#my biggest regret is that it closed before i was born

[romanian-rock-lover]

Rockoteca Buzău, ca. 1993-1994.

[misguidedasgardian]

GLADIATORS

CREGAN I.

MASTERLIST

Summary: You see your father’s latest acquisition in a closer way, a wild man from the North who had become one of his gladiators.  

Pairing: Slave!Gladiator!Cregan x Domina!Reader

Warnings: Ancient Rome AU, Cursing, slavery (and everything that comes with it, technically rape, forced labour, punishments), blood, guts, gladiator battles, lude language, nudity, sex and everything related is no biggie here, we’re a ‘sex positive’ Republic, mentions of sex, same sex couples, orgies, and more.

MINORS DNI + 18

Wordcount: 6,7 k

Notes: This reader is young perhaps… like 18? 20? but so is Cregan!

“Dad, he is old!”, you whined. You heard your older brother snicker by your side, as their silly wives snickered like the silly girls they were. You sighed as you popped a grape into your mouth followed closely by a piece of cheese and bread and a sip of wine. 

“He’s got money… and he is in the senate!”, he said then, signaling one of the slaves to start lighting up the oil lamps along the Triclinium, the night had fallen over King’s Landing and it was getting dark.

“I bet you could find someone who’s in the senate who’s got a wife he is willing to divorce, and he won’t die of old age before the wedding”, mocked your eldest brother, but soon got quiet as your father looked at him with severity

“Nobody should divorce their wives on my account”, you said, the notion made your stomach turn. Even though divorce was a common thing, if a man desired another, or another union would ensure more privileges, or if his woman was unfaithful or not able to give in heirs to the family, they could divorce. A woman could divorce her husband too if she had her own reasons.

You knew the dowry of your middle brother’s bride was quickly being spent on the training of the gladiators in the Ludus underneath the house, so he needed to come into some money quickly, even though he would have to pay for your dowry.

One of the greatest events of the year was coming quickly, and his Gladiators needed to be in top shape. 

“Tomorrow I want you all there, at the games of Senator Tywin”

“Have we’ve been invited to the pulvinus father?”, asked your eldest brother

“Close enough, right by it”, he said, he seemed pleased, but you had learned to read him better, there was something lurking in his eyes that betrayed a darker desire… for more power perhaps.

“I've heard that Larys Strong and therefore Alys Rivers got an invitation this year to the pulvinus, and her gladiators in the primus at sundown”, whispered Martyn

You had two oldest brothers, Alton and Martyn. 

“That Ludus stands as such because of that whore Alys Rivers”, mumbled your father

“A woman Lanista?”, you asked, “how could that be?”

“She is not, but she whispers in her half-brother's ear while he aspires to be in higher positions”, explains your father. “While his brother, first born son and heir goes around playing gladiator”

“He is a slave?”, you asked

“He volunteer himself into that life”, murmured Alton, “you had seen him fight sister, Harwin”

“Oh wow!”, you said, not really knowing what to say, but rather, sipping your wine, you did remember seeing the biggest person you had seen upon the arenas of King’s Landing’s Coliseum. 

“Anyways, Alys stands as such because she was advised many years by Daemon himself the demon of the arenas”, mumbled Martyn

“Yes, fine Daemon/Demon”, your father would repeatedly, while on his cups, tell the tale of his biggest regret, and that was not purchasing a young Daemon while he was still in training, he grew to be the greatest gladiator at the arena, so much so he won his own freedom at the games of the Vulcanalia some years ago. Daemon, as many other gladiators, came from the shadowlands of Essos, as he sported beautiful white/silver hair and violet eyes. 

You would never say this outloud, but the gladiator battles were never a thing of your interest, not really. You did not liked the bloodshed, the gutting, you had no taste for violence, and yet, there was something to admire as you saw those men fighting 

They looked like they were carved from the finest artist, they stood like they were gods above the sands. They stood as fierce representations of the god of war himself.

“Well, her reign of depravity will not last long, I heard the Northman shows great promise”, mumbled Martyn’s wife Adella 

“What about the Northman?”, Martyn asked then, you raised your head in question. Oh the Northman.

The man had your father in a lockdown, taking most of his time, money and patience. He was ‘caught wild’ in one of the last incursions of the armies of the emperor to the wild tribes of the North, hence his nickname. Purchased by your father at the slave market, and trained for the last months. With the purchase, your father was hoping to impress Tywin Lannister himself, a senator and a very wealthy man, it did not work, so far, as the man planned to visit your father’s villa upon invitation to see the Northman’s training and hopeful subjugation. So far, no luck. 

He was caught fighting, he wasn’t a stranger to it, but there was a long way from being a soldier to being a gladiator. From being… whatever he was up there, to obey command from a man that subdued you into slavery. 

But again, your father’s temper has closely returned to normal, so, you could only assume the training was becoming fruitful, even so slowly. 

“He will never be tamed”, he said curtly, “but… if we keep managing him properly, we can turn that hate of his into the arena, he shows great promise”

“Forgive me father”, you said, raising from your place in the triclinium, “I take my leave to bed”, you said with a soft smile, nodding at everyone present

“Good, I won’t have you all tired tomorrow”, he said approvingly, and you nodded, thinking for which old bat he would have you presentable tomorrow.

He was determined to get you wed before the autumn plantings at the end of the year, and he didn’t seem to care to whom as long as it brought privileges upon his house. 

It was hot, so hot, you could barely stand, you were eternally grateful to your personal slave, Anya, who stood by your side, fanning you with a soft paper fan. She leaned into you as you allowed her, to also enjoy the soft waves.

Although, they brought some stench from all the people around you.

King’s Landing, although the capital of the great republic, stood famous for its stench, having grown rapidly and unprepared for it. 

The sun cooking the viewers of the spectacle didn’t help either.

The people cheered, bringing a new wave of hodor that made you dizzy and poor Anya almost faint

“Did you see that?”, asked your elder brother to the youngest, as two gladiators fought to the death, one cutting the other’s arm. HIs screams could be heard all the way up where you stood, near the pulvinus.

You rather stare into the sun, which you did. Soon, after midday, it was going to hide behind the wooden beams supporting the canvas on top of the Arena, there you truly were going to enjoy it. being able to relish in the shadow. 

“Tywin demanded only the best this city has to offer present themselves in his games”, the comment alone made you turned your gaze upon the Arena, as people cheered again, some even pushed you in their ecstasy, to see the gladiator in shining white armor decapitate the one missing his arm

“And Cole does it again”, said Martyn. The one who had an armor so polished it was blinding was known as Cole, he stood from the Rhoynar in the south, from Dorne itself, plucked from the desert to fight in another kind of arena. 

“See her gloat”, demanded Alton, you all looked towards the Lanista herself, Alys Rivers in the pulvinus, with a smug look upon her face, she of course was the one holding the wip that trained the man in the arena.

She was of extraordinary beauty, long lustrous black hair, long to her hips, wearing a deep green stola, beautifully decorated atop a black tunic, you wondered how she did not bake wearing such dark colors. 

She was stuck to the side of her rumored half-brother, he was a.. interesting man, thin and a bit twisted, unruly hair but fine clothing adorned his weak frame. 

“People of King’s Landing…!”, presented Otto HIghtower from the pulvinus, a small but central box, where the most prominent people attending the games would sit at. He was a Senator, friend to Tywin Lannister and apparently presenter to today’s games. Maybe he was the patron of the entire occasion, your father had been paid by a HIghtower man.

But this… was far from over.

It was odd to see such a gladiator so early in the day, the sundown was reserved for the very best part of the games, the primus, between the two best and more known gladiators. 

You found yourself thinking about like four names at the time.

Harwin, Cole, Aemond, and… the Northman.

Although Harwin was disapparating from latest presentations… he still held name, but he had lost his prowess as the last time he found himself in the Arena he asked for mercy as he found himself losing, he raised his hand in the air with both index and middle finger pointing to the skies begging for mercy, and it was granted.

Against Cole himself. He got terribly injured almost a year ago, thereafter only presenting himself in fights long before midday sun.

Yes, everything you knew about gladiators and fights was learnt unwillingly. 

But the primus did not belong to your father, so the Northman was fighting early, thankfully. You might have a chance to survive this heat, by retiring back to your father’s villa early.

Although, these occasions were like the market for older unmarried men. And your father would have you giving everything to sell…  

“... I give to you, from one of the greatest Ludus of the Republic, a man, from the wild tribes North of the neck…”, your father smiled proudly as the name of the family was spoken loudly for everyone to hear. “trained to wet the sands with the blood of his enemies… I give you… CREGAN!”, people booed at his entrance, as the wild tribes of the North had been villainized by the Republic, as relentless, violent and above all, uncultured and barbaric, but you had learned to read between the lines, they were described as such because they refused to bend the knee.

The gates of the Arena opened on the west side, revealing the men ready for battle. He stood tall and broad despite his young age, his dark brown hair tied back, although hidden by a thick helmet in the shape of a wolf’s head. 

He wore nothing protecting his torso, yet a thick metal belt putting together the lower part of a tunic. He wore forearm and shin protectors, and thick leather sandals 

He had a huge sword in hand, and a shield on his other.

The sight alone took your breath away.

You had seen him only practicing, briefly, as your father did not approve of you gazing from your balcony down to the men. As they would, “get distracted”, and you didn't enjoy their eyes filled with lust either. So you refrained from doing so, but…

The mere glimpses you had gotten of the men were nothing when putting in comparison to the men upon the sand today.

In all glory, in strength, as a gladiator was the mightiest representation of a man, or that is what your father always said.

This was a rare sighting though, as he had barely been making a name for himself, this time might be the first he presents himself alone. Your father was right, taiming him was proving to be incredibly difficult, but nobody could deny that even if he presented himself a gladiator today under your father’s ludus, he was still as unruly as the first time you laid eyes upon him, as the first time you gaze down upon him, entering through the gates, kicking and screaming, hair longer than you had seen in a men, even longer than he had now. 

He fought your father’s guards and even the ones who he would call his brothers this present day.

Tywin himself called for the start of the fight, his opponent was someone of the Ludus of Larys himself, one with lesser note, his name left your ears as soon as you heard it.

But you couldn't care less, as when he started to move upon the sands, the rest of the world could crumble around you and it would not matter in the slightest.

“He stands superior in all aspects”, mumbled one of your brothers and you couldn't tell which as you were so hypnotized.

Cregan attacked first, and that was very frowned upon in the Lanistas, as the first to strike tended to have disadvantage, his opponent met him half way and the clash of gladious responded all over the coliseum. 

There were some gladiators that favored other weapons, like the spear and short shield, or the Retiarius, that were gladiators trained with a net and a trident, in a fisherman fashion. 

It sounded laughable in paper, but they were quite impressive in the arena, not this time though, both gladiators stood with a gladious, meaning a sword, and a long squared concave shield.

The fight wasn’t lengthy, the superiority of the Northman was clear since the very first movement.

Although it wasn’t less breathtaking, as each of their movements, attacks, the way they moved, and deflected, its like they were dancing, dancing in a mortal rhythm 

The crowd cheered for them, and even though they were not on the Northman’s side, suddenly, they shifted as it became clear that he was the better fighter. 

Although you did not enjoy the games, there was this moment, this exact moment in which you felt like your heart was in your throat and you could tear your eyes apart from the fight. The moment where you really cared about who won, about who survived. The Northman, even thought it was the 

But it was brief, first Cregan drew blood on the arm of his opponent, and then, after a quick movement, the man was dead, dropped in a growing pool of blood on the floor. 

The magic was gone, and the crowd erupted in cheers, applauding, screaming his name, although there were those disappointed because of the outcome.

“He will be the champion of our house!”, said Alton, “mark my words!”, he said, as your two brothers hugged each other in happiness. you turned to Anya, who had a soft smile on her face, but kept fanning the both of you 

The rest of the fights happened quickly after that, the sun hiding behind the podium of the magistrates and people of importance in the city, which gave you relief as the day turned quickly, the sun moved above the sky until it hid behind the outer walls of the coliseum. 

The last fight ended quickly as well, Aemond killing his opponent in an impressive showing of strength and blood. 

Your father was called upon another man near the pulvinus, as you tried to stand your ground as people around you were quickly to leave the arena, but you managed to stand your ground, as your siblings found friends of their own to talk to. 

Your father came back to you, rubbing his hands amongst each other with a pleased look on his face

“I must attend a meeting in the magistrate’s house”, he said happily, “He spotted me in the crowd and invited me”, you smiled at him

“I’m pleased, father”, you said with a soft smile

“See yourself to the villa, with our guards and slaves, don’t wait up”, he commanded the lot of you. 

“We have been invited to the Lannisters���, mumbled Martyn, your father’s eyes again shone with interest. So he nodded towards your brother.

“I trust you’ll be well taken care of”, he said then, turning to you, he then signaled to one of his most trusted guards and even to the Doctore himself, the trainer of the gladiators.

“Yes father”, you nodded at Anya and the both of you exited the arena, followed closely by a guard. 

You turned quickly as you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, as you were int he shade of the hallways, as you turned you found yourself with your old friend from your childhood, Alysanne Blackwood

“How long haven’t we gaze upon one another?”, she said, grabbing your forearms as you did hers, she leaned in a made attempt to kiss both your cheeks as it was accustomed

“Too long”, you said with a long sigh

“We shall remedy that immediately!”, she said then, “you didn’t mind telling me your father’s Ludus was the one who owns the Northman himself?”, she tried

“Oh well, much has happened in the last couple of years”, you said shyly, smiling softly at her.

This was hardly the time, all the people were leaving the coliseum, and pushed you who were trying to stand on the sidelines. She looked at you with those deep green eyes of hers, she was so beautiful, lean and tall, with thick black hair fixed beautifully and big green eyes, her smile was contagious. 

“Well it's been too long”, she said then, as you failed to meet what she desired, “and I will wait no longer, to get reacquainted with dear friend”, she said, grabbing your hands

“My villa, its mine for the night, as my father meets with important men”, you offered, her smile was as beautiful as the rest of her

“Perfect, Jeyne Frey is also here”, she said, “we’ll go together”.

To say you were nervous was an understatement 

The night found you and your friends in the safety of the triclinium in your family’s villa, where the soft wine flowed freely and also the dining. 

“And his cock was huge!”, she said, making you gasp

“Alyssane!”, you chided, “don’t say that!”, you said, feeling your cheeks heated

“What? Cock?”, she teased, “Cock! Cock! Cock! COCK!”

“Stop it!”, you slapped her arm playfully

“I see them all the time!”, Jeyne said then, looking sheepishly, hiding her smirk in her cup of wine. 

“Only because you like to peek as your brothers have sex with slaves!”, mocked Alyssane 

“No I don’t!”, she said, but you knew she was lying. 

“I bet that Northman’s cock is huge too”, teased Alyssane, finally revealing her true intentions behind her and Jeyne’s visit to your father’s villa. You got quiet, so did Jeyne, but the expression on her face said it all, she was as intrigued as Alyssane

“I wouldn’t know, even if I saw it”, you said

“You had never seen a man naked?”, asked Alyssane, raising one of her perfect eyebrows

“No”, you said then, well… you sort of had, men, male slaves on sale on the streets, but you had refused to look long enough to draw a complete image in your mind. What you saw in a couple of seconds did not please you at all, rather… you disliked.. something so… small and wobbly. You shaked at the very memory of it.

“You had never seen any of your gladiators in such fashion?”, asked Jeyne, ready to tease and follow Alyssane’s lead.

“No I have not!”, you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you at least a bit curious?”, asked Jeyne

“Well, of course I am”, you defended

“You are to be married before the darkest of the winter months, you should at least know what you are up against”, Alyssane said simply, “and I would not deny the sight… of such a man”

“You are here just to gaze upon naked men?”, you said playfully, although, a bitter taste in your mouth, as you were feeling clearly used, and pressured.

“No, I am here to gaze upon naked gladiators”, Jeyne said then.

But another flavor joined the others, the need deep within you impress your friends, your friends from rich houses of the capital 

“Bring me the Northman”, you said to the guard that stood in the corner watching the whole reunion, he seemed terribly nervous, but nodded and left you. You shaked with the resolution in your command, and felt a pit in your stomach in anticipation.

You knew he was going to take a while, so you turned back at your friends and smiled nervously, and they seemed terribly motivated. 

“I must say”, began Jeyne, as she saw your face filled with trepidation, “that my tongue will not be kept from wagging about your hospitality to my father”, she wanted to make sure you knew there was going to be recompense for this, and good recompense. His father, as old as time, sat in the senate, she stood the daughter of a senator.

“Thank you Jeyne”, you said with a soft smile, you took a long gulp of your cup, to try and soothe your nerves. Alyssane did the same, but with a smirk on her lips, she said nothing as she studied your form. 

Finally, they both took sit position in their triclinium as you heard movement behind you. You looked back to see their trainer Roose Bolton, following closely behind the man himself. The wildling from the tribes of the North, whose name was Cregan Stark, although everyone called him… ‘The Northman’

He stood with thick shackles around both wrists. in front of him. He was wearing nothing but a clean subligaria, and his body was like one of a god, well defined and gleamed under the light of the torches, he had recently been cleaned. The sight made your mouth dry, so you took another long sip of the mulsum in your cup. He had thick brown hair that he used tied in the back of his head, and he had sharp eyes, cold as ice and the same colour. The features of his face were soft, declaring his young age, your own, perhaps. 

“Leave us”, you demanded, but the trainer Roose Bolton looked conflicted

“Domina, I don’t think…”

“I said leave us”, you said, about to lose your courage, your friends behind you giggled, weirdly giving you confidence to commit to your own command. With a grunt, the doctore nodded and left you, with only your friends, a couple of guards standing silently in the corners of the room behind veils, and him.

The Northman

He was deadly still, looking forwards, beyond you and your friends, beyond this room, his jaw was tense, you could tell that being here, summoned by you like this… for him was humiliating, but there he stood, tense like a bow. He said nothing, he didn’t move an inch.

“Is this what all northmen look like?”, Jeyne teased, “he is more beast than man”, you didn’t know if that was a real question, but your eyes never left his form, even if it wasn’t he didn’t answer.

“You can answer”, you encouraged 

“All northmen do not look like me”, he said finally, the dark tone in his voice made the three of you gasp. “some make me look like an Andal”, Jeyne and Alyssane giggled at the prospect of finding even gruffer men than him. 

“Oh he speaks the common tongue”, Alyssane was on fire, making you more uncomfortable. His eyes finally found yours, and you couldn’t take your own out of his. 

“Yes he does”, you whispered, he indeed had a beautiful set of eyes. You then looked down at his chest, there was a red line, his injury from the battle in the Arena, it was still fresh, but you could tell it was healing properly

“I think he is handsome”, mumbled Alyssane, taking foot to walk towards him, you feared his reaction, as the guard standing in the corner of the room clenched his hand around the pommel of his sword. 

But the gladiator still didn't move as Alysanne walked around him, teasing him with a single finger, touching his skin as she walked. His eyes were still on you. 

“He stands as Mars, ready for war”, she whispered

“Alyssane seems taken by the man”, teased Jeyne in your ear

It was a curious thing, this what you were feeling, like somebody wanted to take something that belonged to you, but again, he wasn’t a thing, and you didn’t own him. Not technically at least, your father did.

“Their day starts early tomorrow”, you mumbled, making Alysane stop and look back at you with a teasing smile on her face. “his training I mean”, you said then

“Of course”, she said, you signaled the poor shaking guard and he grabbed Cregan, and took him from your side. You could swear you saw lingering eyes from him to you, but you must have imagined it.

“You should… enjoy him while you can”, said Jeyne finally, once you found yourselves alone again

“What do you mean?”, you asked her, her and Alyssane shared complicit looks

“Well, obviously, before you take an old bat as a husband, you should enjoy one of his gladiators, like that Northman for example”

“No…”, you said quickly, “I couldn’t possibly do something like that”

“Why not?”, asked Alyssane

“He is a man trained as a gladiator!”, you said, “he is a bit dirty…”, you tried, not quite convinced 

“You have him bathed and oiled before you”, said Alyssane like it was no issue 

“What if he doesn't want to?”, you tried then

“He is a slave, under your command…”, said Jeyne, “...and a man”

“What if he decided to kill me instead?”, you said then, “wrap his hands around my neck”

“I will not shame you is that is to your pleasure”, giggled Alyssane

“Aly!”, you whined, “the point is I really couldn’t, I mean, he is big and thick… and wild looking”

“Delicious then”, she offered

“Dangerous…”, you continued, although you felt your cheeks heated. 

“Well if you don't have him, maybe I could!”, she teased

“What are you talking about?!”, you asked, scandalized, “when have you heard that proper Andal women lay with their gladiators?”

“Oh I’ve heard a ludus where such things happen quite frequently”, she teased

“Where?”, you asked

“In Alys Rivers’ ludus!”, your eyes opened wide in shock

“Really?”, you asked, “the bastard sister of the Lanista Larys Strong?”, you asked 

“They say she offers her gladiators in… other manners”, she said, winking at you, “perhaps we should find ourselves at her door?”, she asked Jeyne

“Perhaps we shall”, she said back. 

“Don’t be mean!”, you teased back, she laughed, as she was clearly jesting, you hoped.

“The hour is late”, said Jeyne with a soft smile, “I should start my journey back to my villa before my father starts a search party”, she said, raising from her chair

“Yes! me as well!”, said Alyssane, “I hope I can meet you tomorrow at the market?”, she asked you, you smiled and nodded profusely, as you accompanied them to the atrium, and therefore the door

As you watched them leave, nervousness started to take a hold on you, as did the warmth of the wine consumed to hide your embarrassment 

It was not common to find yourself alone in your villa, your father had allowed it because you were in company of friends -who had influential fathers-, but now there you stood, no brothers, or sisters in law, father or friends to loom over you.

Your lower belly burned with necessity, with something you have never felt before, a longing, your body burned with anticipation and excitement. You didn’t know if it was the mulsum you had drank, or the power you just discovered, all the whole thing combined.

“Bring the Northman up here”, you said to the first guard you saw, he nodded and went to comply with your command. Your body was tingly because of the alcohol and you were excited to say the least, you didn’t even care that you had already sent the poor man down mere minutes ago, tonight, you had the power.

You shakily served yourself some more wine, back in the safety of the triclinium, the room where you ate, met with friends and family, where you were most comfortable. The man was standing right in front of you in minutes, the guards nodded at you and then left you as they had done before.

The gladiator stood there, now he seemed more surprised than before, as he found you alone, and he also seemed to be showing more of his emotions on his face.

“Northman”, you called, he turned to you quickly, anger in his eyes

“That’s not my name!”, it took you by surprise, you couldn’t deny it, the anger in his eyes, the sharpness in his tone. 

“What is your name?”, it was of no consequence to you, his domina, and you should express so, that it did not matter anymore what his real name was, but, there you were, asking him nonetheless

“My parents named me Cregan”, he said, “of House Stark”, he said sharply, “as many leaders of my house before me”

There was so much more you wanted to ask, as his words truly shocked you, but as you gazed down the street you came to your senses, realizing that you should not allow such things. As your father tended to say, “who were you before this Ludus does not matter, the only thing in your mind should be sand, and the blood of your enemies”

“That is not what you are here for”, you finally find your voice, minimizing his anger at hand, turning his attention somewhere else.

“Remove your subligaria”, you whispered the command as if you did not wish it, and his sharp eyes were trained on you

“Look at you, a little domina in the making”, he teased, his tone much changed since he let you know of his true name. The very words made your cheeks heated, and you found yourself averting his gaze, his did not stray from your face as he released himself from the only item of clothing he was wearing. Your eyes followed the trail of his perfect skin, down his toned chest to his belly and…

The sight alone made you gasp. 

This looked nothing like the ones of the male slaves in the market, if anything, those were… flacid and small, that sight brought you disgust and uneasiness, this one however, made your mouth dry and your skin tingle with desire. Desire that was pooling in your lower belly.

“You can touch me”, he said, he was being amused at your expense, only making you even more nervous, “I will not bite… much”, your hand was placed on his belly, muscles showing in beautiful shapes, you couldn't believe something could be hard but soft at the same time.

As your hand lowered, you found thick dark hairs there, making you shudder 

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen”, he whispered, so close to your face your hand stopped right before getting to his base and you looked up at him.

“I’m the daughter of your dominus”, you said, as you believed he was forced to praise you.

“Do you think that’s got something to do with what I just said?”, he asked. Your hand stopped right as the base of his cock, you shuddered, his manhood was terribly hot. 

You had never spoken to this man before today, you had barely glanced at him, and now, here he stood, under your command, looking at you with his sharp eyes, not missing a thing. 

“I’m sorry, this was a bad idea…”, you whined retrieving your hands like his skin burned you. Cregan grunted when your soft hands left his cock, and that only made you burn more heatedly

“And you are going to leave me hanging like this?”, he asked, amused, mocking you, but inside he was suffering, he was enjoying it too much, it has been so long without a woman’s touch, “you can’t do that!”

“My apologies”, you said quickly, leaving him there standing 

His doctore came to collect him, he retrieved his cloth from the ground, putting it in place

“A little tease that one”, he mumbled to the serious man

“Do not speak of domina in that way”, he growled as he pushed him 

“There is not much domina in her”, he chuckled

“That’s it, five lashes in the courtyard”, he said

“I’d think better of it doctore”, he said defiantly, taking advantage of the fact that only the two of them were present in the narrow passage that separated the villa from the training grounds of the Slaves, “the Vulcanalia is merely a fortnight away from now, and they have high hopes for me”

“Keep walking boy”, Roose Bolton threatened.

He led him downstairs and then through the big gate that separated the villa from the ludus, where the gladiators lived and trained. A guard locked it tight after they passed through it

“I advise you to keep what happened to yourself”, he said gloomly, Cregan looked back at his doctore, but nodded.

He was directed straight to a long open room, where the gladiators ate lunch and dinner. He directed himself to the cook, who gave him a clay pot with a white mush in it, just like the day before, and the night before that. 

“Here comes the whore!”, someone shouted at him, as his “brothers” started mocking him and winking at him.

It didn’t take much to guess what happened in the villa, there was only one reason you get called upon at such hours, and wearing so little

“Shut the hell up Ben”, he mumbled to his only friend he had in the Ludus, he haden’t say anything, but he was grinning at him like an idiot.

“Was it her?”, he asked him, “the daughter? the domina?”

“Yes”, he said, his friend pushed him playfully

“Did you fuck her?”, Cregan just looked at him angrily

“No”

“Was she not pleased with you then?”. he asked, frowning

“She is young, she doesn’t know what she wants”, he said simply, really not wanting to share what had happened upstairs.

It was humiliating, to say the least, to be treated like that. To be called upon to be gazed at by women who looked at him like a piece of meat, and then again to be touched.

Oh but he meant every word

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, since the first time he saw you, standing on that balcony, looking down at him. He did not blame you for your father, for the blood that ran through your veins, for the republic that created you. You had nothing to do with any of it.

Just by looking at you he could tell the kind soul that moved your body and warmed your heart

But you were the daughter of the man who purchased him, he wasn’t the one who enslaved him, but it was the man that had condemned him to the life of a gladiator. 

“Well, maybe you can change her mind”, he teased

The only reason he was playing along with the Andals was to see how to escape them, so far, it had been easy to stay alive, he had been trained since he could pick up a sword on how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive, the North was not a place for the weak

“Father?”, you called out loud, the servants all dropped their eyes as you passed them by looking for him, but you couldn’t find him in his study, so you were on your way to his room at the other side of the villa

“What’s this ruckus?”, he asked, looking at you with sharp eyes as he went to encounter you in the atrium

“My good friend Alyssane has summoned me to go to the market at noon”, you knew he wouldn’t refuse you, not if Alyssane was involved, so he just sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You went back to his study, passing all the statues decorating the atrium. A normal Andal family would display in honor effigies of their most prominent family members, but yours displayed the most prominent gladiators and fighters that had come from this ludus.

“Here”, he passed you a small punch filled with gold coins

“Thank you father”, you said, offering a complacent smile

“Take one of my men with you”, he said then, “one of the gladiators”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, a servant and a guard would do just fine”, you said quickly, always as you were in the market you wanted to pass by as inconspicuous as you could. 

“I insist, after the games, and before the Vulcanalia, I want the people to see them, to get excited, take the Northman”, you hid your face before your father could see the embarrassment in it. 

One of the guards of the villa went to fulfill his request, and you sighed in exasperation. 

You came back to your rooms to get ready to go out, and once you were, you returned to the entrance of the house, where Cregan himself was waiting for you with a severe look on his face, this was not to his liking, he was standing right by a guard, and by Roose Bolton. 

The sight alone made you tremble

Had he told anybody what happened the day before? that you had touched him and presumed to have him?

Once his eyes found yours, he smirked. 

“If something befalls the daughter of your dominus, fate worse than death awaits you boy”, he said in his ear

“Rest assured, that I will look after her with my life”, he said with a silly little smile.

You took a long sigh, and nodded to the guards and started walking out of the villa.

The villa stood on top of a hill, you had a pretty nice view upon the city of King’s Landing, but the rest of it wasn't quite impressive, the road was made of dirt and the houses around it were less impressive than the one your father had inherited from his father. It had been in your family since the very creation of the city.

You led a small comitive, all on foot, as you bluntly refused to be carried in a cot. You, your faithful slave Anya, Cregan himself, being flanked by two guards.

The center of the city started right at the foot of the hill, so it was a short minute walk.

You reach a street made of cobblestone, one adjacent to the one that led to the main street, as it was time before you had to meet Alyssane, you started to look the small stores

“Did your father hear of the way you handled me last night?”, Cregan whispered as Anya was tending elsewhere, you look back sharply at the Northman.

“No, and he shall not!”, you said sharply

“Oh well, I guess if he had, he’d have me castrated”, he whispered for your ears only, “and I guess you don’t want that as it seems you like what you saw”, he teased

“Stop it”, you said back. Your father was a practical man, and if he had heard of what occurred last night, you would be the one at fault, as everyone involved was just following your command. “My father will never know of this”, you sentenced 

“You wanted to lay with me? A gladiator? a slave?”, he asked then

“I was mistaken”, you said, trying to gaze upon what a man was cooking on his store towards the street, it smelled delicious 

“You are mistaken”, you heard him claim, his thick accent made your thighs, “for seeking bedding before connecting, to seek sex, instead of love, to want lust before you even began to feel the fondness”, he said sincerely.

“Thinking love is something within the grasp of someone in my position is foolish, and I learned not to be blinded and distracted by foolish things”, you whispered sadly. You nodded at the man and exchanged a couple of aerus for a plate of lamb soup. “I’ll be married before the year is over”, you whispered. 

[prettyyoungandbored]

I know your requests are closed but for when you have them open up can you please write a part two to this? I loved it and only just found it!

https://www.tumblr.com/prettyyoungandbored/693080581256462336/can-you-please-write-some-more-christian

Here’s to you, to everyone who gave the one shot some love, and to the movie’s 15th anniversary.

Pregnant [Bale!Bruce Wayne]: Part 2

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Takes place after the events of “The Dark Knight” so major spoilers.

Sequel to this story

NOT MY GIF

ONE YEAR LATER

Y/N opened her eyes, welcomed by the soft touch of moonlight peering through the bedroom window.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Bruce’s side of the bed empty and still untouched, indicating he had yet to come to bed.

She wasn’t surprised nor concerned, having spent years dealing with his Batman patrol. Even after Bruce gave up being the masked crusader and the two settled into Wayne Manor, there were some nights he spent wide awake.

Realizing she wouldn’t get some sleep for a bite, she threw off the covers and padded quietly down the hall into her baby’s nursery.

Damian Wayne was born in August and quickly became the apple of his parent’s eyes. He was the perfect blend of Bruce and Y/N and the happiest baby in the world.

The glow of the nightlight from inside the nursery peered into the hallway, indicating the door was open and that Bruce was more than likely in there. Sure enough, that’s where she found him. He sat in the rocking chair, cradling their sleeping baby boy in his arms.

“Look at my favorite guys,” Y/N cooed quietly. “Was he crying earlier?”

Bruce nodded, giving her a small smile. “I was up anyway. Figured I’d let you rest.”

She took a seat on the foot stool facing the chair, admiring the view in front of her. “I love seeing you with him. It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

“I could say the same about you,” Bruce remarked. “I love watching you walk around the manor holding him.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes met his. Even after all this time, his gaze made her melt into a puddle.

“Remember when I told you I was pregnant?” she brought up. “How terrified I was?”

Bruce’s chuckled. “It was the greatest thing you’d ever said to me. Besides, of course, ‘I do.’”

The memory played out in her head. “I spent the whole night fighting the urge to put my hand on my stomach. I didn’t want anyone to know.” She paused. “By the time I was about to tell Rachel, you threw me into a closet.”

He let out a small laugh. “I threw you into a closet to save your life.”

“Yes you did. Saved both of our lives.”

Bruce’s smile faded softly as he shifted their focus to their son.

Y/N avoided bringing up his Batman days, knowing that the end of it nearly killed him. It took him a long time to come back from it, and even then he still wasn’t fully back.

“You…” her voice trailed off

His eyes met hers. “What?”

“You’re still my hero. Despite everything, you are and always will be. Bruce Wayne was my hero before I knew about Batman.” She paused. “And as far as Damian is concerned, you’ll always be his.”

The soft gaze on his face nearly broke her. It was as if he’d waited a lifetime for someone to say that to him. His attention shifted to Damian.

“When you told me you were pregnant, I knew right then and there it all had to end,” he said. “My father spent more time fighting for the city and while he was present for me and my mother, it still was his biggest concern. I wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not with what happened to them.”

His eyes met hers. “I will always regret the way it ended. Always. It will haunt me for as long as I live. But walking away will never be something I regret. If it keeps my family safe, that’s all that matters.”

Y/N pulled back her lips, fighting the tears that pooled in her eyes. She knew he didn’t want to end it the way he did. Not when it cost two lives.

“Has it really been a year?” Y/N spoke up, a slight tremble in her voice.

Rachel’s death plagued the couple enough that by the time the one year anniversary had come, they were all cried out. Still, it hung over them throughout the day. The couple made a silent agreement to avoid acknowledging it.

That was until now.

“It has,” Bruce answered. “Still feels like yesterday.”

Y/N exhaled. “I think about her every single day.”

He reached his hand over, giving hers a squeeze as if to say he did too. He still couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he found other ways to express it that Y/N understood.

“Thank you,” he said. “Without you, I don’t think I would’ve survived.”

She squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t have survived without you either.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

[everythingne]

marketing ploy - LN4 / ch. 3

a little (drunken) insight to Olivia and Oscar's relationship. Plus, a conversation she’s definitely not supposed to overhear, and one she finds makes her start to regret everything.

piastri!oc x lando norris / fake dating, brothers best friend trope

warnings/notes: alcohol/drunkness, language, like two jokes about sex, i named oscars sisters bc i couldn't find anything after two minutes of searching and also its cute ok

prev | next

—

06 APRIL 2023 — MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA ↴

“Oscar!” I shout, the clock striking midnight. At my mother's house in Melbourne, we’re already all terribly drunk in the pool with only our eldest sister Ophelia's half sober boyfriend to make sure we all don’t drown while the 'middle' sister Oaklynn is in control of the aux so our extended family can't ruin the mood with what we call 'divorced dad rock.' It's an average Piastri birthday party, booze, music, and sopping wet bodies across the pool deck in the mid Autumn chill.

“Ollie?” Oscar says, turning around and slipping on the wet deck, splashing vodka all over the ground beneath him. Lily giggles into the back of her hand, steadying herself on his arm, and I snort as Oscar makes a face at the spilled drink.

We were so not going to have a good flight back to England tomorrow night.

“Happy birthday to my twin brother because its now midnight, baby!” I shout, being met with loud cheers as my mother guides me across the pool deck so I don't fall in. As Lily takes the now half empty glass from Oscar, I'm handing him what is probably the biggest shot of the night. He grins, arm wrapping around my shoulder as we clink our glasses in toast, tap them on our lifting knees and then take the shots with no chasers. The Fireball washes down my throat fine, but Lily’s shrill laugh lets me know Oscar’s not faring so well as our family claps at our celebratory shots.

“Come on, Ossie!” I laugh, leaning into him as I giggle and he laughs in turn, hiding his face in my hair as he groans and slumps against me. Luckily, Lily is smart enough to slip the shot glasses out of our hands.

“Why do I always let you pick Fireball? It burns every time I drink it.” He complains into my hair before stepping back, I grin up at him as a polaroid flashes.

“Twenty two slaps!” someone shouts before I can respond to Oscar. I scream, running to be out of the way of the barrage of backhands from our sisters when I trip. Oscar tries to catch me, bless him, and we both end up screaming as we tumble into the pool with a loud splash.

“Good lord—" Josh, Ophelia's boyfriend laughs, and he and Lily help us all back to the deck with plenty of half-wet towels to try and dry us off. I giggle and sit up once the parties attention is shifted elsewhere, some song playing that takes the heat off of us for a moment. I peek up to look at Oscar and he smiles at me, poking my nose.

“Thanks for this party." He says and I shrug, going to say its no big deal as I always do when he continues talking,

"Lando’s stress is rubbing off on me. With him being next in line for the best racer position, McLaren's pushing me and Bia up as quick as they can. I think they're expecting someone to try and buy Lando out from them.” he murmurs and in my head, the rest of the party fizzles out. My attention is solely on the man born a few minutes before me. His arm wraps around mine as he pulls me to his side. I slot there, where I belong, a comforting embrace of an older brother of the same womb.

"Lando's contract goes to 2026, and lets not worry about F1 right now." I poke his thigh where a bruise from a minor crash in training months back was finally finishing its healing stages, "Ossie, you, and everyone here, come before anything or anyone else. I would rather throw you a big party than fly back to England to chase around statistics with Red Bull for a few days."

I close my eyes as the world spins around me and I feel Oscar shift. His body heat vanishing around my shoulders, the air seemingly changes as some sort of breeze rolls across the pool deck. It makes me shiver, and I glance up at Oscar to see him staring into the light reflections of the glowsticks deep in the water our legs dip into.

“Ossie?” I whisper. He's in his head again, and this time I'm concerned it's my fault for some reason. His tongue pokes out, a sharp breath coming through his nose before he turns to me.

“What’s happening with you and Lando?"

Oh for the love of god--

"I know, I know, okay, older brother don’t let him hurt you speech bullshit blah blah but… is there something there?” Oscar blurts out with the upmmost care in his tone. I'm taken aback by how genuinely worried he seems about it.

“It’s nothing serious.” I deflect, hand coming to squeeze his wrist just above the watch he wears (that is definitely ruined now), “Just some flirting, some gifts… it’s like testing the waters.”

“Is he… kind to you?” Oscar's tone is far too accusing for my liking, almost like he's expecting me to say no, but despite that I nod.

“Too kind.” I find a small giggle escapes my lips. I have the urge to tell him everything, to say it’s all for media, but something makes me stop myself other than knowing it would kinda ruin the whole secrecy of it. Oscar watches my face, and I can see him sense there’s a lie, but he doesn’t push.

“Okay.” he sighs, taking my hand and squeezing it, “as long as he’s good to you.”

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST ↴

tagged: oscarpiastri, oaklynnpiastri, opheliapiastri

liked by redbullracing, mclarenracing, landonorris, and 896k others...

oliviapiastri: to ossie,

happy birthday to the only guy worthy of sharing a girls night wine bottle with. thank u for always being our biggest supporter in the darkest days and a ray of sunshine on our good ones. papaya looks wonderful on u and we cannot wait to see you grow into such a confident person (thank u @ landonorris for that)

ur a good man, charlie brown. much love from oakie, ophie, and ollie (and lily, josh, momma, and dad) 🧡🧡

landonorris: happy birthday to the only guy who is allowed to pick me up from the club atp

⤷ oscarpiastri: u would be dead without me

⤷ landonorris: actually.

maxverstappen1: ayyy happy birthday man !

lovepiastris: AAAA BABY OSCAR!!!

oscarpiastri: watch me literally sob into this chardonnay.

mclaren: easily the best looking siblings 💪🏻😮‍💨

10 APRIL 2023 — MILTON KEYNES, UK ↴

"I'm bored." Oscar whines over the phone, making me laugh as I settle down at my desk in Red Bull's home base. There's about sixteen hours worth of things I need to cram into the next eight, considering my statistics for the next grand prix are due in like... twenty six hours?

"Aren't you supposed to be training?" I hum, reading through files and highlighting important notes I know I'll need to bring up with my team during our meeting tonight.

"Lando's going right now, and I kinda almost puked after endurance so I’m taking a break.” He makes a mock gagging noise and I recoil and groan and his soft laughter comes through my headphones.

"Christ, Ossie." I lean back in my chair, staring at the list of notes of things we need to improve by Azerbaijan, "Augh, this is gonna be the death of me. Max's numbers keep changing so he keeps skewing the data, at least Perez is pretty consistent."

"How many sensors do you guys have for Azerbaijan?"

"I'm not doing that work today, thats Kylie's job. Most of my work right now is just making sure that the car isn’t literally falling apart in Max’s hands since he’s been pushing it so hard this year.” I run my hand through my hair, feeling the grease along my hairline and cringing. I need a self-care day soon.

"Oh and Kylie’s pretty much running real time analytics herself this race so I might be able to hang around you at McLaren for a while if Christian's not breathing down my neck."

“Sick. I need to introduce you to the new social media photographer. Lando convinced her to a do a whole section on film.” Oscar giggles and my eyes widen--film photography was one of my passions in secondary school, and I can't imagine trying to shoot F1 on it.

“This poor girl.” I laugh as I adjust my seating and open the sensors scan from the left tire of Max's car, noting any abnormalties that haven't already been flagged. In the silent lull in the conversation, there’s a click and a creak on Oscar’s end of the call.

“Oscar—“ Lando’s talking is muffled for half a second before I hear something fall and a chair squeak, “what were you trying to ask me about earlier?”

My did my heart flutter when I heard Lando talk?

Nope. No. No, thank you. No.

I did not like Lando Norris.

“Oh—hold on Ollie—I���m going to attempt to mute.” I hear Oscar laugh as he taps his phone-screen, and like many times I’ve been on the phone with him I have to pause to see if he actually managed to mute the call.

Oscar seemed to always miss the important buttons, like hanging up or muting himself. Over the years, I’ve heard quite a few things I wasn’t supposed to.

Like Oscar’s next question—

“If I don’t just say it I’m never gonna ask, because it’s such a cliche thing but—what exactly are you trying to do with my sister..?”

I nearly die as my cheeks flush bright red as I scramble to pick my phone up.

Okay, super overdramatic reaction, but hearing this conversation happen in real time is not something I can feel like I would be able to physically handle. So, I’m quick to turn my volume all the way down and take off my headphones as soon as Lando’s laugh makes my cheeks dust pink.

Oscar was never particularly protective over me, in fact it had always been opposite. Even as the youngest Piastri I was constantly protecting my older siblings with my whole heart, like when Oaklynn was being bullied by her pole vaulting captain and I hit that guy so hard I broke his nose, or when Ophelia first got her heart broken and I drove all the way from Melbourne to Sydney in one go to pick her and her stuff up from his house. Oscar and I had many moments like that, considering our sisters were a bit older than us, it was always Oscar and I together. I had moved to England with him when he chose to pursue racing, he had been there every late night I spent studying to get into analytics as early as I had.

And I knew one day Oscar would have this conversation with the man I would marry, someone who took my entire heart in his hands and held it so gently I felt safer than I ever had.

But, Lando was not that guy. Not as far as I was aware.

Maybe ten minutes later, figuring the conversation is long done, I turn up the volume and just catch the end of it. Oscar's laughing, theres a soft thwack of someones arm being hit as Lando keeps talking, his voice fading into my headphones.

"...Ollie's just... I could stare at her all day and never get bored."

"You are--" Oscar laughs, and I hear him hit Lando's arm again, "so so goddamn cheesy, mate!"

"Sorry!" Lando laughs, and I try to ignore the way I bring a hand to my mouth as I stand up and pace around a little, shaking my hands and arms out a I try to suppress the giggles that bubble to my chest.

10 APRIL 2023 — IMESSAGE ↴

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST ↴

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 978k others..

oliviapiastri: ‘can i come pick u up from work?’ and then we end up at a car meet AND i get to sleep over?? win win.

⤷ maxverstappen1: @ charlesleclerc shovel talk?

⤷ charlesleclerc: yep.

⤷ oliviapiastri: oscar has already been yelling at me for like five hrs pls i swear nothing happened

redbullracing: lets just not tell christian you were out of the sunroof of a drift car.

mc481: lando and olivia spotted together... olivia suddenly has a new bf...

oaklynnpiastri: BABY SISTER HAS A BOYYYY AAAAAAAA

letsgolando: OH MY GOD THE FLOWERS?

18 APRIL 2023 - AZERBAIJAN GP PADDOCKS ↴

"Olivia Piastri."

"Max Verstappen."

"Olivia Louise Rae Piastri."

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc."

"Shit, she remembered."

I snort as I set my bag down as Max and Charles hover at my desk in the Azerbaijan paddocks. I'm starting to think the Ferrari driver might be having a contract change soon if his team is so lax with him basically living with us in Red Bull.

"What?" I ask, crossing my arms as the fabric of one of Lando's plain black leather jackets he'd lent me rubs the fabric of the sweatshirt I'd stolen from him underneath.

"How was your drift date?" Max grins and I roll my eyes as I plop down in my chair. Charles takes his spot in one of the side chairs as Max sits on the edge of my desk.

"He showed up to Red Bull, brought me flowers, we stopped to get takeout food and then went to the car show. He knew one of the guys drifting so we got to ride in his car and then he invited me over to watch a movie and we both fell asleep halfway through." I lean forward, "does that satisfy you?"

"Sleep?" Charles prods and I take a pen off my desk and throw it at him.

"Yes, sleep." I huff and before Max and Charles can continue their barrage of idiotic comments and questions, three knocks sound to the creak of the hinges as Christian steps into my office with Ada right behind him.

"Morning Chris, Ada." I nod and Max and Charles stand, greeting them both with firm handshakes.

"Ferrari might need their driver back, Leclerc, and Max--you need to get dressed." Christian waves them off without as much as a hello, before Ada shuts and locks my office door.

"What?" I find myself asking again as Ada grins to me.

"Sales are up 70%." She says, "We've made around... 28 thousand pounds so far."

"Holy shit." Is all I can say. 28 thousand pounds in revenue because Lando and I were pretending to date?

"You guys are doing swimmingly, we just have one more stipulation. You've already done the soft launch, Lando will be doing his tonight. The next thing you guys need to do, other than the paparazzi date but Astrid is working with Lando on that right now, is the celebration." Ada clasps her hands, Christian nods, keeping his back to the door that leads into the office and for some reason it feels suffocating.

"Great Britain. Hopefully Lando will podium, its his home race, a nice little kiss, it'll be cute."

We have to kiss in front of everyone. How could I fucking forget? The GB prix isnt for a while, two months if I remember right, but my mouth goes dry at the thought of kissing Lando Norris.

I don't remember agreeing and bidding goodbye to the two, all I know is my stomach ache doesn't go away for the rest of the night. Even when I ball the fabric of Lando's jacket--still smelling like him, over my face and scream into it.

LANDONORRIS MADE A NEW POST

liked by oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 987k others

landonorris: made a pretty good pinkie promise a while ago.

oscarpiastri: good man

mclaren: we love to see our racers winning 🥹

mercedeeznnn: this has to be olivia. IT HAS TO BE.

maxfewtrell: don't fuck it up norris

⤷ landonorris: trying

rbfansunite: so we're all thinking the same thing right?

papapa.ya: LANDO AND OLIVIA !!!! WE WIN !!!!

[skele-bunny]

ngl I could've sworn ud mentioned phantom having kits at some point(idk WHEN or WHERE but I could've sworn there was SOMETHING) so I was. Looking to ask for more and found the phantom/aether instead and Had To Know :3

now im just thinking of what adjustments would be made for phantom,,,, sure tour wouldn't last the whole pregnancy but he's little, they'd have to tailor stuff probably. and then DEW??? I'm assuming ?? In the fics where dew had calida, bc zephyr was present, it was during popestar tour, so there was NOTHIN to hide that baby, unless she was just rlly far back and close to the spine for him.

Ooo you might be thinking of Phantom/Dew/Swiss' baby Starlight!! (Also, note, not the same timeline for Calida and Comet! Two whole seperate timelines /info)

Ohh yeah it'd be much different then Dew's whole thing 😭 guy had NO way of hiding, tight ass uniform until he got upgraded to one of Zeph's uniforms, his bass was his only thing but even that didn't help all the time LMAO. Terzo tried his best okay 🫡 give my man his props wjekdk /silly Dewdrop was a runt, so while she was pretty far back and hidden and he didn't have much of a bump, it was still obvious the further he got until 8 months

Dew essentially took the entire back of the bus, even after Calida was born. They still had a tour to do. And there was orders that they couldn't just cancel, so now they're in a panic of what exactly to do. Dew doesn't feel safe at ALL leaving Calida with someone. So, a quick call, and Special is there. For "interviews", of course. He's hanging out in the green room the entire time, and during intermission Dew is right there. It's only a week like that before he's able to just curl in the nest with her and finally, FINALLY heal up. He's been bleeding nonstop from the constant strain, and finally started letting the others help him out.

Dew had a pretty rough and traumatic pregnancy & birth, but he doesn't regret how anything went one bit. His little sunshine is worth every single second of it.

Now, Phantom would've been taken care of more properly. They know more, there's more studies being carried out, more accessibility services for the ministry. It's a different era! Plus, he has a bigger pack with more diversity and similar instincts. Rain, Aurora, and Cumulus would be their biggest comforts. When they needs a good cry? Those 3. When he needs reassurance he'll be a good parent? Those 3. Just wants to be dotted and loved on? Those 3.

Mountain and Dew are his safe guards and their voice when he can't find it. One of the stagehands got irritated at Phantom bc he "wasn't doing anything and just standing around holding cords", and Mountain just glared so hard and quite literally told them to shut the fuck up. Picked Phantom up, sat him on his drum throne, and kept working.

Just like Dew would've been, he's not allowed to carry heavy items any more so they're stuck on cord duty, stick bag, and the softer percussion items. Not allowed to be alone, either. Slipped one time and that was already too many. Usually has someone accompany him to the bathroom, out and about in town, he just... Can't be alone. Honestly? It helps Phantom, too. Not only for safety but they feel better that someone is always there.

He's given permission for naps during set up once he's finished, and a lot of sitting breaks! Also like Dew, Phantom's anatomy is tiny. Aether wants them on bed rest as much as possible as he's a high risk essentially. So during shows you'll see him sitting on the steps or on Swiss' platform! He totally keeps up their silly antics the best he can that doesn't pose a risk!

Definitely tailoring, and has to have cooling pads placed in his uniform before performances as he gets super sick from the heat.

Silly thought I had midway writing this: Magick surges are still there and progressively gets worse the more he's along.

Phantom sneezes, and his guitar strings just break instantly.

Maybe they're crying really hard and sets off more light flickering before just shutting off their equipment completely.

Maybe a little rage fit because he's mad at themself, or just something that set them off, and Cirrus' phone short circuits and the screen cracks.

Pray for Aether. /Silly /aff

[bangchansgirlsblog]

My Biggest Regret

Part seven

**

Dinner went on smoothly and the boys each complimented the girls on how much they enjoyed it. Making sure not to leave anything behind.

"Do you need help with the dishes?" Y/n turned to look over at who was talking (she still wasn't sure about the different voices and who they belonged to too)

"No it's fine Han, you can go to sleep, it's late anyways," she let out a small chuckle and continued to run the hot water.

"I'm not tired and I want to help, let me help?" He had already walked over to the sink so Y/n really didn't have the chance to say no.

"Okay fine, since you're already here," she giggled, "I'll wash and you rinse alright?"

"You got it dude," he smiled over at her slowly getting lost in her eyes but soon snapping out of it.

"Okay so, Y/n…” he turned on the called water to start rinsing, he wanted to start a conversation it was eating him up, “Where are you from?"

"My mum and dad are mixed with different things but I'd just say Australia," she said softly, "wait here lemme help you with that," she quickly said after seeing he was struggling a bit.

She reached over into his side of the sink and slowly guided his hand trying to avoid the blender from cutting his fingers. She was so gentle with it that even Han swore that if Chan and her weren't dating he would have fallen in love.

"Okay there we go-"

"Thank you,"

"No worries, anyway I was saying, yeah I'm from Australia. Born and raised." She scrubbed at the one plate, her plate.

"Why are you scrubbing it so hard?" He asked intrigued by her actions.

"I have to wash everything in hot water and my plate to avoid any type of germs. I can't catch any infections or germs, it'll kill me literally," she laughed and handed him the plate to rinse off.

"Oh.." he trailed off trying to get the courage to ask her, "what are you sick of? I mean you don't have to tell me but if-"

"Oh I have cancer and no need to be scared to ask me anything Han, we're friends now," the smile on her face was so contagious that Han couldn't help but giggle. Yes giggle.

"What are you guys up too?" Chan's voice runs through the room causing the two to turn and look over at him.

He had his headphones around his neck and his beanie sat on his head. He was also wearing all black. No Surprise there.

"Han was just helping me wash up but we're done, do you guys need anything? A drink? Some snacks?"

"Y/n, baby, you've been working since morning love, let's go get some rest hm?" He had walked over to the smaller girls and wrapped his hand around her. She smiled at his action feeling content in his arms.

"Okay, fine but Han tell the boys if they need anything at all, I'm upstairs in Hannah's room,"

"You means Chan's room," Chan raised his eyebrow.

"Real smooth dude," Han dapped him up while laughing. Their Seoul personalities coming out a little making Y/n uncomfortable.

"Oh! Um, yeah just tell them that," she grabbed her phone off the counter exiting the kitchen and bumping into a taller body.

"Hey Hyunjin!" She beamed at him. His heart was touched by the way she was so excited to see him.

"Hey Y/n, where are you off too?"

"I'm going to sleep, I'm quite tired,"

"Sleep already?" He asked.

"Yes, have a Goodnight Jinnie!" She gave him a quick hug before making her way up to Chan's room. She was later joined by him after he had finished whatever it was he was doing in the kitchen with Han.

"I'm ready to sleep!" He whined and laid his head on her lap. She was reading a book and the lights in the room were all dimmed down.

"Then go ahead and sleep, you have a busy day tomorrow don't you?" She giggled and put her book down.

Her hands automatically start running through his hair. She was playing with it because it was so fluffy and she missed doing this. She missed being this close to him.

"That feels nice," Chan hummed. His eyes were halfway closed and he was about to sleep.

"Mm, I missed you," he softly said opening his eyes once against to admire her pretty face. Her cheeks were red from all the blushing.

"Missed you too," she softly said yawning. He then got into the blankets and wrapped his arms around her, spooning her small body.

"Goodnight princess,"

"Goodnight Channie." She was already halfway into her sleep.

[whinlatter]

3, 4, 14, and 37 for dean and seamus

my darling boys! 🥹 dean and seamus, off we gooooo. thank you @valfromcall!

3. Obscure headcanon

obscure headcanon 1 - dean thomas was born may 10th 1980, the day west ham won the FA cup. that west ham have never won the cup since remains a source of great regret for east london's golden boy. unfortunately may 10th also happened to be the day in 1997 when gryffindor won the house cup and harry potter scooped his ex from right from under his nose - a bad birthday for the ages. seamus tried to cheer him up by reminding him that may 10th is also the birthday of a proud son of ireland (bono from U2), which dean said was 'not helping'

obscure headcanon 2 - this is dean and seamus' son:

also this isn't obscure but their first kiss was 100% in the finnigan tent at the quidditch world cup after ireland's stonking victory over bulgaria

4. Favorite line

for seamus, it's probably when they're all in the dormitory in GoF and dobby rocks up and seamus nonchalantly goes 'someone attacking you, Harry?' aka mr finnigan giving precisely zero shits about whatever main character moment harry is having and thereby failing his audition for inclusion in the golden trio. bonus special mention to the world's worst pep talk in PS/SS:

“Harry, you need your strength,” said Seamus Finnigan. “Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team.” “Thanks, Seamus,” said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

can't a man enjoy a condiment anymore smh

for dean, it's either "send him off, ref! red card!' from PS/SS or this from OotP:

"Well, [Moody] turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he?" said Dean Thomas hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads."

14. Most heroic moment

seamus 'harry's a liar' finnigan getting beaten to a pulp and unrecognisably disfigured by the carrows. king shit

dean is being the biggest bravest boy in the world all on his own on the run leaving his mum and sisters behind and not being able to have a cuddle when he's lost and alone and scared and hungry all through DH :(

37. What they really think about themselves

i think, as teenagers, seamus was the one with a lot of insecurities and self-loathing: struggling with the knowledge that he was gay and a bit in love with his best mate and not really knowing what to do with it, in conflict with his mum and wrestling with who he was going to be in this big war that seemed to be looming, not the cleverest or the sportiest or the anything-est and generally a bit aggy and restless. dean was the much more relaxed one of the two. he had a strong sense of right and wrong, was sure the goodies would prevail before anything got too out of hand, was content with his kind of chill blokey vibe and got a fit girlfriend that meant he could park any of the slightly confusing feelings he was feeling for shay.

after the war, though, they swap roles. seamus has quite a settled sense of self after his school years - like, he got his fuck up out of the way (not believing voldemort was back, having his big sulk), but then redeemed himself, was on some real hero shit and really became close with the other DA lot, getting a lot out of the prestige of being an auror for a bit, no longer felt like he had much to prove, and felt loved and confident enough to come out. dean, however, really struggled with the impact of the war, feeling an intense sense of isolation and distance from the other's wartime experiences, and both envying seamus' confidence to come out but struggling to accept that he might also not be straight, like it was just another thing that would mark him out as Other. i basically think seamus and dean were hooking up a lot immediately after school and in their early twenties, but always in secret, while dean kept dating muggle girls and playing out this big tension he feels in his own identity, between the muggle and wizarding worlds, as well as over his own sexuality and internalised homophobia. i reckon seamus was the one to (eventually) recognise this was self-destructive and breaking his heart, and ended it. cue the wilderness years!

they obviously get back together eventually, though, hence west ham son (yes i'm obsessed with this child), although seamus threatened to break up with him when dean argued he should be allowed to put the imperius curse on declan rice to stop him moving to arsenal and betraying his beloved hammers in summer 2023

[whumpzone]

Could we have a Christmas Special featuring our babies Col and Linden 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

oh, well since you asked so nicely...

-

Most of the year, Col hardly recognised any of the songs on the radio. How could he, when he had spent almost all of his known life in the basement? But when Christmas rolled around, Col felt like he was part of something. He knew them all, some way or another. He must have been born knowing.

Master knew them too, and every time Col tapped along to a tune, or even mumbled out a few lyrics, the joy on his face was undeniable.

Col had never been involved with Christmas at his old master’s. He couldn’t fully remember how many they had had together- Col had an early memory of crying for almost an entire day, alone in the dark, cold and frightened and so lonely that it was a physical pain. That had been his first, for sure. The others bled together, until the only thing that stood out was the bitter cold.

“That’s why Christmas jumpers are non-negotiable,” Master told him in the present, Christmas Eve to be exact, not that Col could negotiate about anything. He wriggled obediently into the biggest one Master could find. It was dark blue, with repeating patterns going across him like tyre marks. “It suits you, Col!”

“Thank you, Sir,” he said, meeting Master’s eye. Col liked it. It was thick and instantly warming.

“It’ll just be me and you for most of the day, and then Vik will pop his head in later? We could even play a game, if you felt up to it. A nice game. One you can play while sitting down, because we’ll probably be quite full.”

“Sir, are you s-sure? You really don’t need to waste… all of this, on me.”

“I don’t see it as a waste. Besides, this time of year you can just say ‘well, it’s Christmas’ and that excuses just about everything.”

“It does, Sir?”

“Yes. If you do something and you feel like you should apologise for it, try saying that instead. Vik would love that, actually. He’d laugh his head off.”

Col nodded. It was strange advice, but perhaps he could have a go.

The radio had been softly playing a familiar tune, the singer’s rough voice warbling pleasantly, but as Master finished speaking it amped up into a vivacious, swinging melody. They both noticed it, and Master smiled at Col so widely that it was almost, almost infectious.

…they’ve got cars big as bars, they’ve got rivers of gold, but the wind goes right through you, it’s no place for the old…

Master extended a hand. “I love this one. Want to dance to it?”

Col’s thoughts were of himself, several years ago. Huddled up all Christmas, alone in the freezing depths of winter, sobbing for reasons Colton could no longer remember. It wasn’t abandoning him, was it, to let himself take his Master’s hand and dance? No, Col thought. It was honouring his memory. Some way or another, his suffering had ended, and now here he was, letting himself place his scarred hand into that of his owner’s. Master could do as he liked, and of course he could decide to take this bit of flesh and cause it pain, but he had never done it so far, and right now Master loved the song on the radio and he wanted to share that love with his pet.

Master’s fingers closed around Col’s, gently drawing his arm up, and Master gave him time to nod before he encircled him with his free arm. Holding him like any other dance partner while they swayed about the kitchen.

Col hoped the song would never end. He would freeze time right here if he could. In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter, from the pain in his knees to the promise of a feast tomorrow. He wanted to pause it all, and instead stay this warm, this content, this safe.

-

it is 1:30am, so officially Christmas Eve!

go and listen to Fairytale of New York if you want to know what Linden and Col danced to. you won't regret it, I promise

merry christmas my lovely readers <3

[cillianmurphysdimples]

Good old fashioned "about me" survey, not that anyone is interested...

name:: Kelly

nickname:: Kells

how old are you:: 35

zodiac sign:: Pisces

current location:: Coventry, England

eye color:: Green

hair color:: Brown

hair type:: Thick & Curly

hieght:: 5ft 2in

your heritage:: English & Irish

what's your middle name:: Louise

shoes you wore today:: Primark trainers

your fear:: My children being taken or dying

have you ever ridden a mechanical bull:: No!

do you want to:: No!

goal you would like to achieve this year:: I achieved them in August - own home for me and the boys & a sensory room for the boys

first thought when you wake up:: What time is it?

best physical feature:: To me? Eyes.

who is your bestest friend:: My little sister

when is your bedtime:: I go up when my boys do, so around 7pm. But I don't sleep til 10ish

your most cherished memory:: Births of my boys & the last day I spent with my Granddad

pepsi or coke:: Coke - Cherry Coke if it's available

mc dondalds or burgerking:: Neither these days, but Maccies before

single or group dates:: Single

what is the last song you sang:: "sang" haha! Erm, it was probably "Oró, Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile" with my 5 year old (he sings 'oh let's go to the gruffalo island')

does playing the guitar make a girl/guy more attractive:: Yes, sometimes.

what is your biggest pet peeve:: Noisy eaters!

do you drink:: Alcohol? One or two a week. I don't like nausea, and have addicts in the family, so I don't drink much on purpose

ever been drunk:: Twice

do you smoke:: Occasionally cigarettes, but I vape frequently

do you "SMOKE":: Weed? No

do you sing:: I can't, but I do

what color underwear do you have on:: Black

do you want to go to college:: I did - CACHE CCE 2 and Diploma HSC 3

have you ever been in love:: Briefly

do you want to get married:: No!

do you believe in yourself:: No, learned fairly quickly I'm a piece of shit

do you believe in others:: Some people

do you like thunderstorms:: I fucking love them!

do you play an instrument:: I can play The Lord's Prayer on piano, but that's your lot!

what do you want to be when you grow up:: I achieved it - I wanted to be a mum. I was also the deputy manager of a Nursing Home before I had my children which was amazing

what country would you like to visit:: I just want to go back to Ireland 💚

how many CD's do you own:: None now

how many DVD's do you own:: Around 450 last count (a few years ago) so maybe 470 now?

how many tattoos do you have:: 8

how many piercings do yo have:: None now, but I had ears, left labret, right eyebrow, and both sides of my nose X2 until I was around 28

how many things in the past do you regret:: Yeah, a few things.

FAVORITES

shoes:: Chunky soles - trainers, ankle boots or sandles

radio station:: I don't listen anymore

drink:: Caramel latte, Cherry Coke, monster mango loco

car:: None

place:: Cootehill, Co Cavan, Ireland 💙

song:: Angeles - Jensen Ackles and Lemon 7s - A Lazarus Soul and Scorn Not His Simplicity - Luke Kelly

movie:: Four Weddings and a Funeral and On The Edge

moment:: When my boys were born

color:: Variations of blue

meal:: Toast and proper butter!

IN A GUY/GIRL

favorite eye color:: Doesn't matter

favorite hair color:: Doesn't matter

short or long hair:: Longer - just not cropped in dead short, but then it's their hair so they can do what they like

height:: Doesn't matter

body type:: Literally does not matter!

does ethnicity matter:: Doesn't matter

piercings:: Whatever

tattoos:: Whatever

MORE

do you think you are attractive:: Fuck no - I have a flat nose, epicanthic folds, I'm fat, I'm waiting to have my shitty teeth removed, and my boobs are bigger than my head. I am gross.

are you attracted to someone who does not know it:: No they knew it but they were engaged. We talked for a while then he felt guilty so we stopped.

would you like to be someones fantasy:: Ha I never would be so it's moot

do you kiss with your eyes closed or open:: It's been 5 years since I kissed anyone who who the fuck knows?!

a little or a lot of tongue:: Little

older or younger:: I don't mind - my kids dad was 2 years younger, my last interest was 3 years older

lights on/lights off or candle light:: Doesn't matter

do you like to cuddle after:: Depends on what kinda sex we'd had

do you like to cuddle in general:: I'm not physically affectionate on the whole. Makes me uncomfortable. I like sofa cuddles watching TV though.

RIGHT NOW

what is todays date:: November 7th

what time is it:: 7.25pm

who are you thinking of:: Cillian's eyes look good in this film (Aloft)

what are you listening to:: Aloft film

do you love someone:: As in 'in love'? No.

does someone love you:: My children, I think! Probably my siblings, and Mum and Step Dad.

is it raining:: Mizzling

are you happy:: In general, not really, I'm fairly neutral

[bl4z33467]

As i said, id do that question list for my ocs. So first, Sir Blaze

Are they a human, ghoul, synth, or something else?

Human

Are they a canon main character? (Lone Wander, Courier Six, etc.)

Sole Survivor

What is their SPECIAL?

7,6,3,5,10,3,4

What perks or tagged skills do they have?

Robotics Expert, Science!, Armourer, Strong back, Lead Belly, Animal Friend

What is their highest skill? Lowest?

Animal Friend is highest

Were they born pre-war or post-war?

Pre-war

Do they wish they lived before the war / could go back to life before the war?

He is conflicted. But probably if he could, take all his friends and family back before

Did they live in a vault? If not, have they been inside of one?

Straight outta 111

Where did they grow up? Where do they currently reside?

Grew up in concorde, now live in Sanctuary

What languages do they speak?

English, a bit of Hindi (does robco termalink count??)

What type of education have they received?

Highschool, studied robotics on his own time

Can they read, write, and/or do math?

Very good at math, can read, can write but handwriting is TERRIBLE

What is the most frightening experience they have endured?

Having to leave his best friend Jake to die in a fire

What is their fondest memory?

Getting married (but it seems its was better in the moment)

What is their proudest moment/accomplishment?

He doesnt know ;-;

What is their biggest regret

Leaving Jake Behind, close second is marrying Nora

Do they have a job? How do they make a living?

Once a computer engineer, us solider, and an sales keeper of sorts, now general of the minutemen

Do they have any disabilities, mutations, or implants / enhancements? Do they have any chronic illnesses?

PTSD, undiagnosed autism and chronically ugly /j

Who (or what) are they emotionally closest to?

His best friend Pickle

Who do they consider to be their family?

Piper (his gf) and Nat (like a daughter to him) and eventually synth shaun

Do they travel alone or with a companion?

Usually with Piper or Codsworth

Do they have any pets?

Dogmeat and a Gary (sort of, he shares with Pickle)

How do they feel about physical touch / affection?

Hes a bit of a hugger :3

Do they have a romantic partner or partners?

Piper

Are they quick to trust others?

Wayyyyy to quick. But can see a person is bad

How would others describe them / their disposition?

Too cheery for the wasteland. A bit weird, friendly, sometimes mischievous and

What faction(s) are they a member of / allied with?

Minutemen, chill with the railroad

What faction(s) do they despise?

Institute and Technically the legion for pickle's sake

What is their moral alignment / karma?

Good

What decisions have they made or actions have they done that affect their canon wasteland? (Did they blow up Megaton, have they killed/spared any major characters, etc.)

Eventually blows up the institute

What is their goal in life? What impact would they like to leave when they're gone?

Be a good person :3

What is their go-to weapon or weapon class?

Institute laser (hes hates the institute but uuuu the laser)

What is their fight-or-flight response?

Fight

What armor / clothing do they typically wear?

Vault 111 jumpsuit to show off the cake

Do they have power armor training?

Yeeees his go to is the t-50 with some flames but has a huge collection

Have they ever saved someone's life? Have they ever killed someone?

He usually tries to save people but will kill (none specifically i can think of, minus pickle whom he saves from their own fauly)

What is the worst injury they have?

That massive gash on his face probably from the cram can (softy smh)

What is their favorite radio station?

Diamond city radio but he hates the broadcaster and the city. Just likes the tunes

What is their favorite song?

In game, probably civilization, out of game, he likes classic rock and scenecore

What is their favorite type of weather?

Sunny

What is their favorite time of the day?

Evening

What is their favorite wasteland creature?

Deathclaw

What is their favorite meal and drink?

Blamco mac and cheese and nuka cherry

What is their favorite smell?

Clean air

Do they have any specific hobbies or talents?

FURRY LMAO (costume/armour making and drawing) Video games, interior design, tinkering with computer programs

Do they play any sports? How about board games or card games?

His fatass isnt playing a sport. He would probably get bored playing long or complex games but you bet your ass he's counting cards while playing go fish with nat and pickle

Do they enjoy reading?

Not really

Do they collect anything?

Animal bits

What items do they always have on their person?

Extra food and explosives

Do they travel by foot or by other means?

Foot usually. Likes his power armour

Do they own a Pip-boy? If so, how did they get it?

Stole it from a dead guy while leaving 111

Can they swim?

He can float

What do they think of the ocean?

Doesnt pay too much mind to it. He likes orcas though

Do they prefer showers or baths?

Nice warm shower

Are they past, present, or future oriented?

Present

How do they feel about robots? (Eyebots, Mister Handys, Sentry Bots, etc.)

They took his first job!! But they are cool

What is a sensation / texture they cannot stand?

Cold tiles

Do they believe in luck? Do they have a good luck charm?

No. Look at his luck stat

What is a sensation / texture they cannot stand?

Do they believe in luck? Do they have a good luck charm?

Do they idolize anything / anyone?

Not really

Are they religious? Spiritual?

He is curious about it. His parents hated religion but he hated them

What are their thoughts on chems and alcohol?

He is hypocritical on chems, as he struggles with pyscho addiction but is critical to others who use it. He doesn't care abour alcohol as long as your an adult

Do they have any weaknesses or struggle with any vices?

Pyscho addiction, and when not on pyscho its eating

Do they need / wear glasses?

Nope

How / where do they generally sleep?

On a mattress with a bed frame in his house, sometimes with piper when she comes to visit

Describe their living space. (How do they decorate it? Does it have running water and/or electricity? Etc.)

It has pictures he drew, photos of him and his friends, family, and pets, animal bits he's collected like skulls, scales, skin, generally neat and orderly.

Describe their eyes.

Orange. Im not one for detailed eyes.

[silvfyre-writings]

i WILL find you (BSD Fanfic)

If there was one thing that Fukuzawa regretted, it was failing to save Ranpo all those years ago. That genius detective that had somehow wormed his way right into his life despite Fukuzawa’s best efforts to get rid of him—not that he’d tried very hard if he was being honest with himself. It was his biggest failure in his career as a bodyguard, and even now, twelve years after that fateful day, he still held the regrets close to his heart. That didn’t mean he’d stopped searching for the boy. He couldn’t, not when he knew that Ranpo was in the clutches of someone that very well could kill him if they so pleased.

And wasn’t that a thought to live with, knowing that if he ever found Ranpo, that he might find the corpse of a young orphan boy that had been misunderstood by the world entirely, including him when they’d first met.

He wished that he’d gotten the chance to show the boy that the world wasn’t as filled with scary monsters as he believed.

But he hadn’t.

And he still might never.

Fukuzawa wanted to hold onto hope that Ranpo was still out there somewhere, alive, but after twelve years one started to lose hope.

That didn’t stop him from trying however.

He raised a hand to rub at his chest, phantom pain coming from the injury that had almost killed him as he called upon his memories of that day. The pain from being stabbed right through with that strange person’s sword had been nothing but excruciating and it was a miracle that he’d even survived in the first place. Considering that they’d tried their best to take him down by shooting him until he couldn’t do anything but collapse into a pool of his own blood. He remembered the way that Ranpo had stared at him with terrified eyes as this new group of people approached him and it was from there that his memories grew hazy, blood loss and death coming for him at a rapid pace.

He still wasn’t sure how he survived.

One minute he was bleeding out on the floor of a warehouse, the next he was waking up in a hospital with a certain child assassin and his childhood friend keeping guard over him. And no Ranpo.

“Where’s the boy?” Fukuzawa croaked, wincing at how dry his throat was.

“I would think you’d be more worried about yourself for a change.” Genichirou scoffed, arms folded across his chest as he stared down at Fukuzawa. “If it weren’t for your assassin friend here, you would have died.”

Fukuzawa’s gaze slid over to the other teenager that he’d become acquainted with during recent events. Not that acquainted was the word he’d use really, considering it was him that’d put the kid behind bars in the first place, but it was thanks to him that he’d managed to find the warehouse where Mitamura had kidnapped Ranpo and taken him so he felt as if he owed the boy something at least, even if he didn’t know what exactly he could offer him. He looked over the boy carefully, taking note of his tidy yet well-worn clothes, the way he held himself proper yet showed no emotion on his face, but mostly he took note of how young he looked.

The world they lived in truly was cruel to the children that were born into it.

“Did you find him?” Fukuzawa pressed, struggling to sit up. He needed to know if Ranpo was safe, if they had any idea who the people were that took him.

Genichirou crossed the room in an instant, a gloved hand preventing Fukuzawa from moving further. “Stay still, you’ll tear your wounds and my doctors didn’t spend hours putting you back together just for you to bleed out now.” And before Fukuzawa could argue against him, Genichirou sighed and withdrew his hand. “Unfortunately, there was no sign of that kid. Whoever took him knew to cover their tracks. I have people searching, but unless a lead can be found, I doubt we’ll find anything.”

Fukuzawa curled his fists into the sheets, ignoring the pain that shot through his body at the motion. “I promised to protect him. He’s just a child.”

“He is strong.” The assassin spoke up from where he sat on the floor. He wasn’t looking at Fukuzawa but it was clear that it was him that he was speaking to. “Wherever he is, he will survive, I am sure of it.”

“What makes you so sure?” Fukuzawa asked.

The assassin shrugs. “He reminds me of me. Does what he has to, to survive.”

The words hit Fukuzawa like a train because the assassin was right in a way. Before they’d even met, Ranpo had been going from job to job, just doing what he could to survive in a world that didn’t understand him or the strange abilities that he held—hell, even Fukuzawa didn’t completely understand Ranpo but he’d tried to. He was just a small thing, without the physical prowess to defend or fight against anyone, but if he had had that skill… would he have turned out like this child sitting before him?

It only took a second for him to decide his next course of action and he fixed his gaze upon the boy. “What is to happen with you?”

The assassin glanced up at Genichirou, eyes flicking towards Fukuzawa before he shrugged. “I’m not sure. Prison probably.”

“I’ll make you an offer.” Fukuzawa said, ignoring the way Genichirou began to pinch the bridge of his nose, no doubt out of frustration for what Fukuzawa was about to suggest. It made him glad in a way, to know that even after a decade apart, his old friend still knew him well.

Brown eyes stare up at him, yet the boy doesn’t say a word.

“Put your skills to better use.” Fukuzawa continued, watching the boy with careful eyes. He had one shot at this and words had never been his forte. But something told him that they weren’t the boys either. “Instead of killing others, use the skills that being an assassin has taught you and help them instead. Save lives instead of ending them. Before I continue, am I correct in assuming that you find life unfulfilling?”

“Perhaps.” The boy said.

“Then from former assassin to current assassin; you may find meaning in your life if you choose to change your path and find what it is you truly seek. The same way that I did.”

Fukuzawa could see the boy thinking over his words, and while it wasn’t the best of reasons, he hoped that it would be enough. Having this boy to help him find Ranpo would increase the chances of them actually finding the kid, and well—

He had a soft spot for troubled teenagers it seemed.

He found himself wanting to help this boy he still didn’t know the name of the same way that he’d found himself wanting to help Ranpo find his place in the world.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the boy narrowed his eyes. “You wish to employ me? To help you find your friend?”

Of course he saw right through me. “I do.” Fukuzawa admitted. “I will admit that that is my main motive, however I do believe that life has more in store for you than mindless killing. Of course if after we find Ranpo, you wish to go your own way again, I will not stop you from doing so.”

“Alright, I will accept your offer.” The assassin said, eyes sliding over towards Genichirou. “However…”

Fukuzawa too, turned his gaze to his old friend.

Genichirou sighed and raised his hands. “I am simply going to pretend I never heard this conversation. I need to go tell the doctors you woke up anyway, so sort your shit out while I’m gone.”

“Thank you, Genichirou.” Fukuzawa said. He knew it was a risk for the man to turn a blind eye to Fukuzawa’s actions; his position as a Hunting Dog that answered directly to the government meant that he should’ve reported Fukuzawa for trying to keep an assassin out of jail, the same way that Fukuzawa himself should’ve been arrested for his own stint as an assassin several years ago. But there must’ve been a small shred of that childhood loyalty within his old friend, and for that, Fukuzawa appreciated him all the more.

It was only once Genichirou left the room that Fukuzawa returned his attention towards the assassin. “Do you have a name?”

“Oda Sakunosuke.” The boy—Oda—said, standing up to lean against the wall. “And I already know yours, Fukuzawa Yukichi. You were well known amongst the assassin circle; your skills were at least.”

I suppose I should be flattered, Fukuzawa thought even though he was uncomfortable with being so… respected by the very people that he’d washed his hands of. But that wasn’t important right now, what was important was figuring out what to do next and the best way of finding Ranpo before it was too late to save him.

An image of the young genius flashed through his mind, wide smile and annoying voice shouting Fukuzawa-san as he’d left the theatre with a police officer that was supposed to have been protecting him.

An image that changed to that of a frightened boy as Fukuzawa himself was stabbed and shot, left for dead on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. He still wasn’t sure how he’d survived—he could only assume that somehow he’d been found by the police, or maybe even Oda himself had had something to do with it. Fukuzawa found himself asking the boy. “Do you know how I survived?”

Oda frowned, arms that tightened around himself the only emotion that he allowed himself to express. “My ability… did something strange. Normally it shows me a few seconds into my own future. But this time… it showed me a few seconds into yours. I do not understand it.”

It made sense then, how back at the secretary’s office, Oda had been able to avoid all his attacks. Who would’ve guessed that one of the best assassin’s had also been an ability user? One that could see into the future no less.

Fukuzawa hummed. “So you saw my future and… got help?”

“Your friend brought me curry, so I told him what I had seen. I don’t think he believed me at first, but he still left. Next thing I knew, he was unlocking my cell and telling me to come with him. And then we came here.”

So it was because of Oda that he’d survived. That and the team of doctors Genichirou had employed to help save his life. It seemed like he owed the two of them more than he could possibly imagine. Fukuzawa gave Oda a gentle smile. “I must thank you then, for saving me.”

Oda shrugged. “You got me curry. And you seem nice enough. Would be a shame to have you die.”

“Fukuzawa-san.” The sound of Oda’s voice drew Fukuzawa back to the present and he blinked to see not the young teenager that he’d just been reminiscing about, but the adult that’d he’d grown up to become. Just the slightest bit shorter than Fukuzawa, the former assassin had certainly matured over the years; he still wore a mostly monotone expression, but his eyes sparkled with emotion now compared to how empty they’d been when he was a teenager. Appearance wise, he hadn’t changed too much, scratchy facial hair really being the only thing that showed he was well and truly an adult now.

Still, Fukuzawa was proud of how Oda had grown, and was glad that after all these years, he’d chosen to remain at the Agency that they’d cultivated together—a detective agency, like he’d thought of doing when during the theatre incident.

He just wished that Ranpo could’ve been at the forefront of it like he’d originally wanted to do.

“Fukuzawa-san, are you alright?” Oda asked again, and Fukuzawa realised that he’d been rubbing his chest again.

“Just remembering past events, Oda.” Fukuzawa said, sitting up in his chair. “Was there something you needed?”

Oda shook his head. “I just wanted to let you know that Dazai and Kunikida have returned from their case. It was successful, and once Kunikida wrangles Dazai into actually writing the report, they’ll bring it to you.”

“Good work.” Fukuzawa said, a hint of a smile on his face. He wasn’t surprised by Oda’s words; he’d become used to Dazai’s late reports—and sometimes, no reports at all—but ever since Kunikida had started at the Agency, the young man had started to hand them in more often than not.

Were there a lot of complaints about it? Absolutely, but so long as the work was being done, Fukuzawa didn’t mind too much.

He stood from his chair after glancing at the clock on his desk. “I’m going to head downstairs and grab something to eat. Would you like me to pick up anything for the rest of you?”

Oda shrugged. “Something light. Kunikida offered to treat us to dinner after work tonight. Curry.”

There was a sparkle in the young man’s eyes, one that had Fukuzawa shaking his head slightly. “Even after all this time, you still love curry.”

“It is a truly delectable dish, Fukuzawa-san.” Oda said, and paused, looking like there was something else that he wanted to say. Fukuzawa waited patiently for him to find his words. “Fukuzawa-san?”

“Yes, Oda?”

“We will find him.” Oda said, meeting Fukuzawa’s gaze.

His gaze softened. “I hope so.”

Together, he and Oda left the office, Oda returning to the main office and Fukuzawa heading towards the elevator that would take him down to the café below where he and the other Agency workers often frequented. When he’d first established the Agency, he’d chosen the building because it was cheap and in an ideal location for them to find clients, but now it was truly proving to be worth every cent; a café on the ground floor, and a lawyer’s office above their own, there wasn’t much more that could be done to improve the building. Well, maybe the addition of an infirmary could be helpful—he’s pretty sure that the hospital is getting sick and tired of having to deal with all the injuries they get in their line of work—but it’s not like they have a doctor to fill the space. Maybe one day they would, or perhaps he could ask Genichirou to loan them one of his own doctors. If his old friend was in a generous mood of course.

There were rumours around of an ability user that could heal any injury, but Fukuzawa hadn’t ever seen such a person to confirm their existence.

Fukuzawa paused as he passed the main office, peering into it to see how everyone was doing after their latest case—a homicide supposedly that’d driven the police into asking for their assistance. Sitting at their desks, Kunikida was busy scribbling away at a rapid pace, flying through his reports like he was going to run out of time to finish them. Which he wouldn’t, because Kunikida was his most diligent employee, a workaholic that needed to be told to slow down frequently by those around him. And sitting next to him at his own desk was Dazai, the genius orphan that he’d picked up a couple of years after joining forces with Oda.

The boy had been trying to drown himself when they’d run into him, only for Oda to jump into the river after him and pull him to safety. From there it hadn’t taken much convincing for Fukuzawa to take the boy in and get him off the streets, a decision that’d been fuelled by his previous failures. At the time, all he’d seen was another genius child, living in a world that did nothing but misunderstand him, the same way as the last genius child he’d run into had been and Fukuzawa had dragged Dazai into his arms, promising to protect him and help him to find the path he was meant to walk.

Sure, Dazai was a little… odd, his dark humour terrifying to those that didn’t yet know him all that well—the amount of clients that became concerned every time Dazai joked about trying to kill himself over the slightest of inconveniences had only just started to slow down ten years after he’d joined their ragtag Agency. But underneath that humour was a good kid, one that was more than capable of the detective work that they did; Dazai knew about Ranpo and how Fukuzawa had failed him, and while at the time, he hadn’t understood why Fukuzawa cared so much about a child he’d known for only a few hours, he’d helped try to find him nonetheless.

Yet even with Dazai’s genius on their side, they still hadn’t managed to locate Ranpo.

And it was… hard.

They’d gone over every inch of Japan, questioning every possible lead—hell, Fukuzawa had even turned to Mori Ougai of all people in hope the underground doctor knew anything, but even that trail went cold. It was as if Ranpo had vanished off the face of the earth and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d met the kid and worked with him, however brief it was, he would’ve assumed that Ranpo simply didn’t exist anymore, that he was just a figment of his imagination or something.

But that frightened face… the one that continued to haunt him even twelve years later, that was real, and Fukuzawa refused to let himself forget that face.

He sighed as he moved on, stepping into the elevator, and pressing the button for the ground floor. He needed to stop thinking about his failures. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on them, it was just that… it was coming up to the day that he’d failed the boy in the first place. In just a few days it would mark thirteen years since he’d last seen Ranpo, thirteen years since he himself had almost been killed. His body would always ache more around this time of year too, the scars of his wounds never letting him forget what had transpired that day.

Fukuzawa would try his best to push those memories aside for now; cases had started to pile up and there were even more for him to look over that afternoon.

He stepped into the café, opening his mouth to call out a greeting when he paused and tilted his head. Instead of it just being the elderly gentleman that owned and managed the café alongside his wife, there was someone else there too, watching intensely as the owner explained something to him—how to work the machine from the looks of it. A new employee…? Fukuzawa thought as he crossed the room to stop in front of the two. He’d never seen this man before and found him to be rather strange; elongated ears, silver hair that was pulled up into a messy bun with a few strands falling free, and scars on his face. At first glance, the stranger was intimidating, taller than Fukuzawa was and he considered himself to be quite tall, with even less emotion on his face than Oda—which in his opinion was hard to beat.

“You have a new employee, Tanaka-san?” Fukuzawa asked, reaching into his sleeve to withdraw his wallet.

“Yes, this is Bram-san.” Tanaka gestured towards this… Bram person. “My wife and I were looking to take some time to travel before we got too old, and Bram-san was the first to apply for the job.”

Fukuzawa turned towards Bram. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new to Yokohama?”

Bram glanced towards Tanaka before he nodded once—he wasn’t the most expressive of people, Fukuzawa quickly noted—and spoke. “I am.”

“Are you liking it here?” Fukuzawa asked and then addressed Tanaka. “Just our usual drinks today, Tanaka-san. The others are going out to eat tonight, I’m afraid.”

“No, don’t apologise, Fukuzawa-san, those boys of yours work hard, they deserve to eat out every once in a while.” Tanaka said with a smile and turned towards the coffee machine. “Come along, Bram-san, you’ll see Fukuzawa-san and the others that work in the building a lot, so it’s best you learn their orders now.”

Bram nodded and made to follow the elderly man, pausing for a moment to answer Fukuzawa’s question. “It is nice… in this city.”

Fukuzawa found himself smiling a little. “That’s good to hear. I hope this job goes well for you.”

“As do I.” Bram said and then followed after Tanaka.

Fukuzawa moved away from the counter to sit in one of the booths and watched the two as they worked. He was happy for Tanaka and his wife; they’d been running the café for years before the Agency existed and they deserved to take a break and enjoy their lives. Admittedly he was curious about Bram—such a strange looking man that was most certainly a foreigner. He had to wonder what his story was, what had brought him to Yokohama in the first place, because after the Great War, most of the foreigners that visited tended to avoid the city and the dark secrets that it held.

Before long, Bram approached with drinks in hand and held them out to him. “Here.”

Fukuzawa stood and accepted the drinks. “Thank you. I will see you next time, Bram-san, Tanaka-san.”

Both men said their goodbyes as he left the café behind and headed back upstairs.

He was intrigued.

Fukuzawa’s intrigue in the mysterious Bram continued to grow with every trek that he took downstairs into the café. Even Oda and the others commented on the tall man’s mysterious presence, finding it odd that he’d stumbled across this tiny café that wasn’t really in the centre of anything—really, you did have to go out of your way to come here, unless you worked in the area of course. But none of them questioned it too much, and Bram was quickly proving himself to be a competent barista, able to work on his own just a few weeks after starting, much to Tanaka’s pleasure of course, who didn’t hesitate to praise his new worker for his work ethic.

That day, all of them—he, Oda, Dazai, and Kunikida—ventured down into the café for lunch after they finally finished up a case that they’d been working on all week. The case had left them exhausted—an ability user that’d decided serial killing was to be his newest hobby, with an ability that prevented him from being seen on camera’s which had made evidence all that much harder to collect. But they’d managed to solve it, and the ability user was in the custody of the police. And as a reward for their hard work, Fukuzawa had decided to treat his employees to whatever they wanted from the downstairs café, within reason of course. Naturally, they hadn’t hesitated.

Fukuzawa opened the door to the café, letting everyone move past him before entering himself. The first thing he noticed was that the café was empty—the lunch rush must’ve just ended—and that both Bram and Tanaka were working. The next thing he noticed was the figure squashed into the corner of one of the booths, a hood pulled over their head with only a few strands of white hair visible as they messed about on a handheld game console. He frowned; there was something familiar about that figure, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Maybe it was because he’d heard about this person from his employees; supposedly they were someone close to Bram, accompanying the man to work and sitting in the corner until Bram finished his shift.

Dazai had mentioned he’d tried to speak to them before, only to be interrupted by Bram who’d apparently been none too kind in telling Dazai to leave them alone.

Which Fukuzawa had found strange to hear as Bram was always polite, even when customers tested his patience.

But he did notice that upon their arrival, Bram glanced towards the figure before his crimson gaze fixated on them, narrowing in what could only be caution and distrust.

Fukuzawa frowned. What could put such an expression on Bram’s face? He’d been under the assumption that their relationship was an amicable one. Had he been wrong about that?

“Ah, Fukuzawa-san, come to celebrate another solved case, have we?” Tanaka called out with a friendly wave.

Before Fukuzawa could answer, there was a clattering noise, and he looked over towards the stranger in the corner, noticing that their console was on the floor and that their hands were shaking.

“Fukuzawa…san?” A quiet, voice said, and Fukuzawa froze.

He knew that voice.

The stranger raised their head and vibrant green eyes met his own, wide in disbelief. Those eyes only grew wider as recognition flicked across the boy’s—only, he was no longer a boy—face and Fukuzawa felt his heart stop within his chest.

“Ranpo?” He breathed the name, unable to believe that this white-haired young man was the same teenager he’d met all those years ago. There was a haunted look to Ranpo’s eyes, and looking closer, they were not as bright as they’d once been. Not to mention how scared he looked, eyes flitting nervously about, like he wasn’t sure where to look, and several times, they landed on Bram.

“That’s who you’ve been searching for, for all these years?” Dazai exclaimed, rushing forward to get a closer look at Ranpo, a look that was a mix of curiosity and infatuation on his face.

Only he didn’t get far.

The moment that Dazai moved, Ranpo flinched, cowering into his seat, and in a second, Dazai was on the ground, giving a shout of indignation as he hit the ground hard, with Bram barring his path, the taller man glaring down at Dazai, baring his fangs—wait.

Fukuzawa blinked.

No wonder Bram seemed so mysterious; he wasn’t a human, but a vampire.

Not that that was important right now; he had to diffuse the current situation before it escalated into a conflict. Kunikida and Oda had drawn their weapons, pointing them at Bram, and Ranpo shoved himself further back, trying to meld with the wall as he pulled his hood over his face. Tanaka wisely chose to stay back.

Fukuzawa raised his arm to block Oda and Kunikida. “Enough.”

“But, President!” Kunikida sputtered. “Bram-san attacked—”

“He’s defending someone he cares about.” Fukuzawa interrupted, making eye contact with Bram, the vampire watching him closely. It was obvious to him that he’d reacted instinctively, moving to protect Ranpo because he’d thought that Dazai was a threat to Ranpo’s well-being. An entirely valid assumption considering that Dazai was sometimes a little… intense in his curiosity. He glanced over his shoulder at Kunikida. “Stand down. You too, Oda.”

Oda is the first to lower his weapon, and Kunikida hesitates for another moment before he too, lowered his weapon. And for once, Dazai didn’t say a word, shuffling backwards until he could climb to his feet. He seemed a little annoyed at being shoved to the ground, grumbling about the rough handling he’d received, but slunk back to stand behind Kunikida and Oda; it looked like he understood that he’d been the problem. For once.

Once the weapons were lowered, Bram relaxed too, and spun around to face Ranpo, resting a knee on the booth’s seat to lean over and speak quietly to the terrified man still sitting there, gentle as he reached out a hand to cup Ranpo’s cheek.

Fukuzawa in turn, addressed his employees. “Go back upstairs. I will send Oda a message when you can come back down.”

“Are you sure?” Oda asked, tilting his head a little.

“I am sure.” Fukuzawa said. “This is something I must do on my own.”

A minute passed before Oda nodded and gestured for the others to follow them. As they left, Fukuzawa turned to Tanaka and bowed apologetically. “I apologise for the disturbance, Tanaka-san. Might I borrow Bram-san for a moment?”

Tanaka sighed and nodded. “You may. I’ll give you some privacy.”

The elderly man ducked out into the back area of the café, and then it was just Fukuzawa, the boy he’d started to lose hope of ever seeing again, and his vampire… bodyguard?

Fukuzawa grabbed a chair from one of the tables and slowly crossed the room towards Bram and Ranpo.

Bram froze, slowly turning his head to glare at him, and Fukuzawa stopped where he was.

He would wait.

“It’s fine, Bram-kun.” Ranpo murmured, peering around the vampire’s side. “This is—this is Fukuzawa-san. The swordsman.”

Bram blinked, understanding dawning on his face. “The one that tried to protect you?”

Ranpo nodded.

And just like that, Bram moved to the side, leaning against the table, arms crossed. He looked relaxed, but it was obvious that he was ready to fight should the need arise. “You may come closer.”

Fukuzawa nodded and moved closer to the booth, stopping a good metre away and sitting on the chair he’d dragged along with him. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, wanting to reach out and touch Ranpo but also recognising what a terrible idea that would be right now. It’d been almost thirteen years and he had no idea what Ranpo had been through in that time.

Considering that Ranpo’s hair was now white instead of black, he has a feeling that it wasn’t good.

It was obvious that Ranpo also didn’t know what to do, shuffling forward to sit at the edge of the booth, yet he remained hunched in on himself, keeping his head low to avoid making eye contact.

It would be up to Fukuzawa to start the conversation.

“I never stopped searching for you.”

Ranpo stiffened and glanced up at him, holding his gaze for only a few seconds before lowering it again.

Fukuzawa tried again. “These past twelve years… I never stopped looking. I acquired the help of that assassin we apprehended and we searched and searched. Those people that were with me? They have also helped me search.”

“The Armed Detective Agency…” Ranpo said, scratching at his wrist with one hand. Bram frowned and reached over to pull his hand away, holding it loosely within his own. Ranpo squeezed the vampire’s hand and finally raised his head—and although he still wasn’t quite looking at Fukuzawa, he was at least looking in his direction. “You never stopped?”

“Not once.” Fukuzawa said, his words form.

And then there were tears welling up in those green eyes, spilling down Ranpo’s cheeks and suddenly Fukuzawa was thrown back to twelve years prior, back to Ranpo’s breakdown in the theatre about how the world was full of monsters. Back then, he hadn’t known what to do. But this time he did.

He was quick to move, coming to kneel in front of the booth as he drew Ranpo into his arms, holding the younger in a firm grip. At first, Ranpo stiffened, unsure of what was happening, but then he let himself fall apart, wrapping his arms around Fukuzawa’s neck and burying his face into the crook of it.

“I thought you’d died!” Ranpo sobbed, his grip tightening. “I thought that you’d been killed trying to protect me!”

“I almost did.” Fukuzawa said. He could still recall how death had been coming for him as he’d lain there, bleeding out on the floor of that warehouse. “I’m sorry that I failed to protect you, Ranpo.”

Ranpo shook his head. “We didn’t know they’d be there. They’d planned to come after me, they said so—that they’d been there for me, for my intellect that wasn’t an ability, but my natural skill.”

Fukuzawa held the young genius even tighter. “I’m still sorry.” He carded his fingers through white hair. “Where did they take you?”

Instead of answering, Ranpo began to tremble in his arms, but before he could ask what was wrong, Bram spoke up.

“We do not know who held us.” The vampire said, watching Ranpo with worry in his gaze. “It does not matter for they are dead anyway.”

“You were taken by them as well, Bram-san?”

Bram nodded. “I was taken well before Ranpo was, but he was my companion for the time he was there. It was a dark time for the both of us.”

Ranpo shuddered within Fukuzawa’s grip, and a quick glance showed that his tearful expression had been replaced with the haunted one he’d seen earlier.

He could only begin to imagine the kind of pain that Ranpo had gone through. He pulled back with the intention on giving Ranpo room to breathe, but the boy latched onto the sleeve of his yukata, holding it tight between his fingers. Fukuzawa didn’t dare move.

“Five years.” Ranpo rasped. “For five years, those people tortured me. They wanted to turn me into a human weapon, and when I failed them, they discarded me.”

Fukuzawa felt his heart start to shatter. He couldn’t understand how people could ever be so cruel to a child. “You survived.”

Ranpo gave a humourless laugh. “I told myself to fight, because I couldn’t let your sacrifice be in vain. I thought that if I thought, they’d see I wasn’t worth the effort and let me go. But—but—”

“But they didn’t.” Fukuzawa finished for him, and Ranpo nodded.

“I tried, Fukuzawa-san, I tried so hard. But I just couldn’t.”

Fukuzawa placed a hand over the top of Ranpo’s, feeling the warmth of life beneath his touch. “I know you did. The assassin—Oda—said that you would do whatever you could to survive. And seeing you here now, before me, I believe it. You did good, Ranpo. Whatever happened in that place, I am sure you did the best you could, and for that, Ranpo, I am proud of you.”

The tears from before returned in full force, and returned pulled the boy back into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly as he cried. Those were the tears of someone who’d been through unmeasurable pain, and he knew that he may never learn what happened for Ranpo to become the person he was—he wasn’t sure he wanted to know to begin with—he knew that he would do his best to make sure that the rest of Ranpo’s life was a good one. For as long as he lived, he would make sure that he and the rest of the Agency protected Ranpo—and Bram since it was clear to him that the vampire had no intention of leaving Ranpo. It was the least he could give the boy, after failing to protect him in the first place.

Tears of his own began to form, and Fukuzawa pressed his face against the top of Ranpo’s head.

No, he hadn’t failed.

It was because of his sacrifice that Ranpo had pushed himself to survive, forcing himself to live on because he’d believed Fukuzawa to have died.

And while they both wished that that night in the warehouse had gone differently, there was no changing the past; they simply had to live with the scars that night had given them, push on, and live.

[strscrossed]

Since request are opened, I would like to second the NannyKasa fic! I think it was super cute how you wrote it. I want to see her and Eren date and eventually have kids of their own and mix together their families. I can totally see mikasa and Eren having girls and max and Leo being confused as to how to play with them haha cause they’re just babies

this is a continuation of yesterday's fic! tbh this world has potential! let me know if there's anything specifically you'd like to see! putting a keep reading because there's vague descriptions of childbirth!

21 hours, 43 minutes. 

That’s how long it took to deliver her baby girl into the world. Through the very painful contractions, her thoughts would float back to her boys. Had they eaten? Did they get to school on time? Were they safe? 

“Mom’s watching them. Come on, Mika, just focus on your breathing, okay?” Eren soothed her. 

At 3:48 AM on the eighteenth of September, Emi Carla Jaeger entered the world with very little fuss. Everything else left her mind as her little baby was placed on her chest. Everything else melted away. 

“Eren,” she sobbed. “Look. Look…” 

“She looks just like you,” he muttered into her hair. “She’s perfect, Mikasa. I’m so proud of you.”

In between feeding and bonding time, Eren allowed Mikasa to sleep. When she woke up, she saw Eren holding Emi close, whispering how much he loved her and thanked her for existing. He refused to let her go. 

Carla brought the boys over that afternoon. It was Friday and the boys had school but Eren told her that they were so excited to meet their little sister. 

“Now, now boys. Remember, it’s a hospital, you have to stay real quiet, okay?” she heard Eren say outside. The boys were good about following directions. 

“Hey guys,” Mikasa waved. “Do you want to say hi to your little sister?” 

They nodded and she motioned to the little bassinet in the corner. Emi slept soundly but she’d have to wake up soon to be fed. 

Mikasa didn’t know what to expect, but she didn’t expect the boys to tear up. 

“She’s so small,” Leo commented, sniffling. “She’s so small, mama. She looks like a doll!” 

“Yeah,” Max agreed, quietly. “She looks like you.” 

It was times like this where Mikasa regretted not having her phone. She wanted to capture this moment. She wanted to stay in this moment forever. The boys were absolutely mesmerized by their little sister and Max was doing his best to wipe his tears. 

“Hi little one, hi. I’m your big brother,” Leo said. “Leo. And that’s Max, do you remember our voices?” 

The little boy was bouncing as excitedly as he was allowed. Emi was asleep right now. 

“Why is she sleeping, mama?” Leo asked. 

“Babies need a lot of sleep,” Mikasa answered. “It’ll help them grow.” 

Max was oddly silent but then Mikasa remembered this wasn’t his first time. He’d been too young to really understand when Leo was born but at 9 years old, he’d remember this exact moment for the rest of his life. He was a quiet, thoughtful boy. But Mikasa knew. She knew that he would love his sister dearly and protect her fiercely. 

“Alright,” Carla said. “Let me meet my first granddaughter!” 

Mikasa smiled as her mother-in-law looked into the bassinet as well. 

“Oh, Eren, Mikasa. She’s absolutely perfect!” she said. “Is it alright to hold her?” 

The tenderness of the moment faded. Now everyone wanted to hold her and, of course, Carla Jaeger won that battle. 

“But I want to hold her!” Leo whined when Max finally got a chance. 

“I’m her biggest brother,” Max huffed. “I get to hold her first!” 

Mikasa smiled as she watched the scene unfold before her. Her little family was all together, fawning and doting over their newest member. Little Emi was going to be the most beloved little girl in the whole world. 

Mikasa closed her eyes, allowing sleep to overtake her once more. Her happiness knew no bounds…

[creepylittlelady]

Zalgo’s Memories

(Content Warning!: Mentions of Sexual Assault (very light), Sexual content in general, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, maybe like one comment that can be depicted as racist. I don’t condone anything said in this.)

I remember the days when my mother was still there.

Her name was Eve, or Eden, or something like that.

It always smelt a bit damp and mouldy, it made me sick sometimes. I’d used to scratch at the walls to try and find where the bad smell was coming from, why I felt sick just from smelling it. My fingers would always be black afterwards, and my mother would hit me, saying that I shouldn’t make myself so dirty when I already was dirty.

I never knew what she meant. Was it because she made me out of sin? It must be why. The Priests always told me that children who were born from unmarried parents were sinful.

It was only one room. When mother was doing her work, she’d lock me in the closet whilst I heard those strange noises. It made me feel sick. Sometimes I’d make myself fall asleep whilst picturing that I was in a lovely warm bed and that I had one of those squishy fake bears that I saw at a carnival once before.

I hated the closet. It was damp and dark, I was only 3 years old. Sometimes she’d forget that I was in there. I think she felt remorse in those cold brown eyes of hers, but it was somewhere where I couldn’t see.

I remember the baths too. It was always cold, and I’d be hugging myself and shivering whilst she scrubbed at me furiously. My skin was always red and sore afterwards, it felt like she was trying to wash away something deep inside of me.

She was nice to me sometimes, once she gave me a slice of pie from a bakery and glared at me whilst I ate it. I think she might have loved me. Might have.

She hugged me once. It was after she let me out of the closet. I remember her screaming a lot, it made me feel scratchy inside. I mainly felt sick, because it was my own mother screaming after all. The man had walked out, I remember the heavy buckled boots like a bartenders, and she let me out and held me tight to her. I didn’t like it, but I still huddled to her close when she cried.

I didn’t like when she cried. It’d be loud and she’d wail. She’d say mean things to me.

“You’re my biggest regret.”

“You’re my sinful mistake.”

“You’re all I have. My sinful little boy.”

It felt bad. I didn’t feel nice. But she was my mother, and I felt like I had to listen to her anyways.

She was young, I think. She was real pretty too, she had curly blonde hair that was always done up real neat and her eyes were striking. I think that’s why a lot of men wanted her.

“You’re probably going to turn out just like them. Just another damned pervert. That’s all you men ever turn out to be. They’ll promise marriage and love, but they always run away the second they get what they want.”

“No matter how much you think you won’t end up like them; you will. You’re just like the rest of them; selfish and perverted.”

I suppose she was right.

I remember when I was 4 years old, and she disappeared. It was only for a day, but I sat there on the dirty floor, watching the rats scurry by, wondering if she would come home. It was scary. I was scared. I knew I was a sinful boy and I thought that God had decided to punish me once and for all by taking away my mother.

She came back, weeping into a baby and covered in blood. It smelt bad. Mother named her Lily, I’m not sure why. But I’d poke her face sometimes because it was really soft, and it gave me a weird feeling.

Mother didn’t like Lily. She’d call Lily a mistake, she wouldn’t feed her or take care of her. It wasn’t fair.

I remember when she punched her in the face for not wanting to eat. I remember I had to nurse her soft nose back to health. Mother felt guilty about it, because she collapsed down and started crying. I didn’t want to help her then.

“I’m a monster. You don’t love me.” She’d wail to me, and I wouldn’t respond. She looked ugly when she cried. She was normally so youthful and pretty. It felt weird.

I don’t know if I loved her or not. I wanted her to love me, but somewhere along down the line I stopped caring if she was there or not.

Sometimes she tried to be a mother. She taught me how to count a bit and the alphabet, although I only knew how to write my name.

A

S

H

T

O

N

Ashton. Mother never called me by my name. She’d always call me something, but it was never my name. It’s like she didn’t want to admit that I had a name, that I was real.

I was still upset, because now alongside me being in the closet when mother was working, Lily was there too. I don’t think babies like dark smelly closets, because she’d always start to cry. I’d have to muffle her mouth sometimes. When mother would let us out she’d look at Lily angrily; it felt weird.

I’d scratch at the walls like I normally did, and I’d dream about waking up to the smell of porridge and eggs. I’d never had an egg before. Mother wouldn’t tell me about them, but I’m sure they must have been nice.

“You’re such an ugly boy. Such an ugly colour you are.”

I didn’t know what colour I was. I think I’m normal, but mother always was paler than me. I must have looked like whoever my father was, that’s why she hated me.

Because I was ugly and sinful.

One day, after a cold day where she got no work, where me and Lily solemnly played on the corner of the room ourselves, she disappeared.

I saw her leaving through the door, and got up to chase her.

She was gone.

Into the thin air, she disappeared.

I simply sat there.

Just how sinful and disgusting am I, that my own mother wanted to leave me?

[octochick]

Biggest regret

Cw suicidal thoughts and attempt, blood, ooc

It was raining. Maybe it was surprising, or maybe not. It doesn't really matter.

Bagi's shoes squelched in the mud, dripping with water and blood. She walks, dodging the fallen bodies, white stained with a vivid red and the ashen mud.

She knows what she is looking for. It is right there, laying down in the mud. Dumb ass, that tank top is white, he'll never be able to get the stains out. At least use something darker, stupid head.

She squats next to him. Now, more than ever, she can feel every single raindrop falling on her. It rolls down her face, mixing with her tears, and fall warmly on the cold ground.

"Hey, can you walk?" She asks, shaking him lightly. He clenches his fists, but otherwise doesn't react.

Still, she gets him up. She puts one of his arms around her neck, and hugs his body onto hers. She starts dragging him, at first slowly as she carries the weight of two, but soon after faster, when he gets tired of being dragged.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll get a cold if you stay in the rain. I'm just taking you to somewhere with cover."

A second, just enough for him to comprehend her words, and then she was thrown to the mud, back connecting with a sharp rock with a sharp crack, one of her hands perforated by a knife and the wrist of the opposite hand broken, a silent scream trying to get out. He is over her, eyes maniac, giggles escaping from his lips.

"Why?"

"...I don't want you to get a cold." She answers, like it makes all the sense in the world.

He laughs, cruel and cold, and twists the knife in her hand. A whimper escapes her.

"When I needed you, you went to the other side, but now you come to me like nothing happened? What are you planning? Do you think I'm stupid?"

A small silence is settled over them. She looks at his eyes. Desperation.

"Yeah, a little bit." His knee meets with her shin, but she doesn't feel anything.

"Aren't you afraid of dying? Why did you suddenly decide to play with the monster?"

If possible, her eyes gets even more teary, fat tears rolling down her face and falling into her ears, making everything feel blurry and muffled, the pain dulling into the background from the pain her heart released upon her.

"You are my biggest regret." This somehow manages to surprise him, the emotion passing by in a second before being hidden by a scowl, but before he could talk, Bagi continued. "I love you so much," her voices breaks, and her breath comes out in small bursts. It feels like hyperventilation. "the only thing I want is for you to have a happy and healthy life, but you are my biggest regret."

"Since you disappeared, you are my biggest regret. You don't understand how much I love you, all I want is to see you happy and healthy, but you also don't understand how deep my regret is."

"Since the first day without you, I wanted to forget you, I wished you were never born. I wished I were never born."

"But I love you so much, that I kept searching. No matter how much my regret said that I should give up, I still kept going."

"You don't know how many times I wished to have been a single child. You have no idea how many times I wished I was dead. You have no idea how many times I thought of going to the Federation and asking them to forget everything about myself, to be reborn just like you once were."

"But I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't!"

"Because I love you. I hate it, but I love you."

It was silent. Bagi felt faint, like she would pass out at any moment. She couldn't see what face her brother was making.

"I'm weak. I suffered so much less than you, and I'm so weak. I'm so weak, that I can only beg to my biggest regret."

"Please, kill me. Kill me permanently, kill my regrets and my love, please, kill me and free me from my suffering. I'm weak and can't take it anymore."

Bagi was long hyperventilating, violent sobs wrecking her as she finishes ranting, but just now she closed her eyes.

A moment of suspense, and she felt knife's edge at her throat. She sobs, and her blood drowns her. She feels it in her lungs as they desperately try to work, she feels the rain, she feels her broken spine, she feels her stabbed hand, she feels her broken wrist, and she doesn't feel her brother hovering over her dying body.

The moment her body gives up is the moment she respawns.

And she doesn't feel nothing.

It didn't work. She's still alive. Her love is still alive. Her regret is still alive.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

For all my hate for OBD Riddler I do think it brings an interesting concept for an AU: what if Edward's mother had kept him? I don't know why I kept thinking about it and not sleeping even though I have a test tomorrow morning and I ended up writing some random things about it:

" She should never have kept him. She knows that, has always known that.

Edward looks at her with big inocent brown eyes and questions too complex for a boy his age and she knows she should have gave him away. Is not that she doesn't love him.

She didn't at the start. When he would take her sleep and her employers with loud cries and empty bellies. But while she knows that she can't truly remember how it is not loving him.

No, she thinks again, looking at his too big second rate clothes and messy red hair, is because she loves him that she should have let him go. Because a boy like him is wasted here. What matters if her son can read at two when they are barely scraping above the poverty line? She should have let his father take him away."

-

"Edward Tierney never grows to be a troubled young man in a boarding school terrifield of his father fury and tamed down by riddles.

Instead Edward Nasthon grows to be a troubled young man in a poor part of the city terrifield the violence of Gotham will take his mother away. For him riddles and puzzle books aren't a sign of failure, they are his one strengh.

The Riddler is born either way.

But Edward Nygma is a very different man depending on the story we tell here."

-

"She still remember that day.

The biggest decision of her life. Her biggest failure, the one she does never truly regret.

The baby in her arms turns and tussles as if knowing that this is the moment that will change his life forever. And in another life she would have done the right thing, Edward would be raised in fancy clothes and warm meals and have access to all the knowledge his heart so desperadly desires. But on this life she didn't.

She couldn't.

Not when the man, the fateful client, the father, looked at their son like that. She knew that look, the contempt and disgust, she had accepted that judmental rich white man would always look at her like this, as if she was lesser. But to see him look at their son that way. To know on her gut he would love the boy less just because it was hers.

Hot anger fueled to her veins. All she remembers after is the man leaving and saying that she better not expect child support because he won't pay for his own blood to be raised by a whore. She never sees him again and life goes on."

_

"She sees him again. She knows it's him the moment her eyes met his and she almost feels ashamed somehow, almost hides, but she refuses to lose. This city already broke her too much as it is. "

-

"Edward is four years old when he sees his first body. Mom took him for a fun day in the park close to the appartment and even bought a cheap ice cream cone for them to share.

He is running around trying to discover the secrets of the park. Maybe catalog it's bugs, he read a book about bugs recently in one of his visits to the library. He would like to study them closer. Instead he finds the remains of a woman.

He is four and he read a book on the human body once but even if not he knows it should not be open like that. He knows it's weird and wrong. He pokes it with a stick and tries to see if the insides match the book.

His mother finds him ten minutes later. She looks horrifield at the scene before grabbing him and hugging him way to tight. They don't go to the park again."

-

"She can't say no to the schoolarship.

It would be unfair.

Her boy is smart too smart for his own good but more importantly too smart for what she can give him. And this is a chance to give him a future. It's a good sign. First the boarding school and then a good college all paid.

And if she could take more clients knowing Edward would be far away all the best. So you see, irrecusable ofter. Even when he is also there.

"And remember-"

"Behave, try to make friends instead of just studying all the time and do not engage with the principal unless absolutly necessary." He says with the habitual pre teen annoyance. Although not even it is enoght to hide his excitement. She is doing the right thing. "There's a thing I don't unserstand." Edward continues curious as always. "Why is not talking to the principal so important? I do understand you don't want me to cause trouble but why ask this in a separate order from behave?"

She brushes some strands of orange hair from his face. He is big now. Soon he will be bigger than her.

"Eddie" she pleads "For once in your life, don't ask question."

He pouted. And she had to supress the smile. They might grow fast but he will ways be her little boy.

"But-"

"No buts, let this one go, son. I'll ground you if need for."

He pouted harder but noded.

"Okay, mom. I won't ask about it."

He lied.

She pretends to believe him."

[mari-m-rose]

I was tagged by alemanriq (a lot of time ago...I'm revising my drafts. Thanks tho, Ale! ♥)

Tag the person who tagged you and let them know when you’ve finished. (I'm not doing this, tagging people gives me anxiety)

Answer the questions/tasks and then tag 20 people and let them know they’ve been tagged

1. How tall are you? 1.58 m

2. What color and style is your hair? Dark brown and straight

3. Which color are your eyes? Dark brown, almost black

4. Do you wear glasses or contacts? I used to wear glasses but I never got used to them so I dropped them, didn't need them that much.

5. Do you wear braces? I should but I'm not.

6. What’s your fashion style? I like formal attire or close to formal: coats, boots, shirts and jeans, maybe a sweater but a thin one. Dresses in summer.

7. What is your name? Mariana, but I prefer to be called Mari

8. When were you born? 21st December 1990

9. How old are you? 32

10. Where are you from/live now? Perú

11. Do you have any siblings and what are their names? Older brother

12. What school/college do you go to? Graduated at the supposedly best uni in Perú but not actually.

13. What kind of student are you? In uni I was a bad a student, like a bit bellow average. In high school I was a very good student most of my life.

14. Do you even like school? I loathed high school. I liked most of my uni years, more because of friends, less because of learning.

15. What are your favorite subjects? Literature, art, music, language, english, french, biology, art history.

16. What are your favourite tv shows? Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul are amazing shows. As for anime, my fave are Yu Yu Hakusho, HunterxHunter 2011, Akatsuki no Yona, Re:Zero, Digimon tamers/02 and those are all I can remember right now.

17. What are your favourite movies? I adore Pride and Prejudice (basic I know), but in general I tend to adore horror movies more like Midsommar, Hereditary and zombie movies in general.

18. What are your favorite books? Dracula, uh... polemyc I know but I will always say HP series and ...I can't remember any other one rn tbh.

19. What is your favourite pass time? Playing videogames but also organizing stuff and fixing stuff around the house

20. Do you have any regrets? Majoring in graphic design.

21. What’s your dream job? character designer...and if I learn how to draw/shade/color better: illustrator.

22. Would you like to get married one day and where? I did get married, I think the places were nice. It was a beautiful church with a gothic design and the reception was in a house on the country side. The house had a vintage colonial style and it was pretty elegant, the garden with the pool looked nice and the decor me and husband chose was top notch.

23. Would you like to have kids one day and how many? I don't earn enough money to have kids but if I got money I would have 2 kids.

24. Are you a girly girl, a regular girl, or more of a tomboy? I was a regular one most of my life? Kinda like comfy type and no make-up. Now I'm girly, I want all the pink and all the make up!

25. Do you like shopping? Just the right amount of time but yeah.

27. What is the most scariest nightmare you’ve ever had? Some guys entered my family home and killed everyone. I even remember feeling the bullet in my stomach and the blood coming out of me before I woke up.

28. Do you have enemies? I have no enemies.

29. Who are your best friends? I'm not so sure, I'm insecure in this field. I used to think I had 3, but idk anymore.

30. Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend and what is their name? Husband and he doesn't like his info to be disclosed so I won't name him.

31. What is the biggest lie you have ever told anyone? I'm not a good liar.

32. Do you believe in miracles? Yes

Put your music on shuffle and write down 30 songs that come up without skipping. (How about just 5) 1. Almost Home - mxmtoon 2. That's What I like - Bruno Mars 3. Golden Time Lover - Sukima Switch 4. Helena - My Chemical Romance 5. This is Love - Utada Hikaru

This is the part where you tag 20 people! As for me, if you read this you are tagged! You can tag me if u fill this btw, my anxiety only goes one way.