment to register it’s you, and then he’s struggling against his restraints. You force yourself to bite your tongue, stopping yourself from doing something reckless.

“Let her go! This is between you and me!”

Doflamingo blinks, a slow, mocking grin stretching across his face. “Oh, I didn’t take her unwillingly. There were... conditions. I made that clear in front of the Colosseum.”

Law’s usually indifferent, half-lidded gaze is now sharp and wild as he scans your body. You seem unhurt, standing there unrestrained, but Law knows you too well. He knows exactly what Doflamingo must have said to make you comply, and he realises that tearing out his own heart without his power would hurt less than seeing you like this.

“Well, your conditions don’t mean anything, do they? I’m still here.”

You lunge forward, anger burning in your chest, hands poised to strike at Doflamingo. But before you can move, you stagger back, the strength of invisible strings pulling you against the wall. Law grunts, realising you are physically being controlled by Doflamingo.

With a low snarl, you glare at Doflamingo, focusing on the minuscule needles aimed at his eyes. He senses the danger, and with a flick of his index finger, he effortlessly swats the nearly invisible metal rods away from his face.

“Try that again, and Law dies. Got it?”

Your lover looks up at you through his lashes, the blaze in his irises sparking brighter. “Don’t touch her.”

Doflamingo smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Pathetic. You’ve become a fool, Law.”

His breaths are ragged as he squirms in the chains. Law is losing his composure. “I will fucking kill you!”

Doflamingo lets out a low chuckle beside you, and Law shoots him a venomous glare.

"Don’t even look at her."

A whimper escapes you as the restraints tighten, and Doflamingo pulls you roughly in front of him. His eyes slide over your body, making you shiver with disgust.

“What are you gonna do if I do? Huh? Keep throwing empty threats at me?” He spins you around so you’re body is facing Law, and he drags a finger along your throat.

Law huffs through his nose, his muscles straining as he tries to wrench the cuffs off his wrists. He grunts with pain, but the blood dripping from his skin doesn’t stop him from trying again. You focus on him, silently willing him to meet your gaze, to understand the message in your eyes—that everything will be okay.

When he finally looks at you, you inhale sharply, furrowing your brow in a silent promise: no matter what happens, you’ll both make it out of here alive. The unspoken exchange lingers between you briefly before Doflamingo clears his throat, breaking the tension.

“Enough.” The expression on Doflamingo's face indicates his disturbed attitude towards the connection between you and Law, and he stands.

“Something wrong, Young Master?” Buffalo asks, oblivious to whatever understanding his master has of his two hostages. “Did you hear something?”

Doflamingo ignores him and approaches Law, his hands in his pockets. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, brat. I’m not about to let you mess this one up too.”

Law scowls up at him, his lip curling. “You can’t control me anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” The King laughs, his hand jerking quickly to draw you toward him. You stumble but catch yourself before you fall. “As long as I have her, you’re nothing but a slave.”

Suddenly, a giant boulder comes out of nowhere, crashing from the left side of the room with a slick zing of a sword to lob off Doflamingo’s head. You stand there in awe and bewilderment as you see the blonde head tumble to the floor and bounce away. The scene before you is grisly and horrifying, but where you expect blood, there’s nothing. You blink in horror at the lack thereof, and your brain struggles to catch up to the present.

There are screaming and guttural cries around you, but you stare at the stump where Doflamingo’s neck is—how is he still standing?

Everything makes sense: how he flies, controls a body like a puppet, and can stand without a head… it all stems from the strings. The same strings that control the country’s citizens, the ones that held Law against the tree on Green Bit, and the ones that wrap around your waist to keep you compliant are controlled by Doflamingo.

You gasp and turn, spotting a man battling Baby 5 and Buffalo. It wasn't a boulder after all, but a gladiator-clad figure who had just sliced Doflamingo’s head clean off his body—or, his fake body. Thinking fast, you conjure a needle and swiftly sever the strings binding you. A wave of relief washes over you as they drop to the floor.

Law watches you, his expression calm, though he knows exactly what you're planning. You rush toward him but halt abruptly, the sea prism cuffs sending a jolt of dread through you. "Shit."

"There’s no time," Law snaps, his voice laced with urgency, making the anxiety in your stomach spike. "Go while you still can."

“Like hell.”

“Traffy!”

You let out a scoffing laugh, recognising that voice all too well. Luffy calls your name moments later, his smile stretching wider. His timing is, as always, perfect.

“You’re okay!”

“I am,” You reply, exhaling with relief. Your heart clenches at the sight of him, and for a brief moment, all you can wish for is that Luffy would scoop you and Law up and whisk you both away to some peaceful, far-off island.

A woman runs alongside Luffy, a key in her hand. Luffy grabs it from her and nearly tackles you in his rush. With Doflamingo’s headless body, his executives battling a gladiator, and you finally free from his grasp, Law sits frozen, overwhelmed by the commotion around him.

“How’re you here, Straw Hat?”

The key is shoved into your hands, Luffy shaking with anticipation. “Do it.”

“Me?” You blink. “I can’t touch sea-prism stone either.”

“Did you destroy the factory?” Law side-eyes Luffy.

“Why’s it always business with you?” Luffy asks, pouting. “What if I just wanted to save you guys?”

Your hands tremble as you aim the key at the cuff's keyhole. Without touching them, you can’t unlock the cuffs properly. “I can’t do it.”

“What if we—”

A chill spreads through your body like a bucket of ice water has been dumped directly over your head. A sinister laugh echoes through the room, and when your eyes lock with Law's, fear and alarm are evident in his gaze. You were right—it’s all connected to the strings.

The entire chamber goes deadly still, and then, instantly, you’re lifted into the air. Your legs flail, searching for something to land on. You hit the ground with a slide, landing on your feet, followed by Luffy and the woman. Law remains seated on the throne, which comes to a halt a few feet away, tossing him sideways onto the ground.

A stone pillar juts up from the floor, but before you can process where it came from, Doflamingo’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“That was a surprise.”

Luffy gasps before you do, but you’re too stunned to move.

“The whole country’s in chaos now that the toys are free.”

Toys? The word sends a jolt through you, and memories of the clown from when you were shopping for disguises flicker in your mind. You gape in shock as the realisation hits—it was a toy, not just a figment of your imagination.

“Tragic, really. I was having fun.”

You squint at Doflamingo’s body, the tendrils of string emerging from the base of his neck.

Doflamingo’s head lets out a heavy sigh, a look of mock contemplation crossing his face.

“Looks like I’ll have to use the Birdcage to get this under control.” His voice is smooth, almost casual.

Across the room, you hear a chair scrape against the floor, followed by the frantic sound of chains rattling. Law’s body thrashes against the restraints holding him in place. His eyes are wide with panic, his breath coming in short, keen gasps.

“No! You can’t!” His voice cracks, raw and desperate.

Doflamingo’s eyes flick over to him, his expression unreadable as he raises a brow. "Oh? You seem concerned, Law. You remember, don't you?"

Law’s chest heaves as he glares at the man before him, his usually composed demeanour wholly shattered.

"You would subject innocents to this?" His voice is filled with disgust, and his tone’s an apparent tremor—a mix of dread and revulsion.

Doflamingo’s lips curl into a cruel smile.

“Nobody is truly innocent.” His tone is flat, devoid of empathy, as if he'd long abandoned any notion of moral boundaries. The words hang in the air, chilling in their certainty.

Law's face contorts with frustration. “You’re wrong,” He spits, the words thick with disdain. "Innocence isn't something you can just take from people, Doflamingo."

Before Doflamingo can respond, a figure steps forward from the shadows—the imposing gladiator, his muscles rippling beneath his armour. The man draws his sword fluidly, the blade gleaming in the sunlight. His face is set in a grim, determined expression.

“Enough!” the gladiator bellows, his voice booming with authority. Without hesitation, he leaps from his position, sword raised high as if preparing to charge. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, the room brimming with the sense that everything is about to escalate into an uproar.

You watch the scene unfold, heart pounding, as Doflamingo’s smirk deepens into something more sinister. Law’s struggle intensifies, his body twisting and writhing in his chair.

The tension is unbearable, the calm before the storm.

Doflamingo materialises behind the gladiator, fully intact—no longer the headless phantom he once was. You blink, heart racing, a wave of horror washing over you. The sheer force of his power is palpable, and for a moment, you wonder if you could pull off the same technique. The thought lingers, both terrifying and fascinating.

A low, menacing growl rumbles from Doflamingo’s throat as he steps forward, his leg swinging from the right with a devastating force.

“I’ll show you how to behead a man properly...” His words drip with malice, and before anyone can react, the room erupts into screams of terror. But just as Doflamingo’s leg is about to make contact, Luffy shoves the gladiator out of the way, sending him sprawling to the floor, and plants himself between you and Doflamingo. The world feels like it shifts around you. Sunlight bursts through the cracks in the building, dancing on your skin, and when you glance up, the sky seems impossibly vast, stretching above you.

Your mind struggles to process what just happened. There’s no way a single kick could have taken the roof off a building.

You push the thought aside, focusing instead on the fight before you. Amid the rubble and mayhem, you sprint toward Law.

"It's no use," Law says, his voice strained, his eyes filled with frustration and helplessness. "You can't touch it..." His words are heavy, laced with a deep sense of defeat, and there's a desperate plea behind them. "Please, just leave."

Your breath catches in your throat. His face, normally composed, is filled with an urgency you can’t ignore. But there’s no time for hesitation.

"Where's your katana?" You ask quickly.

Law shifts uncomfortably in his chair, his teeth gritting in pain. "Don’t know��please, just leave."

You ignore his pleas, your focus honing in on getting him free. You search desperately around the space, looking for anything to help cut through the chains. But before you can find anything, a scream cuts through the air, a distinct cry of panic that stops you dead in your tracks.

Instinctively, you turn, your gaze snapping to the scene unfolding before you. Your voice catches, but it escapes, barely pushing through the rawness of your throat.

"Luffy! There’s two!"

He looks up just in time to see two figures of Doflamingo descend upon him, one headless and the other fully intact. The sight is enough to make your blood run cold, but Luffy doesn't flinch. With a burst of speed, he rolls out of the way, narrowly avoiding the attack.

Seizing the brief moment of distraction, you face Law again, checking his condition. Your breath catches as your eyes fall on his abdomen.

“He shot you,” You gasp, your fingers trembling as they hover over the dried blood and bulletholes that mar his skin.

Law’s lips curl into a pained but rueful smile. “Three times.”

A billowing rage floods your chest, and your hands begin to shake, your anger threatening to overtake your thoughts. You clench your fists at your sides, barely holding back the venom in your voice.

“I’m gonna kill him,” You mutter, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Law’s gaze narrows, his voice low and calm but with a hard edge. “I will, for taking you away.”

You shake your head in disbelief, the intensity of the situation rendering an argument pointless. But before you can respond, an explosion of rock to your right makes you stumble, and you instinctively reach out for something to steady yourself.

A jagged spike from the shattered floor shoots upward, embedding itself into your calf. You cry out, the intense pain momentarily blinding you. It’s small, nothing you can’t handle—but just as you compose yourself, the ground beneath you shifts.

Once solid beneath your feet, the tiled floor begins to ripple, moving like water, sending waves of disorienting motion through the room. The world tilts as the ground you stand on seems alive, pulsating with someone’s power.

Your heart pounds. This is bad. Too bad. And it’s only going to get worse.

“I need to get you out of this,” You grit out, your jaw tight as you reach for Law’s forearm. The chair gives way beneath you, and apprehension sweeps through you. In one swift motion, you extend your hand, desperate to free him from the chains that bind him to the throne.

Threads of power shoot forward, wrapping tightly around the chains, constricting them. The tension in the air is suffocating, but your focus is razor-sharp as you glance toward Luffy and Doflamingo. They’re locked in combat, the two moving like a whirlwind of destruction, a brutal dance of fists and fury. You clench your hands, and the sound of metal ringing through the chaos is like a jolt to your senses.

With a sudden, determined jerk, Law breaks free, his body lurching forward despite the weakening effects of the sea prism stone. He stumbles against you, and you wrap your arms around him, supporting him the best you can. But the ground beneath your feet begins to shift again, the floor undulating like the surface of water, and you brace yourself as the room shakes violently.

Before you can fully react, the palace tilts. Gravity pulls at you both, and with a sickening lurch, you tumble, dragged by the chaotic motion. The wind slashes at your face like knives, the world a blur of spinning rock and dust.

You grip Law tighter, but his weight is too much. He’s slipping. You can feel it—his body going limp in your arms, the lack of strength in his limbs a grim reminder of the toll the sea prism stone has taken on him.

I can't carry him, you think, not like this, not without help.

Desperation surges through you as you fight against the pull of the mountain, your hands shaking as you try to keep him upright.

Luffy yells above you, his body flying toward you. The gladiator’s sword flashes as he falls past you, and the realisation hits immediately. The tiles beneath you give way, and you scream as you drop toward the ground. Law yells something, but his words are drowned out by the rush of wind in your ears before he slips. You watch with horror as Law plummets ahead of you, a strangled cry leaving your throat.

Just as you’re about to crash into the solid ground, Luffy expands, and you land with a jolt on his stomach. It happens so quickly that you can barely process it, but you're grateful for the soft landing. You groan as you sit up, tears streaking down your cheeks and adrenaline blurring your vision. No one speaks—no mention of Luffy’s ability or that you all nearly fell to your death. Instead, everyone’s gaze is fixed upward, staring at the sky in stunned silence.

You don't care what Doflamingo is doing now. All that matters is getting to Law. You crawl over to him, and his eyes flick over you with a curt intensity, his gaze locking on the gash in your leg—a deep, jagged cut from the pointed rock that had impaled your calf.

“I can stitch it up,” You murmur, your hands trembling slightly as you cup his face. It’s not the most reassuring of statements, but it's the best you can offer now.

His frown deepens, his brows furrowing in that way you know all too well. The silver of his eyes flickers with concern, even as his tone remains steady, though laced with frustration. “It’ll get infected if you don’t clean it out first—”

“Law,” You cut him off, your laugh breathy and strained. You don’t have the energy for an entire conversation right now.

Luffy groans beneath you, his body deflating like a balloon, and you roll off him, helping Law to his feet with a quick but careful movement.

Law blinks at you, his breath catching as he stands on shaky legs. “It’s starting.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you follow his gaze, dread pooling in your stomach.

Above you, the sky begins to twist.

Strings.

Hundreds of them, thin as silk, fan out in every direction, their glowing ends weaving together at a central point directly overhead. The air grows thick and heavy with the impending doom, and the calm summer day is suddenly replaced by a storm cloud gathering ominously above you. It’s as if the Gods themselves are bracing for what’s coming.

That’s the Birdcage.

“Traffy!” Luffy yells suddenly, his voice full of urgency and confusion as he runs toward you, his eyes wild. “What’s the Birdcage? What does it mean?”

Law’s eyes widen with something you’ve only seen a handful of times in the two years you’ve been with him. The last time was when you were shot on Hachinosu when poison coursed through your veins and left you unconscious for eight days. He displays such uncharacteristic, raw emotion that your heart skips a beat, suddenly gripped by the weight of what it could mean.

“It means he’s going to kill everyone in Dressrosa.”

You swallow hard, words failing you for a moment. The Birdcage isn’t just a cage; it’s a trap.

The group gasps, the woman whimpering as she looks at the gladiator. They exchange a quiet, wordless conversation, and you avert your gaze, giving them space. Luffy, however, locks his eyes on Law, his lip curling in frustration.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you suddenly feel a tug along your spine. It’s subtle like someone gently testing the tension.

Law immediately senses your discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s still got me,” You whisper, and from the way Law’s jaw tightens, he understands precisely what you mean. “Luffy, where’s that key?”

“Uh…” Luffy pats his clothes, scanning the ground. “I gave it to you.”

You freeze, trepidation rising in your throat. “Shit, I must’ve dropped it.”

Law curses under his breath, pulling at his restraints in vain. It’s no use.

Suddenly, your body jerks and you instinctively reach behind you to grab the string. Your name rings out from the mountain, Doflamingo’s voice echoing like a twisted melody. He sings it, dripping with cruel, sadistic pleasure.

Your feet leave the ground, but you fight against the pull, driving a needle into the earth to anchor yourself. Law’s gaze is wild, his eyes locked on Doflamingo as he toys with you.

“We have to go!” The woman yells, nearly tripping as she starts to run. The deafening crack of stone makes you flinch, and a massive shadow looms overhead, casting its dark presence over you and the country below.

“I’m not leaving,” Law growls, his voice steady with resolve. “You guys go ahead.”

You watch as the gladiator and Luffy hesitate, their eyes wide, bulging with shock at the sight above you.

Law gives you a stern look, but you urgently shake your head. "Law, go."

"Like hell."

He throws your words back at you, and you clench your jaw in frustration. "Law—"

Doflamingo roars again; his voice laced with a deadly promise. The venom and wrath in his tone send a chill down your spine as he urges you to stop resisting the pull of the string. You’re yanked forward, a puppet under his command, but you manage to attach a thread to the ground, pulling yourself back toward Law.

“Trafalgar, go.”

He ignores your command, his voice laced with defiance. "No."

You yelp as it feels like your spine is being torn from your body. Doflamingo’s rage pulses down the string, and you shove Law away, desperate to protect him.

"Go!" You plead, your voice shaky, almost desperate. "Go with them, please!"

Law’s brow furrows, confusion and concern flickering across his face as he meets your frantic gaze. "No! I’m not leaving you here!"

You grab hold of the fabric of his coat, your hands shaking, fingers digging into the material as if you could hold onto him forever.

"You have to!" Your voice cracks with the effort it takes for you to say it. "If Doflamingo gets to you again, if he kills you—if I lose you, I—" The words catch in your throat.

Law's eyes soften for a split second, but then his voice comes out strained, raw, like he's trying to hold it together, too.

"No... No way in hell I'm leaving you," His gaze shifts away, and when it comes back to you, there's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—determination laced with acceptance. He knows you can handle yourself. You hadn’t been training with him for two years for nothing.

"You better not fucking die," He spits out, his voice thick with emotion. "You have to come back to me. You hear me?"

Your heart twists painfully, and you pull him closer, your forehead pressing against his. The warmth of his skin against yours is the only thing that feels real right now.

"I’ll never not come back to you," You whisper fiercely, your words a vow, a promise etched into every fibre of your being. "You have my word."

For a moment, neither of you speak. The chaos around you fades into the background as you hold each other, the storm raging inside your chest more painful than anything the outside world could throw at you.

“Hurry up!” the gladiator yells, his voice pulling you away from Law, snapping you back to the destruction around you.

Luffy takes a step forward but freezes when your eyes meet. His eyes are full of concern, something you rarely see in the gaze of someone so carefree. You offer him a smile, though it's shaky.

"I’ll be fine, Luffy," You reassure him, the words slipping out with more confidence than you feel.

"But we just got you back!" Luffy protests, his voice tight with panic. "I’m not letting him lay another finger on you!"

You swallow hard, fighting to keep your tears in check. "I’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon, alright?"

Luffy’s eyes narrow, his face a mask of determination, but you can see the storm brewing underneath. He doesn’t want to let go.

You meet his gaze, steadying your breath. "Please, Luffy. We can’t fight him right now."

Luffy huffs, frustration flickering across his face, but after a long beat, he nods once, his jaw set. "See you soon."

You turn back to Law, your heart heavy. A lump forms in your throat, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the tears threatening to spill.

"I’ll see you soon, too, okay?" You whisper, but it’s barely audible.

"I love you," Law mutters, his voice hoarse, his chest rising and falling as he breathes raggedly. The words are heavy like he’s trying to say everything at once, and it hits you harder than expected. You push him gently toward Luffy, your hands trembling.

"I love you," You repeat, your voice breaking. "Now, go!"

Luffy catches him quickly, his strong arms wrapping around Law’s body like a vice. With one last glance at you, Luffy carries him away, moving swiftly, but you’re left standing there, your heart in your throat.

The tears you’ve held back finally break free, but you can’t look away. You won’t look away.

Your body is yanked upward when you release the thread, your limbs hanging limply as you cry. You watch Luffy run off with Law, wishing you were anywhere but here—somewhere safe, warm, surrounded by everyone you love. The desire for peace, for something ordinary, washes over you. But you were born to be a pirate, and your cries cease.

You stay with Doflamingo, not because you want to, but because he seems to know more about you than you do yourself—and that’s something you can’t allow.

— Scene 2 —

You’re sick with trepidation. Night has fallen, and the strings of Doflamingo’s Birdcage glitter under the full moon. He sits across from you, stabbing his fork into the medium-rare steak on the plate before him. You decided to forego dinner, feeling far too queasy to stomach anything.

“When’d you eat the Sew-Sew Fruit?”

You control your breathing, calming yourself from both anger and fear. “When I was seven.”

Doflamingo’s eyebrow arches, and he bites the steak off his fork, the metal scraping his teeth. “And you still haven’t awakened your true power?”

Curiosity outweighs caution. “No.”

He hums. “Would you like me to teach you?”

Your muscles tense under your skin, and your heart rate increases so rapidly that you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears.

“Our abilities are intertwined, you see,” Doflamingo says when you take too long to answer. “But your power is unlike anything on this planet. Have you heard of the legends they call Dreamweavers?”

Your head shake is slight, and he takes it as a sign to continue. The clink of his metal fork on the ceramic plate jolts you from your thoughts, and you breathe deeply as he prepares his speech.

“Devil Fruits embody humanity’s evolutionary potential, with each power representing a distinct path for the future. Born from humanity's collective hope and ambition, they are a tangible manifestation of what we could become.”

You recall hearing this story in your grandfather’s library as a child, though you’d long forgotten it since his death. Devil Fruits had been one of his greatest passions, something he obsessed over. When he finally acquired one, he gave it to you, his most prized possession. It had been his life's single greatest achievement, and he entrusted it to you, asking you to eat and wield it. You smile softly at the memory.

“There were three original rulers at the dawn of time: The Dreamer, The Monarch, and The Reaper. One to blend dreams with reality, one to rule over the seas, and one to govern life and death. That’s how they lived. That’s how they thrived.”

It strikes you as strange that Doflamingo speaks so openly, with no venom or mockery. You don’t know much about his past, but somehow, you get the sense that if he’d been raised in an environment devoid of cruelty and ambition, he might’ve been a very different person—a far more pleasant one.

“Following?” He asks, his dinner now forgotten on his plate. The sight of untouched food causes a flare of irritation in your stomach. Sanji would have a fit if he saw this.

You nod, rolling your shoulders and propping your chin in your palm, trying to seem casual about his strange demeanour.

“Nobody knows what happened during the Void Century, but it’s been theorised that a revolt, now known as the Celestial Dragons or the World Nobles, overthrew the Big Three, rendering the world a hopeless, war-torn hell hole.”

The upset and surprise are evident on your face, but Doflamingo pays no mind—you know he revels in the misfortune of others. There’s a nagging piece of information about the World Nobles that Law told you about Doflamingo that you struggle to remember.

“The Dreamers were beheaded, their ideals and prophecies branded as blasphemy and forbidden. The Monarchs were slaughtered, their weapons far less advanced than the Celestial Dragons. The Reapers were sentenced to eternity underground, where even the brightest light couldn’t penetrate. It was a fate worse than death.

“From their deaths, the Devil Fruits were born. The people of the four seas, lost and enslaved, clung to the ideals they inherited—the ones foretold by The Dreamers. The hatred for the World Nobles and the hope that their reign would one day end fueled the creation of the Fruits. This very defiance gave them life, allowing humanity to fight back.”

“What’s this got to do with me?” You ask, your throat dry.

Doflamingo smirks and lifts his head from where it leans on his palm. “You’re a Dreamer.”

You scoff, pushing yourself halfway out of the chair. “You’re delusional. You just said they all died out.”

Before you can fully rise, strings shoot out from his fingers, wrapping around your wrists like chains. They yank you back into the seat with an unyielding force, pinning you to the chair.

“You don’t get it,” Doflamingo says, his voice low and cold, as if explaining something obvious. “Your Devil Fruit is the direct descendant of a Dreamer. The Sew-Sew Fruit was created as a way to continue the practice of weaving reality with fantasy or dreams. You defy the Celestial Dragons every second you’re alive.”

Then it hits you what Law said about the World Nobles: how the Donquixote family were considered Celestial Dragons, and then they lost their privileges when Doflamingo’s father wished for a normal life… Your lip curls, the bitterness rising like acid in your throat.

“And you want to use me for what? Some kind of revenge plot?”

Doflamingo’s smirk shifts, dark satisfaction shining in his eyes as if amused by your defiance. “You’re a smart one. Law doesn’t deserve someone like you—someone so far beyond his reach.”

The words hit you harder than you’d like to admit. You swallow thickly, your heart heavy in your chest. "When you said I could be a god..."

The thought lingers between you, and you can see the twisted mirth in Doflamingo's eyes like he's savouring the moment. “You could be more than a god. You could reshape the world, bend it to your will.”

A chill runs down your spine.

“You can control the minds and thoughts of everyone across the four seas,” Doflamingo continues, his voice dripping with malice. “You can create entire false realities that people will live in as though they’re true. Weaving dreams into the fabric of reality—it's what your Devil Fruit was made for. You’re the last of the Dreamers.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you take a moment to steady yourself. Who’s to say whether or not he’s telling the truth? Doflamingo is a master manipulator, a liar who thrives on controlling others. This could easily be another of his twisted games—getting you to unlock your power only so he can use it for his own ends.

But then, Law’s face flashes in your mind. The way he spoke on Punk Hazard, his words were heavy with something you didn’t fully understand then. “I’ve heard of legends with the same name.”

That strange surge of power stirs inside you again, stronger now, urging you to act. You yank your wrists free from the chair, the strings Doflamingo had bound you with snapping quickly under the force of your will. His smirk deepens, watching you with a mixture of pleasure and dark anticipation.

As you stand, the chair screeches against the tiles, its sound jarring in the room's silence.

“Leaving so soon?” Doflamingo taunts, leaning back with a lazy air like he’s entirely in control. “You’re going to take all that juicy information I gave you and not even thank me?” He lets his tongue flick out, brushing the gap in his grin, his amusement evident.

You tense, your hands curling into fists, and despite the disorganisation of your thoughts, something inside you cements. He’s not going to win this.

“I’m not killing Celestial Dragons for you. I won’t let you hone me into your personal weapon just because you told me some fairytale.”

Doflamingo tilts his head, his grin morphing into something far more sinister. The veins in his forehead pulse, a telltale sign of his growing frustration.

"Why would I go through all this trouble to bring you here and then lie to you?" He sneers, his voice low and chilling. "You're special. I'm trying to help you."

You narrow your eyes, unfazed by his theatrics.

"And what about your power?" You retort. "You use strings to control others."

"That's where we're different," He says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at your question. "I control people with my strings, but your power creates entire mindscapes, places where people live—spanning across the four seas. Your ability doesn’t drain you; mine does. You were made to weave dreams into reality, to rule the world. You're more powerful than you realise, and even I don’t fully understand the extent of it. The Dreamers kept much of their knowledge hidden."

"I don’t want to rule the world," You say firmly.

"Yet," Doflamingo mutters, his voice dripping with condescension.

You shake your head, unwavering. "I don’t."

His expression darkens. "You're selfish. Ungrateful. Do you know how many lives you could save with your power?"

"Save?" You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "You don’t want to save anyone. You only dream of a world where you hold all the strings, where death and destruction are the price for your sick version of control."

His face hardens momentarily, but without missing a beat, his scowl fades into a twisted grin. "Yeah, you're right."

You crash into the wall, the impact force stealing the breath from your lungs. Doflamingo approaches, his fingers curling and weaving in the air with a sinister grace. Your mind struggles to process what's happening, still disoriented from the surprise of his power coiling around you and pulling you backward.

“If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll have to force you. Do you want that?”

You grit your teeth, and your jaw hurts with how hard you tense. “Fuck you.”

“That’s all you seem to say to me,” He chuckles darkly, leaning his face close to yours. Doflamingo is so close you can see the strings moving under his pores. “But I need you to work with me here. I need to destroy the Celestial Dragons.”

“Not gonna happen,” You spit before stabbing him between the shoulder blades with a needle. Doflamingo keels over, and you take the opportunity to get away from the wall. Blood swells from the puncture and drips down the feathers of his pink coat.

"Bitch," He mutters under his breath. You gasp for air, sprinting toward the door, but the wood splinters into chunks before you can reach it. Skidding to a halt, you whip around, only to find Doflamingo’s clawed hand pointed directly at you. “Strings.”

Turning your focus inward, you activate your Observation Haki. Time seems to stretch as five metallic strings streak toward your torso. You pivot to the left, narrowly avoiding the attack. Each time you dodge, another string is sent flying in your direction. You can’t waste energy fighting him head-on—not when you know you’ll lose.

“Fight back,” Doflamingo growls, his frustration growing with every evasive move you make. He closes the distance between you, his attacks becoming more rapid and precise. You wince as a string slices across your shoulder, but you force yourself to keep moving.

The palace begins to shake. At first, you don’t understand why, but then it becomes clear—Doflamingo is the cause. He bares his teeth at you, pausing his assault for a moment, and that’s when you feel it—tendrils of string weaving into your mind. Without hesitation, you rip them out with Seam Ripper, a technique you mastered a year ago when a pirate with the Persuasion-Persuasion Fruit attacked the Polar Tang.

“Fight me!”

You glare at him, your hands clenched at your sides. "Why? So you can taste my power and figure out how to control me?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, the movement stiff thanks to the needle lodged in his back.

You pause, taking a breath, considering your next move. A manic smirk slowly pulls at the corners of your lips. “What do you say, Doflamingo? Ready to have some fun?”

He chuckles lowly, his twisted grin mirroring yours. “Finally, a worthy opponent.”

Your eyebrow arches, and you fling your arm out. Threads, woven into a tight rope, whip out to sweep Doflamingo off his feet, but just as quickly, his own ropes send you flying to the side.

You sniffle, a thought flashing through your mind—maybe your abilities are more intertwined than you realise.

“Bullet String.”

The pellets ricochet off the needle you wield like a sword. Your movements are fluid and precise—if someone from the outside were watching, they’d mistake you for a swordswoman. You silently thank Zoro for drilling the motions into you over the years.

You press forward, matching his attack with your own. “Darts.”

The battle rages on, both of you exchanging strikes, dodging, weaving, and countering with perfect synchronicity. It's a standoff—an even match.

You gulp down a breath, your lungs burning as you round a corner of the palace, the fight spilling out of the chamber when Doflamingo reveals his Excess String Whip.

Your head hurts with the stamina you’ve used, and you feel the effects of not using Seam in your hands. With a definitive, fragmented sigh and a burning urgency to end this and get back to Law, you position yourself in the hallway, waiting for Doflamingo to close the distance. Blood slides down the side of your face, and you wipe it away with your shoulder, smearing it along your skin.

“You can’t hide,” A sing-song, ragged voice taunts. “I will defeat you, Dreamweaver.”

You bite your lip, his words only spurring you on. “We’ll see about that.”

Without waiting to face him, you summon Seam.

Your body aches when he enters, his pure, unadulterated power already clawing at the walls of your mindscape. You scream as you collapse to the floor, your hands squeezing the sides of your head.

There’s a faraway crash, but you ignore it to concentrate on keeping Doflamingo’s soul inside you.

Your name cuts through the foggy pain reverberating in your skull. You strain your eyes, trying to bring the figures in front of you into focus, but they remain distorted, shadows dancing just out of reach. You think you're screaming—an agonising, blood-curdling scream that forces the two figures back, hands clutching their ears in desperation. Tears pour from your closed eyes, and blood streams from your ears; the white-hot power of the man’s soul inside you wreaks havoc.

A touch comes, someone trying to lift you from the floor, but they recoil instantly, your skin burning too hot to bear.

Your throat is raw, searing with every breath, but you know it’s time. And with a final, desperate breath, you enter Seam.

— Scene 3 —

It’s eerily quiet when you appear, the world around you a vast stillness, interrupted only by the crash of distant waves. The air is thick with salt, stinging your nose, but you push it aside. Doflamingo sits some distance away, his fingers threading through the blades of grass, lost in his thoughts.

You don’t move to attack him, instead standing behind him, watching. The chirp of birds passes overhead, their flight a gentle reminder of something once familiar, something that hurts to remember.

“Is this your mindscape?” He asks, his voice slicing through the silence.

“Yes,” You respond, your tone cool.

The feeling here differs from the usual pull of Seam, but you can't tell if it's unsettling or calming. Seeing Doflamingo, a monster who now taints your thoughts and memories, sitting so casually in your mind makes your stomach churn. The images of what he’s done to Law, Dressrosa, and the other nameless people who now live in his shadow burn you with disgust.

Law’s words echo in your mind but do nothing to quell the hate rising within you. The emotions collide—hate, revulsion, and a quiet, simmering fury. The mix churns beneath your skin as you study the man before you, wondering how much further you'll have to go to make him pay.

In the end, you’re seething, each breath coming faster and harder. “You deserve everything that’s coming for you.”

Doflamingo doesn’t even bother to turn around, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “So you can see the future?”

You step forward, the words barbed. “No, not the future. Just what I’m going to do to you.”

Before Doflamingo can move, you focus on the back of his head, your mind swirling with something ancient and unwelcome. The words slip from your lips like an instinct, more felt than thought, the word slipping free before you can stop it.

"Eyelet."

You’ve never ventured into someone else’s mind before—not like this. You’ve only ever existed within Seam, a realm born of your own memories. But this—this is different. Doflamingo’s consciousness feels like a cold, jagged thing, cruel and suffocating, and the skin on your body prickles under its intensity.

Your senses flare as you absorb the full force of what you’ve unleashed. This power is vast, far darker than anything you’ve touched before. It feels like a shadow of something you’ve long forgotten, something that the voices once whispered to you about, teaching you to wield it with cautious reverence. But now? It feels like part of you—a second skin that fits in ways you hadn’t imagined until now.

Indifferent, you remain still, allowing the new, raw power to wash over you.

“She’s awakened.”

“The Dreamweaver has returned.”

“Welcome, young one. We’ve been expecting you.”

Feminine voices surround you, their whispers caressing you like a soft breeze, warm and gentle. A smile tugs at your lips as you feel their presence, and slowly, you open your eyes.

You find yourself standing in the ruins of a house, its decay a reflection of the destruction within. The bed is a mess, drenched in unspeakable filth, and the air is thick with the stench of rot and hopelessness. Every instinct screams at you to flee, but fear paralyses you, making it impossible to breathe freely.

In the corner, a small boy curls up, his face buried in his knees as he sobs in agony. Though his features are familiar, resembling Doflamingo in a way that twists your stomach, you know, deep in your bones, that this is not him. There is something pure about how he cries—innocent in a way Doflamingo never was.

Without warning, the door crashes open, and another figure enters. This one, unmistakably Doflamingo, strides into the room with the same arrogance you’ve come to associate with him, even at his current age. His glasses gleam in the dim light, and his presence fills the room with a suffocating sense of authority.

“Get up!” He commands, his voice harsh, the words dripping with disdain as they land on the boy. Your heart clenches when you realise that the child on the floor is none other than Corazon, his face streaked with tears and his hair matted to his forehead. The contrast between the two is striking, and the moment's violence weighs heavily on you.

Doflamingo’s following words are chilling. “Stop crying, he deserved it.” His voice cracks like the snap of a whip, and the cruelty in it hangs in the air.

Still shaken, Corazon lifts his head, his face red from emotion and pain. His voice is quiet but full of desperation. “But why?”

The eldest Donquixote child scoffs, stomping towards him with the same disdain he carries now, a gun dangling carelessly in his small, trembling hands.

The scene before you fades, its bitter hatred dissolving into the ether. This isn't the memory you need.

Another materialises in its place—a young child wearing the same patterned hat Law always wears. He looks up at Doflamingo, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bear to watch this.

Just a boy, Trafalgar Law stands there with a fierce scowl, hurling his small body against the towering man’s legs. Around his waist are dozens of grenades, each one wrapped in a dull khaki green. "Let me in!"

Doflamingo scoffs, his gangly form looming over the child. "Not a chance, brat. Get lost."

Law’s face morphs into something unreadable, and before you can process it, the door slams in his face. He stands frozen, staring at the wooden panel, his heart sinking at the stark reality—he’s unwanted, unwelcome. Alone.

He stumbles away, fighting back the tears, as he trudges down the grimy stairwell into the waste processing plant, swallowed by despair.

At that moment, the hatred you feel for Doflamingo crystallises into something darker and more dangerous. You lift your arm, your movement fluid, and a new memory plays before you. A cruel satisfaction fills you as you make your choice, knowing this is the memory that will hurt Doflamingo more deeply than any before it.

His soul thrashes violently within the confines of Seam, shaking the very core of your being. Doflamingo’s Haki-infused strings press against your mind, sharp as daggers, their relentless pressure threatening to tear through the walls of your consciousness.

The same voices you heard earlier whisper to you again, guiding you with soft, melodic tones, their words like a balm to the chaos swirling within you. They gently walk you through extracting the memory from Doflamingo’s mind, showing you how to pull it into reality.

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice tight with anxiety and your stomach churning with unease. You hesitate, your hands shaking as you halt the process, the air heavy with the question.

“We are the Dreamers of time past. You are our descendant, chosen to consume the Sew-Sew Fruit and restore balance alongside The Monarchs and The Reapers. You are the saviour of this world.”

Your throat tightens as you struggle to swallow the lump forming there. “But I don’t want to rule.”

“There is no need to wish for power,” they reply, their voices soft and understanding. “You are one of us—someone who hopes for the best for others and desires nothing for herself. We bear no ill will toward you for not seeking dominion. But time is of the essence. You must hurry the extraction; the man you harbour within you is far too dangerous.”

A screeching, hollow sound echoes in your mind when they depart, but you ignore it, focusing on your task. With a swift motion, you pull yourself free from his mind. As you return to Seam, Doflamingo’s pale face stares back at you, his eyes wide and full of disbelief.

“What did you just do?” His voice is laced with fear and fury, but it doesn’t rattle you like it once would have. Beneath his arrogant mask, you see him for what he really is—a boy given too much power too soon, thrust into a world that demanded cruelty over compassion.

You don’t pity him. But you do feel a deep, sorrowful sadness. When you look into Doflamingo’s eyes, hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you don’t see a man but a child—one who was placed on a pedestal and taught to wield power for destruction, surrounded by people who saw weakness as something to be stamped out, never nurtured. He’s a product of a broken system, raised to carry on the twisted legacy of the Celestial Dragons. Whether it’s tragic that he failed is irrelevant—you’re not here to play Gods.

With a deep sigh, you leave Seam, taking his soul with you.

Doflamingo’s body jerks as he’s violently pulled back into himself. He gasps, his anger flaring as he shoots you a venomous glare. “You little—”

Before he can finish, the words slip from your mouth without thinking. You don’t know where they came from nor what they fully mean, but they feel natural. They feel right.

“Binding and Stitch.”

Your mindscape bleeds into the material world, the scene seamlessly overlapping with the palace hallway. Doflamingo blinks, his confusion turning to dawning realisation as he senses the shift behind him.

His mouth opens and closes as his eyes fall on the fire, the brick wall, the deep crimson stains of blood, and the iron shackles—memories he tried so hard to bury. “No…”

Doflamingo’s voice falters as the raw, jagged edge of the memory snaps shut, locking it into the space around him. The scene solidifies. It’s a frighteningly beautiful thing, and the power thrumming through you makes your skin hum with exhilaration. There’s a gnawing hunger for more.

“Pin.”

With a keen snap, Doflamingo vanishes from the ground and reappears, pinned high against the wall. His curses echo in the air, his iron shackles rattling, but you don’t flinch.

The voices of the women in your ears sing praises, urging you to unleash more, to continue the assault. But you remain unmoved, standing still as Doflamingo’s defiance and rage bounce harmlessly off your calm, unyielding focus.

As expected, the shackles shatter almost immediately, and Doflamingo’s hand shoots out in a blur of savagery.

“How dare you?” He spits, his voice seething with venom. Razor-sharp strings whistle through the air, their edges a hair’s breadth from your neck. The memory replays in the room, the screams of children flooding your senses, and dizziness pulls you into its dance. Blood pricks your skin like ice, and you shut your eyes tight, trying to block it out. “You think this is funny, huh?”

“Binding and Stitch,” You murmur, the words laced with raw power. White-hot energy lashes out, searing the skin of your neck as the cords of Doflamingo’s strings tighten.

The world tilts, and your vision blurs as a fierce white flash erupts behind your eyes. Another memory erupts, pulling you deeper into its grip. The room is heavy with dread and bitter resentment, the fading embers of an inflated superiority complex thickening the air with suffocating smoke. The ground beneath you trembles, the polished tiles warping into grimy cobblestones, shifting with the tremors of a long-forgotten trauma.

“Father! What are they doing?”

Doflamingo freezes, his face draining of colour. His lips press into a thin, tense line as his gaze shifts quickly to the right.

“Stay calm,” Donquixote Homing orders, his voice laced with apprehension. “Take Rosinante and lock yourselves in the house. Quickly.”

“But, Father—”

“World Noble scum!”

A rock, the size of a man’s fist, hurtles through the air, striking the child and sending him sprawling to the ground. Donquixote Doflamingo pushes himself up on his elbows, a steady stream of bright red blood spilling from his temple. Another stone slams into the cobblestones beside him, followed by another. Then, a shower of pebbles and larger rocks pelt a father and his son, rendering their pride irreparable.

“You deserve to die!”

“I heard they live on top of the hill! Burn it!”

Flames lick the palace's ceiling, and Doflamingo’s grip around your neck loosens.

“They’re burning down the mansion!”

“I hope they’re still inside!”

The Donquixote family stumbles down the steps of their burning house, the wood cracking and metal warping as the flames consume everything behind them. A woman with an intricate braid, the strands of her hair barely holding together, presses a small boy tightly to her chest. Donquixote Rosinante clings to his mother’s shirt with desperate strength, as if his very survival depends on it—and perhaps it does. His eyes are swollen and red, his face streaked with the remnants of tears and sheer terror. The eldest Donquixote son hides his emotions beneath a mask of silence, his heart stewing with profound and unsettling darkness, honing it into a weapon he will eventually unleash on the world. His young mind processes the entropy around him in ways no child should.

“Stop…”

"Interfacing." You move like a shadow, spinning a labyrinth of thread. The sheets you create stretch as tall as the ceiling, as wide as the walls, as strong as the thickest metal in all four seas—an inescapable barrier.

You sprint down the hallway, heart pounding. You only have a little time. Doflamingo won’t stay contained for long. Soon, he’ll be hunting you again, relentlessly.

A door slams open ahead, and you duck to the side just as figures rush from the stairwell, pausing for a split second before giving chase. You push yourself harder, dodging and weaving through the narrow corridors. Every corner blurs into the next, every hallway the same, and the sound of footsteps pounding behind you grows louder closer. You throw attacks desperately to slow them down—prompt, precise strikes, but there’s no time to stay and fight.

Hey! Stop!”

You flinch as a bullet zips past your ear, its shrill whistle still ringing in your head. Instinctively, you activate your Observation Haki to anticipate the next shot.

But you’re interrupted when you sense a Devil Fruit user nearby, their presence suffocating.

The overwhelming force of their power presses in on you like you’re being crushed under an invisible hand. You strain to pinpoint their location, but they’re everywhere. In the walls. The floor. The very air around you.

“Pica.”

Though the name rings a bell, it's faint, barely a whisper in the back of your mind. The face of the person who said it is a blur, but you recall a massive, terrifying figure breaking through the ground in the chamber where Doflamingo held Law captive.

You piece it together—like your own, it’s a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit. You sift through your knowledge of Devil Fruits and their weaknesses. The two years with Law were spent training and learning about the many different fruits, some useful and some deadly. The knowledge is proving more valuable than ever.

Suddenly, the cobblestones beneath you begin to crack and give way. Before you can react, the ground collapses beneath your feet, and you’re falling, only barely managing to catch yourself on the level below.

You scan the area, relieved to see the people following you remain unaffected by the Devil Fruit user’s power; it gives you the edge you need to make your escape.

Ahead, double doors swing open to reveal a balcony. You push through them, skidding to a halt, when you catch sight of the drop. The wind howls in your face, stinging your skin as you squint to get a better look. Below, the city sprawls far beneath you. The palace perches precariously on a jagged rock, its foundations slanted at an unnatural angle as if defying gravity itself.

Your heart drops when you spot the Birdcage. Its metallic threads are shrinking like a noose around the island. You watch in horror as buildings are sliced to pieces, their shattered remains falling to the streets below. Citizens scream in fright, some crushed, others mutilated by the unrelenting power. The carnage is just beginning—only the outermost areas are being affected for now.

Doflamingo must have finally escaped the maze of threads. And now, the island is in turmoil.

With little hesitation, fueled by a surge of courage, you wrap a thread around your waist, leaving just enough slack for a rope to slip through. Your eyes dart nervously down the hallway, ensuring no one is watching as you toss another strand over the edge, letting it drop as far as it will go. Carefully, you thread the end of the long strand through the web of threads at your waist, securing it to a needle.

Climbing over the railing with shaky hands, you crouch down and stab the floor with the needle, imbuing all the Armament Haki you can into it to keep it stable. The stone cracks with the force, and when you wiggle it, it stays in place.

You don’t dare look back at the sheer drop behind you, the nerves tightening your chest, making it hard to focus. But the thought of Doflamingo catching you in such a vulnerable position is enough to propel you forward. Without hesitation, you push off the edge of the balcony.

Coating your hands with Haki, the purple sheen shimmering under the full moon’s light, you descend the long thread. The wind dies down, and you’re left with only the sound of your breath and the city below. With each slow movement, the pain of distant screams grows louder and harsher, as though the suffering in the streets is chasing you down.

The palace groans, a deep rumble vibrating through the thread. Your grip tightens, but the adrenaline dulls the anxiety that would usually freeze you in place. The sounds of shouts and breaking glass rise from the palace as it starts to collapse. You focus on the thread beneath your feet, inching closer to the ground, and when your feet finally hit the street, a violent tremor shakes the rock beneath you.

You pull away from the thread and sever it from your waist. You need to find someone who can help you. You need to see Luffy and Law.

— Scene 4 —

Civilians scatter around you, frantic cries and desperate prayers filling the air. You don’t know how long you’ve been running, each step a blur. The only thought consuming you is the desperate need to find Law and Luffy.

But you’re distracted; the screams around you only focus on a colossal man destroying the city. You finally choose to look, and when you do, your heart skips a beat when you see the figure clearly—a massive stone giant attacking the skies as if trying to catch something—or someone. Squinting, you spot the figure attacking back— a swordsman, three blades flashing in the moonlight as he cleaves the stone into chunks.

A gasp escapes your lips, and you sprint toward the battle, cutting through the sea of panicked people gathering in the centre of the Birdcage. Some try to push you back, telling you you're going the wrong way, but you shove them off without breaking stride.

Zoro moves with the precision and power of a force of nature, his every motion fluid and controlled. His black blades slice through the stone like paper, each strike sending debris flying. There’s no hesitation, no wasted effort—just raw, unrelenting precision. With every swing, the ground trembles, and the air ripples from the force of his speed. The once-solid stone crumbles beneath him, a testament to his honed skill and dedication.

You watch in awe, a swell of pride rising in your chest. This is the result of two years of gruelling training. Zoro’s mastery is on full display, and you can’t help but feel emotional when you see how far he’s come.

"Zoro!" You shout, your voice cutting through the turmoil. A lump forms in your throat, but you push it down, your heart swelling with pride. Your friend has grown beyond what you thought possible, and it fills you with both awe and a tinge of nostalgia.

As you push through the crowd, the chaos seems to slow, but Zoro remains focused, every movement an extension of his purpose. Despite the destruction around him, you catch a slight smirk tugging at his lips, a flicker of mirth in his eyes as they meet yours.

“I’ll be a sec, just have to drop this guy,”

The words catch you off guard momentarily, and a tiny laugh bubbles in your throat despite the dread. Only Zoro could be fighting a stone giant and still manage to make time for a cocky joke.

But there’s no time to lose. Luffy and Law need you.

And, as if he’s read your mind, a piercing scream echoes through the night, abruptly cut off. Zoro lands atop the rubble, sheathing his swords with a fluid motion before he makes his way down to you. You can tell by how he walks, his smirk practically a permanent fixture, that he’s pleased with himself.

“Did you see that?”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused by his cockiness. “I did. Enjoy yourself?”

Zoro chuckles, shrugging with a grin. “Psh, of course I did. You know me.”

You roll your eyes, the smile fading as you nudge him to walk with you. "Have you seen Luffy?"

"Yeah, he's at the palace on the hill. With Law."

You halt in your tracks. “They are?”

Zoro nods, scratching the side of his head. “They should be.”

You glance at the crumbling lookout beside you, the rocks threatening to give way at any moment. It looks like the perfect vantage point.

"Get me up there."

Zoro raises an eyebrow, his expression doubtful as he follows your gaze. "Right now?"

"Yes, now!" You snap, urgency thick in your voice.

“Damn, okay.”

Zoro crouches and wraps his arm around your legs, effortlessly hoisting you over his shoulder.

"Zoro!"

"This is faster, alright? Relax, I won’t drop you. I swear you guys have no faith in me."

You grip the back of his suit jacket, feeling the fabric wrinkle under your fingers as he springs back onto the stone man’s remains. He then nimbly leaps to the jagged rocks of the lookout. As he climbs, your mind drifts back to the events at the palace.

There had been two people when you sent Doflamingo into Seam, but then they were gone. The hands on you had felt familiar, comforting even—but then they disappeared, and that was the last thing you remember before infiltrating Doflamingo’s mind.

“Quit thinking so hard; you’re giving me a headache.”

“Sorry,” You mumble, lifting your head to study the palace in the distance. If Luffy and Law were there when you trapped Doflamingo in Interfacing, how furious would he be to find them roaming his castle without care?

“I need to get back to the palace.”

Zoro pulls himself over the lookout's edge, gently setting you down on the grass.

“You’re not making any sense,” Zoro sighs, his brow furrowing. “You just escaped. Why the hell would you wanna go back?”

“If Luffy and Law are in trouble, I—”

Your name echoes through the air, and you turn to see Usopp standing there, sweating, with his oversized slingshot gripped tightly in his hands. “What are you doing here? Violet said you were fighting Doflamingo.”

Usopp glances back toward the woman you saw earlier, the one you left behind when you parted ways with Law. She’s standing still, her eyes wide and filled with fear as they lock onto you.

“Usopp,” You gasp, your breath coming out in shaky bursts. “What are you doing up here?”

Violet’s voice breaks in before Usopp can answer, her tone tinged with desperation. “Luffy and Law are in danger. Sugar’s closing in on them.”

“Sugar?” You ask, confusion mixing with the rising alarm.

Usopp nods. “She looks like a little girl, but she’s not. She’s actually—”

“How are they in danger?” You cut him off, your heart pounding in your throat.

“Sugar is the one who turns people into toys,” Violet explains quickly, her words like cold water splashing over you.

The gravity of her words hit you, and everything seems to freeze for a moment. A wave of panic floods through your veins, and your heart races uncontrollably.

“If she turns you into a toy,” Usopp adds quietly, his voice heavy with dread. “Everyone you know forgets you—until she’s taken out.”

The realisation slams into you, and you can barely catch your breath. “I have to get over there.”

You’re not about to be launched by Usopp’s slingshot, but you can’t waste any more time.

“Just get the guy to throw you there,” Zoro mutters, sounding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s how he got me onto that rock guy.”

Usopp gives him a flat look, clearly unimpressed. “We’re not launching her through the sky, Zoro.”

You hesitate momentarily, and the idea starts to take shape in your mind.

"That doesn't sound half bad," You say, already weighing the possibility. "Where is he?"

Usopp blinks at you, his face frozen in disbelief. "You two are out of your minds."

Zoro grins, leaning over the edge of the lookout, scanning the area like it’s a casual day out. “He should be around here somewhere...”

"God Usopp!" A civilian's voice suddenly shouts, causing you to jump. You turn, startled, and see a crowd of people behind you. "Come with us, and we'll make it as painless as possible!"

"Why are they so angry?" You ask, brows furrowed.

"Did you hear the bounties?" Zoro mutters with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You shake your head, confused. "What bounties?"

Usopp whimpers next to you, eager to avoid further conversation about it.

Violet gasps before Zoro can explain, her voice trembling with fear as she recounts what she witnessed. You can’t help but be impressed by her ability, and Usopp fills in the gaps, telling you that she has clairvoyant powers.

“She’s getting closer! Usopp, get ready to fire!”

Usopp fumbles with his slingshot, his hands unsteady as he slides the bottom of the handle under his foot. He pulls the elastic back as far as it will go, then carefully loads a large ball, nearly the size of his head, into the leather pouch.

Zoro perches on the ledge as he searches for the man, his feet swinging dangerously close to the drop below. You swallow thickly, your throat tightening as the reality of the situation sinks in. Usopp's shot has to be perfect—if he’s even a millimetre off, Luffy and Law will vanish from everyone’s memory, lost to the curse of forgetting.

Usopp trembles, his body shuddering with the weight of the pressure. The steady drip of sweat mingles with the rapid beat of his heart; each drop is a reminder of just how high the stakes are. His breath comes in shallow gasps, and he wipes his forehead only for more to replenish it, the tension building with every passing second. Every movement feels too loud, too heavy as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for him to make the shot.

You hold your breath, the tension thick in the air, your pulse drumming in your ears as you wait for the moment to unfold. But time seems to stretch, and the climax never comes.

“Usopp,” You whisper, your voice soft but firm enough to cut through the silence and bring his attention back to the task. “Slow your mind. I can hear your thoughts from over here.”

He doesn’t respond verbally but nods, his fingers loosening slightly on the slingshot as he adjusts his stance.

“Hurry!” Violet squeals, her voice high with anxiety as she covers her eyes with one hand, unwilling to watch what could be the final moment of reckoning. “I can’t watch!”

Usopp, however, remains focused. His expression hardens, and the resolve in his eyes returns with full force. He takes a deep, steadying breath and, with a swift motion, lines up the slingshot again. His gaze sharpens as he aligns it perfectly, focusing on the left-bottom pane of a window in the distant palace. The world around him blurs as he enters the zone—calm, centred, and ready to make the shot that could change everything.

And then, everything seems to slow.

Usopp pulls the rubber band back just a fraction further, his eyes never leaving the target. He takes one final, steady breath before releasing it. The slingshot snaps, sending the plant ball flying through the air, cutting through the silence of the lookout.

Everyone watches, holding their breath as the ball hurtles toward the window. It’s too far to see exactly where it lands, but the tension in the air is palpable.

And then, a loud cry breaks the stillness.

“I-It hit! It actually hit!” Violet screams, her voice trembling with joy, her hands shooting up to her face in disbelief. Tears stream down her cheeks as she laughs, overwhelmed with emotion. “It worked! Oh my God, it worked! Sugar is down!”

Her voice rings across the lookout, and you can't help but smile at her relief and joy. The tightness in your chest lessens just a little as the reality of Usopp’s success sinks in.

But even amid relief, trepidation clings to you like a leech. The looming dread always shadows the joy of victory. If one of Doflamingo’s executives is down, he’ll be livid—and the consequences of that rage could be catastrophic.

"Zoro, where's this guy?" You ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Zoro’s eyes scan the area, his gaze flicking over the crowd.

"There!" He points, his finger stabbing through the air. "That guy, the one with the weird hair and the huge jacket."

You follow his gaze, narrowing your eyes to spot the figure amongst the crowds of people. It’s like a countdown now—every second matters. “Thank you.”

Usopp’s voice calls out behind you, laced with concern, but you don’t slow down. The wind catches the edges of your thread as you descend the cliff, the rush of air filling your ears. With a thud, your feet hit the rocky ground, and you’re off, heart pounding as you dart towards the man. His massive frame cuts through the crowd like a towering figure, and you catch up to him in no time.

"Hey!" You call out, skipping the pleasantries. "You're the one who tossed the green-haired guy onto that rock, right?"

The man turns, his expression shifting to irritation. “Yeah? What’s it to you?”

You don’t waste time. “Think you could throw me toward the palace?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the request. For a moment, there’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes as he assesses you—your determination and the desperation leaking through your tone. The air feels thick with tension. He looks you up and down as if trying to gauge whether you're out of your mind or if there's something more to it.

“You want me to throw you?” His voice holds a mocking edge, but something is calculating in how he studies you. “Like I did that green-haired guy?”

You step closer, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You can almost feel the pulse of time slipping away. “Yes.”

His gaze flicks to the horizon, then back at you, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “Fine. You better make it count.”

He steps forward, closing the distance, and you can see the glint of something fierce in his eyes. “You get one shot at this. If you fall short... well, that’s on you. Don’t come crying to me.”

You nod; relief is evident on your face. With a grunt, he positions himself, his muscles tensing. His hands find their place around your waist, and you barely have time to brace yourself before—

With a swift motion, he launches you into the air, and for a fleeting moment, you feel weightless.

The wind rushes past you as the world blurs below. You barely have time to process it all when the palace looms ahead, much closer than anticipated. And as you hurtle toward it, all you can think about is how you’ll kill Doflamingo.

The palace looms closer, towering above the landscape like a jagged mountain of stone and marble. You can see the windows gleaming like cold eyes, watching you as you fly toward them. The sounds of the battle reach your ears: distant shouts, the crackle of energy, the rumble of disarray.

The ground rushes up too quickly, and dread claws at your chest. You adjust your body midair, instinctively tucking your knees beneath you to brace for the impact. There’s no time to think about using threads to break your fall—you’re a Straw Hat, after all… logic is only a sometimes thing.

Without thinking, your body hardens with Armament Haki, and you hit the ground with a sickening thud that shakes your bones and rattles your teeth. The shock of the landing sends a burst of pain through your legs, but it’s nothing you can’t push through. Your body rebounds from the impact, rolling quickly to absorb the force. Your Haki melts away, leaving you with the aftershock of landing.

Your palms scrape against the stone, ripping the skin of your palms as you scramble to your feet. You wince at the ache in your legs, but there's no time to slow down. Your vision clears, and you stand just a few meters from the entrance. You glance around quickly, assessing your surroundings. The area is eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of battle. A deep rumble shakes the ground beneath you as something significant crashes far off in the distance—probably another of Doflamingo’s executives wreaking havoc.

You step forward, your feet steady despite the pain, and then another. You’re sure adrenaline plays a significant part in how you feel, and Law will no doubt scold you for your recklessness afterwards.

You spot a group of soldiers moving toward you from the side, weapons raised, and you instinctively draw in a breath, ready to spring into action.

But before you can move, a shadow falls across the courtyard, and you freeze.

It’s a figure—a familiar one—with a signature straw hat perched atop his head.

“Luffy!” You shout, relief flooding through you, but there’s no time to waste on catching your breath. You point toward the palace entrance, urgency creeping into your voice. “We gotta go.”

“You made it!” He exclaims, a grin spreading across his face. “Thought you’d never catch up!” He pulls you into a quick, tight hug.

“I’m fine,” You say, shoving him off with a smirk. “We don’t have time for this. Where’s Law?”

Luffy doesn’t hesitate, pointing toward the palace doors. “He’s inside. He’s been holding his own, but things are getting worse. Doflamingo’s up to something big.”

You nod, heart pounding. You don’t need to be told twice. The air inside feels heavy with the tension of a thousand possible outcomes, and you know that every moment you spend out here only increases the risk. But there’s no turning back now, not that you want to.

A voice calls from the darkness of the palace halls. “Over here!”

It’s Law, unmistakable even through the strain in his tone. His voice cuts through the madness like a beacon, and in that moment, you have a one-track mind. The weight of everything that’s happened—the battles, the separation, the endless dangers—melts away. You dart toward the sound, your heart hammering, emotion clogging your throat.

As you round the corner, you spot him. Law is standing there, leaning against the wall, bloodied but alive, his breathing shallow, and his expression pained but focused. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades. There’s no madness. No fight. Just him and that familiar, steady look in his eyes that you’d thought you might never see again.

You can’t stop the rush of relief that powers through you. Without thinking, you sprint toward him, your feet pounding against the cold stone floor. When you’re close enough, you throw your arms around him in a fierce hug, the rush of love almost knocking the air out of both of you.

“Law…” You whisper, your voice hoarse. He's warm against you, his pulse beating steadily beneath your hands. Law hesitates briefly, surprised by the intensity of your hug, then wraps one arm around you, pulling you in just as tightly. His voice, rough but filled with that familiar edge, cracks the fragile silence.

“Took you long enough,” He mutters, though you can hear the relief in his voice despite the sarcasm.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him, breathless and with a shaky laugh.

“I had to get back here somehow,” Your fingers graze the cuts on his cheek, and you can see the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He gives you a keen, tired look, but there’s something almost tender in how he searches your face.

“You’re insane,” He says, his voice low but softening. “You shouldn’t have come back. You were free.”

“And leave you here alone? Never.” You can feel the heat of the battle around you, the urgency creeping back into your veins, but it doesn’t matter. Everything feels right for these moments with him in your arms.

“I gotta go,” Luffy interrupts. “Doflamingo is on a rampage.”

You furrow your eyebrows and open your mouth to ask him where he’s going when he runs out of the palace.

“We need to get to a rooftop near the middle of the Birdcage. Luffy and I have a plan.”

You nod and go to grab his hand when you freeze, your hand hovering in midair. The absence of his touch—of the weight of his hand—sends a shock through you, an emptiness settling in your chest. No, your mind screams as if in denial. This can’t be happening.

His left arm, the one you were trying to reach for, is gone. Still fresh and raw, the stump of it stares back at you. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at the empty space where his arm should be.

“...What?” He asks, his voice rough.

The space where his hand should be feels like a chasm. Your fingers brush against the blood-soaked fabric of his sleeve, but the emptiness where his hand would’ve been is a painful reminder of what’s been taken from him.

“I’m fine,” Law whispers, realising what you’re staring at. “I can fix it. We just need to get to a rooftop, and I’ll do it there.”

“Fine,” You sigh, knowing he’d brush it off. “Let’s go.”

— Scene 5 —

The battle rages below you, Luffy’s roar of fury echoing in the distance as he clashes with Doflamingo. The sky above the palace is alive with the storm of their fight, but there’s no time to linger. The tension within you tightens with each passing second. You know what’s at stake.

With your hand braced against his back, you lead Law toward the nearest edge of a building. The sounds of Luffy’s fight grow louder—the sickening crack of bone against flesh, the ferocious sound of rubber meeting the wind—but you can’t think about that now.

You survey the drop. Small ledges, scattered stones, and an open rooftop with a short drop—just enough for a quick jump. Law’s eyes narrow as he watches you study the distance. His breath quickens as he shifts his weight slightly, clearly reluctant but understanding.

"Don't—" He starts, but you’ve already decided.

When you inch closer to the ledge, Law grumbles something under his breath, a curse or two. The wind howls as you push off from the edge, feeling the weight of Law in your arms. Everything is suspended in time for a moment—the world beneath you shrinking and the rooftop ahead growing closer.

You land with a jarring thud, your legs reverberating with the second landing of the night. The rooftop is elevated, and you have a clear view of Luffy in the sky, his body larger than you’ve seen—a new technique?

As you carefully lower Law onto the cool stone, the wind whips around you, your hands trembling as you check him over. Your muscles ache, but you’re glad the journey to get here wasn’t that hard.

You’re both hidden from Doflamingo’s view, the sounds of Luffy’s battle clearer than before, but for a brief moment, it’s just you and Law—quiet and away from the mayhem of Dressrosa.

"Good?" You ask, looking at him with concern.

Law glances at you briefly, his silver eyes stark with focus, before looking back at the chaotic battle between Luffy and Doflamingo. He tugs his hat from his head, his hair sticking in all directions. You watch Luffy in his Gear Fourth form, his strikes thunderous, and wonder when he discovered that. A flicker of something crosses Law’s face — a mix of frustration and the ghost of a smirk.

“This should be fine.” His face remains impassive, but there’s a tightness in his jaw, a subtle flinch when he moves.

You watch as he expands Room, using Shambles to summon his arm. It’s odd to see Law handle his own limb like this.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a sideways glance. “Do you want to reattach your arm? Or do you want me to?”

Your words hang in the air, though you can hear the slight edge of amusement laced within them. The situation, grim as it is, feels strangely familiar — him, injured and stubborn, not wanting to ask for help.

He pauses briefly, eyeing you with a hint of that usual deflection. "You’re not going to let me do it myself, are you?"

You smirk, inching closer to him. “I could let you try, but you might get your stitches tangled.”

Law snorts, a small, pained laugh escaping him despite himself. “My stitches are perfect.”

“Tell that to my torso,” You quip, remembering how often your stitches ripped when you first met him.

“That was your fault,” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t know how to sit still.”

“And you do?” You meet his eyes, an unspoken understanding between you. The situation is dire, and Law needs to use his power soon, so without hesitation, you summon Sew.

“Don’t move.”

Law doesn’t respond—but his half-smile, which barely tugs at his lips, is enough to settle your heart.

As you begin working, Law remains surprisingly quiet. The battle rages above; Luffy’s shouts and Doflamingo’s curses punctuate the tension. But for now, in this small moment amidst the chaos, the two of you sit in a rare silence, the past few days of turmoil and bloodshed settling into something almost calm.

You make quick work of the sutures, conjuring a gauze from Sew when they are finished.

“Done,” You say, your voice a little breathless, as if sewing him together has taken more out of you than you care to admit. You secure the end of the gauze before leaning down and pressing your lips to his shoulder.

Law flexes his fingers, testing the strength of the arm. His usual mask of cool indifference slips just a little, and, just for you, a smile plays at his lips.

“You sure you’re not going to be a little more gentle next time?” He teases, his voice still raspy from the strain of the fight earlier.

You laugh, though it’s a little breathless. “Maybe I’ll take it easy next time,” You say, lightly brushing over his arm's now-healed skin, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

Law speaks again, voice softer than before. “I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’d allow someone to put me back together again.”

You glance up, locking eyes with him.

“You don’t need to do everything alone, you know.” You whisper. “That’s why I went with you to Punk Hazard despite your relentless arguing.”

“I didn’t want you to be in danger. I can’t handle it.”

His gaze shifts away for a moment as if the vulnerability of his words unsettles him. The admission catches you off guard. But then, that’s always been his way—never one to show weakness, yet here he is, allowing himself a glimpse of it. The vulnerability behind the facade is just for you.

You close the distance between you instantly, your hands reaching his chest.

“I know,” You say softly, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his eyes. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you close. His fingers tighten ever so slightly as if ensuring himself that you’re here.

“You better not,” He mutters, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m not leaving you,” You say, your voice firm. It’s in moments like this, when everything else goes silent, that you know for certain: no matter what happens or the dangers that await, you’re not letting him go.

His forehead rests against yours, and you close your eyes, the weight of his breath mingling with yours. The world outside could burn, and you'd still feel this—this unshakable connection between you two.

“You know,” Law says, his voice low, but there's a playful edge. “I don’t need you to save me.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound a little too close to a sigh of relief.

“I’m not saving you. I’m just making sure you don’t bleed out on me,” You tease, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness behind the words.

“I could’ve done it myself,” He mutters, brushing his lips against your forehead before pulling back slightly, his gaze darkening as he meets your eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, aware of the subtle change in his tone.

“What, now you're going to fight me about how much I love you?” You laugh, though you know the real fight is just starting. This brief moment of peace is fleeting.

“Always,” Law replies, and you don’t need him to say more. His actions have always spoken louder than words ever could. “Because I love you more, sweetheart.”

And just as you roll your eyes and go to answer, there’s a voice.

“Law?”

Violet and a pink-haired girl emerge from the darkness, their expressions tainted with fear.

“Here,” He mumbles. “Is Luffy almost done?”

“We’ve got two minutes.”

But now, Luffy’s struggling—his body pushed beyond its limits, his Fourth Gear faltering. He won’t last much longer.

And then, as if on cue, he collapses. The look in his eyes as he stumbles back, bloodied and exhausted, makes something snap inside you. The night rages on, the Birdcage encapsulating only a mere kilometre of Dressrosa.

"No..." You mutter under your breath. You’ve seen Luffy take hits before, but this time, it’s different. The familiar power he had just moments ago is slipping away, and Doflamingo is already closing in, that smug grin plastered across his face.

Your eyes narrow as you look up at the sky, your gaze zeroing in on his body.

Law tugs you into him, his breathing rapid and his voice low. “You have to kill him.”

You blink, your eyes wide. “What?”

“Luffy’s down; he’ll be out for ten minutes. We don't have that much time.”

“But you—”

“I can’t. My stamina’s run out, my power’s useless,” Law says quickly. “It has to be you.”

“Law…”

“Please,” He begs. “For me, for Cora.”

You frown, tears welling as you nod. “Okay.”

Rising on shaky legs, you take a deep breath.

“Doflamingo!” You shout, your voice slicing through the air. He turns toward you slowly, amusement curling his lips.

“Oh? And what do you think you can do, Dreamweaver?” His voice is condescending as if he already knows the answer. “You can’t possibly think you’re going to stop me. You’re weak!”

His strings whip through the air, targeting you, aiming to pierce, constrict, and control. But this time, you don’t dodge; you don’t need to. The power inside you surges, something ancient and primal awakened by the desperation coursing through your veins.

Your hands snap to life, fingers moving with purpose as you channel your power.

The strings Doflamingo sends toward you come in slow motion as your mind takes over. You flick your wrist, and the threads appear mid-air, their shimmering lines of power intertwining with the strings Doflamingo controls. Your threads, woven from sheer will, latch onto his, effortlessly pulling them apart.

“What the—?!” Doflamingo snarls as his strings begin to unravel, sliced through by your own, snapping under the force of your mastery. Once awakened, it feels like there’s no limit to your power.

Law, Violet, and the girl you’ve come to know as Rebecca gasp, their surprise a welcome sound.

The battlefield quiets momentarily as Doflamingo is forced to retreat, confusion flickering in his eyes. You can feel his shock; he wasn’t expecting you to be able to manipulate his strings. You’re not just fighting him now; you’re bending the very laws that govern his power—just like he said you could, but you don’t think he thought it possible.

You’re done letting him control innocent people and drink their grief as he pleases. This isn’t about survival anymore—it’s about protecting your crew, your friends, your family. With one last look at Law, you nod.

The pressure of the moment weighs heavily on your shoulders, the culmination of years of pain, battles fought, and lives lost. His life, in particular, comes into sharp focus—Corazon.

You never met him, only catching fleeting glimpses of his face through Doflamingo’s twisted memories, but his legacy reverberates in every part of Law’s soul. The boy who had once been a scared, isolated orphan, consumed by the need for vengeance, has grown into one of the most extraordinary men you’ve ever known.

You think back to that first meeting. The awkwardness and confusion. Law had been so guarded, so closed off. He didn’t trust you. You weren’t sure why you felt compelled to help him at that time—perhaps because you saw something in him that was so familiar: a pain that mirrored your own—a loneliness. You were away from the Straw Hats, unaware they were alive, and felt utterly useless.

Now, standing in the eye of the storm, with Doflamingo finally glaring down at you with a scathing hatred, you understand the truth. Corazon had never wanted anything for himself. The way he saved Law from Doflamingo’s cruelty, even when his own life hung in the balance… It was a gift that could never be repaid.

And now you were going to avenge him.

Law’s Adam’s apple bobs, and he nods once back, recognising the fire in your eyes. The moment is fleeting, and you step onto the rooftop's ledge.

“Go get Luffy,” You say, Violet and Rebecca hurrying off the roof to retrieve your captain. You roll your head, cracking your neck as you breathe out.

You pull the threads together with a single, fluid movement, weaving them into a perfect net of power. It’s not just about cutting or controlling anymore; you can reshape and rebuild. And you can feel Doflamingo’s control over Dressrosa slipping with each string severed.

"You’re brave," He laughs. "I’ll have fun with you.”

You don't answer. You don't need to. With a single thought, you twist his strings, feeling the connections snap and pop under your command. His stance falters, just for a moment, but it's enough. You seize the opportunity, sending your threads into his body, sinking deep into his flesh, pulling him toward you with an almost sickening precision. His body jerks as he tries to resist, but the more he struggles, the more your threads tighten around him, squeezing, constricting, making him fight against his own body.

The Sew-Sew Fruit isn't just about control; it's about creation. And you're about to reshape the battlefield itself.

With a brutal yank, you rip the strings of his power from his body, using them against him. The tension in the air becomes palpable as Doflamingo's strength turns on him, his movements jerking in unnatural directions. He roars in anger, but you're not listening anymore. You're focused, the world shrinking to the space between you and him, where you will make the final strike.

A flurry of movement, a desperate swing of his hand, and you dodge just in time, the strings grazing past your cheek. You respond with a sharp movement of your own—your hands flashing through the air as you manipulate the threads around him, tying his limbs together, pulling his body into an intricate web that he can't escape. His attempts to break free are fruitless; your threads are everywhere now, pulling and twisting him into submission.

"Stop!" Doflamingo howls, his voice strained and desperate. But the sound of his frustration only spurs you on.

“You think you’re the only one who can control strings?” You sneer, your hand outstretched as you weave more threads into the air. They dance in the sky, intricate braids of thread coming together to sing a song of destruction.

Doflamingo’s face twists in anger, but his eyes show an undeniable hint of fear. This is not the kind of power he expected from you. His usual smugness falters, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

“I’m the one who made you like this!” He spits, trying once more to tap into his power. “If I didn’t tell you the truth of your power, you’d be dead!”

You pull tighter, weaving the threads through his joints, making him bend to your will, contorting him into painful positions. His skin tears where your threads dig in, the blood staining the light pink of his coat. But you're relentless. The control you have over his body now is unadulterated. The ground beneath you vibrates, a low hum running through your body as you extend your reach.

His eyes flash with panic as he realises he is now a marionette, and you're the one pulling the strings.

Needles fly toward him, overlapping and creating a network. Doflamingo is surrounded by a metal cage, the gaps closing with every second that passes. He gasps for breath, but it’s futile. The reality you’ve woven around him is his prison, and now he can only watch as his defeat unfolds.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you gather every ounce of energy left in you, and with a final, swift motion, you break the threads. The sickening sound of his body, his soul, being torn apart echoes in your ears as your power rips through him, pulling his strings free from his body like a shattered puppet.

Needles clatter to the street below, and his soul screams before tapering off with a whimper.

“You’re done,” You whisper with finality and a deep sense of resolve.

And Doflamingo’s body falls to the earth, defeated.

— Scene 6 —

The first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, painting the sky with soft hues of pink and gold. It’s a slow, gentle rise—like the world waking up after a long, restless night. The ruins of Dressrosa, still scarred by the battle, bathe in the early light, casting long shadows that slowly fade into the warmth of the sun’s touch.

The oppressive weight of victory slowly begins to lift from your chest, replaced by a quiet reverence. The Birdcage retracts, the strings pulling up from the ground and disappearing when they meet in the middle of the sky. As the dust settles, the tension in the air gives way to something deeper, something far more personal.

“Luffy,” You gasp, turning around and making a beeline for his exhausted body. His face is smeared with dirt, his body bruised, but that light in his eyes, the unshakable spark of life—that hasn’t changed.

His grin spreads even wider as if seeing you standing there, alive, is the greatest victory of all. But when he sees the look on your face—something softer, something raw—his expression falters just a little. His voice, always full of energy, carries that familiar comfort.

"You alright? I knew you'd pull through. You’re tougher than you look!"

You walk toward him, your chest tight, your throat thick with emotion. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come at first. How do you convey the years of struggle, the battles fought together, the times when it felt like everything was falling apart, and yet you never gave up because he was there, always believing in you, in all of you?

Luffy doesn’t push you to speak. He just watches with that patient, understanding look in his eyes. He knows you’ve been through something heavy. He knows the weight of a captain’s responsibility, the loss of friends, and the pain of living a life filled with blood and betrayal.

You kneel before him. His wide eyes blink in surprise, the usual bravado of his face softening. The words are stuck, but then, something inside you breaks. You feel it—the flood of gratitude, of relief, of everything he’s done for you, for all of you. The way he’s always believed in you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself. The way his stupid, unwavering faith pulled you back from the edge time and time again.

"I don’t know how to say it,” You say, smiling through tears. “I can’t… But thank you. For everything."

Luffy’s expression softens, a rare vulnerability creeping into his eyes. The words might be simple, but they carry significance. You can see it in how his shoulders relax, and his chest rises with a deep breath. He opens his mouth, but instead of some teasing remark, it’s something much quieter, much more real.

"Don’t say that. You don’t need to thank me. It’s just... it's what I do. You’re my friend.”

You feel something swell in your chest, a quiet release, like all the tension you’d carried for so long, just melts away in those words. The bond between a captain and their crew is unshakable.

“You did most of the work,” You laugh, moving the hair from his face. “I just finished him off.”

Luffy’s laugh bursts from him, loud and unrestrained, as if he’s just heard the funniest thing in the world. The same carefree, reckless sound has always been a beacon of hope and unshakable confidence, even in the darkest times. He throws his head back, his arms flailing in the air as his laugh echoes across the ruins of Dressrosa.

“You’re really something, you know that?" He grins. The weight of reality doesn’t seem to reach him, not when he’s laughing like this.

You shrug helplessly, a laugh leaving your lips. Luffy’s laugh—it’s infectious. It makes the whole world feel just a little bit lighter. And in this moment, despite the scars and bruises, bloodshed and loss, it’s as if his laughter proves that everything you’ve been through was worth it.

“Are you okay?” You ask, noticing the exhaustion painting his demeanour. He nods, but then his eyes roll to the back of his head, and snores erupt from the deepest parts of his chest.

You stand, your gaze meeting Violet and Rebecca, and you thank them for caring for your captain.

Law’s eyes lock with yours across the rooftop, and it’s as if time slows—the world around you blurs into nothingness, and in that single, suspended moment, all the pain, the loss, the suffering fades into the background. Only the two of you exist in this space, your hearts racing to meet one another.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t need to. The relief is in how his shoulders ease, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his usually stoic face.

"...You did it."

His voice is quiet, but there's weight in the words—more than just acknowledgment, it’s gratitude, it's understanding. It's the recognition of everything he’s sacrificed, everything you've fought for. He steps forward; the movement is almost tentative, unsure whether to close the distance or give you space. His gaze never leaves you like he’s making sure you're there, standing after all the carnage.

Law is in shock at the extent of your power, but he holds off on asking about it when you take a step toward him and then another. Before you know it, you’re close enough to feel the heat of his body, to breathe in the scent of him—the faint trace of salt from the sea, the worn material of his coat, the familiar scent that’s somehow always anchored you. Without a word, your hands find him, and it feels like a release.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him. His body tenses for just a heartbeat, and his arms encircle you in return. It’s not a gentle embrace; it's raw, urgent like a drowning man grabbing hold of something solid. His fingers press into your back as if to remind himself that you’re real, that you’ve made it through this hell.

"I never realised how... far you could take your power,” Law muses. “You awakened, didn’t you?”

You watch him momentarily, letting his words settle, and nod. Law isn’t the type to be easily impressed. He’s been surrounded by people with powerful abilities his whole life, seen every form of strength and technique. And yet, here he is—staring at you like you’re something new, something beyond even his experience.

You glance down at the threads suspended in the air between you, your hands still tingling with the power you’ve just unleashed. For a second, you wonder if he’s afraid of it, the sheer weight of what you can do, and the responsibility that comes with it. After all, not everyone can control such power without losing themselves.

"No. Not a curse,” He shakes his head, his lips pursed. “I’m... I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. This is bigger than I thought. But I trust you. I always have."

His words don’t surprise you. Law has been your biggest supporter for two years; always one to improve your techniques rather than shy away from them. But the way he says it—quietly but with complete certainty—it’s like he’s acknowledging the full depth of you, not just the person you were, but the person you are now—the strength you’ve built and the raw power underneath your skin.

“We make a good team," You smile, tucking stray hairs behind his ears.

Law licks his lips, his eyes piercing in the dawn sun when he leans in. He captures you in a searing, dizzying kiss that sends you reeling. He pours everything he can into it, using his injured arm to draw you closer. Law doesn’t care that Luffy’s there or that Violet and Rebecca giggle behind you; all that matters is you.

“Hey! Guys!”

You pull away from the kiss, the taste of Law still lingering on your lips as you catch your breath, your heart racing from both the intensity of the moment and the joy that surged through you just a moment ago. His hand still lingers in the space between you, but you break free, playful mischief dancing in your eyes.

Law’s gaze flickers with something between amusement and frustration, his fingers still reaching for you as you step back a few paces, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Hey, don't just run off like that."

You laugh, a teasing sound that makes his brows tug together, his lips curving downward in that way he gets when he’s trying to act annoyed, but the small tilt of his head and the gleam in his eyes betray him. He doesn’t mind the chase, especially not when it ends with you.

You glance over at the street below, where half of the crew is waving up at you, their bodies worn and tired from the night's battles. They’re standing in a disorganised, ragged line, but each wears that unmistakable, heartwarming smile despite their exhaustion. Zoro, ever the stoic, looks a bit more dishevelled than usual, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes—relief, pride, maybe even a hint of amusement as he watches you.

“Are you all okay?" Your voice calls down to them, and they all respond with bored yeses, like they’ve been waiting for you to acknowledge them, to pull you out of the moment with Law.

Zoro doesn’t answer, but you can tell he’s fine by the way his sword is casually slung over his shoulder, his stance relaxed despite the weariness in his eyes. A faint smile on his lips is too small to be noticed at first, but it’s there.

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and concern. The battle was brutal, and seeing your friends here, battered but smiling, brings warmth to your chest. You step closer to the rooftop's edge, gripping the stone and leaning out just enough to be closer to them.

“Are you sure? You all look like you’ve been through hell."

Franky throws both hands in the air, his signature mechanical arm extending dramatically. His grin is as wild as ever. "Franky’s super! I’m built to last, baby!"

He strikes a ridiculous pose, flexing his robotic muscles, and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, even after everything. His body’s covered in scratches and scuff marks, and there's a noticeable dent in his arm, but the energy radiating off him makes him seem fine.

Robin’s laughter rings out next, soft and knowing. She stands a bit behind the group, her eyes glinting with something more than just the weariness of battle. Her power unfurls from your shoulder to gently pat your hair, a comforting touch that feels almost like a reassurance. You lean into it instinctively, feeling the faint flutter of her tendrils against your scalp.

"We’re all alive, at least,” She says; her smile is quiet, but her voice has a deep sincerity.

"All thanks to captain Usopp!!" Usopp’s voice rings out from behind the others. He waves from where he’s leaning against a nearby building, a blinding smile on his face. He flexes his bicep, much like Franky, and laughs. Exhaustion is evident on his face, but there’s that ever-present glint of optimism in his eyes.

"Zoro?" Your voice rings through the silence.

His eyes flicker toward you for just a second before he smirks, that familiar, infuriating grin creeping across his face. "Tch, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me."

His voice is hoarse, and you catch the subtle strain in his tone, but you know better than to press him.

You laugh softly, shaking your head.

"You’re all impossible," You mutter under your breath, but there’s a fondness. Even with their bruises and injuries, they are alive, and that’s all that matters. You’ve all made it through yet another fight, another battle against overwhelming odds.

You turn back to Law, who’s still standing there watching you, his expression unreadable but his eyes softening with something more profound. He steps forward, his hand reaching out to you, a silent invitation. Without a second thought, you slide into his side, leaning into him. Your fingers brush his, intertwining with his as the two of you stand there, watching the crew. There’s a quiet understanding between you; Doflamingo has been defeated, and the crew’s safe, but there’s still a long road ahead.

A loud, enthusiastic yawn sounds from behind you. Rolling your eyes, you glance at Luffy, who stretches his arms high above his head as if he’s just had the most peaceful nap of his life. The moment he blinks open his eyes, he’s already grinning—like nothing could ever be wrong in the world. His laughter rings out, even though he’s barely even fully conscious.

"Mmm, I’m hungry! What’s for breakfast?"

Everyone groans, ignoring your captain as you figure out where to go from here.

“The Navy’s still here. I think they’re on to us.” The moment Robin’s words cut through the air, the lighthearted mood of the crew evaporates like smoke in the wind.

“We don’t have a ship,” Usopp says. “The others took the Sunny to Zou.”

“I can help!” A voice squeaks. You raise an eyebrow as the man steps fully into view, brushing dust and debris off his ragged clothes. He stands there, almost nervously, before raising a hand with a glint of determination in his eyes. “My ship can carry everyone and more!”

“Rooster Head!” Luffy exclaims, rising to his feet. The nickname makes you blink again, but it’s clear that Luffy knows him.

The man’s face lights up, recognition clicking in his eyes as he hears the name. You can practically hear the stars in his voice as he continues.

“Mister Luffy,” The guy cries. “I saw you fighting with Doflamingo. You are so incredible.”

Luffy laughs, jumping off the roof and landing on the street with a rubbery thud. “Nah, that was all her.”

You blink, caught off guard as his grin broadens, and he turns to you. There’s something in his eyes, something deep that makes your heart skip a beat.

“She’s the one you should be thanking.”

The green-haired man Luffy calls "Rooster Head" is staring at you with wide eyes now, his mouth hanging open like he’s just realised who you are.

“Incredible... this is perfect! I can’t believe it! I didn’t know I’d get to meet the hero of Dressrosa today!”

Luffy bursts into laughter, clearly delighted by the reaction.

“Oh,” You feel your cheeks warm. “I’m no hero.”

“So humble!” Rooster Head fawns. But as quickly as the starstruck glint in his eye comes, it disappears. He seems as though he almost forgot his initial reason for approaching. He starts to fidget a little, his hands moving as though he’s trying to figure out the best way to get to the point. “Oh! Right, right! I’ve got a ship nearby, a fast one. It’s perfect for getting away from the Navy.”

“Fast, huh?” Robin teases.

“Yeah, yeah! It’s small, nimble—should be able to get you all out of here before they even know what happened!” His eyes are sparkling like this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life. For a second, it almost feels surreal.

You look at Luffy, who’s grinning wider than ever. “See? I told you, everything works out! We’ll get out of here, no problem.”

You nod, a little smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you look back at the green-haired stranger. “Alright, let’s get moving then. Lead the way.”

Rooster Head nearly jumps out of his skin at your words, already turning on his heel to lead you to the ship. Luffy, as usual, follows in his wake, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

Violet and Rebecca thank you and the crew for all your help; hugging each of you tightly. Their teary goodbye makes you feel guilty for leaving so abruptly, but you’re eager to see the rest of your crews—both of them.

Nami, Sanji, Brook, Chopper, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, and the rest of the Heart Pirates are on Zou.

Law’s steady presence beside you feels like a quiet reassurance as he helps you down from the rooftop. You glance at him, but he already knows what you're thinking.

“You ready?”

Nodding, you send a tired, easy smile as you reach for his hand with quiet certainty, your fingers brushing his as you clasp it. The gesture is simple, but it speaks volumes. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

As you both fall in step, you notice the Straw Hats already ahead of you, their movements light, laughter and chatter flowing easily between them.

You follow them for a few moments, and the distance between you and them does not feel far at all. It’s just a ten-minute walk to the port, a short journey to the ship Rooster Head had told you about. The air feels fresh after Doflamingo’s defeat, as if the world feels free from the grips of a man like him.

“Rooster Head said the ship’s fast, right?”

“That’s the plan.” His voice is almost dry, but there's an undercurrent of amusement like he’s already resigned to the inevitable chaos when the Straw Hats are involved.

As you watch your crewmates ahead, you chuckle softly, the tension easing out of your shoulders. The thought of the Straw Hats and Heart Pirates forming an alliance, even briefly, fills you with something close to fondness.

The ship comes into view, and you halt when you look at it. Law deflates beside you. It’s a strange, oddly shaped vessel painted with bright colours. The ship’s sails are adorned with a distinctive green and white colour scheme, and you can see the figure of a tall, spiky-haired man waving excitedly from the helm. The ship is unlike anything you’ve seen before—a testament to its captain's wild, fearless personality. The ship's exterior is covered in graffiti-like designs and emblems that pay homage to Luffy and his crew. Even the figurehead at the front is a massive, exaggerated bust of Luffy, grinning with unrestrained joy.

Luffy’s cheers echo through the air when he steps onto the ship, throwing his arms up. “This ship’s great, Bartolomeo! You really know how to pick ‘em!”

Bartolomeo, practically glowing with pride, stands a few feet behind him, his hands gripping the ship's edge as he watches Luffy with awe. His eyes shine with admiration, and it’s obvious how much this moment means to him. This ship—his ship—now has Luffy’s stamp of approval, and to him, it’s the greatest compliment in the world.

“Alright!” Luffy yells. “Set sail! To Zou!”

— Scene 7 —

As you sit on the bow of the ship, the sunsetting and half of your family partying behind you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You once believed you were a fool for thinking Law helped you out of the goodness of his heart, but the journey through the labyrinth proved you wrong, and you’d do it over a million times if it meant you’d end up with him.

Whether you rejoin the Straw Hats or stay with Law and the Heart Pirates, you know both sides will be happy with your decision. Because love isn’t about being bound to just one world. It’s about finding the strength to exist in both. The Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates—they’re both your family. And with them, you know you’ll always be home.

You still have a lot to learn about your power, now awakened. If you're not careful, you think you might lose yourself to it—to the overwhelming pull of creation, the seductive promise of absolute control over memories, over fate, over the very essence of existence. At times, it’s hard to remember where you end and the world begins.

Something is lurking just beneath the surface—something that doesn’t make sense yet, a hidden potential waiting for you to unlock. You can feel it pushing at the edges of your mind, urging you to understand it and to delve deeper into the art of weaving the world itself into a tapestry of your design.

But you will learn. The power will be yours to command—on your terms. You will discover the true cost of weaving threads into the world’s fabric. And in the process, you’ll uncover a truth that only those who wield the Sew-Sew Fruit can recognise: You are the weaver, but you must never forget that some things cannot, should not, be sewn. And yet, the temptation to do so, to reshape everything, is always there. It’s just a matter of when you will choose to listen to the warnings or let the threads lead you down a path where only you can understand the full extent of your power.

And somewhere, deep within, you feel that perhaps this is only the beginning. The true test is yet to come.

With a final word count of 73,550 words, Labyrinth is my longest piece of writing to date, and I couldn't be more grateful to share it with you. Thank you so much for reading my fanfic in the first place; your kind comments and sheer excitement for this series warmed my heart so, so much. There may be more fics like this in the future, but for now, I will be sticking to reading them and finishing One Piece, haha! I love you all, and thank you for reading <3

Taglist: In the comments

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #law one piece #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #anime

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starshideurfics · 2 months ago

Text

A Mother’s Love

Omega Benny who was part of the MKUltra experiment in college. They took his baby, said he died, but Benny knows in his heart that he would have felt that. He moved to Hawkins after he found out Brenner worked there, hoping to be near his pup.

But with his build he’ll never make it past security.

So he waits, gathers information, and when Terry Ives comes to him with her plan, he asks her to look for his boy.

She’s so focused on finding Jane, Terry doesn’t even have a chance to notice that none of the pups there could be Benny’s boy.

Because he’s already been smuggled out.

The Harringtons aren’t the kind of family to go to a diner, so the first time Benny sees Steve the boy is in middle school, out with his friends. 13-years-old, still unpresented, and his scent makes Benny’s heart ache.

He’s found his pup.

🫂🫂🫂

Steve was a sensitive child. His mother always said so, that he couldn’t stand to see anyone in pain.

He’s grown out of it, or learned to control it now, hides it by fitting in with the popular kids, does his best to get Tommy not to be a dick.

But maybe that’s why.

Why he feels compelled to open the door back to the kitchen while he’s waiting to pay, and finds Mr. Hammond crying.

“Is something wrong?” he asks softly, letting the door close behind him.

“Oh, no…” Mr. Hammond says, wiping at his eyes. “Not wrong. Very right. I got some good news just now.”

“Oh,” Steve says, nodding. “That’s good. Still, are you gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, that’s very kind of you…?”

“Steve. Harrington.”

His face twitches at Steve’s name, but settles into a smile. “Thank you, Steve. Your mother must be proud of you.”

“I dunno about that.” Steve blushes. His mother worked hard to make sure he could get along alright, but she would be upset with him for being nosy. For being noticeable.

“Well, I’ll be out in a minute. Meet you at the register.” He slaps his thighs and gets to his feet, and Steve slips from the backroom.

🫂🫂🫂

Benny doesn’t push. Not that first time. After what happened to Terry, he knows to be careful. But now he knows it. Remembers Marsha Harrington from the lab, one of the kinder nurses.

She must have gotten Steve out, but clearly not very far. Brenner might still know where he is.

But his boy is free.

And closer than he thought.

He calls Wayne Munson, asks to come over that night. Benny needs to make a plan.

🫂🫂🫂

Benny brings burgers and fries over to Wayne’s after he closes up at 10. Wayne’s out smoking on his tiny porch, and immediately pulls him into an apple-cinnamon hug.

He lets himself cry again, being held by his closest friend. Wayne lets him cry, holds off on asking questions.

Once Benny’s cried himself out, they go inside, Wayne grabs a couple beers, and they sit at the kitchen table. “So,” Wayne starts, “Tell me what happened.”

Benny does.

“And you’re sure it’s him?”

“Yeah. It ain’t just that it feels right. It’s Marsha Harrington.”

Benny takes a deep breath. Wayne already knows the basics of what happened, about the weird experiments and the drugs, about the isolation and giving birth too doped up to know up from down. About Terry and Claire, Danny and Paula, the other omegas in the program. His friends.

But he doesn’t know as much about the doctors and nurses that surrounded them. The scientists.

Benny’s talked about Brenner, but not this. He blows out his held breath.

“I always hoped I’d get Marsha’s rotation for blood draws. Could barely feel the needle go in when she did it. She was gentle.”

He tells more, neglecting his food, how Marsha held him after Brenner said the pup didn’t make it. “Too small, such bullshit, I could feel him inside me; my family has big babies.” Wayne smiles at that, looking up. “But Marsha was kind, said to hold him in my heart. That a mother knows…”

And he did. He does. He knows his boy, and now he’s seen him, Benny feels a mix of joy-pain-terror over it all. “Maybe she still works there, or maybe she started to lose faith then. Somehow, she got him out of there.”

“She must know you live in Hawkins now.”

“Probably.”

“Do you think she’d talk to you?”

“I dunno.”

“So, what do you want to do?” Wayne takes a swig of his beer, his food mostly eaten, while Benny’s is practically untouched.

“I wanna hold him.” Benny rubs at the tears in his eyes. “But I don’t want to scare him. He’s half-grown as it is.”

Wayne gets up, goes to put his arms around Benny, puts a wrist by his nose to calm him. “Want me to ask Eddie about him? They’re close enough in age he must know some things.”

“I… Yeah, please. God, Eddie probably hates him.” Even keeping his distance, Benny knows the Harringtons are rich as sin.

“Far as I can tell, the only thing Eddie bothers hating is the hospital. And sometimes his daddy, when he ain’t idolizing him.” Wayne steps back, wraps up Benny’s untouched burger, and puts it in the fridge. “A lot happened today. You should rest; hopefully it will all be clearer in the morning.”

Benny nods, happy to follow Wayne to his nest, to be held like he’s precious as he falls asleep.

🫂🫂🫂

Eddie’s cutting math class, hanging at the Hawkins High smoking patio, when one of the Hawkins Middle side doors opens. He recognizes Harrington from his hair, even fluffier than normal because he keeps running his hands through it and rubbing at his neck.

His polo is darkened with patches of sweat.

Eddie drops his half-smoked cigarette, grinding it out with his heel. He runs over to the younger boy—still a pup, but it looks like that won’t be true much longer—hands held up to show he may be an alpha but he’s not a threat. “Hey, you okay there?”

“No,” Harrington whines, tugs at his shirt. “Think m’dying.”

Taking a quick sniff, Eddie picks out the honey-sweetness of omega, and grins. “Not dying, presenting. Want me to take you to the nurse? Have her call home?”

Harrington shakes his head. “Dad’s out of town, and my mom has some lunch thing… Nobody’s home.”

At least he’s with it enough to know that.

“I could still take you to the nurse, she’ll have… stuff to help—”

“No! Please, don’t take me back in there.” Harrington looks about to cry, only to double over in pain, like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Eddie reaches out on instinct, squeezes his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes.

It’s like saying it makes it true, triggers the perfect thing to do in his brain. Harrington is still pretty short, just clearing five feet tall. “Do you think you could balance on my handlebars? So I can get you somewhere better than this? Somewhere comfortable.”

Harrington nods, and Eddie smiles.

He guides him to the bike rack, pulls out his own bike and holds it steady as Harrington gets situated. Biking with the extra weight is hard, but it doesn’t take long for Eddie to get them to the omega he trusts most in the world: his Uncle Wayne.

“What the hell, Ed?” Wayne asks from the doorway.

“No one at home,” Eddie pants, still catching his breath. “You wouldn’t wanna have your first heat at school either. Told Harrington I’d take him somewhere safe.”

“Harrington?” Wayne looks startled. Eddie starts to worry.

“You can call me Steve,” Harrington says with a pout as he gets off the bike.

Wayne nods. “Steve, come on in. We’ll get you comfortable, but you’re gonna want something from your mom’s nest, the scent will help.”

“Mom doesn’t have a nest, she’s a beta.”

“Oh. Then we’ll get you set up in mine. D’you wanna shower? Deal with the… mess?” Eddie knows Wayne is being delicate.

That he doesn’t want to say that Harrington’s underwear is full of the aftermath of his pussy opening up. It might not be yet, Eddie’s not sure. They don’t go too in-depth on the timeline in health class.

The grimace on Harrington’s face, the quick nod, says it’s already happened.

Wayne gets a hand on Harrington’s back, helps him inside as he stares at Eddie. “Head back to school. Stop in the middle school office to let them know Steve went home.”

Eddie digs his toe into the ground. “Okay…”

“And stop skipping Algebra! You wanna graduate, don’t ya?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Eddie watches as Wayne’s attention turns fully to Steve, feels a spike of jealousy, then pushes it away as he turns to bike back to school.

🫂🫂🫂

Steve feels better after the shower, and Munson’s uncle left him baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt. His skin still feels too hot. Itchy. He pulls on the sweats and tightens the drawstring, but leaves the shirt as he wanders from the tiny bathroom.

“Hey, kiddo, let’s get you settled.”

“Thank you, Mr. Munson.”

“Wayne is fine. Ya thirsty?”

Steve nods, suddenly aware of how dry his tongue is.

“Yep, your body is gonna run through fluids pretty hard for the next day or so. C’mon, pup.” Wayne places a hand between Steve’s shoulder blades and guides hin to a cozy nest of blankets.

There are shirts and pillowcases tucked into the sides. The whole room smells warm, like cinnamon rolls with sticky glaze. The homemade kind, spicier and sweeter than the ones from the tube that his mom makes on the weekends. Or… Used to make. They don’t do family meals much anymore.

Wayne helps Steve into the nest, makes a shushing sound when Steve whines at being left alone. “Just getting you that water, pup.”

Steve nods again, wriggles down in the nest, and breathes deep. He feels better almost instantly, his nose pressed against a plain, white undershirt. Right there, the scent of apples cuts through the cinnamon, and Steve relaxes, melts against the blankets. He feels safe here, protected. Like he’s being held.

He wants to be held. Wants his mother.

Steve wishes he was little again, that he could be wrapped in a blanket and held in her lap.

His mother hadn’t held him like that since he started school. Since he stopped going to the daycare with the colorful playroom.

His mother is not a cuddler.

Steve wants to be cuddled. Desperately.

Wayne comes back with his water, and Steve sits up. His skin drags on the blankets, sweaty. Wet.

He drains the glass and Wayne sets it aside. He sits in the nest with Steve, pets his hair. “How are ya feelin’, kid?”

“Okay. Better. It’s nice here.”

“Good. That’s good. Do ya know when your mother should be home? So I can give her a call. Let her know where you are.”

“Four. I think?”

“Okay. Until then you rest.” Wayne pushes back Steve’s hair from his forehead.

Nodding, Steve nuzzles back against the apple-y shirt again, and starts to purr.

part 2

#omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #omega benny hammond #omega wayne munson #pre-steddie #pre canon #stranger things fic #i was possessed #the idea grabbed me hard #past mpreg

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mononijikayu · 6 months ago

Text

stuff we did — geto suguru.

“Hey!” you called out, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. “What are you doing?” Suguru looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “I’m trying to figure out what’s inside. This place looks like it’s been abandoned forever.” You stepped closer, your own curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s haunted?” Suguru grinned, his imagination clearly running wild. “Maybe! Or maybe it’s just full of old, forgotten things. Either way, I bet there are some really cool secrets in there.” You looked at the house, its weathered appearance now seeming a bit more inviting. “Do you want to explore it together?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU;

WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/ Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Suguru, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Comfort, Falling In Love, Pining, Slice of Life, Humor, Domesticity, Miscarriage, Infertility, Character Death, Depiction of Infertility, Depiction of Hospital Visit, Depiction of Illness, Depiction of Old Age, Mention of Miscarriage, Mention of Infertility, Mention of Character Death, This Is One Of My Favorites In A Long Whille, My Writing Vault Is Just Angst;

WORDS: 8.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was written a while while back and i just finished proof reading it to suit what i wanted to see. this was inspired by both queen of tears and the film up, which was just the most beautiful movie ive seen over and over. i hope you enjoy this a lot and that you'll be just as moved as me. i promise i'll be back with fluff soon enough!!! i genuinely cried at the end. anyway, i hope you love it. i love you guys!!! thank you for reading <3

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A WHOLE LIFETIME WAS WAITING FOR HIM. At ten years old, Suguru Geto was a dreamer with a spark in his eyes that hinted at a life full of exploration and wonder.

▃▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▂▃

It was an ordinary afternoon, the sun casting long shadows as you wandered through the neighborhood, when you stumbled upon the abandoned house. Its once-grand façade was now a patchwork of peeling paint and overgrown vines, and the wooden fence sagged in places, as if it were barely holding on to its secrets.

You had been intrigued by the house for weeks, often imagining what mysteries lay behind its dust-covered windows. That day, you decided to finally investigate, only to find someone already there. Suguru was crouched by the front gate, peering through the rusty bars with a look of intense concentration.

“Hey!” you called out, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. “What are you doing?”

Suguru looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “I’m trying to figure out what’s inside. This place looks like it’s been abandoned forever.”

You stepped closer, your own curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s haunted?”

Suguru grinned, his imagination clearly running wild. “Maybe! Or maybe it’s just full of old, forgotten things. Either way, I bet there are some really cool secrets in there.”

You looked at the house, its weathered appearance now seeming a bit more inviting. “Do you want to explore it together?”

Suguru’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Let’s make it our clubhouse. We can turn it into our secret base where we plan all our adventures.”

The two of you both pushed open the creaky gate and made your way up the overgrown path to the front door. Inside, dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight filtering through the broken windows. The air was musty, but the promise of discovery filled you with a sense of excitement.

“This place is amazing!” Suguru exclaimed, running his hand along an old wooden beam. “Imagine all the things we could do here, don’t you think? We could have treasure hunts, build secret compartments, and even create maps of our adventures!”

You smiled, already swept up in the excitement. “And we could scrapbook all of our adventures. I’ve got a ton of stickers and colored pens at home. We could make it like a journal of our explorations!”

Suguru’s eyes lit up with delight. “That sounds perfect. We’ll make this place the coolest clubhouse ever!”

With the possibilities swirling in both your minds, you turned to Suguru, realizing you hadn't properly introduced yourselves yet. “Oh, by the way, I’m…….”

Suguru grinned, his enthusiasm still bubbling over. “Suguru Geto. Looks like we’re gonna be partners in adventure!”

The two of you spent hours exploring every nook and cranny of the house. Suguru’s enthusiasm was contagious, pulling you deeper into the magic of the place. Every corner held a new discovery, a forgotten relic of time that sparked your imaginations. You both laughed as you uncovered old, dusty furniture, imagining all the stories it could tell.

Suguru, always the dreamer, crouched by an ancient-looking wardrobe and peered inside. “What if this belonged to a pirate?” he mused, brushing away cobwebs. “Maybe they stashed their maps and treasures in here before sailing off for another adventure.”

You chuckled, running your fingers over the faded carvings on a wooden chair. “Or maybe it was a writer, sitting here every night by candlelight, crafting tales of far-off lands.”

Suguru stood up, eyes gleaming. “We could be the next storytellers! We can make up stories about this place—maybe even start our own treasure hunt for future explorers.”

“I love that idea!” you grinned, already envisioning the elaborate maps and clues you could create together. “This whole house could be our playground.”

As you explored further, you found hidden doorways and forgotten passageways, each discovery filling you both with a sense of wonder. There was an old attic with creaky floorboards that groaned under your weight, and a cellar that held shelves of ancient, dusty jars—relics of a time long past. Suguru’s energy never faltered, and neither did yours. It was as if the house had become an extension of your shared imagination, every forgotten room a new world to explore.

At one point, Suguru turned to you, breathless from excitement. “Can you believe how much potential this place has? We could make it anything we want! A fortress, a secret hideout, a museum for all the stuff we find!”

You nodded eagerly, already planning how you’d decorate each room with artifacts from your adventures. “We’ll turn it into our own world.”

Suguru’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “We’ve gotta make sure no one else finds it, though. This is our secret spot.”

“Deal!” you said, sealing the pact with a grin.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the house, Suguru turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, one day we’re going to see the whole world. Just like those great explorers. This clubhouse will be our starting point.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of deep connection with Suguru. “I’d like that. I think we’ll have the best adventures together.”

▃▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▂▃

YOU THINK THAT ADVENTURE WAS THE WAY TO GETO SUGURU’S HEART. When you started to get to know him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Suguru’s eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement whenever the topic of exploration came up.

It was as though each conversation opened a window into his boundless curiosity, and you found yourself drawn to the light in his gaze, the way it brightened with every new idea or story he shared.

Geto Suguru’s fascination with the world wasn’t just a passing interest—it was a deep passion, woven into the very fabric of who he was. He could turn even the smallest details into an adventure, transforming mundane objects or places into portals to other worlds. You can tell that he was a born story–teller. Born to know the wonders of the wider world.

Whenever he spoke of famous explorers, his voice would rise with enthusiasm, as if their courage and daring lived within him. Marco Polo’s travels along the Silk Road, Amelia Earhart’s fearless flight into the unknown—Suguru recounted their tales with such vivid detail, it felt as though you were right there alongside them, venturing into uncharted lands.

“He didn’t just travel, you know what I mean?” Suguru once said of Marco Polo, eyes alight with admiration. “That guy managed to help open some doors to a whole new world. Can you imagine that? Being the first to set foot somewhere no one even knew existed?”

You nodded, already swept up in the vision he painted as you kicked your feet. “It’s like the whole world was waiting to be found.”

Suguru smiled, and there was a quiet thrill in his voice. “Exactly! That’s the magic of it—everything’s an adventure if you look at it the right way.”

It didn’t take long before his excitement became infectious. These days, you just feel like that when you are around Suguru. Just as quickly, you could only find yourself equally captivated by the idea of exploring far-off places and uncovering their mysteries. Geto Suguru had a way of making even the ordinary seem extraordinary.

He would point out things that others might pass by without a second glance—a strange rock, an oddly shaped tree, or even the patterns in the clouds—and turn them into puzzles waiting to be solved. His mind was always buzzing with “what-ifs” and “maybes” sparking conversations that seemed to stretch on for hours as you both imagined worlds within worlds, hidden just beneath the surface of reality.

“I wonder what it would be like to be Amelia Earhart too!” he mused once, as you both sat on a hill, gazing at the horizon. “To fly into the unknown, chasing the horizon, not knowing what’s on the other side but going anyway.”

“Scary, but exciting, don’t you think?” you replied, feeling a twinge of that same wanderlust Suguru seemed to carry with him at all times. “It’s like you’re both lost and free at the same time.”

Suguru nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. The unknown is terrifying, but that’s what makes it so… beautiful. There’s always something more to discover. And I…I just can’t wait to find out all of it!”

It was moments like these that deepened your bond. His wonderment was contagious, and soon you began to see the world through his eyes, where even the smallest things held the promise of adventure. Whether it was the forgotten corners of an old house or the distant lands of long-gone explorers, with Suguru, everything became part of an ongoing quest.

You realized that it wasn’t just about the places you would explore, but the way he looked at the world—with a wide-eyed excitement that made you feel like every day held a new mystery, waiting to be uncovered. And you wanted to be there with him. Just beside him. Because to be with him, you like to think that you would find nothing but a wonder if you were there.

He had a knack for finding the magic in the mundane, and it opened your own bright eyes to the wonders around you. What once seemed ordinary now felt like it held endless possibilities, all thanks to Suguru’s infectious spirit.

He showed you that adventure wasn’t just something that happened in faraway places—it could be anywhere, even in the most unexpected moments. You didn’t have to cross oceans to find excitement; sometimes, it was right in front of you, if only you knew where to look. And with Suguru, you were learning how to see it.

This weekend afternoon, as you and Suguru sat cross-legged on the floor of your clubhouse, surrounded by colorful supplies and old maps, Suguru began sharing his latest dream with you. The sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, casting a warm, golden light on the room.

“You know…..” Suguru said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I read about this amazing place called the Himalayas. It’s full of towering mountains, and some of them are so high that they touch the sky. Can you imagine climbing one of those?”

You looked up from your sketchbook, eyes wide with wonder. “That sounds incredible! What would it be like to stand on top of one of those mountains?”

Suguru’s face broke into a smile as he imagined the scene. You like to think that he had the most beautiful smile in the world. “It would be breathtaking. You’d feel like you’re on top of the world. And there’s this special mountain called Everest—people say it’s like touching the edge of the heavens!”

With a gleeful chuckle, Suguru grabbed a pencil and began sketching a mountain range in your scrapbook. “We should definitely put this in our adventure book. We’ll draw mountains and imagine ourselves climbing them.”

You nodded eagerly, already picturing the pages of your scrapbook filled with sketches and notes. “Absolutely. And we can write about all the things we’d see and do. Maybe we’ll even draw ourselves in climbing gear, standing triumphantly at the summit!”

As the weeks went by, the scrapbook became a canvas for your shared dreams. Each page was a tribute to the places Suguru talked about with such passion. There were intricate drawings of ocean vistas, with waves crashing against rocky shores, and sprawling cityscapes with towering skyscrapers and bustling streets.

Geto Suguru’s descriptions were so vivid that you could almost hear the sounds and smell the scents of these distant lands. He just knew how to give you the wide world to you in the vibrant brighteness no one could.

As you worked on the scrapbook together, Suguru’s excitement reached a new peak. “I’ve been reading about this incredible city called Istanbul. It’s where East meets West, and there are markets full of colorful spices and beautiful mosaics everywhere. I think it would be amazing to see it in person.”

You looked at the sketch Suguru had just added, depicting a bustling market scene with vibrant colors and intricate patterns. “It looks so lively and full of culture. I’d love to experience it with you. Maybe we could even learn a few phrases in Turkish before we go.”

Suguru nodded, clearly thrilled by the idea. “Yes! And we can try all the different foods and maybe even buy some souvenirs to bring back to our clubhouse.”

As the scrapbook filled up, it became a treasure trove of aspirations and memories. The house, once an abandoned relic, was now a haven for your dreams, where the world beyond your doorstep felt just a little bit smaller and a whole lot more reachable.

As you look at him, you couldn’t help but smile. Your scrapbook would be an adventure as long as you had him.

IT WAS EASY TO SEE THAT YOU LIKED HIM. As the years passed, as you both grew older—the bond between you and Suguru deepened in ways that neither of you had anticipated. Nothing has changed and yet it has.

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You couldn’t even understand how you could describe it. What had begun as a playful friendship, sparked by shared adventures and dreams, evolved into a profound connection that anchored both of your lives moving forward.

The seasons changed, and so did the nature of your relationship. As the crisp air of autumn gave way to the first frost of winter, something subtle yet profound shifted between you two.

Your weekends, once filled with the solitary pursuit of sketching mountains far off in the distance or wistfully dreaming of cities you had yet to explore, began to take on a new rhythm. These quiet moments of creativity were now shared, woven into times of meaningful conversations that deepened your connection.

The clubhouse, once a refuge for your art and ideas, had evolved alongside you both. It was no longer just a place to retreat but had grown into a cozy home filled with warmth and a sense of belonging. The walls, once bare and practical, were now alive with a collage of your memories—scrapbook pages pinned up like trophies of the adventures you’d had together.

Here, in the dim light of your clubhouse-turned-home, time seemed to slow. Conversations stretched long into the evening, filled with laughter, confessions, and sometimes a comfortable silence that spoke more than words ever could.

You realized that it wasn't just about the places you wanted to visit or the mountains you hoped to climb. It was about these moments—right here, right now—that had been shaping the most important journey of all: the one you were taking together.

You and Suguru sat on the porch of your clubhouse. The place had become a sanctuary for the two of you, and tonight, it felt even more so. Wrapped in thick, warm blankets, you watched the sun slowly sink below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft gold, pink, and lavender. The fading light bathed the world in a warm, almost magical glow, a contrast to the growing chill in the air.

But something else lingered in the quiet of that evening—an unspoken tension. Suguru, always steady and thoughtful, had been unusually silent. You could sense that something weighed heavily on his mind. His usual animated presence, the one that balanced your own, seemed subdued.

He stared out at the trees, their leaves a patchwork of fiery reds and oranges, but his thoughts were clearly somewhere else. The contemplative look on his face was deeper than the usual moments of introspection he had.

You knew him well enough to understand that silence was part of who he was—he often found comfort in it—but this was different. This wasn’t just quiet; it was an absence of something.

The air, cool against your skin, seemed to press in, amplifying the stillness between you. It felt as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to be said. You didn’t push him; you knew better than that.

With Suguru, patience was key. He always opened up in his own time, and when he did, it was always worth the wait. You could tell he was wrestling with something important—something that couldn’t be rushed.

You glanced over at him, his face softened by the golden light of the setting sun. His expression was unreadable, yet you could sense the conflict beneath the surface.

It was as though the quiet had become a shield for him, a way to protect himself from whatever thoughts he was trying to sort out. You wondered if he even knew how to begin talking about it, or if he was still trying to make sense of it for himself.

The porch creaked as you shifted slightly in your seat, the only sound breaking the stillness. The leaves continued to fall, gently drifting to the ground, but the world around you felt frozen in that moment, waiting for Suguru to speak. Whatever was on his mind, you knew it was important, and you were ready to listen when he was ready to share.

You glanced at him, sensing that something was on his mind. “Hey, Suguru.” you said gently, “is everything okay? You seem a bit… distant.”

Suguru turned to you, his eyes reflecting the fading sunlight. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he began slowly, “about us, and about everything we’ve shared.”

You felt a flutter of nerves in your chest but kept your voice steady. “What about us?”

Suguru took a deep breath, his fingers intertwined with yours. “You know how we’ve always dreamed about exploring the world together? Well, lately, I’ve been thinking that the greatest adventure of all is the one we’re already on. The one where we’re building a life together.”

You looked at him, your heart racing as you realized what he was about to say. Suguru’s face softened into a gentle smile, and he continued, “I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. You’ve been my partner in every adventure, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The world seemed to pause as you processed his words. Your feelings for Suguru had grown from admiration and friendship into a deep, abiding love. You had felt it for some time but hadn’t fully acknowledged it until this moment.

“I love you too, Suguru.” you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re my best friend, my confidant, and the person I want to share my life with.”

Suguru’s bright purple eyes sparkled with happiness, and he reached out to hold you close. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you felt a profound sense of belonging. From that evening onward, your relationship transformed.

You both began to plan not just for the next adventure but for a future together. You talked about dreams of traveling the world, but also about building a home, starting a family, and creating a life rich with shared experiences.

The future you envisioned was no longer just about distant places or grand plans; it was about the everyday moments and the life you would build side by side. You found joy in the small things—quiet dinners, laughter over shared memories, and the simple pleasure of being together. And for each of those moments, you would both be together. For every last one.

And from that moment, everything felt like a flash, a blur of time passing with both rapidity and grace. Years slipped through your fingers like sand, but each one seemed to deepen the bond you and Suguru shared.

You both arrived at the house, this time not as wide-eyed dreamers, but as people ready to take action. You were equipped with the resources, knowledge, and expertise that had been hard-earned over the years. What once seemed impossible now felt within reach.

The house had transformed, much like the relationship you shared. The wild, overgrown vines that had once snaked across its facade had been cut away, revealing the clean lines of the structure underneath.

The sagging fence, which had leaned precariously for years, had been replaced by a sturdy, welcoming one. Even the gate—the one that had creaked and stuck when you were kids—now swung open smoothly, inviting you in with a sense of ease and possibility.

Standing there together, gazing at the house, the nostalgia hit you both in waves. You could still remember the first time you stumbled upon it, back when the future felt like a distant, far-off dream. But now, it wasn’t distant anymore. It was here, within your grasp.

The silence between you was comfortable, filled with anticipation and a shared understanding. You both knew this wasn’t just about restoring an old house. It was about building something together—something that was uniquely yours.

This house, with all its history and imperfections, was about to become the home you had always envisioned. It wasn’t just a physical space. It was a reflection of everything you had been through, everything you had grown into, and everything you had yet to become.

As you exchanged a glance with Suguru, you didn’t need words to know what he was thinking. The years had brought change, but they had also brought clarity. Together, you had always been building something—first with your dreams, then with your actions. And now, you were ready to take that final step, to make this place your home.

“Look at it, baby!” Suguru exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he gazed at the house. His eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement and pride you hadn't seen in a while. “It’s incredible to see how far we’ve come. I remember the first time we explored this place, imagining what it could become.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you took in the sight before you. “It’s amazing. It feels like we’re finally turning our dreams into reality.”

The house had been a vision for so long—an idea you had held onto through thick and thin. Now, as you stood in front of the freshly painted exterior, with the sun glinting off the windows and the scent of fresh grass in the air, it was hard to believe that this place had once been nothing more than an abandoned shell. But it was no longer just an idea or a distant goal. It was real, solid, and yours.

Suguru picked up a paint roller, dipped it into the bucket of soft, pastel blue paint you had both agreed on, and turned toward the wall with a grin. “This is the fun part, don’t you think?” he said, rolling a stripe of color onto the previously bare wood. “It’s like coloring outside the lines, but now we get to make the lines too.”

You laughed and grabbed your own roller, eager to join in. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, mister. This is a team effort.”

Soon, the two of you were painting side by side, your laughter filling the crisp air as you carefully applied the vibrant colors to your home. The soft hum of birds chirping in the distance and the gentle rustling of leaves set the perfect backdrop for your playful banter. Every brushstroke felt like a step closer to bringing your shared vision to life.

At one point, Suguru turned toward you, his roller dripping with paint, and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “You know what’s missing here?” he asked, his voice playful.

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be suspicious. “What?”

“An artist's touch!” Before you could react, Suguru flicked his roller in your direction, sending a spray of pastel blue paint across your shirt.

Your eyes widened in mock horror as you looked down at the splatters of paint now decorating your clothes. “Suguru!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-gasping. “You’re in so much trouble!”

Without hesitation, you dipped your roller into the paint and aimed it squarely at him, sending a cascade of blue across his chest. Suguru's bright purple eyes went wide in surprise, then he broke into a wide grin.

“Oh, it’s on now,” he said, stepping toward you with his paintbrush raised like a sword. What started as an innocent painting session quickly turned into a playful paint war, the walls momentarily forgotten as you splattered each other with streaks of pastel blue.

You squealed as he rushed off with a dash and followed you. His laughter was just as much the best part of the progress you think. It was like the music that was missing in your life. And it never stopped that afternoon and you were content.

The soft spring breeze carried your laughter, and for a few moments, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Suguru, in the moment, covered in paint and joy.

At some point, you collapsed onto the grass together, breathless from laughter and covered in splashes of color. The house loomed behind you, its newly painted walls gleaming in the sunlight, but all you could focus on was the way Suguru looked at you, his face smeared with paint, his eyes filled with warmth and happiness.

He reached over and gently wiped a smudge of blue from your cheek, his touch tender. “Look at us, baby.” he said softly, his voice a mix of awe and affection. “We’re a mess, but this—everything we’ve built together—it’s beautiful.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Yeah babe.” you agreed, your heart full. “It really is.”

Just like that, this once old abandoned soul was starting to come back to life before your eyes. It reminded you of all those dreams you had shared with Suguru for so many years. And in that moment, as you sat in the grass with your husband—covered in paint, laughter, and love—you realized that this, right here, was the real dream coming true.

That cool summer night as you both sat together on the porch of your newly renovated home, watching the sunset paint the sky with shades of pink and orange, Suguru turned to you with a contented smile. You had never seen him this happy in your entire lives together. And it suited him. More than you think he’d understand.

“I never imagined this day would come, but here we are. Our adventures didn’t just remain on paper anymore, baby. They became a reality now.”

You leaned against him, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment. “It’s incredible. We’ve seen so much of the world, and now we have this beautiful home that’s a reflection of our journey.”

With your home now complete, you and Suguru embarked on a new chapter of your life.

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LIFE EVEN IN ITS MOST MUNDANE WAS EVERYTHING. As the years went by, your and Suguru’s paths continued to align in the most fulfilling ways. Suguru, inspired by his love for learning and his experiences, decided to become a teacher, just like you.

Both of you found immense satisfaction in shaping young minds and sharing your passion for knowledge. Your combined efforts in education became a cornerstone of your lives, and it was a field where your love for exploration and discovery seamlessly translated into inspiring others.

Your old friends, who had once joined you in those early childhood adventures, also found their way into the field of education. Together, you formed a tight-knit community of educators, all driven by a shared passion for helping students explore their potential. The clubhouse, once the backdrop for your childhood dreams, had become a symbol of your commitment to fostering curiosity and creativity in the next generation.

Even your nights you spent in your home were often filled with lively discussions about teaching methods, innovative ideas for the classroom, and the exciting possibilities of new educational tools.

Your love of exploration, once confined to distant lands, now found a new outlet in the classroom. You and Suguru worked together on projects that encouraged students to think critically and explore the world around them, just as you had done as children.

Suguru, with a nostalgic smile, traced his fingers over a particularly cherished page. “Remember this, baby?” he said, pointing to a sketch of the Himalayas. “We were so excited about climbing those mountains. And now, look at us—living our dreams and sharing them with others.”

You leaned against him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “I do remember. And I’m so grateful for everything we’ve experienced together. This scrapbook is a reminder of how far we’ve come and all the dreams we’ve made real.”

As you both looked through the pages, you realized that the scrapbook was more than just a record of your adventures—it was a reflection of your journey as a couple. It symbolized not only the places you had been and the things you had done but also the love and partnership that had grown alongside them. Everything was perfect. Nothing could be better.

Your careers were flourishing, and life with Geto Suguru was a tapestry of shared happiness. The bond between you had only deepened over time, each day bringing a new layer of intimacy and understanding.

It was as though your relationship had found a perfect equilibrium, a serene joy that seemed like it could stretch on indefinitely. Your home was filled with the warmth of laughter, the comfort of companionship, and the contentment of having achieved many of your dreams. But still, you felt like something was missing. And your husband knew it too.

Suguru, with his usual thoughtful demeanor, was the first to broach the topic. “You know, baby….” he began, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of contemplation. “We've built something incredible together. Our careers, our lovely home… Everything feels right. But have you ever thought about what might come next?”

You turned to face him, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?” you asked, sensing that there was something more beneath his words.

Suguru hesitated for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “Well, we’ve talked about our future in many ways, but lately, I’ve been thinking about children. About…..about what it might be like to have a family of our own.”

Your husband’s tender words hung in the air, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. The idea had surfaced in fleeting thoughts and half-formed conversations, but hearing it out loud made it feel more real, more tangible.

You considered his words carefully. The thought of children had always been a distant possibility, a dream tucked away among other aspirations. But now, in the warmth of the evening and the comfort of your home, it feels different. It was no longer just an abstract idea; it was something you were both ready to explore.

“I’ve thought about it too, babe.” you admitted, your voice soft but filled with emotion. “It’s strange how this feeling crept up on us. I suppose we always knew that our life together would be about more than just us, that there would be something else to share our love and our world with.”

Suguru reached out and took your hand, his touch reassuring and full of promise. “I think it could be a beautiful next step for us, you know? I know it won’t be easy, and there will be challenges, but I can’t help but feel that it’s the right time.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of warmth and excitement building within you. “I agree. It feels like we’re ready to open up to this new chapter. I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else but you.”

And that settled your desires to begin unfolding. You both wanted it — to have a family together, to raise a child that would be a reflection of your love. The excitement was palpable, filling the days with a hopeful kind of anticipation. You tried, again and again, but it wasn’t long before the first signs appeared, subtle at first. A growing worry gnawed at you, but you pushed it aside, willing everything to be okay.

Then came the miscarriage.

The room was heavy with silence, the kind that feels suffocating and oppressive. Your eyes were red from the tears you had shed, each one a testament to the depth of your loss. The sterile whiteness of the doctor's office seemed to mock the vibrant dreams you had once held.

The doctor’s words were like a sharp blade cutting through the haze of hope you had been clinging to. “You won’t be able to have children, Mrs. Geto. I am so sorry.” he said softly, his voice compassionate but firm.

The words hung in the air, each syllable a painful puncture to the fragile balloon of hope that had floated between you and Suguru. At that moment, the world seemed to fall apart.

The colors of the room blurred together, the sounds of the doctor’s voice faded into a distant hum, and the only thing that remained was the crushing weight of the news. It was as if the very foundation of your dreams had shattered, leaving behind a void that seemed too vast to fill.

The future you had imagined—of shared late-night feedings, tiny feet pattering around the house, the joy of watching a child grow—was now nothing more than a distant, unreachable fantasy. The dream you and Suguru had so carefully built together crumbled, leaving behind an aching emptiness that felt like a gaping hole in your heart.

You looked at Suguru, and in his eyes, you saw the same devastation mirrored back at you. The strength and support that had always been a cornerstone of your relationship now felt fragile, as if the very fabric of your shared hopes had been torn apart. His hand reached for yours, trembling slightly, and you could feel the shared grief pulsing between you.

As you and Suguru drove home, the silence in the car was almost unbearable. The world outside seemed muted, as if the colors and sounds had been drained away. The roads stretched out in front of you, but they felt meaningless, like they led nowhere important. The weight of the news settled heavily on your shoulders, and neither of you knew how to break the quiet.

For days, you were unapproachable, lost in a fog of devastation. The loss felt like a gaping chasm that nothing could fill. Conversations became infrequent and strained, and even the comfort of routine seemed distant and hollow. Suguru was there, his presence a constant but silent support, and though he tried to offer solace, the words and gestures seemed inadequate against the depth of your shared grief.

The stillness in the house felt almost oppressive. You found yourself sitting alone in the backyard, the garden now a quiet reflection of your internal turmoil. The familiar sight of your favorite flowers and the gentle rustling of leaves seemed to offer no solace. You sat there, wrapped in a blanket of melancholy, trying to make sense of the void that had settled in your life.

Suguru came out and joined you, quietly taking a seat beside you on the patio. He took a deep breath, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of the world. For a moment, he just sat there, gathering his thoughts, his presence a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions.

“You know, baby…..” he began softly, his voice breaking the heavy silence, “it’s okay to feel like this. It’s okay to not have all the answers or to be okay right away.”

His words were simple but carried a depth of understanding that only someone who truly cared could offer. You turned to look at him, seeing the pain and determination in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to move past this.” you admitted, your voice cracking with emotion.

“I know.” He whispers to you with tenderness. Tenderness you will never truly deserve. “But you know, baby…..We’ll always be together.”

“I know that.” you retorted, your voice tight and strained as you tried to contain the wave of emotion threatening to break free. “But I just… I wish I could have given you a child, you know? A child that’s a mix of you and me. I just…”

Your words trailed off, leaving a raw vulnerability exposed. The weight of your regrets hung heavily in the air, mingling with the sorrow that had become a constant companion. Suguru’s eyes, usually so full of life and energy, now reflected a deep, pained empathy.

His purple orbs roamed over your face, taking in the sight of you so broken and anguished. The sight of you in such distress was almost too much for him to bear. His own heart ached at the realization that there was little he could do to ease your pain.

“Does our lifetime of love need to leave evidence?” Suguru asked softly, his voice tender yet resolute. “Does…..does it need more than what there is?”

His question wasn’t just a consolation; it was a reflection of his deep belief in the essence of your relationship. You turned to him, the tears welling in your eyes now spilling over, blurring your vision. The raw honesty in his words cut through the fog of your grief, reaching the core of your heart.

“We have each other now, baby.” Suguru continued, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “And we love each other. That’s all that matters.”

His words were simple but powerful, a balm to the wound that had seemed insurmountable. His words broke something inside of you, not in a painful way, but in a way that let all the pent-up sorrow flow out.

You sobbed, burying your face in your hands, and Suguru wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He didn’t say anything more—he didn’t need to. In his embrace, in the warmth of his presence, you found the reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

You cried for the loss, for the future you had dreamed of, but you also cried for the love you still had. Suguru was right. You had each other, and in that love, you found strength. That’s all that truly mattered.

Geto Suguru held you close as your tears flowed, his hands gently rubbing your back, whispering words of comfort that barely reached your ears. But his presence, steady and unwavering, spoke louder than any words could.

In his arms, you found a fragile sense of peace, a reminder that even in this moment of heartbreak, you weren’t alone. His touch was familiar, grounding, and you turned to look at him. There was a tenderness in his eyes, a deep understanding that made your heart ache in the best way. He smiled at you.

“I know this isn’t what we imagined.” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But I’ve been thinking… Maybe it’s okay if our love doesn’t leave a legacy in the way we thought. Maybe our love can just be… us.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words settling into your heart. Suguru had always been your anchor, the person who knew how to pull you back when the world felt too overwhelming. In that moment, you realized that maybe he was right.

Maybe your love didn’t need to be measured by the future you had imagined, by the children you thought you would have. Maybe it was enough to have each other, to share this life together, and to hold onto the love that had always been there. Maybe this was all there has to be. Maybe….this was enough.

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t filled with sorrow. You squeezed Suguru’s hand, leaning into his warmth. “I love you.” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “I love you so much.”

He pulled you into his arms once more, his lips brushing against your temple. “I love you too. Always.”

In that quiet moment, you realized that while the future you had once dreamed of was no longer possible, there was still a future waiting for you. A future where it was just the two of you, building a life together, creating memories that were uniquely yours. And as long as you had Suguru by your side, that was enough.

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOUR HUSBAND’S DREAMS WERE BEAUTIFUL. Even after everything, your husband Suguru had always been a dreamer. He never gave up even after the rollercoaster life had dealt you. Everything you both went through—the heartache, the healing—he found a new dream. It was no longer about building a family or leaving a legacy.

His new dream was much simpler, yet so much more meaningful: seeing the world with you. He wanted to explore every corner of the earth by your side, to share in the beauty of new experiences together, and to make memories that would last a lifetime.

There was one place, in particular, that you had always talked about—Grindelwald. The snow-covered mountains, the crisp winter air, the breathtaking views from atop the peaks.

It was a dream you had held close for as long as Suguru could remember, and now, it had become his dream too. He wanted nothing more than to take you there, to hike those snow-dusted trails and see the world unfold beneath you, together.

The two of you started saving for the trip, setting aside small amounts whenever you could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the dream alive. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

Each time you neared your goal, something else would come up—unexpected expenses, repairs, emergencies. And each time, you had to dip into your savings, pushing the dream further and further away.

The years passed, and the dream remained just that—a dream. Life after all was always busy, life had always had other plans. But you were just happy, being with him. Being together was more than enough.

Yet, Geto Suguru never gave up. He never forgot the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about seeing pictures of Grindelwald, and he was determined to make it happen one day, no matter how long it took.

Then, one quiet evening, many years later, your husband Suguru sat across from you, his once dark hair now streaked with bright vibrant silver. His hands were still steady, but time had softened their strength. He looked at you with the same love he always had, and there was something different in his eyes—something hopeful, something excited.

“I have a surprise for you, baby.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two plane tickets, holding them out for you to see.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the destination: Switzerland.

“We’re going, finally!” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re finally going to see Grindelwald.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, a cascade of emotions threatening to spill over, but before you could voice a response, an unfamiliar, sharp ache deep within your body made you pause. It was a discomfort that had been gnawing at you for some time, a persistent shadow that you had tried to ignore.

At first, you dismissed it as stress or perhaps a lingering side effect of the emotional turmoil you had been through. But as the days turned into weeks, the ache intensified, becoming an unwelcome companion in your life.

You tried to push through it, attributing it to the residual strain of the recent loss and the emotional weight you were carrying. Yet, the pain was relentless, and it wasn’t long before you knew you could no longer ignore it. After several visits to various doctors, numerous tests, and consultations that felt endless, the diagnosis finally came: cancer.

The words hit you like a physical blow, the gravity of the diagnosis sinking into your bones. Cancer. It was a term that seemed to hang in the air, heavy with implications and uncertainty. The doctors’ explanations, though thorough and compassionate, felt distant and detached, as if they were speaking a language you couldn’t quite grasp.

The news was like a seismic shift in your world. It felt as though everything you had been trying to hold together was unraveling. The tears that had been welling up before were now flowing freely, mingling with the shock and fear that gripped you. You tried to process it all, but the weight of the diagnosis was overwhelming. It was as if the universe had decided to compound your grief with a new and daunting challenge.

You found yourself grappling with the implications of the diagnosis, trying to come to terms with the reality of what lay ahead. The future that had once seemed so full of potential and hope was now clouded by uncertainty. The plans and dreams you had cherished were overshadowed by the looming shadow of illness.

Suguru was there, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. His own emotions were a mix of concern and determination, but he tried to remain strong for you. In the quiet moments, as you both grappled with the weight of the diagnosis, he held you close, offering a solace that words couldn’t fully convey.

Everything about it was a crushing blow. But Suguru held firm and so did you. You wanted to fight it. After all that time, your dreams together were about to come true. You didn’t want to give up just yet. You wanted to live on. You wanted to go. You wanted to have more time. With him.

But life wasn’t always as one wants it to be. You were admitted to the hospital soon after, the trip to Switzerland slipping away, replaced by sterile rooms and treatment plans. Geto Suguru was devastated. He had waited so long, saved so carefully, and now, just when it seemed possible, this had happened.

But as you lay in the hospital bed, weakened but still filled with love for the man sitting beside you, you knew there was something more important than the trip, more important than the dream that never came to be.

You called him over, and with trembling hands, you handed him the scrapbook you had kept over the years—the one filled with all the adventures you’d already shared, the places you had seen together, the memories you had created.

“You’ve always been my greatest adventure, you know?” you said softly, your voice a little hoarse. “We may never get to see Grindelwald together, but that doesn’t mean the dream has to end.”

Your husband Suguru looked at you, his eyes filled with tears, unable to speak.

“I want you to keep making memories, Suguru. I want you to keep having adventures. Take the tickets, go see the world… live for both of us. Because as long as you’re alive, as long as you’re making memories, there will always be evidence that I live on too.”

Suguru’s hand tightened around yours, his tears finally falling. He shook his head, unable to imagine a world without you, without your shared dream. But you smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“You’ve always been the dreamer, Suguru.” you whispered. “Don’t let that part of you die. Keep dreaming, keep living for me, for us. Our love… it’s more than just a place or a moment. It’s a lifetime of memories. And as long as you’re out there, making new ones, I’ll be with you.”

Suguru nodded, his heart breaking but understanding what you meant. You had always been his greatest love, and now, even in this painful moment, you were still giving him the strength to carry on.

As he sat by your side, holding your hand tightly, Suguru made a silent promise—to keep your love alive, to honor the life you had shared, and to one day, perhaps, stand atop those snow-covered mountains of Grindelwald, knowing that you were with him in every step, in every breath, in every memory he made.

▃▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▂▃

HE WASN’T GETTING ANY YOUNGER. But he still had a promise to fulfill to you. Geto Suguru stood at the base of the trail, staring up at the towering Alps, their snow-covered peaks gleaming under the summer sun.

The path before him was steep, challenging, but it was the journey he had promised to make—for you, for both of you. He reached up to touch the small locket that hung around his neck, a picture of you carefully tucked inside. Your smile was his anchor, even now, long after you were gone.

The climb was grueling, especially for someone his age. His knees ached, his breath came in short, shallow gasps, but he pressed on. The crisp mountain air filled his lungs, reminding him of the dream you had shared for so many years—to see Grindelwald together, to hike these mountains and stand at the top of the world.

As he ascended, memories of you filled his mind. He could still hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your hand in his, see the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about this place.

It had been your dream, but over time, it had become his as well. Even after all those years of saving, when life had repeatedly forced you to spend the money on more pressing needs, the dream had never faded.

Now, finally, he was here. But he was alone.

Each step was harder than the last. The trail wound higher and higher, becoming more treacherous, but Suguru refused to stop. He clutched the locket, his fingers brushing over the metal as if your presence was embedded within it.

“I promised you,” he whispered to the open air, as though you were walking beside him. “I promised we’d see this together.”

It took hours, his body protesting with every movement, but at last, Suguru reached the summit. The world spread out before him, vast and beautiful, with the jagged peaks of the Alps stretching into the distance. The view was breathtaking—just as you had always said it would be.

He stood there, chest heaving, staring out at the endless sky. Tears welled in his eyes, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer weight of the moment. He opened the locket and gazed at your face, your smiling eyes staring back at him. You should have been here with him. You should have seen this with your own eyes.

“This is for you, baby.” he murmured, his voice cracking as tears spilled down his cheeks. “We made it, love. We’re finally here.”

Suguru stood there for what felt like an eternity, just holding the locket and letting the wind carry his words. The silence of the mountains felt sacred, and for a moment, he could almost feel your presence beside him, hear your voice on the breeze.

After a long while, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, framed photograph—the two of you, from years ago, standing side by side, laughing as the sun set behind you. It was a moment of joy, of love, captured forever. He knelt down carefully and placed the frame on a small, flat rock at the very peak of the mountain. The picture stood there, delicate but steadfast, a testament to the love you had shared.

Suguru stood back, his gaze soft as he looked at the photo. He ran a trembling hand through his silvered hair, then placed his hands together, pressing the locket to his chest. “We don’t need evidence for our love, you know that, baby?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want… I want everyone to know that there was love somewhere.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“And it will be here. Always.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and the grass around him, as if the earth itself acknowledged his words. Suguru stood there, the weight of his age and grief heavy on his shoulders, but in his heart, there was a quiet peace. This was your place now, your memory, your love, etched into the mountains for all time.

As the sun began to dip lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Alps, geto Suguru turned and began his descent. With each step, he carried the knowledge that your love was eternal, not bound by the constraints of time or place. It lived on—in the memories, in the moments, and now, on the very peak of the world.

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minaj-estyyy · 8 months ago

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Hey girl!!! I LOVE your page ive recently slammed into.

Can you do sub! Neito monoma x class 1-A! Dom! Male reader?

Reader completely ruining and humiliating monoma? Like monoma was mocking readers class (1-A) earlier, and reader just makes monoma overstimulated and cry as he fucks him raw? Tysm 😍

(Maybe reader has a tentacle quirk or something..ifykyk 🤭)

In my brain when I read this I automatically thought about misogynistic men and how the only way to deal with them would be feminizing the shit out of them 🤭

Imagine he said some slick shit to Mina and you overheard, using your tentacles, you’d pull him into your dorm and force him into the UA girls uniform skirt. Telling him how pretty he looks in it and how he makes the perfect princess, watching his face twist from the shit eating grin he wore- into embarrassment as you caress him with your tentacles, feeling him up and down.

It was no surprise that he got hard from the way you were touching him. You’d use it to your advantage, though. Flipping him around and reaching up into his skirt to slowly palm his hard dick while one of your slick tentacles

prepared his rim.

—

“Ngh..please..” he’d whine as his back arched against your front, trying to push against the slick tentacle.

“Please what princess?” You already knew what he wanted, but there was no fun in just letting him have it. So you let go of his weeping cock to help him get his shirt off. Using your mouth, you left a dark train of marks down his porcelain skin.

He’d shiver at the touch, letting out a loud cry as he felt himself being impaled against your tentacle.

—

Telling him how tight his little Cunt is around your tentacle just to feel his dick twitch in your hand. And make sure to keep reminding him how girlish his screams are. Use him up until he’s shooting blanks by only his abused little hole.

“T-too much..please! Nghh” he cried out, with a sad attempt to pull away from you, the movement only aiming your tentacle against the spot that makes him shiver the most.

Ahh..!”

“You can take it princess” you said, kissing the tears on his cheeks away.

—

In the end, you watch him leave your dorm, stumbling with your cum running down the back of his legs and dark hickeys littering his neck and chest, you’d hope someone would see him limp his way over to the elevator, his face flushed with tears running down it.

Your princess would be back for more, this time willingly.

—

This was actually hard to write, I had to change it up like 6 times. If I ever think about something better I WILL be fixing this one😭

#dom male reader #sub male character #mha x reader #monoma x reader #dome male reader

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ghostboneswrites2 · 1 year ago

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Arrowhead Jr ||One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: Daryl has baby fever

This was a request on my old blog: "ever since i saw daryl holding baby judith ive dreamt about him having absolute baby fever w reader and after babysitting him pestering reader about one?"

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Profanity, birth, babies, mostly fluffy

"Check this out." Daryl said excitedly, holding up a camo onesie he found. You were on a small run with a few others in search of some new clothes for little Judith, since she had outgrown most of the ones she had.

"This is for newborns." You told him, taking the tiny outfit out of his hands.

"I know.." He shrugged, taking it back and setting it down.

"Oh, god. Don't start." You begged. "Not again."

You had been with him since the prison, after Woodbury fell. You were one of the many refugees Rick had taken in after the town fell apart, and the archer took a liking to you from the beginning. You guessed it was partially due to your friendship with his morally-gray brother before his unfortunate passing, but it was mostly just because you were you. He loved you for it. However, recently, with the safety of Alexandria's walls, he somehow caught one of the scariest diseases; Baby Fever. Especially after the two of you spent a day watching her so Rick could work and Carl could go do normal teenager things for a change.

"Not startin' nothin." He mumbled.

"No, but you're doing that thing again!" You argued.

"What?" He shrugged.

"That! The sad face and the--"

"That place is perfect." He explained. "The--"

"I know, I know. The big walls and the pretty houses and the people and the--"

"I see you with Judith. I see how you look at her, how you rub her nose to get her to fall asleep and all them lil songs ya sing when she cries."

"So what are you saying?"

"Just that we could." He admitted.

"Just 'cause we could doesn't mean we should." You sighed

"I know that, it's just... I wanna."

"Well that's easy to say when you don't have to carry and birth a child to get one."

"Forget it." He huffed.

The rest of the trip was in silence, and not the comfortable kind you so often shared. You were both frustrated. Him, because ever since he held Judith for the first time, when he fed her that first meal she ever had and felt the rush of nurturing a crying, sweet little baby, a hole formed inside him and it grew bigger every day. He never could have seen himself as a family man before that moment, but ever since, it was a primal urge he couldn't resist. To love a woman, to father a child, to protect and provide for his own family. He had already achieved finding a woman worth his affections, which was you, of course, but he still didn't have his own family and it ate him up.

Your frustrations were sourced elsewhere, though. For one, giving birth sounded absolutely terrifying, especially in a world lacking in hospitals, epidurals, prenatal and postpartum care. You could handle a fair amount of pain, but birth was an entirely different playing field. Not to mention the risks. You had heard what happened to Judith's mom. How could you risk that? How could he expect you to? And that was just the tip of the iceberg. What kind of world would this be for a child? What kind of life would it have? Alexandria was always too good to be true, and sooner or later something would happen, and you'd all be running for your lives again. It was only a matter of time, to you. To be pregnant would mean no more runs, no more fighting, none of the things that made you useful. You'd just be a big burden with swollen ankles.

You didn't speak when you all arrived back home, or during dinner, or after. It wasn't until you went to take a shower, until you had already stripped down and stepped into the steamy stream of water. He had silently snuck into the bathroom, undressed, and surprised you by pulling the curtain aside and joined you. You had your back turned to him, allowing the water to rush over you and wash away your racing thoughts. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered it in his hands until he was satisfied, then he began to wash you. You loved when he did that, it was one of your favorite affections he'd show. He always started by massaging your neck and shoulders, then your back, then your arms, and he'd turn you around and work on the front. With little explanation needed, that was his favorite part.

"Can we at least think about it?" He finally asked, eyes and hands stationed on your bare skin as you watched his face.

"We can think about it all we want but it doesn't change anything."

"But this place is safe. And there's a doctor here. And-- Hell, this house alone is more than either of us could've given a kid before the world turned to shit." He argued. You sighed.

"I just can't shake the feeling that none of this is permanent." You confessed. He stopped washing you for a moment, considering your concerns.

"What else?" He asked.

"What else what?"

"The other reasons. What else?"

"This place could fall."

"Don't mean it will."

"The doctor could die."

"I'll make sure he don't."

"There could be complications."

"That's what the doctor's for."

"I can't help on runs or fight or--"

"Got plenty of people that can do that."

You took a breath. Was he gonna have a rebuttal to each argument you made?

"Well," you said, "pregnancy makes us crazy."

"You're already crazy." He smirked. You rolled your eyes.

"What about medicine? Epidural? You need and anesthesiologist for that and we don't have that which means I'll feel everything and it's gonna hurt!" You rambled. His smirk grew into an amused grin. "What?" You scoffed.

"You're scared." He said.

"So what if I am? I should be. You should be. I could die. The baby could die. It could die down the line when we can't protect it--"

"Now you just insult me. I'd never let a damn thing happen to you or that kid." He snapped. You gritted your teeth together.

"You can't control everything. What about childbirth? Women died during birth when there were teams of doctors and surgeons. What about now?"

"You wont." He shook his head.

"Why would you want a baby with me anyways?" You groaned. "I don't even like kids!"

"Now that's just lyin' to yourself, darlin'."

"Is not!"

"Might've been able to convince me if you never let me see you with Lil Ass Kicker, but you're a natural."

"Jesus. Are you gonna give our baby weird nicknames too?" You asked as the two of you switched sides in the shower so you could was him too.

"Our baby?" He repeated. You eyes widened.

"Hypothetically." You corrected. "Our maybe, hypothetical, improbable baby."

"Nah, I was thinkin' Arrowhead Jr for ours."

You couldn't help it, you laughed.

"You're insane." You shook your head, massaging his shoulder with the suds.

"Look," he sighed. "I'm not gettin' any younger and I want a family. I already got the girl, now I need the girl to have my babies."

"Babies?!" You gawked. "How many do you expect me to have? I'm not a damn fetus factory I can't just spread my legs and pop them out on a fucking conveyor belt."

"I was thinkin' two."

"Two." You repeated, hoping that hearing the word from someone else would wake him up, maybe make him understand how ludicrous he sounded.

"Mhm."

Guess not.

"Two!" You said again. "Two babies that you want me to grow and birth."

"Yep."

"Do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"Yeah." He said, turning around to face you. "I'm askin' you to be the mother of my kids and spend the rest of your life with me."

"Um, the rest of your life. Women live longer than men, statistically speaking."

"Then think about it. Make the rest of my life mean somethin'."

"Ugh." You growled. You really weren't going to win this one, no matter how hard you fought. "If you wanted kids so bad why didn't you find someone who had the same goal?"

"Don't want no one else. Just you."

"And a kid."

"Two kids."

"Let's start with one." You relented.

He grabbed your face as soon as you spoke the words and kissed you excitedly.

"Better start workin' on it then." He said, lifting you off the ground and pressing your back to the wall. Things only got steamier from there, and not because of the hot shower.

----

"Shit!" You whispered, staring down at the third test you'd taken. "Shit shit shit shit!"

To say it was panic would be an understatement. It was sheer terror. You guessed you knew this was coming but you weren't ready for it yet. The only solace you found was the fact that Daryl would be home soon, and you'd get to see his face light up when you handed him not one, not two, but three positive pregnancy tests.

He came home shortly after you wiped your tears and pulled yourself together. You were in the kitchen making him a pot of coffee, one that you'd usually share. Yet another thing you wouldn't be able to do for the next nine months.

You heard the door open, you heard him kick his boots off and set them by the door, and you heard him greet you as he entered the kitchen.

"Hey." He said casually as you turned to hand him a steamy mug of black coffee, just how he liked it.

"Hey." You replied, sitting down at the table across from where he took his usual seat. He gave you a weird look when he sat down. He could read you like an open book, and there was very obviously something going on with you that day.

"No coffee?" He asked, taking a sip of his own. You shook your head. "You okay?" You shrugged. "Talk to me." He said.

You decided to let him see for himself as you failed to form the words. You were terrified for a lot of reasons, but most of all your pride wouldn't let you say the words, because as much as you hated to admit it, you were also happy. You were happy to make him happy, and you were excited to have someone else to love.

You reached in your pocket and set the first test on the table. He stopped blowing on his coffee and stared at it for a moment before looking back to you. Then, you set the second one down. He pushed his eyebrows together, either out of confusion or shock, you weren't sure. Then you slapped the third test down beside the first two. He set his coffee down and stood, leaning over them to examine them. You realized he probably didn't know what a single line versus a double line meant, so you gave him a second to read the tests before he reacted.

The second it hit him it showed. His head snapped up at you, eyes wide.

"F'real?" He asked quietly. You nodded once and he rushed over to your side, gripping your cheeks between his hands and kissing you over and over and over. You couldn't help but chuckle as you tried to push him back.

"Oxygen, Daryl!" You giggled. "The baby needs to breathe!"

"C'mon. We gotta go tell Carol. And Rick. And Glenn. And Maggie." He rambled on and on, adding names as they popped in his head while he pulled you to your feet and ushered you to the door.

"Daryl!" You protested. "Wait I need shoes!"

---

You could barely hear Carol as she coached you through pushing with each contraction. The pain was insane and Daryl's hand was probably broken after you had been squeezing it so hard. Denise, the new doctor after Rick may or may not have killed the last one, was also talking you through, sending encouraging words as the baby's head made an entrance.

"Okay. Breathe. Breathe. One more big push." Carol cooed to your right as Daryl encouraged you from the left.

"C'mon, (Y/N), you're kickin' ass." He said. Admittedly he spent most of the time it took you to get to this point silent, shock written all over his face. He had no idea how to help you through this, he realized, but he fed off Carol's energy and began to give small words of encouragement when he heard Denise say she could see the baby's head.

When the next contraction hit, you screamed in agony, pushing with all your might, just like Carol told you.

"It's just like doing a sit up."

You could feel when the baby was out, but you were so exhausted your head just fell back on the pillow as you caught your breath. It wasn't until you heard the baby cry that you looked down at Denise to see her wiping the baby clean and wrapping it in a blanket. She walked over and set the baby down on your chest. "Skin to skin contact is important." She told you, before looking over to Daryl. "For you too, if you want to take your shirt off."

Daryl was too stunned, just watching in awe as you stared down at your crying newborn baby with admiration. It took him a minute, and a little nudge from Carol who had walked over to his side, before he snapped out of it and leaned in close to you. He got a good look at the baby before he asked, "Boy or girl?"

"Boy." Denise smiled. She was ecstatic, having successfully aided in the birth of your child.

"We have a son." Daryl laughed, although it was more of a happy cry. He wiped a tear from his eye as he stood up and removed his shirt, holding his arms out in hopes you'd let him hold his boy.

"Yeah, we do." You grinned, giving your baby a kiss on the head before you passed him over to his father. Daryl was breathless as he scooped the infant into his arms, bouncing him and whispering sweet nothings.

"Hey, little Arrowhead." He laughed. He had called him that for the entire pregnancy.

"I was thinking about naming him (name of your choice). What do you think?" You asked.

He nodded and kissed little (baby name).

"Hey, (baby name). I'm your daddy."

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl x female reader

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mxtxfanatic · 5 months ago

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Ouyang Zizhen the Unexpected Duckling

One of the most unlikeliest things to happen in Wei Wuxian's life is not just him taking on a mentorship role in the lives of the cultivation world's children, but that some of those children would be the direct named heirs of the leaders of the story's mob. The existence of Ouyang Zizhen amongst the ducklings thus serves as a pleasant surprise and representative of the hope that the next generation need not follow in the sins of their elders. From the very beginning, Ouyang Zizhen is willing to follow "Mo Xuanyu" as the guide out of Yi City, going so far as to participate wholeheartedly in his lessons:

“Done?” Wei Wuxian said after they had gotten through all the juniors. “Then everyone, tell me what details you saw. Let’s combine our observations.” ... “The girl is probably only fifteen or sixteen,” another youth said. “Her face is shaped like a watermelon seed. She has delicate and attractive features, pretty and lively. Her long hair is held up by a wooden hairpin with a small fox face whittled into it at one end. She’s petite and has a slim figure. Even though she’s unkempt, she’s not filthy or horrid. If you cleaned her up a bit, she’s certain to turn out cute and beautiful.” Hearing this proclamation, Wei Wuxian concluded that the speaker had boundless future prospects and praised him energetically. “Not bad, not bad. Your observations are detailed and distinctive. You’re bound to become one of those passionate types in the future.”

—Chapt. 36: Flora IV, fanyiyi

However, this attitude does not change once the true identity of "Mo Xuanyu" is revealed to be the "evil" Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian. Instead, Ouyang Zizhen remains one of the first—second only to Lan Sizhui—to faithfully follow and offer his support to Wei Wuxian in the second siege, even against his father's wishes:

JingYi on the left and SiZhui on the right, Wei WuXian wrapped his arms around both of the children, “Alright, let’s hurry out of here.” ... Lan SiZhui spoke, “The deity- binding ropes have been loosened already. If worst comes to worst, we can fight our way out together. If you do not go, what if after we leave the corpses flood inside? With the shape of the cave, would it not be a sure catch?” Quickly afterward, one of the boys spoke up, “SiZhui- xiong, wait for me!” He followed, and left as well. This boy was the little ‘seed of sentiment’ who burnt paper money and cried emotionally over A-Qing, back in Yi City. The others called him ZiZhen. He seemed to be the single child of the BalingOuYang Sect’s clan.

...

At this point, a small voice suddenly spoke up, “Dad, I feel that maybe he really didn’t do it. Last time, in Yi City, he was the one who saved us. This time, he seem to be here to save us as well...” He followed the voice. The person who spoke was OuYang ZiZhen. However, the father immediately scolded the son, “Children shouldn’t talk so carelessly! Do you know what situation we’re in? Do you know who that is?!”

—Chapt. 68: Tenderness, exr

Wei WuXian said to them, “When the second group of fierce corpses rushes in, I will lure them towards the Pool of Blood, and HanGuang-Jun will be in charge of slaying them. With this target here,” He patted himself, “They won’t bother you. Don’t be tempted by battle, just run.” For once, Lan SiZhui’s raised his voice, “No! We can’t do that. There’s no way!” Sect Leader OuYang had given up trying to hold his son still. OuYang ZiZhen, “Senior-Wei, we will slay the corpses too! I can slay a hundred more!”

—Chapt. 81: Core Part 3, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

And he maintains this support and defense of Wei Wuxian even after the cultivators survive the second siege and begin to gather at Lotus Pier, this time against the clan leaders:

A sect leader spoke warily, “Wei WuXian, what are you doing on the other boat?” His tone was full of suspicion. The implication that Wei WuXian was up to no good again was obvious, and some people found it hard to stomach. OuYang ZiZhen spoke up, “Sect Leader Yao, why are you speaking with such a tone? If Senior-Wei really had intended to do something, then we probably wouldn’t be sitting on this boat in peace.” Hearing this, many senior cultivators felt rather embarrassed. Though the words were the truth, no one had expected it to be said to their faces. Lan SiZhui hurried, “ZiZhen is right!” And many other youths also agreed. Jiang Cheng tilted his head slightly, “Sect Leader OuYang.” Having suddenly being called out, Sect Leader OuYang’s right eyelid and heart both jumped. Jiang Cheng continued coldly, “If I recall correctly, the one who spoke was your son, yes? What a clever mouth.” Sect Leader OuYang hurried, “ZiZhen! Come back here! Come to dad!” OuYang ZiZhen was confused, “Dad, wasn’t it you who told me to be on this boat instead so that I won’t annoy all of you?” Sect Leader OuYang wiped the sweat off of his forehead, “Enough! Haven’t you had enough spotlights for one day? Come back here!” The OuYang Sect was located in Baling and was geographically close to Yunmeng. In terms of power and influence, they could hardly even compare with the Jiang Sect, and Sect Leader OuYang would rather not have Jiang Cheng hold a grudge over them simply because his son had spoken out for Wei WuXian.

—Chapt. 84: Core Part 6, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

An unexpected ducking, for sure, but a shining model for how the other juniors of the nameless mob can be moved away from the influence of their corrupt elders.

#xiantober #mdzs #human metas mxtx #happy bday wei-qianbei from your duckings 🐥

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smuttysabina · 9 months ago

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IVE vs Dreamcatcher

(IVE x Dreamcatcher- 2.4k Words) Tags: Freaky Lesbian Sex, Homoeroticism, Lots of fluff, Just a fun little piece to establish IVE's personalities, Oh yeah, Fingering, Strapons, Cunnilingus (what a fun word), Lesbian domination, Magical girls vs witches, lets be honest here we all know who's winning, verbal humiliation, moral degeneration, also there's a cool robot-lizard thing.

"In the name of justice, we will punish you!" Yujin's voice rings down from on high, where she poses fashionably with the rest of IVE, as they all glare down at the villains below with righteous fury. Yujin bubbles internally with excitement, this was just like how magical girl stories always went, the pretty, clever, heroines taking on the evil, devious, hot, evildoers! Of course, Leeseo was busy fighting some awesome lizard-robot thing half a city away, but she was certain that IVE could take on Dreamcatcher even outnumbered. With haughty Wonyoung, tenacious Rei, zealous Gaeul, just Liz, and of course, herself, the angelic Yujin, they would have no trouble fighting those nefarious witches; it would be a hard battle for sure, but that just made it all the more magnificent! Putting on her best face, Yujin examines the cretins cowering in the rubble below, just look at them, their faces flush with fear, already trembling in terror in anticipation of their sanction, just look at that girl on the side- Her internal monologue screeches to halt as she focus in on the witch, er, Dami? Before awkwardly calling down to the assembled cultists, "Um, is she doing okay?" Their leader, Jiu, raises her eyebrows before glancing over at Dami, who appears to be hyperventilating and staring a hole through Wonyoung. She smiles kindly and calls back, "Oh, you mean Dami, please do not worry dear," Jiu reassures Yujin, "she just gets overly excited around beautiful women!" Wonyoung perks up slightly at this praise, as usual, and Yujin frowns as she processes this. Well, there often was a weird obsessive villain on the enemy team, who would go all crazy while fighting, so that makes sense! Her confidence restored, Yujin resumes her noble dialogue, "Anyways, we will defeat you, and stop your wicked attacks upon this city!"

As Yujin continues her meandering rant, the dark ladies of Dreamcatcher merely smile, and lick their lips in anticipation, everyone loves magical girls...

Yujin's harangue, (which had gone on for several minutes now) is only stopped when Gaeul soundly cries out in alarm and points downwards, "Look! They have brought their disgusting allies as well!" Yujin squints down at the mess of concrete and spots the ominously familiar slimy shape of a tentacle monster, groveling next to its mistress, that depraved summoner Gahyeon. She draws in a breathe to continue, "I see you have some foul minions with you-" "WAIT," squeaks Gaeul, "what is she doing!" Yujin takes a second look, and realizes that one of the beast's appendages was boldly pulsating between Gahyeon's legs, having disappeared up her skirt; and her stomach certainly had a strange bulge in it... Gaeul is practically frothing at the mouth, "Are you fornicating with that, that THING? That is disgusting! Depraved! You sick freak!" Gahyeon meanwhile simply smirks in response, moaning teasingly up at the prudish girl, which only drives Gaeul's fury only higher. Yujin tones out her fellow IVE member's ravings as her brain attempts to justify what she is seeing. While it certainly was a bit lewd, maybe Gahyeon was symbiotically bound to her monster in some way? Perhaps it connected to her tailbone like a tail or something? Yeah that must be it! It's a bit odd, but hey, they were cool and mature magical girls, of course their foes would take things up a notch! While Rei soothes the the raging Gaeul, Yujin begins bantering once more,

"It doesn't matter what perversities you bring against us, IVE will still be victorious no matter what, on our pride as magical girls!" "I'm going to enjoy making you my magical girl," Siyeon calls up huskily. Yujin feels herself blush slightly, but she steels herself, dealing with an older, sexy, seductive lady's empty flirting was simply part of the job, surely Siyeon was just trying to throw her off before launching a sudden attack! Her eyes sweep over the devious witches, watching for any sign of aggression, but instead she sees... "I'm sorry, but is she masturbating?" Everyone pauses to glance over at Handong, who surreptitiously withdraws her hand from beneath her skirt; cheerfully ignoring the wet sheen coating her fingers. IVE stare down at her with varying degrees of disgust, before Wonyoung steps forward to ask what they had all been thinking, "You do realize we're here to fight right, not have... freaky lesbian sex or something?" Dreamcatcher glance at one another, until Yoohyeon lets out an embarrassed laugh, "Wait, we aren't?" causing all seven of the girls to break out in giggles and snorts of barely restrained mirth. IVE roll their eyes and shift nervously, "We are going to punish you gross perverts," Liz calls down angrily, "you will be begging us for mercy!" Which only made the older girls howl all the louder, and Sua begins to salaciously wiggle her ass while spanking herself, "Oh yes! Harder, dear! Harder!" Liz flushes with what Yujin can only hope is anger, as the rational part of her brain, the one she uses during her day job as an idol, belatedly notices that far from looking humbled, Sua looks downright predatory. Oh she is going to break, she thinks, before her blabbering mind takes control once more and resumes its fantasy of being a heroic magical girl.

Yujin stands straighter, and rallies her girls by reminding them what was at stake, pretending not to notice Rei muttering, "Our chastity?", and preparing them for battle. IVE ready themselves with varying levels of enthusiasm, and in response Dreamcatcher lazily prepare themselves as well. With a triumphal cry, Yujin leaps from the building, leading IVE into the fray, bringing light and righteous wrath against their foes; Dreamcatcher respond with darkness, and peals of mocking laughter.

When Yujin blearily comes to, it takes many moments for her mind to form a cohesive picture of what happened. Belatedly, she notices that she is clad only in scraps of clothing, and comes to the conclusion that she had fallen in valiant combat against overwhelming odds; the vast quantities of energy had obviously torn off her clothes, she had read about it many times. The other part of brain screams and beats at its confinement, but Yujin blithely ignores the truth hidden in that box- Siyeon's fingers curled knuckle-deep in her sopping cunt as she plays her pussy like a piano- No no no, Yujin had been defeated in mutual combat, that is what happened! Shaking her head, she glances around at the ruins around her, and spots no sign of those degenerate villains, evidently IVE had managed to obliterate their foul foes and drive them to flight! Thusly reassured, Yujin sets off to find the rest of her girls, worried about their health.

Yujin first encounters Wonyoung, curled up in the fetal position, her fully nude body covered in marks and bruises from head to toe. Yujin shakes her head, that energy blast sure must have been powerful to strip Wony as well! Crouching down, she tentatively shakes her friend, who lets out a pitiful whine, "I'm a pretty girl," she informs Yujin dreamily, her expression one of utter relaxation. Well that's not good, Yujin thinks to herself, the poor girl had evidently been hit with some sort of stupefying blast had rendered her- feebleminded, Wonyoung moans with ecstasy as Dami and Yoohyeon worship every inch over her body with their lips. Sucking and kissing her quivering flesh until she had broken under their attentions and begged for more, so that when Dami's strap-on entered her she thanked her for it with rapturous tears- No, no. Wonyoung had not been reduced to a squealing slut focused only upon her own sordid pleasures, she had been overcome by foul sorcery. Yes, that's it!

Now with more than a touch of desperation, Yujin tracks down her next member, and finds Rei prostrate with her asshole gaping widely; still gushing a stinking pale liquid into the puddle surrounding her rear. At this her delusional fantasy becomes unsustainable, and her mind reverts to it's more ordinary state, and she finds herself entirely unworried by the sight before her. Rei groans in torment and clutches at her butt, prolapsed and leaking what almost certainly is tentacle monster's semen; which for her, was relatively normal. When she notices her leader squatting next to her, the idol moans piteously, "I think they broke my ass, Yujin." Yujin rolls her eyes, "Oh when is it not broken, Rei?" remembering -the sight of Gahyeon with half her arm up Rei's butt, fisting her furiously until allowing her pet to have its way with the girl while she forced Rei to eat out her cunt and suckle upon her leaking nipples. Rei had wailed and blubbered, but her guts had been violated all the same, even as she climaxed repeatedly like the ass-whore that she was- "Well at least they left your pussy alone," Rei merely grumbles in acknowledgement, before shooing away her leader a hand. "When you're doing better, go check on Wony, I think she's broken," Rei snorts, "Not as much as my asshole!" Yujin has nothing to say to that, so she moves on.

Next up is Liz, perched forlornly on a rock, where Yujin tentatively joins, giving her nude body a cursory examination that offers up few clues. She hesitantly touches her shoulder, "You um, are you good?" Liz gives her a frank look, "Are you?" Yujin snorts in surprise, "Obviously, my guts aren't clogged with cum and I'm not braindead, so I think I'm doing pretty well." Liz looks unconvinced, but nods slowly, "Sure. I'll go check in on the other two then, it sounds like they're a mess," she stands up, before giving Yujin an oddly pitying glance, "You... did good too, okay?" Yujin frowns, "What is that supposed to mean?" Oh but she does know -Siyeon's hands clamped tight around her plump butt as her tongue shoves its way down her throat- Yujin forces it down, "Um, you did a great job punishing her there, really showed some Sadism!" Liz lets out a bleak laugh, "If you count cleaning her ass out with my tongue sure, she did let me try though," she becomes thoughtful, "I did learn a lot, even if she did take over at the end." Which was a bit of a lie when -Sua moans lewdly as Liz plows her from behind with her strap-on, viciously spanking the slut in retribution for the evils she had wrought; but also because it aroused her. At least until Sua grows bored of her lackluster domination (after around ten minutes), and shows her how it's really done, starting with a thorough cleaning of her rear- Yujin simply nods reassuringly, before continuing; at least Liz had done decently well.

Gaeul however, is busy bawling her eyes out, as starkly naked as the rest of them, sitting in a shallow pool of foul-smelling liquids; well to most people at least, to an idol it was beyond normal. Yujin splashes through the puddle of spilt sexual fluids and squats down next to the poor uptight girl before giving her a hug. Gaeul furiously pushes her away however, snarling at her leader, "Don't touch me! I'm... dirty. Those. Those. Those perverts violated me!" Oh they had done more than that -Gaeul wails in distress is she is double penetrated, though that does not stop her from squirting all over Jiu and Handong as they fuck her. Jiu sweetly does her best to comfort the girl, even as Handong depravedly plows her ass with abandon; until the pure and innocent idol had been broken. Gaeul had shamelessly begged for it in the end, demanding that she be defiled, being so needy that Yoohyeon had to come over and fill her mouth as well to shut her up- Yujin makes soothing noises, "You resisted them mightily Gaeul, you did all you could!" Gaeul gives her a baleful look, "Which is more than you ever did." Taken aback, Yujin shakes her head, "What?" "Seriously?" Gaeul points emphatically at Yujin's thighs. Yujin glances down, and discovers that somebody had written their number on her left thigh, while the right bore the message, "Call Me -Siyeon" Her face flushes, ohnononononONONO -Siyeon growls huskily as she makes out with Yujin, groping her perky ass with relish until she is satisfied. Yujin had barely put up any resistance once Siyeon's tongue had been shoved down her throat, her natural libido overcoming her paltry delusions of heroism. She had gorged upon SIyeon's cunt for what felt like hours, swallowing an endless tide of fluids until they ran down her neck. Then she had begged for it. The first to break, Yujin had loudly implored Siyeon, even as the rest of IVE watched appalled, still locked in their own battles, their leader had degenerated into a lewd slut. And oh, how Siyeon had punished her for it, properly, making her denigrate herself even further, making her noisily proclaim what a valiant magical girl she was even as she rode her villainous foe's strap-on. Yujin was a very good magical girl, Siyeon had told her that while she was busy painting her wrists with her sloppy cunt juices, her eyes rolling back as she climaxed continuously-

Yujin moans in mortification as the shamelessness of her fall truly hit her, after all of her outward strength she had given in so easily? What happened to her grand morals and ideals? Gaeul allows some sympathy to shine through, "It's okay Yujin, we all knew you were a slut, you just need to be more honest with yourself," they sit in silence for several minutes before she hesitantly continues, "Though to be honest, I think they did hit you with some sort of... arousal spell? Like you were out of your clothes before we even really started fighting them. Normal fighting I mean, not freaky lesbian sex." Gaeul coughs in embarrassment, but luckily for the both of their fragile egos their phones ping loudly, "Oh, looks like Leeseo finally blew up that alligator cyborg, at least she had fun." Yujin groans, "I want to blow up lizard robots too! Why can't we just do normal magical girl things?" Gaeul sighs and stiffly pats her leader's back, "Maybe we should stick to fighting monsters and not... perverted witches?" Yujin perks up a little at this, "That sounds like a good idea," she winces, "It is going to make seeing them at that awards show next week really awkward though, there is no way were are doing this shit in public." Gaeul gives her a speculative look, "What about in private?"

Yujin smiles, oh she loves her IVE, "Well then we can play at magical girls and witches again, and this time, justice will triumph!"

#smut #kpop smut #ive smut #dreamcatcher smut #Rei smut #Fluff #yujin smut #Wonyoung smut #Liz smut #gaeul smut

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billsbabydoll · 6 months ago

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“𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁ℯ 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒸𝒶𝓂ℯ𝓇𝒶, 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎!”

contains:PURE SMUT<3

warnings:barely any plot just straight into yk what, three-some, hard-dom!bill, hard-dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (doggy-style), oral (m!receiving), light degrading, light praising, light spanking, bill and tom making a sex-tape with reader, basically bill and tom treating reader like a total sex-doll.

note:sorry this story doesn’t have much of a plot, i couldnt really think of one that fit with such heavy fucking lol.

“oh my god, look at her tom!”bill exclaimed chuckling as he proceeded to zoom the camera lens onto my oozing pussy, tom giggling along with him,

“was für eine verdammte schlampe..(what a fucking slut.)”he replied smugly, intently looking down at my weak figure that was currently trying to recover from the 3rd orgasm ive just endured.

“mal sehen, wie viel mehr sie aushält, bill(let’s see how much more she can take it.)”

tom then rapidly flipped me over to my stomach placing me in doggy position, as bill sat himself near my face still camera in hand, while tom squeezed and slapped my ass a few times before inserting his veiny cock inside my aching cunt.

“t’much i-cant mhm!”i cried out looking up at the camera before staring into bills lustful eyes, my hands turning white from how tightly i was gripping the bed sheets, my tears flowing down and ruining more of my already destroyed makeup.

“aw poor baby-”he cooed down at me from above, slightly leaning down to place a comforting kiss on my lips before pulling away.

“es ist alles in ordnung, wir sind fast fertig damit, dass du weiterhin hübsch für die kamera aussiehst, schatz(its okay we’re almost done with you just keep looking pretty for the camera honey.)”he further explained, a devilish smile creeping on the corners of his lips.

“ughh-okay!”

were the only words tom needed to hear before he began to aggressively pound away at my walls, his tip slamming profusely against my bruised cervix.

“fuck fuck fuck!”tom shouted behind me one of his hand keeping me in place, his jaw dropped as loud grunts spewed from his lips.

bill moved back a bit, recording every second of the scene that was happening right infront of his own eyes, zooming out the camera lens to capture the quite pornographic moment.

after a minute or two bill scooted back up to my face, moving the camera down to his cock and my lips curved into a cheeky smile as he rubbed my drool on my red tender lips, before leaning forward and handing the recorder to tom.

“gonna fill that lil whore mouth up, better take fucking all of it, understood?” he demanded as he gestured for me to open my mouth, sliding his full girth into my mouth stopping once his tip hit the back of throat.

they continued to fuck my brains into utter mush and all i could really feel is, tom using my pussy to pure filth chanting the most pathetic words down at me while filming my ass clapping on his length, and bills cock painfully ramming in and out of my throat his precious whimpers filling my ears, both equally fucking me at the most primal pace.

soon the familiar pleasurable knot began to bubble up in my stomach,

“i-im gonna cummhm!”

“hold it dumb bitch, ughh f-fucking hold it!”tom yells at me, harshly slapping my ass as a sign to immediately obey, quickly giving the recorder back to bill.

“smile for the camera baby,

here comes the cum shot!”

bill excitedly exclaimed pulling his length out of my mouth momentarily, zooming into my heaving and fucked-out face, panning out to tom finally letting me cum as he as well finally proceeds to coats my walls completely in white with his hot load.

this takes bill straight to the edge, shifting the cameras focus back again down to my lips as he urgently stuffs his cock inside my mouth, his thick seed deliciously splatting onto my tongue.

they then both pulled their members out of me, letting me fall and collapse onto the sticky drenched sheets, our mixed juices spilling out of my cunt and mouth.

“yeah we definitely gotta’ bring that tape on tour with us bill.”

“nein nein (no no), shes coming with us atleast we know shes down to share.”

THE END

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #georg listing #gustav schäfer

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aemondapologistfrfr · 6 days ago

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Would You Like That?

aegon x niece!reader / daemon x daughter!reader / aegon x daemon

Summary: Coming back to court after years for an already settled succession was something you weren’t looking forward to, but when you saw Aegon again you couldn’t care less of to why you were in Kings Landing again. All of your old feelings came flooding in no matter that you’ve been sharing your bed with someone else and he’s sitting across the table staring at the both of you.

Warnings: 18+ drinking, swearing, vulgar language, cheating, fingering, oral(f), masturbation(f+m), dom!daemon(duh), sub!aeg bc i love him, anal(m), p in v, some slight choking, daddy kink(duh), breeding kink and i never ever ever thought the day would come that i would type ‘a hint of m!preg’ but here we are bc daemon just wants u both swollen and leaking so ! !!

Authors Note: alexa play best of both worlds by hannah montana 🫶🏻 father daughter tag teaming aegon?? daemon wrecking aegon and reader?? everyone is fucking - obvs ive stayed at the dinner scene in s1ep8 bc here we are again

Word Count: 4.6k

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ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Today has been long to say the least. Court had held so much animosity and hatred you felt as if it had gone on for hours. When Vaemond had gone down the line of you and your siblings proclaiming that each of you could very well have your own father, you knew it would end poorly. When your father had caused that scene you were thankful because it allowed court to end and offer you some reprieve before dinner.

When you took your seat at the table you immediately grabbed for the flagon of wine and groaned when your uncle reached it first. He offered you a simpering smile as he grabbed your glass and filled it before setting it down in front of you. He fills his own cup before scooting his chair closer to yours and taking his seat.

“Can I help you?” you turn to Aegon with raised brows.

“It’s been years, my niece. Am I not allowed to have missed you?” he whispers lowly.

“And what exactly did you miss?” you turn to him with a smile.

“Fisting your soft silver hair as you sucked my cock.” his words settle deep within your stomach.

“Mm, I’ve gained better judgment now.” you pray your cheeks don’t flush. “And better taste.” you look him over before grabbing your cup of wine.

“And better taste is what?” he looks down past you. “Brown hair?” he raises his brow at you.

“If you listened at court you would know they’re betrothed to Rhaena and Baela.” you hiss pushing him back in his seat.

“A man being married isn’t something that ever seemed to stop you.” you flash your eyes to him in annoyance. “No husband for you?” he tilts his head with a smirk.

“As if my father would allow that.” you look across the table and see Daemon already staring at you.

“Vaemond was right enough about the parentage.” he watches your head snap over to him. “But no betrothal for his first daughter?” Aegon hums. “Unless he’s claimed you as his.” he smirks watching you flush. “Mm, that’s it, isn’t it? Does daddy Daemon play with your cunny at night?” he watches you shift in the seat.

“That's none of your concern.” you hiss.

“Does he know I had you first?” he leans in closer to you and looks across the table as Daemon. “Do you think he can tell?” he leans closer and your eyes flutter shut before your father clears his throat. “He can.” he hums sitting back.

You reach for your wine and look at Daemon over the edge of your cup. He’s sitting rigid next to your mother. He can’t believe you would act like this at the dinner table and with him, Aegon, of all people. He clenches his fists on the table as he keeps his eyes locked on you. Aegon looks across the table at Daemon with a smirk as he leans into your ear once more.

“When I fuck you later I know he’s going to come and watch.” his lips brush against your ear. “You want daddy to see how your little cunny cries for me? How you beg for it? Crawl for it?” your nails are dug into the wood of the table at his low words.

Daemon is about to rise from the table when his brother beats him to it, spouting off about becoming a family once more. He can’t focus on anything else but you and the way you’re leaning into Aegon. He can see your desire all over your face and the flush that's slowly creeping up your neck. He clenches his jaw as Aegon stays buried in your neck with no care for your surroundings.

You look around the table thankful no one is paying attention to the way you and Aegon are sticking to each other. You refuse to look at the eyes you can feel glaring at you across from the table. Truth be told you were excited to no end at the endless possibilities of what your father will do. You hadn’t even planned on going back to Aegon on this trip but Gods the years had treated him well and his low words make you want to come up with an excuse to leave the hall with him now.

As if the Gods had heard you, Aemond slams his fist to the table and the next couple of minutes provide the distraction you need. Your eyes meet Aegons and you both grab your cups of wine and slip out of the dining hall. Guards rush past the both of you and you both turn the hall and all the memories of your shared youth come flooding back. He grabs your free hand and tugs you up the stairs making a straight line for his chambers.

You’re both out of breath and gulping down your wine once you’re sealed in his chambers. He takes your empty cup and tosses it to the side along with his before he pulls you against him. His lips crash into yours backing you up quickly to his bed. There is nothing sweet about the gesture; this is purely for pleasure, purely for the feeling, the memories. When your back meets his bed he’s pushing your dress up and pressing his face against your small clothes.

“Gods you’re such a beast.” your words are more pleasure filled than you’d prefer as he licks up your small clothes.

“Why are these so wet? All this from a couple hushed words?” his breath fans against the dampened fabric. He pulls the fabric to the side and quickly flicks against your bud watching you arch off the bed. “Fuck,” he groans and pulls your center flush against his mouth.

“Aegon,” you pant, gripping your covered breasts.

He’s licking at you so fast you can’t catch your breath. Your gasps and the sound of him lapping at your wetness fill the room. You start to rock against his face feeling your pleasure build and his fingers dig into your hips helping you grind against him. You’re on the edge when you and Aegon jolt at a door being slammed. You peel your eyes open and see your father standing at one of the tunnel entrances. Aegon looks back up at you before returning to your glistening cunny.

“Stand up and get on the bed.” Daemon's voice holds no humor and Aegon turns to him with a raised brow.

“Maybe you don’t know what it sounds like but she was just about to come.” Aegon looks him over before turning back to you once more. “Where was I?” he smirks at you but you're looking behind him as Daemon walks over to the bed.

“Do not think that I won’t put you on that bed myself.” Daemon stands above Aegon who sighs. Reluctantly Aegon moves from between your thighs and sits on the edge of the bed and offers Daemon a bored expression. “Let daddy show you how she likes to be pleased.” both you and Aegon snap your eyes up to him.

“I know how to please her.” he looks up at Daemon unimpressed.

“Do you?” Daemon turns his full attention to Aegon. “You haven’t even taken her gown off.” he shakes his head. “You’re supposed to take your time with my sweet girl.” he turns to you and cups your face.

“I can make her come whether her gown is on or not.” Daemon sighs at Aegon's words and turns to him.

“That’s not the point I’m making.” Daemon says lowly and you grab his hand not wanting him to ruin your night.

“And what is the point you’re trying to make?” Aegon rolls his eyes.

“That you need to be more grateful that I’m even allowing this and to treat her how she deserves to be treated.” he tugs Aegon up by his tunic. “She’s not one of your little whores.” your eyes widen when he grabs Aegon's face.

“No, but she likes to be fucked like one.” he chuckles when Daemon tightens his grip on his cheeks.

“Please daddy,” they both turn to you at your soft whine.

“She’s obviously not talking to you.” he pushes Aegon back onto the bed. “What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“I wanna come.” you pout. “Aeg was about to make me.” you tug his hand. “Please.” he pulls you up from the bed and you fall against his chest.

Aegon watches with raised brows as Daemon starts to unlace your dress. He never thought Daemon would join the both of you but he’s not exactly opposed to it either. Gods he would probably be content to be the one watching. He sits up straighter once Daemon shoves your dress down to the ground. Aegon smirks when your slip is next to follow and you're bare before the both of them.

“Go lay on the bed so daddy can show Aegon what you like.” he scoots you over and Aegon watches as you take your place next to him once more. “Do not touch her yet or I won’t let you come tonight.” he gives Aegon a pointed look.

Aegon blinks up at Daemon at a loss for words watching him kneel down and press your thighs open against his bed. You let your eyes flutter shut when you feel soft kisses on the insides of your thighs before he kisses along the sides of your slit. The moment Daemon wraps his lips around your bud Aegon’s ears are greeted by the sweetest whine he’s ever heard.

“Daddy, mm dad- yes,” Aegon watches you arch off the bed and he so badly just wants to reach out and touch you. He looks down and sees Daemon kissing your cunny with absolute devotion and decides he wants to do that next if it earns him the sounds you’re currently making, “I- I’m,” a string of whimpers leave your mouth as you fall apart on his face. “Thank you, thank you,” your whole body is trembling as you watch him kiss up your body.

“You see, if you take your time and kiss her little cunny just right she’ll fall apart in seconds.” Daemon slides his eyes over to Aegon. “Now come here and make her come.” he stands back and makes room for Aegon.

“I could’ve made her come before..” Aegon trails off settling between your thighs once more.

“I didn’t ask for your words.” Daemon says lowly sitting next to you on the bed. “Tell daddy if Aegon does a good job.” he looks down at you and brushes your hair off your neck. “Well what are you waiting for?” Daemon turns his attention back to Aegon.

“You said that I couldn’t touch her or you won’t let me come.” Daemon smirks, watching his cheeks redden.

“Mm,” he props himself up more and tilts his head at Aegon. “Ask me.” he nods and you whine getting impatient. “Hush.” he whispers down at you.

“Can I touch her?” Aegon watches as Daemon's eyes darken. “Please?” he’s ready to plead again but Daemon nods his head once and he dives between your legs.

Aegon’s quick tongue has you arching off the bed with a string of whines leaving your lips. You gasp when he presses his tongue into your core and you look up at Daemon who’s already watching you. You pant when Aegon encases your bud as you start to rock against his face.

“Is Aegon doing a good job?” he brushes your hair back. “Is he licking at your little cunny the way you like?” he chuckles when you nod your head quickly.

“Yes, Aegon,” you shutter as your pleasure crests. “So good, I’m- I, Aeg,” you fall apart and Aegon continues to lap at you before pulling back.

“I knew you could be a good boy for me.” Aegon’s breathing deepens at Daemon's words. “Come up here to me.” he pats the bed next to him and Aegon is next to him a moment later. “Mm and you listen.” he smiles watching Aegon’s pupils dilate.

Daemon stands and has Aegon move into the space next to you. He looks down at the both of you with excitement dancing under his skin at having the both of you like this for him. He leans over you first and presses his lips to yours. You gasp when he slips two fingers into you before kissing down your neck and glancing over at Aegon who is watching the both of you with his lips between his teeth.

Daemon keeps moving his fingers in you before he leans over and takes Aegon’s lips for himself. Aegon melts into his touch and is trying to stop himself from arching up into Daemon's touch. You rock your hips on Daemon's hand as you watch them next to you. Daemon starts to kiss across Aegon’s neck and chuckles as the whimpers he’s letting spill free.

“Gods you’re desperate aren’t you?” he leans back and Aegon goes to reach up but hesitates. “Tell daddy what you want.” Daemon continues to hover above Aegon waiting for his words.

“You. This. Both of you.” you whimper at Aegon’s words.

“Please,” you and Aegon whine.

“I’m sorry.” Aegon turns to you with a pout. “I was supposed to fuck you so thoroughly.” he rolls on his side and presses his lips to yours and Daemon speeds up his fingers in you.

You whine into Aegons mouth and Daemon offers him praise as he brings his fingers down to swirl around your bud. Daemon leans down over the both of you and the three of you are a mess of tongues and breaths. Your pleasure washes through you in the midst of everything and they both press their lips all over your neck and face before pulling back so you can all catch your breath.

“Have you been with a man before?” Aegon nods quickly at Daemon's words.

“Where’s your oil?” Aegon’s cock throbs at his words.

“On the table over there.” Daemon is up and retrieving the small carafe.

“Daddy, I wanted to fuck Aegon.” you pout as he comes back over to the bed.

“We both can.” his soft words go straight to Aegon’s cock. “Would you like that?” he tilts Aegon's chin up.

“Please yes,” Aegon’s cock is hard and pressing at his trousers. “Please.” Aegon's begging is music to Daemon's ears. “My cock hurts, I wanna take my clothes off.” he whines looking up at Daemon.

“Stand up so I can help you.” Daemon pulls him closer and pushes his hair back. “Come help me undress Aegon, sweet girl.” Aegon trembles when your hands are softly squeezing at his waist letting your fingers slip under his tunic and press against his warm skin.

Daemon leans down and takes Aegon’s lips as you let your hands roam all over his body. Aegon doesn’t know who to lean into as you both press against him. Daemon pulls back and you lift his tunic off and attach back to him pressing your lips across his back. He swallows as Daemon starts to unlace his trousers. He pushes them down and sighs in relief as his cock springs free.

“Oh Gods,” Aegon lets out a low groan as Daemon wraps his hand around his cock and begins to slowly stroke him.

“Don’t daddy’s fingers feel so good?” you press your lips against Aegon's neck. “Just wait until they’re inside you.” Daemon chuckles when Aegon’s cock twitches.

“Would you like that, sweet boy?” Daemon tightens his grip and swipes his thumb at his leaking tip. “Hm? Tell me.” he whispers, grabbing Aegon's chin and making him look up at him.

“Please daddy,” Daemon's smile widens at Aegon’s soft plea.

“Shh,” he smooths Aegon’s hair back as his hips start to jerk into Daemon's hand. “I’m gonna take care of you tonight.” he lets go of Aegon’s cock and turns him towards you. “But I want you to take care of my sweet girl first.” he starts to press his lips to the back of his neck.

You pull Aegon's lips down to yours and you wrap your arms around him. Aegon pulls back only to help you lay back on the bed and crawl back over you. He presses his forehead to yours as he humps against you and you squirm around as his tip slides up your wetness. Daemon watches you two tangle together as he starts to tug his own clothes off. He watches Aegon's head pop up and turn back to him.

“Can I fuck her? Please?” he’s panting and his cock won’t stop leaking and he just wants to be inside you so badly.

“That’s a good boy for asking.” Daemon nods. “Go ahead.” he watches Aegon turn back to you with a smile.

“Aegon,” you whimper as he starts to push into you.

Aegon presses his lips to yours as he begins to rock into you. A small cry falls from your lips at his stretch before he starts to thrust into you. Your tongues and teeth are clashing as you pull and coax pleasure from each other. You chuckle softly as he whines when Daemon trickles the oil down his backside. His pace falters slightly when Daemon trails a finger between his cheeks.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth.

“Keep moving.” Daemon’s words have him pushing into you once more. “Is Aegon doing a good job?” Daemon coos down at you as he circles a finger around Aegon’s hole.

“So good.” you nod your head, holding onto Aegon’s shoulders as he snaps his hips into yours.

Your pleasure is thrumming through your body at the feel of Aegon but also watching your father slowly wreck him. Aegon lets out a low whine and stops his movements when Daemon pushes a slick finger into him. He presses his lips to his shoulder as he starts to pump his finger faster and Aegon slowly starts to rock into you once more. Aegon’s head is spinning from the pleasure fully engulfing him. His hips stop once more when Daemon slides another finger in and he bites down on his shoulder.

“Play with her cunny if you’re going to stop every time.” Aegon nods and you gasp as his fingers circle your bud.

“Fuck,” Aegon’s eyes shut as you squeeze around him as Daemon circles a third finger pouring more oil in the process.

“Aegon,” you tremble in the cusp of pleasure.

Aegon doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back his pleasure if you come around him at this moment. Daemon smirks watching you both shake and whimper underneath him. He presses a third finger into Aegon and watches his back straighten as your nails dig into his back followed by cries and gasps from the both of you.

“Do you both just feel so good?” Daemon chuckles at the pleasure slurred words you both offer him in response.

Aegon doesn’t know how he hasn’t collapsed onto you yet. You’re still fluttering around him and Daemon’s fingers are stretching him and pressing against the spot that has him hardening inside of you already. Daemon listens to Aegon’s small whines as he pulls his fingers out before pouring some oil on his cock. He watches as Aegon starts to rock his hips into and you peel your eyes open and press your lips against his neck.

“Are you ready?” Daemon slides his hands up Aegon’s back before moving back down to his ass.

Aegon nods and he stills his hips as you hold him closer listening to his soft noises. Daemon presses his tip into Aegon and he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. With every inch Daemon offers him, he replies with a whimper. As your father presses fully into Aegon, he presses fully into you leaving you both squirming. Aegon presses his lips to yours when Daemon starts to pull out of him working up to a steady rhythm.

Aegon’s hips thrust into yours with every snap of Daemon's hips into his. Daemon digs his fingers into Aegon’s ass as he continues to push into him. Daemon watches as Aegon presses your hands into the mattress and smirks pressing you both into the bed and engulfing your hands. Your breathing deepens as you begin to be rocked into the mattress.

Aegon watches as your eyes roll back as he’s pushed into you by Daemon. Daemon's cock is stretching him so thoroughly it’s hard for him to focus on anything else. He’s surrounded by pleasure and has no care for any of the sounds that are leaving his mouth. Daemon slowly lifts up and you both suck in air before Daemon starts pounding into Aegon.

“Aegon,” you gasp. “Daddy,” you call out, feeling your pleasure rising.

“You’re both doing so good for daddy.” Daemon smiles at the whimpers his words elicit.

“I’m gonna- I’m,” Aegon pants feeling his pleasure soaring.

“Make her come first.” Daemon wraps his hand around Aegon’s throat and presses his lips to the side of his neck. “Be a good boy and make her come.” his thrusts become more demanding, clouding Aegon’s head as he thrusts into you.

“Mm, please,” you burst around him at the sight of him blissed out from your father.

“That’s daddy’s good boy.” Aegon spills his pleasure inside of you and goes limp. “You did so good.” he helps him off of you and lays him on the bed next to you. “Very good.” he places one last kiss on his lips before he turns to you.

“You’ve been such a good and patient girl tonight.” he grabs your legs and presses them up to your chest. “Let Aegon make such a mess in your cunny.” he chuckles watching the come still leak out of you.

Daemon slides inside of you with ease and groans at your warmth. You reach out and grab Aegon's arm as Daemon fucks you into the bed. Your other hand is gripped into Daemon’s that’s holding your legs up. Aegon rolls over and curls against you before attaching to one of your nipples. You let go of his hand and tangle into his hair instead as you feel yourself about to fall apart.

“I’m- I,” you arch into Aegon’s mouth as you pulse around Daemon. “Thank you,” you whine as he continues to snap his hips into you. “Thank you daddy,” you squeak when you feel him start to fill you.

“Fuck,” Daemon groans slowing his hips. “You both did so good for me.” he pulls out of you and watches his come leak from you.

Your legs flatten against the bed and Daemon crawls over the both of you to press his lips against each of your foreheads. He showers you both with praise and he relishes at the way you both cling on to him desperately. Your soft pleas have his cock hardening once more and he pulls back looking at yours and Aegon's flushed cheeks.

“Both on your tummy’s.” he stands at the edge of the bed and watches you two roll over. “Ass’s up.” he brings his one hand to rest on each of yours and Aegon's lower backs. “Now I want you to both play with yourself while daddy goes back and forth between fucking you both.” he grabs his cock and strokes himself watching as you two listen.

Aegon starts to pump himself at the same time you start to swirl your fingers around your bud. Daemon watches as you two play with yourselves before turning your heads to each other. In a couple of scoots and breaths your lips are smashed together as you both search for more pleasure. Daemon scoops some of the pleasure from your cunny and presses it to Aegon’s hole before he starts to dip his tip in.

“Fuck,” Aegon abandons his cock and digs into the sheets.

“Did I say you could stop?” Daemon lands his hand on Aegon’s ass. Aegon jolts and wraps his hand around his aching cock. “Good boy.” Daemon starts to hammer into him. Your fingers speed up as you watch Aegon's eyes slowly shut as he’s pushed up the bed. “Don’t come yet.” Daemon chuckles and pulls out.

“No, please,” Aegon whimpers.

“Don’t be greedy.” Daemon drawls and presses himself into your core. “Gods you're stuffed full of come.” he groans watching his cock come out coated after every pump. “Would you be terribly mad if daddy filled Aegon next?” you whine at his words. “I’ll let you come right now.” he whispers, replacing your hand with his and circling your bud quickly.

“Yes, yes daddy,” you collapse onto the bed as your high rips through you.

Daemon pulls out of you quickly, watching your cunny pulse and seep with pleasure. Aegon buries his head into the mattress as Daemon pushes himself back inside. He can barely move his hand up his length and he cries out when Daemon bats his hand away and strokes him himself. He rolls his hips as Aegon presses back into him letting out small gasps. Daemon presses his lips against Aegon’s neck, smiling at the small cries of his name.

“You’re doing so good for me.” Daemon whispers, feeling Aegon’s cock leaking even more. “Such a good boy. Taking everything I give you.” his thrusts become sharp. “My sweet girl was feeling so generous that she’s letting me fill you tonight.” his hands tangle in Aegon's hair and turn his head towards you. “Say thank you.” he watches as you peel your eyes open.

“Thank you,” Aegon slurs. “Thank you,” he looks back up at Daemon.

“Mm, daddy’s good boy who just wants to be filled.” Daemon coos as Aegon pushes his hips back into him.

“Yes,” Aegon pants. “Please, please,” Daemon smirks as he feels Aegon twitch in his hand.

Daemon squeezes around Aegon’s tip and he explodes going limp against the bed. Daemon grips Aegon’s hips and pounds into him before letting out a string of curses as he pumps his seed into Aegon. He pulls out and looks between the both of you laying on the bed as pleasure seeps out between your legs. He whispers at you both to move apart and he settles between you two and smiles as you both curl into him. He smoothes your hair and whispers words of praises as he caresses the both of you.

“Can we take him home with us?” you mumble pressing your lips against Daemon's chest. “Please? I’ll keep him in my chambers?” Daemon chuckles as you reach across and cup Aegon's cheek.

“It would probably solve a lot of problems.” he watches as you and Aegon press your lips together across his stomach.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist ⏾ wips ⏾ taglist

me using the word carafe in the middle of that was ridiculous but i mean purr vocabulary or whatever

hey 👋🏼 so how are we doing after this? 🙂

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine @supernaturalwitch89 @the-wife-of-fictional-men

#both same time raw no questions #well this is a lot and thats ok #prince aegon targaryen #prince daemon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon ii smut #aegon smut #daemon x reader #daemon smut #hotd smut #x reader smut

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