#or any man from the darling family tree for that matter

[thoughtsspewer]

walden is like literally an abuser and its disturbing that yall like him at all

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Cat and Mouse

Dark!Dad!Barty Crouch Jr. x Mom!Reader

Wc: ~4k

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

CW: Dark!Possessive!Barty, AFAB!Reader, reader has a young daughter, themes of control and manipulation, being stalked, break in, a brief moment where the reader thinks her daughter is in danger, Invasion of personal space and autonomy

AN: Heavily inspired by this fic, 1000% recommend

Your daughter's giggles were always your favorite sound, especially so early in the morning. You could swear by it, it was better than any alarm clock.

Today was no exception. As you crawled out of your bed and got to your feet. You couldn't help but smile, wrapping yourself up in your silk robe and slipping on your slippers, following after the lovely sound to your daughters room. You put your hand on the doorknob and leaned down to bring your ear closer, smiling brighter as you heard her giggles persist.

“Is that funny?” You heard a deep voice coo. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Suddenly, the bright sun of the morning chasing away all the dangers of the night felt like a fool’s tale. The shining walls and work you'd done to get here meant nothing. The summer heat that chased away the night chill did nothing to warm you as the feelings of dread overtook you.

You opened the door, trying to school your expression. Your eyes locked on your daughter who turned and smiled wide at you. “Momma! Momma, Daddy's home!”

She always looked so happy. Whenever he would come back, whenever he would find you, your daughter would look at you with those big delighted eyes. The same ones she shared with the man in front of her. You couldn't help but notice a bit of a breeze crawl up your back, not from the stare of the monster before you, but as you turned to discover, your hall window was open..

You don't know what was more terrifying, the fact he was able to get past your wards or the fact he was able to do it without waking you.

“Yeah, princess. Daddy's home.” Barty gushed to his little girl, finally getting you to turn and face him. His eyes were already locked on yours. His eyes said it all, he was challenging you, to say anything, to deny him, to push him over the edge. You had grown familiar with Barty’s looks.

In Hogwarts, he would use them to keep your quiet, remind you not to let people see you get too close to him, to keep you obedient and complacent in the web he meticulously crafted just for you. The web he still had you trapped in all these years later- you struggled, that's all you could do.

Because what could a muggleborn witch like you do to protect yourself from falling in love with a Crouch? To fall victim to his endless worship of you, just to turn around and scorn your blood in front of the people he craved to impress. It was for your protection, he guaranteed, that Voldemort would make an exception of you. That he knew your soul was destined for him and he would make it clear to everyone else that it was true.

“Darling, I'm just going to speak to mommy for a moment, alright?”

Your daughter pouted, holding up her tea cup and he laughed, waving his wand to show her the same thing you assumed he must have been showing her to make her giggle. His bloody magic. The magic you begged him not to expose her to. It wasn't safe, not for you. Certainly not for your daughter, a stain on his family tree.

When he finished he gave her a kiss to her temple, and ruffled her hair. Standing up and walking across the room to you. Quickly, you turned and grabbed your wand from your pocket. Muttering a quick spell on the window as you passed, on your way to the kitchen.

It was the same routine, everytime he found you. Fix whatever damages had been caused, close the blinds, he would dismiss your daughter so you two could talk. You knew Barty could never bring himself to hurt you, in no world would he let any harm come to you or his little girl, but that didn't mean you didn't fear his anger.

You learned what testing his limits could mean. When the war began and you found out you were pregnant, Barty was ecstatic. He bought a home in the Hogwarts highlands, he used you as his get away. He would fight in a war against who you were and come home to dote on you like you were some god. It worked, at first, you were so blinded by love you didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

It was the friends you had closed out that brought you back to reality. Sirius showed up when he knew Barty would be gone, begging you to see reason. He promised you he and Remus would be there when you came to your senses. It took a few days but eventually you packed a bag. When Barty came home you begged him to leave with you, to either join your friend's side of the war or leave it completely with you.

But Barty, he had a way about him. A way that made you foggy minded and willing to forget yourself for hours. When you woke up in his bed, alone again the next morning, you knew it was time.

You'd spent months on end trying to keep away from him. But no matter where you went, he always found you.

Your daughter's giggles echoed in your mind as you moved through the motions, trying to calm down. The warmth of the morning now felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned against you. Barty’s presence had that effect- stealing the light, replacing it with a cold dread that settled deep in your bones.

In the kitchen, you set your wand down on the counter, your hand shaking slightly. You didn’t bother with tea or the pretense of normalcy. There was no use in trying to act like this was just another visit. He always saw through that.

The sound of his footsteps was deliberate, slow and measured as he entered the kitchen behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was watching you, that smug sense of control radiating from him like a dark cloud.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” Barty said casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t just broken into your home and stolen another morning of peace. “I almost didn’t find you this time.”

You tightened your grip on the counter but didn’t respond. Any words you said now would only fan the flames.

“Still,” He continued, his voice calm but with an edge that made your skin crawl, “you should know better by now. There’s no point in running. Not from me.”

“What do you want, Crouch?” You snapped, your voice sharp but low, desperate to keep your daughter blissfully unaware in her room. Your jaw tightened as your heart raced, every muscle in your body screaming at you to act, to escape, but you knew better.

“Ouch,” Barty murmured, the word drawn out like a mockery of your tone. He gave a low, familiar chuckle that made your skin crawl. “No ‘hello’? No ‘it’s good to see you’? Have I fallen so far in your affections, my love?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a smooth stride. Your body stiffened as his hand slid over your arm, slow and deliberate, the other curling around your waist. Even as you resisted, he pulled you firmly back into his chest.

You felt his breath against your neck, warm and slow, the press of his nose grazing your skin as he inhaled deeply. “Still wearing that perfume I like,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though you were lovers reunited instead of prey cornered by a predator.

“Let go of me,” You hissed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t. Instead, he hummed softly, almost contentedly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know,” He began, his voice silkier now, “I always miss this when you’re gone. The way you fit so perfectly here-” his hand pressed against your waist, possessive, “-like you were made for me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his cold, calculating eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” You shot back, forcing as much venom into your words as you could muster. “That this is love? That what you’ve done to me- to us- is anything but a twisted game now?”

Barty’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to remind you of his strength. The smile on his lips faded, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

“Careful,” He warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, a quiet menace laced in his tone. “You’re upset. I’ll forgive it this time, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to lose you now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still. Reacting would only make things worse. He thrived on control, on watching you squirm under the weight of his presence. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction- not now.

“What do you want?” You asked again, your voice calmer this time, though the ice in your tone was unmistakable.

He tilted his head, a flash of amusement returning to his features. “You. Her. Us. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“There is no us, Barty,” You said through clenched teeth, daring to step out of his grasp. This time, he let you, though his gaze never left you, sharp and predatory.

“You keep saying that,” He mused, leaning casually against the counter as if he belonged there. Watching as you stayed a foot or so away. As if he was unsatisfied with the distance, he reached forward and pulled you back to him.. “And yet, here we are. You, me, and our perfect little girl.” His smile returned, sinister and self-assured. “I hate fighting with you. You know what?” He mumbled, pressing lazy kisses up from your neck to your cheek. With all your fight you couldn't bring yourself to attempt to push him away again.

Because despite everything, he was still the man you loved more then life sometimes. The only person you'd ever care more for now- was the very person tying you to him.

It was the same game every time. Barty would find you, tearing through the fragile walls of peace you’d built, leaving only fragments of the life you’d tried to carve out without him. He’d remind you of who he was- not just with his suffocating eyes or possessive touches, but with the way he’d command your space, your air, your very existence. He loved you the way a bonfire devours kindling, bright and all-consuming, but he swore you were the creatures he warmed by his flames.

In truth, Barty was a forest fire. Unrelenting, destructive, impossible to escape. He touched every tree but left none standing. He created a cage of danger, an inescapable labyrinth of fear and passion that kept you tethered to him. And you- trapped between wanting to run and wanting to stay- played right into his hands every time.

The moment you found a new place to call home, he would be there, clawing his way back into your life as if he had every right to. He’d paw at you like a man starved, eyes ravenous, hands desperate to feel every inch of you again. He’d spoil your daughter rotten, making her laugh and smile in ways that made you both grateful and bitter all at once. And then, when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d leave.

Every time. He’d leave.

To fight a war against the very thing he swore to love.

And yet, it wasn’t the war that broke you. It was the time in between- the stolen mornings, the whispered promises, the moments where you allowed yourself to believe he could change.

Because between the fights, between the harsh hands and the soft touches, you would melt. You would dissolve into the girl you once were, blinded by the love you still harbored for the boy he used to be. The boy who worshipped you with a ferocity that made you feel invincible. The boy who told you he would destroy anyone who dared to harm you, even as he slowly became the very thing you feared.

And somehow, in the fleeting moments of quiet, you still loved him.

The realization burned like a curse, hotter and sharper than any spell. Because even now, as you stood in the kitchen with his shadow still lingering in on the counter you clung to- as he continued to trial his lazy kisses across your skin, your heart betrayed you. It clung to the memory of his laugh, his touch, the way he’d hold you like you were his whole world.

Your heart ached with a contradiction you couldn’t reconcile, the tangled knot of love and fear twisting tighter with every lazy kiss Barty trailed along your neck. His lips were soft, familiar, stirring a warmth you hated yourself for feeling. Even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to fight, to remind him that he had no place here, your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his presence.

He whispered something, too low for you to hear, his breath brushing against your ear. It didn’t matter what he said; the words were always the same. Sweet nothings designed to make you forget the darkness he carried, the danger he brought into your life.

Your hands gripped the counter tighter, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself. But his voice, his touch, the intoxicating familiarity of him- it was suffocating.

“I miss this,” Barty murmured, his tone deceptively gentle as his hand slid from your waist to rest against your hip. “I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears threatening to spill to stay where they were. He didn’t deserve them. Not anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” You whispered, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You don’t get to miss me, Barty. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Everything I’ve done,” he repeated slowly, as if the words themselves amused him. “Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. For that perfect little girl you gave me- thank you.” He breathed, low and condescending, even as you felt his lips curl into that familiar sweet smile. “Thank you for her.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, tears finally slipping past your eyes. “You don't get to thank me. How dare you-”

"Momma? Daddy?"

The small voice cut through the tension like a spell, making both of you freeze. Your daughter stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed owl, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of worry.

Barty turned first, his entire demeanor softening in an instant. The dangerous glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth and affection so convincing it made your stomach churn.

"Hey, princess," he cooed, crouching to her level. "What are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to keep practicing your tea party skills?"

Ophelia tilted her head, looking between the two of you. "You were shouting," she said simply, her tiny voice laced with innocence. "Are you and Mommy mad?"

Your throat tightened, and you struggled to find the words, but Barty was faster.

"Of course not, darling," he said, his tone dripping with sweetness as he reached out to her. She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to pull her closer. "Mommy and I were just talking about grown-up things. Boring, silly stuff, nothing to worry about."

You wanted to scream. To contradict him.

You hated it. How well he treated her, how much of a father he could be. You knew it had to be some form of healing for him, wanting to give his daughter the father he never had. But it didn’t make it any easier for you to watch. It didn’t make it easier to stomach how easily he could shift from the storm that haunted your nights to the warm, doting father who seemed so perfect in her eyes.

"Mommy?" Ophelia’s voice pulled you back to the present, her wide, curious eyes locked on yours. She had Barty’s eyes, that same piercing gaze that could see straight through you. It was both beautiful and heart breaking, knowing what those eyes had seen before they became hers.

You forced yourself to smile, though it felt as fragile as glass- quickly brushing away your tears in hopes she didn't see them. "No, sweetheart," You cooed, your voice soft but tight. "Mommy and Daddy aren’t mad. Daddy’s just being… silly, as usual."

She giggled, the sound like bells in the tense air. Barty gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if the two of them shared some secret that didn’t include you. It made your skin crawl but your heart throb all the same. This wasn't fair.

"See, angel? Everythings alright.” Barty scooped her up effortlessly, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His expression softened further, the love in his eyes so genuine it made your heart ache. “Mommy just worries too much sometimes,” He teased with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray curl out of Ophelia’s face. “But you don’t need to worry, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of everything.”

Ophelia rested her head against his shoulder, her small fingers clutching his collar. “Promise?” She asked softly, her innocent trust making your chest tighten.

“I promise,” He replied, his voice warm and soothing. His eyes flicked back to you, the unspoken challenge still lingering beneath his tenderness. “Daddy always keeps his promises, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, busying yourself with the kettle on the counter. Anything to avoid the sight of them together, to ignore the knot of guilt and helplessness that twisted tighter in your chest with every word.

“Daddy,” Ophelia murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. “Will you stay this time?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. You dared to glance over your shoulder, catching the way Barty’s expression softened further. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in his eyes- only love, raw and unfiltered.

“For as long as I can, my little star,” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She beamed at him, her giggles filling the room again as he twirled her around, the tension momentarily forgotten. But as you watched, the weight of reality settled heavily on your shoulders. This was the game he always played- pulling you in, wrapping you in the warmth of a family you desperately wanted to protect, only to remind you of how fragile it all was.

“Ophelia,” You called, your voice gentle and thick. “Are you hungry, baby?”

Ophelia perked up at the sound of your voice, turning her head just enough to look at you over Barty’s shoulder. “Yes, Mommy!” She chirped, her stuffed owl clutched tightly in one hand. “Can we have pancakes? The ones with the happy faces?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stepped toward the pantry. “Of course, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first, okay? And don’t forget to set up your tea party things for later.”

She wriggled out of Barty’s arms with the unbridled energy only a child could have, her little feet padding across the floor as she darted out of the kitchen. Her laughter echoed down the hall, leaving a momentary warmth in its wake that quickly dissipated as you felt Barty’s gaze settle on you again.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with gathering the ingredients for pancakes, focusing on the mundane task like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Barty murmured, his tone soft but pointed. “Every time I see her, she’s more like you. Stubborn, sharp, and so full of life.”

You bristled at his words but didn’t respond, your hands steady as you set a mixing bowl on the counter.

“But she has my eyes,” He continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering to that dangerous, familiar drawl. “Doesn’t she?”

You slammed the whisk down a little harder than intended, finally turning to face him. “What do you want, Barty?” you demanded a final time, your voice low and sharp. “You’ve played the loving father card. You’ve made your presence known. What’s next? What do you think this is going to accomplish?”

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “Accomplish?” he echoed, as though the very word amused him. “Oh, love, this isn’t about accomplishing anything. This is about being where I belong. With my family.”

“This isn’t your family,” You shot back, the venom in your voice unmistakable. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend you belong here, not after everything you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, the playful edge to his smirk hardening into something colder. Then, slowly, he smiled. That same boyish charming smile you always thought to be true. He stepped behind you, running his palms down your arms with a low sigh. “I really do hate fighting you, star.”

His hands slid down your arms, his touch deceptively gentle, but his grip firm enough to remind you of the power he held. You froze as Barty leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice soft, yet laced with something darker. "I hate how stubborn you are, how you make me work so hard to remind you of what we have."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him, to meet those piercing eyes that could always see straight through you. “What we had,” you corrected coldly, though your voice trembled.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can say that as much as you want,” he said, his fingers trailing down your sides to your waist, holding you in place. “But we both know it’s not true. We still have it. You feel it every time I’m near, don’t you? Just like I do.”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. You hated how weak you sounded, how easily he unraveled you.

But Barty didn’t let go. Instead, he turned you to face him, his hands settling on your hips as his stormy eyes bore into yours. "You’ve given me the best gift, love,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked toward the hallway where Ophelia had disappeared. “Her. You. You’re my everything. Both of you. And you know that.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as his words pierced through your defenses. “You don’t get to say that,” you choked out. “You don’t get to act like you’re some devoted father when you’re-” Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip, desperate to hold yourself together. “You’re the reason I had to run. The reason she’s in danger.”

“In danger?” Barty repeated, his voice sharp now, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to either of you? Do you really believe I’d let anyone touch my family?”

“You’ve already put us in danger,” you shot back, your anger flaring despite the tears threatening to fall. “Your choices, your loyalty to him- you’ve made us targets, Barty. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “For us. I took that mark to protect you. I fought for a place in his world so he wouldn’t touch you or her. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse,” you hissed, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t get to justify everything you’ve done by pretending it was for me. You made your choices, Barty. You chose him over me. Over us.”

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as his grip felt possessive, inescapable. “I chose you,” he insisted, his voice trembling with a rare vulnerability. “Every single time, I chose you. And I’d do it again, star. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Let me live my life. Let me protect her.”

“I can’t do that,” He said, shaking his head as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re mine. Both of you. And I won’t let you take her- or yourself- away from me again.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the space between you, suffocating and undeniable. You hated how your heart ached at the raw desperation in his voice, how a part of you wanted to believe him, to give in like you always did.

“You always do this,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You make me forget how much I hate you.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple in a touch so tender it made your chest ache. “That’s because you don’t hate me, love. You never have. And you never will.”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your tears soaked into his shirt. “This isn’t fair,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him.

“No,” he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the very chaos he’d brought into your life. “But I’ll make it right, star. I’ll prove to you that this is where you’re meant to be. Where we’re meant to be.”

And as much as you wanted to fight, as much as you wanted to push him away and reclaim the life you’d fought so hard to build, a part of you- the part that had always belonged to him- knew he was right.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought, Barty Crouch Jr. would always find his way back to you.

And you would always let him in.

[sugoi-writes]

Can I be 🦇 anon? For some reason I’ve always been obsessed with the flexing part of an arm? I don’t know the technical term but I can’t see Demon Al doing this as much as his human counterpart would sooooooooo human Alastor with his sweetheart who has never EVER soon for him like woman usually do I mean he has ladies fainting LMAOA HOWEVER one day when he’s cutting idk wood or something she sees his arm flex she’s like a puddle I mean full fangirling giggling and screaming and he’s like huh??? Until he realizes and then boom from then on he’s flexing any time he can to pull a scream from her

🦇Anon? Love it! I'm a big fan of bats! This ask was too adorable. I just KNEW I could cook something up!

It does get a liiiiittle suggestive in parts, but otherwise stays perfectly appropriate! FEAST, my dearies!!!

"Love? The fire is going out! We'll need more firewood!" You call from inside. You make your way to the door, your top half hovering just outside as you searched for your darling beau. You've always enjoyed your time with him at his family's cabin, a piece of his inheritance that was used quite often. And, of course, it was highly appreciated by the both of you.

Your eyes dart about until you heard a distinct CHOP, eyes finding Alastor with his axe buried into an old tree stump. His smile widens when he sees you, wiping the sweat from his brow. You feel your pulse race, surprised to see his bare chest gleaming in the sunlight. The humid, thick air that permeated in the South could not be helped, and so, Alastor worked without a shirt on. Even with this simple and understandable notion, you found yourself fond of (and shocked by) the rare sight. You try to make your face pleasantly neutral and wave, trying to save face.

"No worries, dear. 'Already mending that problem!"

You chuckle, leaning fully into the door frame as Alastor positions a new log to cleave through. The Summer was good for one thing, you reasoned; seeing Alastor's chest, bared for only you to see, heaving steadily as he worked. Better yet, you could practically feel the gaze he gave back to you, his knowing smile making you beam every time you saw it. While you weren't like most others, not being overly doting or frivolous about his appearance, you still appreciated and treasured it deeply.

When Alastor returned to his work, your eyes fixated on his hands, then his arms. Indeed, you were very familiar with how powerful they were. They did wonders for and to you. But then: you see a flex. A jut and shift of his bicep has your mouth watering lecherously. As his grip relaxed on the axe, his body bending down to grab another log, you watched the muscles in his arm relax and re-fire. This set of motions repeated for a time, much to your enjoyment. As an extra treat, sometimes a vein in his neck would pop out at the same time his forearms and triceps strained, making your pupils bloom and shrink with hunger.

It was, without a doubt, an extremely alluring sight. Each time the axe raised over his head, your eyes followed, forcing you to stiffle a nervous chuckle. God, he was too beautiful for his own good. He was too strong for you to handle, and far too beautiful to be a called simple, minimalist man. His body was the work of a master craftsman, thank God.

As another piece of firewood was cut, you covered you mouth, stifling a squeal as he brought a towel to his forehead, huffing from his efforts. When he heard your little noises, he turned to you, his smile drooping slightly," Anything the matter, dear?" You were quick to shrink back, waving his concern off with a nervous laugh.

"Ha-ha, NO! No, I'm fine! Don't worry about me! I-I'll start working on dinner, okay?" Alastor doesn't seem convinced, squinting in your direction. His glasses were cast aside earlier, in fear they may fall off and become a victim of his labor," If you say so, dear. I'll be inside in a moment to help with the potatoes, mon cherie." You nod and turn to go inside, your face still boiling hot as you try to distract yourself. Your body starts to go through the motions, chopping veggies that were freshly harvested to use in your stew. You try to focus on the task at hand, your mind lingering on images of Alastor's physique. You had failed at your task stupendously. You felt no remorse!

You couldn't help but squirm at the mental images: veins and muscles shifting from physical effort. That devilishly handsome smile and toned body... it made your heart race! You wondered what his arms must've looked like when he was hovering above you... Your grip was tightening as you chopped the veggies faster, your safety disregarded. You giggle to yourself, eyes closing momentarily to focus on the pleasant thought of Alastor caging you with his muscular arms until--

"FUCK-- shit!"

No sooner did you wail was Alastor at the door, slamming it open," What happened??? What did--"

Alastor's eyes were wide, pupils shrunken to mere pinpricks as he took in your form. You held your bleeding finger, huffing.

"I-It's fine, it's fine! I'm fine!" You reassure, grabbing a handtowel to press to your wound. Alastor strode over to you, tongue clicking at your carelessness. As he went to put his axe down, your eyes caught his arms again, yelping as you turn away hastily. Your sudden movement left your partner clueless.

Alastor pauses again, a brow raising," My love, what's gotten into you? You've never been this careless before..."

You shuddered as Alastor came behind you, hands resting on the counter on either side of your hips," Are you sure you're quite alright?"

He leaned in to kiss your cheek, coaxing you into looking his way. You began yelping again, your mouth slamming shut as you tear your eyes away from his body. Alastor grumbles, slightly annoyed with your silence," Sweetheart, I can't help you if you don't use your words--"

One hand snatches you by the hip, spinning you quickly around while the other takes your wounded hand.

You eyes are blown wide, unable to make eye contact as they stare down at Alastor's arms," I-Im fine, really just-- just got lost in my thoughts! I promise!"

Between Al's proximity, his partial nudity, and those arms trapping you, you felt like your face blazed hotter than the fucking Sun. Alastor seemed to catch on, watching as your legs squeezed, shifting your weight uncomfortably. He leans closer to you, the muscles in his torso expanding and contracting with his movements. You sigh shakily, stifling a blissful squeak. Ahh. So it was him that was causing you to fret...

Alastor began to chuckle slowly at first, before laughing heartily. You stammered as a large hand came to your shoulder to steady himself, your lips blubbering pathetically. He was laughing fairly hard, causing his abdominals to flex and seize (a sight too delicious to behold). You were whining, on the verge of squealing as you weakly pushed against him again.

"A-Alastor, if you don't back up, I just might NOT be okay!!!" Alastor couldn't help himself, working himself into short bursts of stitches as he calms down, eyes watering.

"Ohhh, dearest... honestly, was I really that distracting to you?" His voice was low and flirtatious as you felt yourself being pressed into the counter, his hips holding you in place. You nearly shrieked as Alastor's hands gripped the counter harshly, knuckles white. Your mouth fell agape with a silent moan as the muscles in his upper arms and pecs stirred once more. You push against him once more, feeling as though you would pop like a balloon.

"A-Al, this isn't cute!!! Stop it, please!" You practically whine as Alastor just leaned, kissing your bright, heated cheeks.

"Well, I suppose I could go chop more wood, if the space could offer you some reprieve..."

You gasp as your chin is pulled forward, forcing you to make eye contact with him. If you weren't in your prime, you'd fear having a stroke at the sight of his almond colored eyes staring back into yours with a tumultuous energy.

"But, I think we both know you'd prefer that I stay rii~iiight here, don't you?" He teased, his lips dangerously close to your own. Your own lips quivered at the relentless pestering, your eyes struggling to make contact again," W-Well, I-- you know I-- uugghhh, if you keep teasing me, dinner is going to be late!!!"

"That's fiiiine by me!" Alastor says in a sing-song tone, and to your horror, you are lifted and placed onto the counter with minimal effort. Your eyes become transfixed on him, unable to clench your legs closed. Alastor knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn't going to let you off the hook so easily. Your partner moved to be between your thighs, his voice a husky gravel; his tone was JUST loud enough for you to process.

"How about we start with dessert first, hmm~?"

[meo-eiru]

Sooo... I thought of some random idea as a 'what if.' That 'what if' being what if the human/darling Silas found was a child instead? Of course,then he wouldn't be attracted to them in any way since that'd be icky- But I do imagine it to be rather interesting! So here's a lil story I made for it,if you don't mind^^ (just gave the child a name to make it easy): Daisy was hiking with her family on a decently high cliff above the forest,but not high enough to be labeled as drastic. Although it'd happen that Daisy got too curious for her own good and wandered too close to the edge,thus falling and ending herself up in the woods. She survived the fall by landing on some bushes that helped break her fall somewhat,but she hit her head pretty bad on the way down and due to that she cannot remember who she was with before nor how she got here. She wandered and wandered through the woods while the side of her head bled,eventually she grew tired and sat down under a tree only to momentarily hear a gasp. As she looked up she some man who pointy ears and who stood at about 250cm tall. Daisy herself was shocked to see someone so tall,the person themselves who is Silas- was also shocked to a) see a human and b) such a young and small one at that! Although he'd soon notice the cut on her head and approach,picking her up. Daisy got spooked at first but calmed down with his reassurance and then he asked what happened. She says she fell but when he asked from where,she cannot remember. Silas decides to take the child back to his house in the elven village to patch her up. After doing so,he decides that the child will stay with him from now on. P.S love your writing btw,I find it rather intriguing with the dynamics you create!

Aww this was so cute🥰

I personally don’t really want Silas to end up with an actual child because the reason the original darling can handle him to some extent is because they are a mature adult aware of what he’s doing is wrong and can protect their mental health to some extent no matter how much Silas messes up.

An actual child wouldn’t be able to do that. And life with Silas isn’t just sunshine and rainbows, he’ll mess up the child’s physical and mental needs while thinking he’s doing a good job in his delusional mind. So while him finding a human child sounds like a cute scenario at first, in the long run (or short run in this case) things might get fucked up real bad real fast

[kairiscorner]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEE IM BEGGING 29 FROM THE DIALOGUE PROMPT WITH EX-HUSBAND CO PARENT MIGUEL WHO WE’RE STILL IN LOVE WITH BUT HE ACCIDENTALLY TAUGHT GABRIELLA TO CUSS IN SPANISH WHILE SHE WAS WITH HIM FOR THE WEEKEND OR SOMETHING😭💕 I LITERALLY LOVE ALL YOUR WORK SMM TAKE YOUR TIME🥹🩷🩷

HIIII omg THANK YOUUU and i love that idea wHAT i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i didn't teach her that. – divorced!co-parent!miguel o'hara x divorced!co-parent!reader

miguel's car was parked in the driveway, with miguel himself helping gabriella out of the car and walking her up to you. she greeted you with a big hug as she came inside to change her clothes and taking off her shoes, leaving you and miguel out here by the patio. it was just two adults, two adults who used to be married to each other... but now just two adults who are forced to see each other for the sake of their daughter. "how was she?" you asked him promptly as you leaned against the doorway of your house. "oh, as bright and darling as usual. my mom came over, and so did gabri--they took care of her more than i would've liked to myself." he said as he looked away from you, feeling the heavy tension between you two still, even though your divorce had happened years ago.

you couldn't shake off the awkwardness between you two, you were both stuck in a weird limbo, you both were in a checkmate with each other. and no matter how much it hurt for you to think you used to be married, you used to be in love with this man... you couldn't hate him. in fact, you loved him dearly still. being divorced to him didn't change the fact you loved him, that you still love him; it also didn't change the fact you had to see him more than you thought would be good for either of you due to gabriella, it didn't change the fact he was the father of your child and had every right to see her.

you nodded as you opened the door a little wider, with a small voice in your head asking you what the hell you were doing. "wanna, y'know... come in?" you asked him in an awkward voice as he looked at you in slight surprise. "ah, sure, sure. thank you." he said as he stepped in as you opened the door wider for him. you hated how kind he sounded right then and there, how soft he became. 'this isn't the guy i divorced, that guy was a piece of shit. who's this guy really? he can't be miguel, no way...' you thought to yourself as you shut the door, hearing gabriella and miguel's faint conversation from far away in the kitchen.

the father and daughter were laughing together as miguel picked her up and spun her around. you remember when he used to do that when gabriella was a toddler, when neither of you had any problems towards each other, when all was blissful and sweet... when life was good. you abruptly stopped reminiscing the beautiful moments you all shared as a family when gabriella called you back to reality, asking you if you wanted to play some soccer outside with her as her goalie, with miguel being dragged by her outside. you chuckled and agreed, following her and miguel outside.

you two played a few good rounds, with miguel being the referee and keeping track of every time gabriella scored a goal. though when gabriella kicked the ball too hard and the ball was thrown into the top of a tree in your yard, she muttered something you could not believe would come out of her mouth. "mierda, puta madre!" your daughter exclaimed in frustration as you turned your head to her, asking yourself if you heard her right. "what did you say, young lady? do you even know what those words mean, dear?" you asked her in a stern tone as she froze up and turned to look at you.

"um... papa says those words all the time when... when he gets angry over the phone..." she muttered in a semi-frightened way, as if she didn't realize what she did wrong when you looked at her angrily and furrowed your eyebrows at her. your expression softened as you realized she didn't mean to cuss, it was her father's influence.

you breathed in deeply and exhaled, smiling at her, you knelt down to her level and pat her head as you called miguel over. "gabi, baby, please go to your room. your papa and i have a lot to talk about." you said as you glared at miguel when you turned your head to face him, with miguel gulping and going over behind gabi, holding her by her shoulders as if she could protect him from your rage. "gabi, as your papa, i say protect me from the dragon that is about to breathe fire on me." he murmured as you gently pulled gabi to you and led her into the house as you shut the sliding door and smiled at miguel a little too sweetly.

miguel backed away slowly as you took one of your slippers on the steps into the house and, while smiling all the while, approached him and raised your hand to smack him with your slipper repeatedly, scolding him for teaching your daughter to have a foul mouth and for not even being responsible enough for teaching her not to repeat what he says. "but muñeca, please! i'm sorry, i'm really sorry! i didn't think she'd repeat what i say, believe me!" he tried pleading with you as you kept swatting at him with your slipper. "like hell i can believe you of all people on anything you say anymore!" "even... even if i told you that i still loved you, you really wouldn't believe me? because, i... look, i still love you, querida, okay?! at least... at least believe me there, because nothing else could be truer!" he blurted out in a genuine, sad tone as you kept hitting him, but soon stopped as his words sunk in.

he loved you.

he loves you.

he still loves you.

but like hell you could believe him anymore.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @arachnoia @melovetitties @meeom @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

[myfaveficrecs]

Christmas Tradition

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader (Darling)

Word Count: 1785

Warnings: Pure fluff

AN: Written for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge. My prompt was ornaments, and I chose to do something I haven't done before. I wrote for Bob! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone.

“Still okay to meet at 6?”

Bob smiled while reading your text knowing your Christmas tradition would change after this year. In all honesty, he should have changed the tradition a couple of years ago but he always justified why he couldn’t do it just yet. Being on different sides of the country, deployments, being with your families in different states for the holidays, work schedules didn’t align, you both were too busy. But this year that changes.

“I can’t wait, Darling.”

“Going to pick out ornaments tonight?” Phoenix asked with a smile, catching a glimpse of her WSO’s phone while walking by.

“Yeah,” he blushed but could not seem to tamp down his grin. “I put the one for tonight in the tree already this morning after she left for work. I just have to wait a few more hours.”

“How are you feeling?”

“What’s the matter Baby on Board? Going to throw up again?” Hangman gave his traditional smirk while walking to his locker. Looking around, Bob realized the whole squad was in tow in the locker room now.

“Shut up, Bagman. He’s nervous enough without you adding to it.”

“Nervous about what?” Rooster chimed in. “You guys are just going to get your ornaments, right?”

“Wait, ornaments? I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You usually are, Hangman.” Phoenix glared at the irritating pilot. She was not going to let him ruin this day for Bob.

“Every year, Bob and Darling go to a boutique in the town they are in for Christmas to pick out one new ornament each for their tree. The ornament is something that reminds them of each other or something that they did together that year.”

“Okay…and what makes today's nauseating display of affection any different from the other years?”

“First of all, it isn’t nauseating, it’s romantic. Secondly, Bob is officially making her part of the squad!”

Loud cheers and hands roughly shaking his shoulders made Bob turn an interesting shade of red, but the laugh that came out of him was pure joy. “She has to say yes first. I gotta get out of here and meet her. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

With choruses of cheers and good luck, Bob rushed out to his truck, pulling out his phone to let her know he was on his way with a quick text. The closer he got to her, the less anxious he felt. She was the only thing other than being above the clouds that made him feel completely at peace. His Darling was his safe place, his home, his heart, and his soul. She was so deeply ingrained and embedded into his skin that he would never be rid of her if he tried. She was everything and he would make sure she knew it.

Pulling up to the little boutique decked out in all the garland, lights, and ornaments probably in the whole of San Diego he saw his little Darling already waiting for him at the front door, excitement all over her face. He may have started this tradition, but she made sure to treasure it and keep it exciting. 

“There is my handsome man. How was work?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, leaving little kisses along his jaw, enjoying the light flush that started along his neck and was gradually making its way to his ears. The little prickles of the five o’clock shadow leave pleasant tingles on your lips.

His arms wrapped tight around you, swaying you back and forth to a tune that was only playing in his own mind. “It was good, I got to try some new equipment upgrades today. They are asking for my input on how to make it better.”

“That’s because you are amazing at what you do, and I would know how precise, focused, and accurate you are.” 

Bob laughed, covering your mouth with one large hand while you wiggle your eyebrows, trying to tamp down your own amusement for his sake. “Be a good girl.”

His deep voice with that particular phrase sent lightning zaps throughout your body and straight to your core, the memory of his head between your legs this morning making your heart pick up speed. “I can’t make any promises.” You let out a little yelp when you felt a quick swat to your ass, his strong hands turning you around by your shoulders and pushing you gently through the door with a laugh.

With a chime from the alarm and a loud jingle of the bells on the door, your presence alerted the owner of the little boutique that has become a favorite of yours to come to. “There’s my favorite couple! I was wondering when you two were going to come by and see us.”

“Good evening, ma’am.” He greeted with a nod. She reminded him of his grandmother - a little rounder with age, silver streaks in her blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and round glasses that complemented her face rather nicely.

“We’ve got some good ones this year, take your time kids!” The woman pointed towards the back of the store with the large display of several Christmas trees loaded down with ornaments to pick from. With barely contained excitement, you linked your fingers with Bob and dragged him towards the display.

“Have any idea what you are looking for this year?”

“Yes! Since we have officially moved here now that you’ve got a permanent assignment, I wanted to find one that has to do with your job. Can’t be that hard to find being in Fightertown, USA, right?” You mumbled, walking around the first tree in deep concentration. Your eyes squinting the further up you looked at the tree before moving to the middle one. “What about you, what were you thinking?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” When you looked over at him all you could see was his undying affection shining back at you. The added twinkle of the Christmas lights surrounding you both added a soft glow, bounced off the ornaments and added streaks of color and prisms along his flight suit. The smell of cinnamon, cranberries, and jet fuel made you light headed for all the right reasons. God, you love this man.

Right above his head on the tree in front of him was the perfect ornament! “There! Grab that one.” You squealed, reaching your hand out and pointing out the pilot helmet with red and green stripes. Bob shook his head with a grin and got it down for you, placing it gently into your palm. “Now you need to find yours.”

Bob’s real ornament was already waiting on their tree at home but he would gladly buy a dozen more to make sure it was always full of memories. Walking slowly around the next tree, he crouched down to see the ones on the lowest hanging branches with more clarity and immediately his eyes were drawn to a glass ball with the colors of the northern lights all around it. He immediately held it up with a triumphant smile, “This one. When we went to Fairbanks to see my sister in September, we saw the northern lights for the first time together.”

“It’s beautiful, Bobby,” you said, gently clasping the bottom of the ball with your fingertips for closer inspection. “Let’s get home so we can put these on the tree. We can put on your favorite Christmas movie and curl up under the blanket on the couch, sound good?”

“Sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas Eve.” He leads you up to the cash register, paying for the ornaments quickly while chatting with the shop owner before walking you to your car.

The drive home was quick, and his nerves were still nowhere to be found. This was the right thing for them, he knew it, he felt it. Why didn’t he do this sooner? Why wait so long to start their ever after? 

Turning the lights on for the tree he watched as you carefully unwrapped each ornament, yours being placed on top of the tree, as far as your arms could reach. As soon as you picked up his, he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and pointed to the middle of the tree. “How about right there, Darling? Looks like the perfect spot.”

He watched as you reached out and put the ornament where he pointed to before your whole body froze, gently holding the glass ball in place. He felt the long intake of breath that filled your chest, pressing further into his chest before letting go of the new colorful glass ball knowing it was secure. With a silent gulp that made his adams apple bob in his throat, he wrapped his other arm around you tightly.

In the center of the tree was a gold and silver ball, designed to open in the center just like a ring box. Inside there was a plush velvet black pillow holding the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Darling, I want to continue this tradition and make new ones with you for the next fifty years. I want to make sure you know every single day how much I need you, how much I love you. I’ve always known you were it for me, nobody else is ever going to love me the way you do and nobody is going to be able to complete you the way that I do. I’m sorry it took me this long, and I want no more excuses. Marry Me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. It was a fact. It was a confident declaration. 

Gently reaching out to the custom ornament, he pulled the beautiful vintage ring from its pillowed cushion. A thin gold band held an array of diamonds. A clear and beautiful round stone in the center surrounded by another circle of smaller round diamonds. The outer row is arranged like a sunburst. He saw it in an antique store two months before while you were searching for the perfect table for your entryway. He bought it the second your back was turned because he immediately thought of you. His sunshine. His Darling.

You felt the thin band wrap around your finger and settle at the base like it was always meant to be there. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it no matter how much your brain screamed at you to turn around and wrap yourself around this beautiful man that you had forever to spend with, so you did the next best thing. Grabbing his hand tightly in your own you whispered your own declaration, “It will always be yes.”

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[katherines-imagines]

“Don’t be a skxawng, just ask her.” Part 4

pairings: neteyam x reader

warnings: cute, fluff, bad writing

key: skxawng - moron, yawne - darling, my love, munxta - mate

summary: Neteyam tries again, this time it’s for sure going to happen, because third times the charm, right?

Another day had gone, and Neteyam had still not confessed to his yawne.

Neteyam, son of Toruk Makto, the one who was supposed to be leading next, the mighty warrior.

He had not, as his father would say, ‘manned up’ and asked her yet.

Neteyam sighed in disappointment.

Maybe his family was right, and he was a skxawng.

How pathetic, that he helped with the attacks on the sky people, and yet he couldn’t talk to a simple girl.

To an outside eye it was baffling, but to Neteyam it had made some sort of sense.

Asking to be one’s mate was an important matter. It was asking to spend the rest of your life with someone.

It was asking to share food and home with someone.

It was asking to share pains and happiness.

It was asking to forever be lovers and start a family.

Asking to take care of one another.

Asking the girl whom he loved ever since he could remember, to be his munxta, was a very serious matter, and could not be blurted out.

Sadly, every time they had a quite moment to themselves, it was always interrupted by someone.

But this time, Neteyam was determined to not be disrupted.

He had a plan, which he had thought out the previous night.

First, he was going to take you to the pond where his father had taught him to use his bow and arrow, catching the girl a bountiful hunt.

Then, he would walk her around the forest, to admire the beauty of their home.

Lastly, he would take her to the remains of the Home Tree, the place where his mother and father had mated.

It was the perfect plan.

Nothing would ruin it, not even the cruel writer of his story.

So off he went to find Y/n, the girl who his planning was all for.

But first, he had to find one Na’vi girl before.

While Neteyam searched for someone, Y/n was talking with Kiri and the Tsahik.

Kiri and Y/n were mixing medicinal herbs, while Mo’at, the Tsahik, was preparing the supplies needed for when some of the hunters came back if any were hurt.

While the women worked in silence, Kiri spoke up.

“So, you and Neteyam, huh,” she asked with a knowing smirk.

Blushing, you vigorously shook your head in denial.

“No, no, there is nothing there,” you sighed wistfully.

“Oh come on Y/n, you love Neteyam, don’t lie.”

With a pause, Y/n hesitated before starting again.

“Well, yes, I do love him, but my affections are not returned I am afraid,” the girl in love sighed looking down.

Hearing a chuckle from the older woman, the two teenagers turned towards Mo’at, who’s head was still facing what she was doing.

“Y/n, you know I am Tsahik, yes,” Mo’at asked without looking up.

Y/n responded by nodding her head.

“And you know that I have knowledge beyond your years?”

Y/n hesitantly nodded.

“Then you know that I have an eye around the village, connected fo Eywa,” Mo’at finally looked up from what she was doing to pierce her eyes through the young girl’s.

“Yes, Tsahik,” Y/n answered respectfully.

“Good, then listen,” Mo’at started.

“I have heard from Eywa since you and Neteyam have met. She has always been whispering in my ear, when I see you two. ‘Mates,’ I hear. ‘Munxta.’ She whispers such things, and I hear her plans for you two. It is strong, and by Eywa, your future together will be beautiful,” she said, all while looking at Y/n with soft eyes.

“I know you think I am some crazy old lady,” Mo’at says, standing up and walking funny, coaxing a small chuckle out of the two girls.

“But I know what I talk of, yes I do. I have been around a long time. Eywa plots for you two. Eywa herself has made you two a match, it has been told. But it cannot be done by herself. You and Neteyam must communicate.”

Listening insightfully, hope shone through her eyes, hoping it all to be true.

Hoping that it was true they were going to have a future.

True that Eywa had handmade their destiny.

True that there was a chance Neteyam could love her back.

As Y/n stared at Mo’at in awe, the elderly woman saw a glimpse of Neytiri in her. When Neytiri had too questioned about love.

“Enough talk,” the Tsahik decided.

“Back to work you too.”

Both girls nodding quickly, return to their work, both smiling, yet Y/n’s smile shone the brightest.

When they had finished with the herbs, the Tsahik had let them go for the rest of the day.

Y/n had decided that she might go find Neteyam, she started walking towards his tent, eager to tell him how she felt, when she saw something that made her heart drop.

It was Rini, daughter of the famous Ninat.

Rini followed in hee mother’s footsteps and had been the most beautiful and talented singer in the village.

Y/n had never been jealous of Rini, but seeing the girl with her Neteyam made her blood boil.

She wanted to stomp over there. She wanted to crash her lips into Neteyam’s, showing Rini that he was all hers. She wanted to hiss at Rini to back off.

But Y/n stayed put.

Neteyam wasn’t hers, and Rini was a nice girl who had done nothing unkind to her.

So Y/n just stood and clenched her fist.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around with tears in her eyes, and walked away.

Y/n was now determined to make Neteyam hers, because she’ll be damned if another girl takes her from him.

As Neteyam finished his conversation with asking about what flowers to her for Y/n, he saw Y/n walking away with what seemed to be tears in her eyes.

His stomach dropped, filled with butterflies that didn’t make him feel good.

As much as he wanted to chase her down and explain, he knew he would just vomit his love out for her, but she deserved better.

She deserved to be romanced, charmed, to have the moment he asked her to be his lovely mate be the most memorable in her life.

So he let her go, knowing that he would make it up to her and explain later.

Hopefully.

———————————————————————

A/N: Making angst now? yes, bc I’m a meanie >:) But aside from that- I have a list for those who want to be tagged in the next part, and those who want to be tagged the whole series, so lmk in the comments!! also, when I decide to finally have them confess, should I continue and have a few parts of them being together?? lmk also in comments lol. Again, the kind comments mean so so much to me and they motivate me so much!!

Hope you all are doing amazing!

-xoxo Katherine :>

tagged: @kikookii @dioraaaaaaa @mashiromochi @sloppierjewel @mommyneytiri @nanamisbigassschlong @secrettreaderr @bewbz2110 @xxannyxx @youshoulddrinkcoffee

[alexusonfire]

Warmth of Your Doorways - Chapter Six

Jane Murdstone x dressmaker!Reader

In collaboration with @daydream-cement 🩷

Summary: The wilting.

The day started as any other had that week; the sun was shining through the curtains, birds were chirping their song in the trees, and you were head-over-heels for one Jane Murdstone.

You hummed happily to yourself as you recalled your night together, her hands on your waist, in your hair. You knew you would never desire another's touch the way you craved hers, no one else would or could consume you the way she had.

You were in love. Plain and simple. And from what you could tell, it was entirely reciprocated.

The surprise appearance of Jane's brother had thrown a slight wrench in your time together, but you didn't let it bother you. Perhaps you'd need to be a little more discreet while he was here, but surely it was only for a short time. Soon enough you'd be back to playing lovers in the shop while you worked, or reading to each other over late night tea.

It had been a few days since you'd heard from her, and though it was odd considering you'd normally have daily correspondence, you simply chalked it up to her brother's visit. You let some time pass, not wanting to infringe on her family time.

After the fifth day however, a nagging pit settled in your stomach. Although you knew you needed to keep things under wraps, so to speak, you hadn't heard a single word from Jane. No love letters, no flowers, not even a sneaky appearance after nightfall. Surely, even with Mr. Murdstone around, she could spare a few moments for you?

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you gathered up some supplies, planning on using the ruse of "needing to repair one of Lady Marjory's dresses." Satisfied with your appearance, you made your way down the familiar road to the Manor, excited to see your darling once again. You'd missed her presence over the few days she'd been absent from your life, from her full-bodied laugh to her loopy handwriting on a parchment page. You didn't even need to fully pay attention to your surroundings, so familiar with the route it allowed you to get lost in your daydreams of times spent with Jane.

The house loomed over you suddenly, and it's still quiet made that nasty pit appear again. Something seemed… off. Brushing it off as a bout of nerves, you cleared your throat and knocked on the large wooden door, attempting to quash the sudden racing of your heart.

Butler Smith’s familiar face greeted you at the door and the small bit of familiarity was a comfort to you. He spoke in his usual low and slow register, “Good morning, miss. I presume you are here for Lady Marjory?” 

Butler Smith and you had come to an unspoken understanding that you were always there to see Jane, as the occasional business with Lady Marjory would be planned in advance. Him asking if you were there for Lady Marjory was his own cheeky and veiled way of asking if you wanted to see Jane.

“Yes, sir. I am here to repair some of the Lady’s dresses...” Your eyes wandered about home in search of your love, but you saw no signs of your beautiful ravenette from your vantage point. 

“You may sit in the parlor. I will fetch the Lady of the house for you.” Smith gave you a nod and gestured towards the parlor, knowing full well you had spent enough time around the manor to find your way on your own. He spun on his heels and adjourned towards the library where you assumed Marjory was sitting with Jane. 

Once the butler disappeared, you glanced into Marjory’s study that was situated directly across from the parlor, searching for your love. You suck in a breath when your eyes fall upon Mr. Murdstone sitting at Marjory’s desk, his boots propped up on the polished surface as he spoke to a man standing near the window. Instead of lingering any longer, you spun on your heels and rushed into the parlor, closing the door behind yourself to prevent the chance of him seeing you in passing. 

Your nerves had your hands shaking and the growing pit in your stomach had you pacing near the fireplace, waiting for the creak of the parlor door to notify you of Jane’s presence. You worked through what you might say to Jane, debating whether you should confront her about not visiting or just appreciate having a moment with the ravenette once again. 

There was no time to practice the script forming in your mind as the parlor door opened and your eyes fell onto Jane, causing your entire body to soften at her presence. 

“Janey.” You breathed, waiting until the parlor door was shut before you rushed towards her with your arms outstretched. More than anything you needed her arms wrapped around you. 

"I beg your pardon, but it is Miss Murdstone to you."

Her cold tone stopped you dead in your tracks. It took a moment for her words to register, your brain spinning at the way she held herself. There was no warmth to her, her back straight and fingers laced together. While you had expected even just a small smile, her lips were turned down into a disinterested frown.

"I - pardon?"

"Come now girl, you're not stupid. In this house, you are to address me as Miss Murdstone."

You thought you caught a glimpse of a wobble to her chin, but her voice held strong. Your brow furrowed in confusion- what on earth was she playing at?

"I don't- what is this? Your brother is far enough away, he cannot hear us."

"Never you mind about my brother. He is of little concern. What does concern me is your apparent lack of manners. I thought you better than this."

Angered now by her demeanor, you straightened your posture and clenched your fist. Appearances or no, you were not one to be talked down to so thoroughly, especially not from someone you considered a lover.

"Jane, I understand the delicate situation we have found ourselves in but this is ridiculous. There's no need for you to be so callous with me."

"For the last time girl, it is Miss Murdstone."

"Stop calling me that! What is the matter with you?"

Tears threatened your eyes, a lump beginning at the base of your throat. You weren't understanding what was happening, why Jane was being so cruel towards you. You reached your hand out towards her, hoping to pull her close, to remind her of who you were-

"I do not desire to be touched by you. Please refrain from doing so."

It was like a slap to the face, and honestly you almost wished she had done that instead. Trembling, you lowered your hand and tilted your head, eyes searching for hers.

She would not meet your gaze.

You dared step forward, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke to her.

"Don't do this, whatever this is. Please. Explain to me what is going on. We're safe here, Jane, you and I. You know that."

Again, an almost indiscernible wobble of her chin. It was the only thing anchoring you at the moment, the only sign that perhaps this was all an act, a show put on for the sudden appearance of Mr. Murdstone.

"I believe it is time that our dalliance came to an end."

A bucket of ice water thrown over you would have shocked you less. You stood there, the silence of the room almost unbearable, suffocating. 

"Dalliance?"

The word was like a knife to your heart. What you had was no mere dalliance, it was love- a love you knew she felt as well, no matter how she may try and deny it.

"Yes. It has bordered on inappropriate far too many times now, and it is time to end it before we go to a place we cannot come back from. That I cannot come back from."

"Jane, listen to me-"

"For the last time, is is Miss-"

"No it is not!" you stamped your foot in frustration, the only sign Jane giving that she had noticed being a quirk of her eyebrow, "You are not "Miss Murdstone" to me, you never have been! You are Jane, my Jane, and I am not "girl" or y/n, or any other formal and ridiculous name you wish to throw at me. We have never been that to each other and you know it."

Silence once more. No wobble. Nothing to anchor you. But you would not budge. You would fight for Jane, for the love you had grown for each other, even if she herself told you to do otherwise.

"We are not a dalliance. I refuse to believe it, and I think deep down you do as well. Now, I am going to keep up appearances and spend some time with Lady Marjory, and perhaps that will give you time to mull some things over."

With a final huff, you turned and collected your tools, intent on staying true to your word. Before you opened the parlor door, you faced her again, less than pleased to find her rooted in the same spot, still cold and distant.

"I love you, Janey. That has not, and will not, change. Remember that."

Your entire body ached as you left her behind, every instinct screaming at you to turn around and make everything right with her, make her see sense and reason. But she could be impossibly stubborn sometimes, and you were sure she'd come back around in her own time, most likely after her brother returned to his own home.

Striding down the hall towards the library, you pay no mind to Mr. Murdstone who had spotted you from the study, a dark smirk appearing across his face. There was no hiding the rage that filled your body when you unceremoniously entered the library, throwing the door shut behind yourself. 

“What is the matter with her? How could she speak to me in that manner? Like- Like we haven’t been infatuated with one another for weeks!’

The Lady was startled by your presence, but quickly angered when she was able to jump to her own conclusions about the source of your frustrations. Marjory knew Jane’s harshness well and while you found it to be jarring, the Lady saw it as a bitter and unwavering element of the ravenette’s past.

“What are you speaking of, dear?” Marjory inquired, her brow furrowed as she patted the seat next to her.

“It’s Jane! She called our relationship a dalliance… and- and she didn’t even want me to touch her! What is happening?”

“Oh, darling. While I find her behavior reprehensible, it must be due to the fact her brother is in town. Edward has this strange control over our Janey. He knows how to shame her and manipulate her like no one else… Just give it time.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Marjory, mending her clothes while she gave advice on how to handle Jane’s less than kind behavior. When she sent you home, she urged you to come back the next day, positive that her influence over the ravenette might have some sway. 

As you returned back to the dress shop, you chose not to share your woes with the matron, deciding it was best not to share how deeply you had been hurt. Rather, you retired to bed, and stared up at the ceiling, planning the many wonderful things you would say to Jane in order to win back her affections.

The next morning when you awoke, you rose early to gather flowers. You bought a small bunch of rose chrysanthemums as a simple way of telling Jane you loved her. You offered a few coins to a small girl on the street so she would deliver the flowers to Jane. 

You were sure the note you left attached to the chrysanthemums would make Jane see your undying love. 

Janey,

That night I did not speak without understanding the gravity of my words. I never craved attention until I had yours. You are the love that came without warning. You had my heart before I could say no. I shall never love again if I cannot love you, Janey. You will never go unloved by me. 

I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, and terribly.

With love,

Your little violet

You sent the token and note knowing full well you would return back to the manor once your work day had concluded. There was a new sense of determination that filled your heart. 

Jane was going to see reason. You needed her to.

Work went by terribly slow and your work was subpar as you were frequently too lost in thought to complete any of the proper stitches. When you approached the manor, you could see the light on in Jane’s cottage, so you chose to circumvent the need to interact with others and instead march straight up to her front door and confront her once again.

You were filled with a righteous determination until you rapped on the door three times, then your fear of Jane’s imminent wrath filled you. As Jane opened the door, you tamped down your reservations, knowing in your heart this relationship was worth saving.

“Jane. Did you get my note? And the flowers? I know we quarreled yesterday, but I know we can work through it all!”

Jane didn't move for a moment, simply staring down at you. You felt the hope seep out of you with every passing second, once again detecting little to no warmth from her.

"Tell me girl, are you dull?"

Words caught in your throat, which had suddenly grown dry. When you first met Jane, she had been blunt, straight to the point, no nonsense. But never this. Never mean.

"Well? Hard of hearing? Do you not understand the words leaving my mouth?"

You wanted to respond; wanted to yell. Scream until your lungs collapsed and your face ran blue. I love you, I love you, I love you.

"Speak, insolent girl! Or feel free to no longer darken my doorstep, I have far better things to do than watch you stare dumbly."

"Jane-"

"Miss Murdstone."

You swallowed, willing to give in on this one thing if it meant she would listen to you.

"Miss Murdstone. I'm not sure what… exactly is the cause of your newfound disdain for me, or our dalliance, but I want you to know I still don't believe it for a moment. And I'm still here. I still care for you deeply. And I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon, no matter how hard you try to push me away. I'll wait for you Janey, I swear it."

Jane scoffed and rolled her eyes, driving the dagger in your heart further. You could barely reconcile the woman in front of you with the woman you had fallen in love with, but you knew she was in there somewhere. She had to be.

"I won't bother you further today, but I do hope you liked the flowers. I… I miss when you would send me some. My nightstand looks rather empty without them." 

You bade Jane a good night and turned to leave, when suddenly her hand reached out, exactly as yours had towards her the day before. Your heart leapt into your throat, the small sign of recognition fueling the flicker of hope that lived inside you. Before you could respond, either verbally or physically, she had recoiled, and her door was slammed shut.

No matter. She was still in there, your Janey, and you'd get her out somehow.

--

For the following week your interactions were much the same, you attempting to soften Jane's resolve against you, and Jane resisting at every turn. Here and there you caught glimpses of a break, a twitch of the lips, a moment of silence while she considered your words. The roles had reversed as you took to sending her flowers daily, accompanied with little love notes and poems; sometimes you'd even add in memories of times you'd shared together that you were fond of, such as your garden walks.

You thought you were getting through to her, that she was finally coming around. That coupled with the news that Mr. Murdstone would finally be leaving in the coming weeks gave you enough courage to visit Jane again.

Lady Marjory had been advising you through much of the process, advocating you buy her certain flowers, poems, or tokens of your esteem. With Lady Marjory’s help, your final gesture was a bouquet containing the flowers Jane had given you during your time of courting.

Mary hadn’t even tried stopping you when you woke up early that fateful morning to pick up the flowers from the florist and journeyed to the manor. This was your desperate last attempt. You were desperate for Jane’s love back. Despite this, you were growing weary of the constant rejection. There was only so many insults and disgusted looks you could take before it all began to hurt too much. 

You wore the lavender gown Jane loved so much and with bouquet in hand, you began your march up the street, taking your time the whole while. Part of you wondered if you had truly overestimated the power of your love. Maybe Jane hadn’t loved you in the manner you had loved her? You quickly shook the thought away when the memories of all those tender moments came back to you.

Far too lost in thought, you suddenly found yourself standing on the manor doorstep. Everything felt suffocating and you felt faint. What were you to do if Jane sent you away once again?

You hadn’t even had the opportunity to knock when the door came flying open and you were greeted with the comforting smile of the Lady of the house.

Marjory ushered you inside, taking you by the arm and speaking in a hushed tone, “She is in the library. I know this will work, little one. I know it must. Jane isn’t in her right mind, but she has been in a brighter mood all morning. Edward is away with a Lord this morning…”

“Look who is here, Janey!” You barely had time to speak when Marjory strong-armed you towards the library. She pushed you in, calling to her companion before shutting the door behind you, effectively trapping you in the room with Jane. 

You took to speaking before the ravenette could get a word out edgewise, rushing to her side and kneeling at the couch’s edge. “I brought you flowers, Miss. Just like the ones you gave me not so long ago. Perhaps we could take a walk in the garden? I would love to hear one of your anecdotes. You have always been such a wonderful storyteller.”

Jane's jaw clenched, her knuckles turning white around the book as her gaze turned fiery. She suddenly rose, towering above you, and snatched the flowers from your grasp, tossing them aside in fury.

"Have you not listened to a single word I've said? Do you honestly take yourself to be so special? Do you think you matter so much to me? Your arrogance is appalling, and I have grown weary of it. Leave at once!"

You rose from your place on the floor, needing to maintain your ground, "I- Jane-"

"I do not like to repeat myself, child. Your attempts to seduce me a second time shall not work."

"Seduce you?! You courted me! The notes and the poetry and the flowers! That was all-"

"As God as my witness, I am glad my brother has saved me from the likes of you. I am a respectable woman, from a respectable family, and I shall not let a harlot such as yourself taint our reputation."

A harlot.

A harlot.

At this, you finally broke.

“How… dare you! You know everyone tried telling me what a callous shrew you were and I refused to listen to them all! They told me you were cold and- and- and the absolute worst sort for me to befriend! I see only now that they were all right and I regret ever standing up for you or your character!”

Jane sneered, her lips curling above her teeth in the worst sort of way. She was intimidating like this, imposing as she hovered above you, using her height to her advantage. Try as you might, even through your anger, you no longer recognized the woman in front of you.

"Well, perhaps now you'll grow a brain and learn to listen when people caution you then. A lesson well learned if there ever was one... I only regret you had to use me to figure that out."

You were absolutely defeated. Any anger you had was now giving way to pure agonizing sadness. Your voice was just above a whisper as tears began rolling down your cheeks, “I- I regret ever falling in love with you, Jane Murdstone…”

With sobs racking through your body you raced from the room, from the house, all the way down the streets and back to the shop. From the moment you entered the front door, Mary was up and out of her seat, noticing your heartbroken demeanor before you even entered the threshold. She enveloped you into a suffocating bear hug, but it was exactly what you needed in that moment to settle the way the sobs shook your whole body.

“Oh lass…” Mary couldn’t find the strength to say much more, knowing this past interaction with Jane was likely to be your last.

“S-Sh-She called m-me a har-harlot and-and…” 

Mary pulled your face to her shoulder, preventing you from speaking any further until you were able to speak without losing your breath, “Shhh… Slow down, lassie.”

You took a shaky breath in and out before trying again. The words seemed to flow as easily as the tears rushing down your cheeks, “She c-called me a harlot and claimed I-I seduced her… I haven’t the faintest clue of why she hates me so…”

“Perhaps- Oh, I couldn’t tell you why she is treatin’ ya so, but you need to… I’m sorry, dearie, but you need to let this go before she or that brother of hers begins telling everyone about what happened between you. This whole situation could ruin you in this town, lass.”

“How am I supposed to continue to live in such a place when I love her so? I can’t work with Marjory, walk through a garden, or even read poetry without thinking of Jane…”

The Scot bit her bottom lip, her hug seeming to tighten in her silence. Little did you know that she had been hiding a rather luxurious job opportunity from you, but this new development in your relationship made it impossible for her not to share.

“I don’t wish for you to leave, but after the Lady’s ball, there was some chatter about some of your gowns… There is a dress shop in Paris that wishes to employ you, lass…”

This was exactly the news you needed. 

Mary was a great comfort to you that night - sitting with you by the fire as she helped you make plans to escape. It was bittersweet and sobering. You needed out of this town that had been tarnished by your love with Jane. 

If you were successful, you could move to Paris and focus on your career, hoping never to think of or hear the name Jane Murdstone ever again.

[the-lonelybarricade]

Feysand Holiday Fic Recs

A collection of holiday-themed Feysand fics for you to enjoy while snuggled down beneath a big, cozy blanket with a cup of hot cocoa!

Spicy fics indicated by a 🌶️ emoji

Please make sure to spread the holiday joy and kindness by leaving kudos and comments on any of the fics that you find and enjoy from this list 💕

One-Shots:

Modern:

The Holiday (🌶️) by @velidewrites - When two sisters with a terrible taste in men (or is it?) decide to swap houses for the holidays, they don't expect to fall in love.

Dada by @julemmaes - Rhysand and Feyre have tried everything to make their little boy talk, now they can only wish for a Christmas miracle

Home for the Holidays by @darling-archeron - Feyre and Rhys have been best friends for years. And Feyre knows that's all they'll ever be - friends. When Rhys brings her to his family Christmas party, she realizes that not everyone has the same impression of their relationship.

Going Home by @darling-archeron - When Feyre's flight home is cancelled, she finds herself stranded in Chicago on Christmas Eve. Luckily, she runs into a familiar face at the airport.

Christmukkah by @live-the-fangirl-life - When Feyre can't celebrate the holidays with her family, Rhys decides to help

Merry Christmas, Feyre Darling (orphaned) - Feysand Fluffy Highschool AU fic

Don't Be a Jerk (It's Christmas) by @the-lonelybarricade - When the group in the corner of the cafe are being too loud for Feyre to study, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

A Letter Never Sent by @the-lonelybarricade - Rhysand was assigned as Feyre's secret santa—again. But after nearly confessing his feelings to her last Christmas, he'll be making sure not to put his heart on his sleeve this year. Or; Rhys accidentally gives Feyre the wrong Christmas letter.

A Letter to Satan (🌶) by yafan92 - When Feyre sends a drunken letter to Santa on Christmas Eve, she doesn't realize that she actually sent it to Satan, who shows up willing to grant her Christmas wish.

Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest by @nomattertheoceans - A series of 31 holiday prompt fills for December 2019

All I Want For Christmas Is You by dr_woodsprite - Rhysand and Feyre’s first Christmas.

A Very Feysand Christmas by @librarian-of-orynth - Feyre and Rhys buy, and then decorate, their Christmas tree.

Merry Christmas, Darling by whimsicallydrifting - Rhys and Feyre are celebrating their first Christmas together as a married couple, and Rhys decided to be romantic and take care of all the preparations: tree, dinner, and decorations. It didn't go exactly as he'd planned.

False Identity (🌶️) by addiewritesthings - One night at a bar, recent divorcee Feyre Archeron is approached by a beautiful dark-haired man who wants to know her name. Only the name she gives him isn't her own.

Canon:

In the Spirit by @noirshadow - the Inner Court confronts their biggest enemy to date - Dry January.

Winter Solstice with Nyx by JAWhitethorn - This is a fluffy, happy story about Feyre & Rhysand celebrating Solstice with the Inner Circle and Nyx, when he is almost five years old.

Solstice Lights and a Scared High Lord by Littlelionman15 - Rhysand thought it'd be a good idea to put himself under the christmas tree as another winter solstice present for Feyre, but things don't go as planned, and the possibility of a new haircut comes in play when Feyre has to help him get out.

I Am Lost And Led Only By The Stars by highfaelucien - The first Christmas after the war and Feyre is disappointed when Rhys can't make it back from the Illyrian camps due to a violent snow storm. Rhys decides to throw caution to the wind and do whatever it takes to get back to his mate in time.

Christmas at the Cabin by @illyriantremors - The entire squad goes to the cabin in the mountains to spend a week together at Christmas. Mayhem and shenanigans ensues.

Seven Days of Solstice by @msfeyredarling - On Feyre’s fiftieth, Rhys decides to celebrate Feyre following the seven days of the winter solstice.

Secret Weapon by addiewritesthings - Feyre returns home one evening to discover exactly what Rhys and Nyx have been up to all day.

Multi-Chapter (all completed):

Modern:

A Christmas Prince by @separatist-apologist - When reporter Feyre Archeron is sent to the small European Principality of Aldovia to cover the upcoming coronation of Prince Rhysand, she's mistaken for a royal portraitist. Deciding to lean into the lie in order to get a better story, Feyre is caught up in the drama and politics of Rhysand's life with no way out that doesn't betray them both.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by @the-lonelybarricade - "You didn't put up Christmas lights so my friends and I decided to decorate your lawn for you"

Silent Night by Lyetta - When a spare of the moment decision sends Rhys down the riverside path, his life is turned upside down by a beautiful woman in need of help.

Home for the Cold Spell by @thegloweringcastle - When faced with yet another birthday alone in her hometown, Feyre decides to gift herself the thing she needs most: an escape. Things go well; she explores new places, meets new people, and finds a muse in the most arrogant (and beautiful) man she's ever met. 

[sankttealeaf]

LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE

it's easier to never acknowledge the situation between them both. why let it burden them? why allow feelings and care to seep in when they will soon be seen as gods?

cracks start to form in the foundation of their alliance. it will destroy them.

or: a collection of interactions between bhaal and bane's chosen, leading directly up to their respective downfalls.

1. BEFORE | A CHILDHOOD SO SWEET

⤷ "I thought you might want to be friends." She remembers her manners and sticks her hand out for him to shake. "My name is Ruelle."

He considers it for a moment and takes her hand with caution. "Enver." 

2. A REQUEST OF ALLEGIANCE

⤷ Bhaal's Chosen and Bane's Chosen make contact for the first time.

3. "BHAAL'S BLOODY HISTORY"

⤷ The Hall of Wonders is wonderful place for a first date. Nothing draws people closer together than the sweet embrace of Bhaal!

4. REUNIONS AND NEW UNIONS

⤷ Past connections click into place like a puzzle Gortash has been missing pieces of for years.

5. A YEAR

⤷ A year passes by and the two fall into a routine with each other.

6. DOMESTICATING A BHAALSPAWN

⤷ Enver Gortash's guide on how to make a Bhaalspawn come crawling back to him every time!*

*He cannot be held responsible for any unwanted feelings that may arise. He would greatly appreciate any tips on how to combat these feelings.

7. THE FIRST REFUSAL

⤷ Her nature is not to be refused, yet Rumour finds it rather easy to do when it's Gortash asking for her not to kill for one night.

8. CONSEQUENCES

⤷ Actions have consequences only worsened by time.

9. THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA

⤷ The Gods deliver an important message that cannot be ignored.

10. THAT UNWANTED ANIMAL

⤷ An adjustment needs to be made between them to prevent them from breaking under the weight of the ever growing tension.

11. WHERE IRON MEETS FLESH

⤷ Advancements are made with personal projects and God-driven projects.

12. THE CHOSEN OF THE DEAD THREE: UNITED

⤷ The Chosen of the Dead Three meet in person. There's something hidden deep in the walls of Moonrise Towers.

13. TWO HANDS LONGING FOR EACH OTHERS WARMTH

⤷ Plans begin to form to start their journey to Godhood. Does it matter anymore when all she wants is to be by his side?

14. THE HEIST

⤷ Cania is quite lovely at this time of the year

15. KILL YOUR DARLINGS

⤷ Dreams can be read as warnings, depending on how one interprets them.

16. BEFORE THE STORM

⤷ Cracks start to form in the foundation of their alliance.

17. GODS OF THE NEW WORLD

⤷ Godhood awaits.

18. THE SURRENDER

⤷ She should've seen this betrayal coming.

19. THE BETRAYER

⤷ A betrayal so perfect, why would she feel guilty?

20. THE MOURNER

⤷ They promised each other they would never leave. So why is he alone now?

21. HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF YOU

⤷ Gortash always knew, deep down, he would do this alone.

22. A LOYAL DOG WILL ALWAYS COME HOME

⤷ Returning to the city unlocks a wave of memories Rue is unsure she wants to relive.

23. ONE LAST TIME, PLEASE

⤷ Rue finds herself drawn back to Gortash, over and over again. He holds secrets and she wants to understand them all.

24. SWINGING BY MY NECK FROM THE FAMILY TREE

⤷ The daughters of Bhaal reunite.

25. CHANGE THE PROPHECY

⤷ It's hard to bring the dead back

26. IN THE DARKNESS I WILL MEET MY CREATOR

⤷ Death's cold embrace grasps Rue tightly. She's alone.

27. YOU BELIEVE ME LIKE A GOD, I BETRAY YOU LIKE A MAN

⤷ He’ll get her to understand it’s them against the world. It always has been.

28. AFTER | PICK IT ALL UP AND START AGAIN

⤷ Final goodbyes and a new beginning.

COMPLETED

finally dropping my durgetash fic links here. it's very self-indulgent but i feel like i should promo it more considering how much of a labour of love it is. featuring my durge, rue [tiefling wild magic sorcerer] (cool gifs of her can be found HERE i really should make more of them)

[scatterthoughted]

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Hi @cakeissweeterthanpickles, I was your @mlsecretsanta! Sorry about the delay in posting, but here's an angsty fic about Adrien and his feelings about Christmas, hope you enjoy!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61923052

Adrien remembered the magic of his earliest Christmases.

Gingerbread cookies, snow forts in the backyard, candles on the tree, a large turkey dinner with his Maman and Papa. His memories were a whirlwind of Christmas mornings jumping on his parents' bed- first Maman would wake up, then the two of them would gang up on Papa- of an endless parade of presents, then watching It's A Wonderful Life with hot chocolate and popcorn.

His Maman loved her Christmas rituals. The tree in the foyer had to be the largest they could find that spared the paint on the ceiling, fresh and with a grandness that matched the manor and its family living within. Decorations were bought yearly for a new theme, White & Gold Winter Wonderland or the Nutcracker Ballet, and Adrien would watch with wide eyes between the balustrades of the upper landing as Emilie directed her army of employees in transforming their home into something even more magical.

"Adrien darling, you're going to get caught underfoot." Maman said when she caught him hanging around, sweeping Adrien into her arms and kissing him on the nose. She took him on a tour about the house, explaining the intricacies and particularities of her vision. At three years old, Adrien didn't exactly know what potpourri was, but he enjoyed the shiny baubles and the way his Maman held him close to share her world with him.

"Christmas is my favourite holiday." She told him with a sigh once they had made their rounds. Emilie Agreste looked down into her son's green eyes, identical to her own, and leaned in with a playful, secretive smile and a whisper. 

"It is yours too."

Adrien couldn't help but believe in her conviction, setting new eyes of wonder on what he now knew was his favourite day of the year.

"Emilie where is-" A crash sounded, followed by a muffled curse, as Adrien's Papa stumbled away from an upended vase in the middle of the foyer. An employee shrunk away from his vitriolic scowl, but Gabriel saw the mass of shiny blonde hair in from of him and continued on.

"Something the matter, Gaby?" Maman gently took Adrien's wrist and moved it back and forth as if he was waving hello to his father, but Adrien thought he was much too old for such things- he knew how to wave all by himself, should he want to- so he started to squirm in her arms, asking to be put down. Maman frowned at him.

"Be a good boy Adrien, stay still. Don't be hard on your poor mother."

Adrien stilled. He hadn't meant to be hard on her- he loved his mother more than anything else in the world. Maybe even more than Christmas. So he clung to her more tightly. He liked being in her arms anyway.

His Papa watched them in that distant way he sometimes did, like Adrien was some sort of specimen under his observation. But after a moment, the furrow reappeared between his eyebrows and his grievances continued.

"It's the hosting Emilie, you know I can't stand most of those people in my house when I have the new years show I have to prepare for-"

"Darling."

Maman raised a hand to Papa's cheek, the beauty of her smile enough to stun any man into silence, especially if that man was Gabriel Agreste. Her thumb brushed under his eye.

"You have your show this time of year, and I have mine. Take a deep breath. Let me handle it all."

Adrien reached out a hand too, landing on his Papa's other cheek, but Gabriel's gaze didn't waver from his wife's radiant face. He sighed.

"Of course, my love. What would I do without you."

___

Adrien remembered the first time he was allowed to bring a friend to his Maman's Christmas ball. 

"This is so boring. All these adults want to do is ask me how old I am."

Chloe huffed in her red Christmas dress, its poofy skirt and puffed sleeves making her strain to cross her arms.

"C'mon Chlo, its not that bad." Adrien tried to argue, pretending that he hadn't begged his parents to let him invite someone else his age to attend for a very similar reason.

"My cousin will be here soon, you'll get to meet him. Plus, it's Christmas!"

"So what? I seriously don't get your obsession. I can get whatever I want on any other day of the year, today isn't special."

"That's not what Christmas is about."

"What else could it possibly be about?"

Adrien turned, taking in the grandeur of the gala around them. This year's theme was Nordic Frost, brought to life with traditional wooden carvings crawling up the walls and suspended twinkling glass snowflakes above them, each as delicate as the real thing. At nine years old, he didn't quite know how to articulate what it was about the atmosphere that made it unmistakably 'Christmas', why the magic in it laid in his mother's way of decorating his house into something more, but he thought Chloe must only take a closer look to understand what he meant.

"It's about that." He said, pointing to the potpourri. Chloe looked at him. Looked at the elegantly arranged potpourri. 

"You are so weird."

He made sure his parents weren't looking when he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Says the talking Christmas ornament." A deadpan voice spoke behind them.

Adrien turned to see his cousin, dressed in none of the frills and collars that he and Chloe had been forced (or in Chloe's case, chosen) to wear, but an elegant mini suit that just made him look like a small adult, complete with his casual hold on a wine glass. Was that actually wine in there? It was probably just grape juice for affect.

"Felix!" Regardless of his antics, Adrien gave him a big hug, almost spilling juice on them both, and Felix awkwardly gave him a few pats on the back in kind. England was so far away, and any occasion that his cousin was able to visit was a special one. And now, two of his favourite people could finally meet.

"Chlo, this is-"

"He called me a Christmas ornament." Chloe's face was thunderous. She never took well to insults, but especially those that targeted her fashion sense.

"A very pretty Christmas ornament!" Adrien tried. "That's probably what he meant to say. Felix is still learning French."

"I was still learning French last month," Felix corrected, offended. "I'm fluent now."

Watching as Chloe's face turned a deeper shade of red, Adrien thought to himself that it would be much better in this moment if his cousin was more fluent in manners.

"Well you look like a knock-off Adrien," Chloe fumed, "Especially with that stupid slicked back hair."

"Chloe!"

"That would have really hurt my feelings if it wasn't said by a Powerpuff girl."

"Felix!"

Adrien gave up trying to make them friends with each other two hours later, after a dinner spent between them as they sniped back and forth with first words, then food, followed by a gift exchange where Felix gave him two presents, one of which was an American Girl doll he didn't quite think was originally meant for him. But even still, it was his first Christmas spent with friends, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Felix, Adrien! It's time for the family photo." His aunt Amelie called them over to where she waited with his Maman and Papa in front of the tree in the foyer, decorated this year by a dusting of silver tinsel and red candles. Their 'family photo' always ended up on a tabloid or newspaper, the picture accompanying the annual story of the Agreste's Christmas charity gala. They headed over, leaving Chloe to stand alone in the crowd of grownup guests as the only child left without a parent.

Maman smiled at Chloe, the one adult who's eyes his friend never seemed able to meet. "Why don't you join us, darling?"

"What?!" His father and cousin spoke at once, the two of them giving each other a disgruntled look before Felix turned away and crossed his arms. "This is a family photo, dear." Gabriel tried, putting all the tact he possessed in trying to prevent making a little girl cry in front of dozens of socialites.

"From the way she looks after our darling Adrien, Chloe Bourgeois practically is family." Adrien had never seen such delicate, disbelieving hope in Chloe's eyes before. She tentatively walked over, standing awkwardly a few paces away and turning to face the camera. She was usually a natural with them, always telling Adrien he should preen in the attention of his adoring fans and paparazzi, but now she looked unsure with what to do with her hands.

So Adrien took them, pulling her closer and into frame. "Don't start being shy now, Chlo."

"I'm not shy!" Chloe screwed up her nose at the insinuation, holding her head high and linking her elbow with Adrien before turning to stare down the barrel of the camera.

Adrien linked his other elbow with Felix, who looked disgusted at the prospect before Adrien lamented on how lucky he was that all of his favourite people would finally be in one photo together, and a cooing Amelie nudged him into begrudgingly staying linked. They were all perfectly coiffed blonde hair and blinding white teeth, making a pretty magazine cover as the camera flashed.

"Did you have fun, Chlo?" Adrien asked at the end of the night, fiddling with his collar as he waited with her for her driver at the manor's gates.

"It was fine, I guess. Even with your horrid little cousin." Adrien grinned, relieved. After a moment of silence, fussing with the American Girl doll Adrien snuck her, she continued in a smaller voice.

"I've never taken a family photo before. That was nice too, I guess."

Adrien was quiet. He knew Chloe didn't see much of her mom anymore, and he knew she barely talked about it. He didn't really know what to say, having no idea what it felt like to come from a broken family. At least, not yet.

"You can be in my family photo every year from now on. We look enough alike anyway, no one my parents send their Christmas cards to will think an extra blonde kid is strange." Chloe snorted, her puffed sleeves fighting against her as she crossed her arms again.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Adrien put a hand on her shoulder.

"I won't ever leave you alone, Chlo. I don't break my promises." She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decide whether to trust it. But this was Adrien- the sweet, forgiving, perfect golden boy who would never say something he didn't mean. So Chloe smiled.

"You better not Adrikins! You better invite me to all of your lame Christmas parties. I'll only come if you ask."

---

Adrien's thirteenth Christmas he spent by his mother's bedside. The house had been decorated as brightly as every year, but there was something in the methodically symmetrical garlands and evenly spaced baubles that was unmistakably Nathalie, reused decorations from different years that didn't quite sing with the harmony of style. He appreciated her efforts, but it was almost more unnerving to see everything pretending to be the same, like a secret that was difficult to pinpoint. Walking into the foyer the first time after the decorations had been put up was the first time he noticed just how empty the house could feel without his mother's touch.

"What's this?" Maman picked his present first from the pile, as she did every year. Adrien had taken special care to wrap it with perfect corners in a paper that featured her favourite flowers, pink camellias, and topped with a beautiful pink bow. This year, he also used less tape.

"'To Maman, love Adrien.'" She read from the tag as though surprised, a game that still made Adrien smile. Her fingers shook slightly at the exertion of trying to tear it open, but she brushed off his father's suggestions that she let him open it with a beatific smile. After a few minutes of struggle, she pulled out Adrien's gift.

"Oh, it's beautiful darling." Emilie pulled out the delicate silver necklace, glittering in her bedroom's low light. It had two small snowflakes on either side of a larger one, connected at their points as though holding hands. Adrien had never gotten his Maman jewelry since the days of his macaroni necklaces, since he knew how particular and intentional she was with what she liked to wear and he wouldn't exactly consider himself an expert on women's fashion. But he saw it when he went shopping with Nathalie, and it reminded him so much of his Maman  and her favourite season that he had to get it for her.

"Do you like it?" He moved closer, smiling as she went to put it on. After a moment of fumbling, Papa moved the hair from her neck and fastened the clamp for her. Nathalie, always prepared, held up a hand mirror so Emilie could make her final verdict.

"I love it, Adrien. Almost as much as I love you." Maman reached for him and Adrien hugged her tighter than he should have, needing to feel the strength of her beating heart to silence the fear that was now an ever present whisper in the back of his mind.

"It's the same silver as that brooch you always wear, so they'll match!"

Emilie stilled under him. Adrien looked up to see her somehow even paler than before, exchanging a tense glance with Gabriel before her eyes flickered over to Nathalie.

"That's very thoughtful, dear." She finally managed, the sweet smile back on her face. 

"You rushed right in here this morning, didn't you? Did you even have a chance to eat?" She looked to Nathalie, who shook her head.

"That won't do. The rest of the presents will have to wait until after you've eaten."

"But-"

"We can continue presents after you eat. Make him some pancakes, my love." She said to Gabriel, nodding towards the door. Maybe his Maman had suddenly gotten tired and she didn't want him or Gabriel to see. That must be why she was kicking them out. "Give him all the whipped cream and chocolate sauce he wants." Adrien had always preferred his pancakes plain, but gave his Maman a small smile, appreciating the thought.

"You don't have to make the pancakes, Papa. I can ask Phillipe." Adrien said once they were outside his Maman's room, referring to their personal chef. Their steps echoed loudly on the foyer's marble floor, eerily empty of the gala crowds from a typical year.

"Adrien." His father had become more haggard since Maman's sickness, undone in a way he'd never seen before, bruises under eyes above a five o'clock shadow. Adrien straightened.

"I will make you some hot chocolate."

Next to his whirlwind of a wife, any holiday spirit Gabriel Agreste might have had was largely eclipsed. But he had one tradition too- peppermint hot chocolate that he prepared himself, claiming it was a family recipe passed down from generation to generation, much better than anything in the store and an Agreste secret he would one day teach Adrien. They went to the kitchen together, as empty and desolate of partygoers as the rest of the manor, and drank their hot chocolate in silence. 

There didn't seem to be much hope between them- that had always been Emilie's specialty. But what hope there was, Adrien could see in his peppermint hot chocolate. Whatever happened, at least he and his father were together.

---

"Adrien?"

Marinette's voice pulled him from his memories, her hand reaching out to tug on his sleeve. Adrien drew his gaze from the store window where a silver necklace sat on a satin bed, its three snowflakes twinkling brightly. He didn't know where his Maman's had gone after she'd disappeared. Maybe she was buried in it.

"Are you okay?"

Marinette looked concerned- it was a look she was having more and more difficulty with hiding behind her big smiles and excited chatter as the 25th grew closer and closer. Sometimes it was difficult to see the reality of this Christmas reflected back in the worry in her eyes.

After all, it was his first one as an orphan.

But his amazing girlfriend was doing everything in her power to make sure he didn't go through it alone. She showered him in gifts and love and baked goods, made sure he was surrounded constantly by friends and her family, if not his own. She looked up at him now, bluebell eyes over a nose red from cold, tucked into a puffy pink jacket with a matching set of white gloves and a hat that she had knitted herself. The latter of which was beginning to slowly slide back to leave her red ears exposed.

Adrien stepped forward, gently tugging the edges of her hat back down over her ears. Stooping down to give her a warm kiss on her cold nose.

"I'm better than okay." He said honestly. "I'm with you."

Because he understood now what he hadn't known when he was younger. That Christmas, for him, had always been about the people. That was the very problem now, the memories of them shattered into tiny fractured pieces of loss and bitterness and guilt so heavy Adrien felt like he was suffocating on it.

Sometimes, Adrien thinks it would've been better if he never got to experience the Christmases of his childhood. They were far too bright and magical for him to contend with the holiday he was now left alone to face, bereft of the ghosts who had orchestrated the perfection of his youth.

His Maman was gone. She had been his spirit and love of the holiday, kicking up a whirlwind of excitement and infectious joy a month before everyone else had a chance to catch up. When she disappeared, the spark that had made the day so magical, that maybe only children felt, left with her. Then he broke his promise to Chloe- he never saw her anymore. She had changed in ways he couldn't ignore, but he couldn't help remembering the fun she'd brought to the Agreste Christmases, obstinate and loud and loyal, someone who would play in the snow with him and always made the gala more fun than it was meant to be. The innocence of their childhood friendship was gone now, tarnished by the weight that came with growing up different. And his father... 

He'd never had a chance to teach him that family recipe.

This Christmas would not be like any of his others. They never would be again. Adrien felt bitter about that, then ungrateful for his bitterness, then frustrated at the whole situation. Nothing was simple since his father died.

But what he could do was take Marinette's hand as she blushed and stuttered. He could clear away the snow that fell on her after an unlucky gust of wind with a laugh and a thumb brushing under her eye. He was determined to make new memories, even if Christmas no longer felt the same without his ghosts.

[chronicbeans]

Mad Father AU Wally Darling x GN Reader (Night One/Prologue)

(Quick Concept/Prologue because this idea has lived in my head rent free for two weeks straight)

TW: Mentions of blood and wounds

You sprint through the rain, the sounds of thunder booming from above as you pull your cloak closer to your body. The rainwater is already soaking through to your clothes, meaning that your need for shelter is gradually growing more severe by the second. Who knows how much longer until hypothermia sets in? Worse yet, you've injured your leg stumbling about outside...

You came from far away to visit the small village, which you heard was filled with amazing artists, who have created the finest works of art. There was supposed to be an art gallery held there. Unfortunately, before you could find an inn or even make it to the village itself, a sudden downpour struck. Your carriage was stuck in mud, with water leaking through the bottom, so you decided to try to reach the village by foot. Along the way, you got lost, slipped, and fell down a steep hill, hurting yourself. You now feel that this march will be your death sentence.

You see some light in the distance, through the trees. Despite your exhaustion, you push yourself to run and investigate. You hope and pray that it is a house, cabin, or even a simple shack that you can take shelter in and warm yourself up. It seems that your hopes were more than rewarded, as a large mansion comes into view...

A dark, gothic exterior with a slight Victorian Era design. Dark bricks, with black roof tiles and an expansive garden in the backyard. The windows seem to be slightly tinted, but it is hard to tell in the darkness. You can't even see what colors the bricks are, exactly... Just that they are dark. It looks elegant just from the outside... But, you can't help but wonder why someone with enough wealth to own such a home would live this far outside the village.

It doesn't matter, as you quickly sprint to the front doors of the mansion, knocking on it as hard as possible. You are desperate to be heard over the rain, which is pouring so heavily at this point, you can barely hear yourself think over the sound of the droplets hitting the ground. You adjust the cloak on your shoulders, knowing well that it won't provide any warmth at this point, but instead hoping for comfort.

You flinch in shock as the front door suddenly opens, having not heard anybody approach the door. You see a man, with dark blue hair styles into a pompadour. His dark eyes look down at you, before they suddenly widen in shock. Before you can even ask for help, he drags you inside of the mansion.

"Goodness! You are soaked from the rain! Please, come inside. I'll help you warm up. You must be freezing." Grabbing your hand, he leads you down the halls of the building. Getting a closer look at him, you notice that he is wearing a white coat... is he a doctor? You must've hit gold in terms of finding someone who could help you!

Clearing your throat, you nervously introduce yourself. "Thank you, sir... My name is (Y/N) (L/N). I'm not from around here, so when I tried to make it to the village nearby, I got lost. You are a life saver..." You hear him chuckle, a light and airy sound, as he replies "Thank you, (Y/N), but it is simply in my nature to help others. My name is Dr. Wally Darling. Just call me Wally. Let me get you some dry clothing. I have plenty of extras... Here, let me take your cloak. It's best to remove excess wet clothing."

You hand him the cloak, shivering from the cold. He leads you to a large room, where he points to a closet. "In there, I have a lot of spare clothing. From dresses to suits and pants to even a few skirts and shorts. I have them because they were hand-me-downs from family members who lived here before me. I couldn't bear to part with them. It's great that they are finally going to be put to good use." He then turns, exiting the room as he says "I am going to place your cloak by the fireplace, in hopes that it will dry it off faster. Once you are done changing out of your wet clothing, you can place them by the fire, as well. It is down the hall, in the main entrance, where you entered."

With that, you are left to go through the large closet. To your surprise, he wasn't kidding by the wife variety of clothing he owns. Long, elegant dresses, posh suits and tailcoats, fancy nightgowns and sleep wear... He even has a large variety of shoes, from Mary Janes to men's dress shoes, and even slippers. Despite the fact that there is such a wide variety, you cannot help but think that every article of clothing gives the vibes of something a doll would wear.

It takes a while, but you decide to put on something you could sleep in comfortably. After all, you don't know when the rain will ease up... so you hope Dr. Darling will let you stay the night. Picking up your wet clothing, you bring it out to the main entrance, placing them by the fireplace.

Finally getting a good view of the place, it seems like the main entrance also works as a living room. Couches and a coffee table are placed by the fireplace, alongside an extravagantly carved rocking chair. There's also a bunch of bookshelves, filled to the brim with books, with a few porcelain dolls resting on top. The floors are a dark oak, with a red carpet lying in the center. You spot Dr. Darling sitting on one of the couches, sipping what looks to be tea as he reads a book... You think it is Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, but at the angle that he is holding it, it is a bit difficult to tell. He also seems to be wearing glasses to read.

He looks up from his book, taking off his glasses. He stares at you for a few moments, before he grins. "You look wonderful in that outfit. It suits you... Really, it does. Would you like some tea? I made some while you were getting dressed. It might help you warm up, alongside the fireplace." You nod quickly, sitting down on the couch across from him. "Thank you... That would be lovely... I'm exhausted and freezing..."

You watch as he stands, leaning over to grab the teapot that is resting on the table, before pouring you a cup of tea. He asks if you need any cream or sugar, before handing you the cup. You quickly begin drinking it, relishing the warmth you feel from it. You instantly become more relaxed than before. You look over to him, smiling. "You have quite the variety of clothes. Is there any particular reason why you are keeping them?"

Dr. Darling sips his tea, smiling. "I am keeping them for the memories, as well as the fact that, in cases like yours, they're useful. You'd be surprised by how many people come around in need of help." His eyes suddenly trail down to your leg, narrowing. "You're leg is bleeding..."

You quickly look down to your leg, scared that you might be bleeding onto hi expensive looking couch. Thankfully, you aren't, with your blood hitting the hardwood floor, instead. "O-oh... I didn't notice that. I guess I couldn't feel it from the anxiety rush..." almost as it on cue, it begins to hurt a bit. It's just a dull, throbbing pain, but you can tell it is going to get worse as time goes on.

Dr. Darling suddenly stood up, leaving the room without a word. You think that you might've upset him, at first, before you see him return with some cotton balls, gauze pads, and gauze wrap. He also seems to be holding some bottles of medication. He kneels in front of you, speaking softly "Hold still. I'll take care of it. You can stay for the night to heal up."

You nod slowly, watching as he disinfects and wraps your wound. After he finishes, he stares at your leg for a few moments, seemingly in thought, before saying "You don't seem to need stitches. The wound is long, going from your knee to your ankle, but it is shallow. It might take a while to heal, but you'll be fine." You smile nervously, asking quickly "Will it scar?"

"It might. If it does, however, you shouldn't worry. I believe that scars just show how resilient a person can be. They may not be the most appealing to look at, but... as you think about it, you realize that it shows that you've survived whatever caused it. Also, you could just cover it with clothing if you are nervous about showing it in public."

Your eyes widen for a moment, before you grin and nod. Dr. Darling then helps you stand, leading you to a guest bedroom upstairs. Along the way, you see various porcelain dolls on tables, desks, stands, and sitting on the windowsills. You find it very... odd... So, you ask "Are you a doll collector or something? You seem to own a lot of dolls." He lets out a throaty chuckle. "I actually make them! I love art, which includes doll making. Porcelain is my favorite form of that... It just has this perfect look... A porcelain perfection, if you will. A perfection I feel can only be achieved by that medium of art."

As the two of you stop in front of the guestroom door, he says softly "Oh, dear... I seem to be rambling, aren't I? I apologize. I just love artistry. I can get out of hand, sometimes... you are also the first person to visit me in a long time. Please, have a nice rest. I recommend you stay in bed tomorrow, unless you need to get food, water, or do other necessary tasks. I will check in tomorrow morning. Goodnight." Before you can ask any questions, he quickly makes his leave, heading down the hall and down the stairs

As you open the door to the room, you notice an off-putting smell. A bit like something is... off. More like as if something has spoiled. You don't complain, however, as you are just thankful for shelter and care. There's a large bed, a wardrobe, a large dresser, and what looks to be a small chest of toys. If you had to make a guess, this room used to be a child's room. If other members of Dr. Darling's family lived here before him and left him some clothes, it makes sense that they might've left other things behind, too.

You make your way over to the bed, smelling the sheets before laying down. It doesn't seem likey they are what's making the smell... you are way to tired to investigate further and the pain in your leg is increasing. You'll just investigate tomorrow, or when you are well enough to walk for long periods of time, again. You rest your head on the pillow, closing your eyes and falling into a relatively peaceful sleep.

[little-earthquakes-rp]

Random HeadCanons Absolutely No One Asked For...

Subject: Unplanned Pregnancy

Boden: He's likely to know before even his partner is aware. Picking up those small cues of being sensitive to taste, warn down, and slightly more irritable. After much debate he'd come out and ask about their last period, and if there was even a question he'd be on his way to the pharmacy to grab the test. Once that positive pops up she's found herself next to the golden retrievers of father's to be. He's running out to get those pregnancy cravings, every ultrasound appointment he'd be there, and reading What to Expect When You're Expecting to you in bed each night. Boden being an orphan always dreamed of having a family of his own and would go into dad mode the moment he found out you were carrying his child. (Bodad)

Alex: If someone were to find themselves in the situation with Alex things would be tense. He would never pressure his lover either way, but he'd make it crystal clear that he wouldn't be able to be a traditional father. If they wanted to continue the pregnancy he'd provide monthly financial support and set up a trust for their future. He'd also make the child a beneficiary of any insurance policies he carried. He'd watch from afar, but wouldn't want any contact with the child. Alex's father was a monster leaving him with deep-rooted concerns he might become one. Truthfully, he's hoping his bloodline dies with him and his tormented siblings. ***(I've thought what it would be like for a long lost kid to find him...DRAMA).

Lou: He'd likely know before his partner. He'd pick up a different scent from them, but wouldn't say anything. He'd ask around to the other dads in the pack to verify what he assumed. Suddenly they find him ALWAYS around. He'd act completely surprised when you suggested or announced the pregnancy, and he'd wait until they shared their thoughts about what they wanted. Secretly he'd be hoping to start a family. He'd be all in at 100% to be a dad, and he's going to propose and try to marry them before the baby is born. It would also (verse dependent) encourage him to challenge the current alpha and take back his father's pack.

Gus: Hey, who's to say this already hasn't happened to him. The news would hit him like a brick and he'd be in complete shock for the first twenty-four hours. He'd try to mask it saying he just needed some time for the news to settle in. Within a few days, he'd come back to let them know he'd support them with whatever choice, and sincerely mean it. Granted, it was never a life ambition to be a father, his life has taken so many twists and turns this would just be another. As the months pass by he'd become anxious about their comfort and safety, and have the nursery set up before the last trimester.

Cianan: "Come now darling, are you sure I'm the dad? Unlikely." He's lived over a hundred years and never left lives in the chamber. Cianan would be suspicious at first because he's a careful witch, but if it were to come to pass he'd likely try to support the mother financially and emotionally to the best of his ability. I think he'd plan not to be hands-on, but when he holds that little baby for the first time that goes right out the window. Shite. He'd change his mind, and insist on playing the role of a proper father that his child deserves.

Val: "Not remotely possible." states the wrath demon.

Skye: The man would immediately empathize and try to figure out exactly what their headspace was on the subject. He'd offer support and assure them no matter what was decided he'd be there every step of the way. He'd also stress he'd be ready to help bring this baby into the world and would love to be a father. The moment they both decide to move forward he'd be out buying a new home to accommodate mommy and baby. The kind of home he used to dream of as a kid.A big yard with plenty of trees so he can get going on building the tree house. He'd be dotting probably to the point of annoyance at times, and the moment his child is born he'd pledge his life to protecting them and being the best dad. He'd also be sure to take care of Mama not wanting her to get overwhelmed. Taking on those night feedings proudly.

[smloshie]

Turning Page - a Simon Bootles x Reader

Part 1 - 1729

Chapter 1: Black Sheep

Foreword: This is based on Damien's character from episodes 3-6 of Board AF Legacy: Betrayal! I haven't seen any Simon Bootles fanfictions on tumblr or on Ao3 (which shocked me, there's fics of everything there!) So, I took matters into my own hands. Simon is one of my favorite characters Damien has done and personally as soon as you put a man in horns he becomes my #1 priority tehe!! I felt like a serious author while I was writing this, so please appreciate the detail I put in to this lol. Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy Turning Page - a Simon Bootles x Reader fic!

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I sat on the lip of my bedroom’s main window pane, looking out at the lush forest that grew behind my family’s estate. While the trees are beautiful, they are intertwined with nothing but danger. At least, that’s what my father always told me. I was never allowed past a certain point. When I was a child, the reason for that was easily explained away by my parents assuring me that I would get lost.

“We just love you so much, darling. We would hate for you to be found by wolves and be raised in a cave! Now, sit still.” She said, brushing my hair on the portico facing the woods. She would say the same joke every single time I asked, and then would laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea. 

“Wolves don’t have hair brushes, just sharp teeth! But you already look unkempt enough.” My older sister, Margot, shouted from the other side of the yard.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they wouldn’t want to take someone as homely looking as her anywhere near their cave! They would probably just eat you!” yelled Garrison. It’s every older brother’s responsibility to traumatize their younger siblings. Then, it’s the younger sibling’s job to forgive and forget.

Mother would scold Garrison and Margot, I would sit and cry. Not only because of the terrible things they’d say, but because I had no way out. I wanted so badly to run into the woods. Away from all of the yelling and fighting. The tormenting and teasing. The oppressive behavior I faced at the hands of my own family. It wasn’t until I grew older that I started to appreciate how good I had it. Rather than go down the path of my spoiled siblings, I learned to accept that others in this world faced much worse than I. 

But that still didn’t stop me from wanting more. The wolf jokes stopped working by the time I turned 18. I knew I wouldn’t get lost, and I think my parents knew that too. I couldn’t help but think to myself that they were conspiring against me. My mind ran wild with the possibilities of what I’d find in the forest - what my parents were hiding from me. Maybe I had been kidnapped as a baby, and my real family lived in a cottage out there. My personal favorite theory was that they were scared I’d meet a handsome yet dangerous stranger, and he’d whisk me away somewhere where they’d never see me again.

My overactive imagination is what caused them to regret teaching me to read the books in our library.

So here I sat, forehead leaning against my window pane. Drowning in my own thoughts. I looked out at where the sky met the tallest tree, and let my mind romanticize the shade of purple that the sunset brought into view. 

‘I could stay like this forever,’ I thought to myself. But, nothing ever lasts forever. I heard a knock on my bedroom door. It was one of the house attendants coming to fetch me for dinner.

“(Y/N)? Your mother and father have requested your presence in the dining room.” she said. Despite her voice being small and quiet, it carried through my large room.

“You know, you could have just said ‘dinner is ready’ and I’d likely be twice as eager to get downstairs.” I laughed. She gave me a strained smile, seemingly to appease me. No one in this house really appreciated my humor as much as I did. I’m not entirely sure where I developed my cynicism, but it might have been from the years of family members telling me to be quiet. Then, of course, that leads to the question of where I developed my defiance. There’s always one member of every family that goes against the grain… so that’s that I suppose.

I took one final look out of my window at the sunset, knowing I wouldn’t see it again tonight. It was like an old friend to me at this point. I found comfort knowing that it would always be there. But, by the time dinner would finish, it would be dark out. I don’t find the shapes of the constellations nearly as beautiful as the color that the sun and sky make together. I dragged my finger along the keys of the piano in my room as I left. I walked down the grand staircase and crossed the foyer into the dining room, where I found my family. My mother and father sat on both ends of the long table. Margot sat next to father, and tonight she had brought her husband. Jeffrey Carmine was a proper dickhead. I hated him with every fiber of my being. Only fitting that my snob of a sister would marry someone as disgusting as him.

I took my seat next to my mother, and placed my napkin in my lap. As I did this, I glanced up at my mother. She smiled to herself. I pleased her by showing the manners she had taught me. Luckily, that was all it took to get her to stop breathing down my neck for the night.

The dining room doors flung open, and in came Garrison with his fiancée - Alice. She was an incredibly well-meaning woman. She’s been sweet to me since the day we met. While Margot married well within her league, Alice seemed to have settled for my ass of a brother. But I truly didn’t mind, I enjoyed having her in my life.

Garrison and Alice took their seats on the other side of my mother, with my brother sitting next to Jeffrey. They always got along, since they share the same brain cell. They immediately started chattering, whilst Alice and my mother began discussing the wedding plans. Garrison and Alice were currently living in our house, and they would be until they were properly married. Until then, I had to deal with the torture of living with someone who never matured past the age of 8.

I looked around my family and noticed that there was an empty chair right next to me. An unusual occurrence, since our dining room attendants typically pulled enough chairs to seat every person. However, I brushed it off as nothing but a mistake on their part.

Suddenly, Garrison takes a stand. He steps up on his chair, and Alice offers her hand to balance him.

“Everyone,” my brother’s confident voice booms and echoes through the high ceilings dining room, “I have an announcement-”

“Alice is pregnant!” Mother interrupts. It came out as more of a squeal - I couldn’t tell if it was due to the excitement of her golden child reproducing, or due to the horror of her golden child having a baby out of wedlock.

“No. At least, not yet. My announcement tonight is more of a proposition! I have a friend from my school days that is tending to business in the city, and he wrote to me asking for a place to stay. I offered him our guest suite so that he needn’t travel a full day to complete his work.”

“So, you’re standing on a chair to ask if your friend can spend the night here?” I ask, laughing to myself at how stupid he looks. My mother slapped my hand with the flat side of her steak knife, and cleared her throat. I flinched and brought my hand under the table. It stung.

“(Y/N), please don’t speak out of turn. Your brother clearly has more to say.” My father hisses at me. I squint at him in disbelief.

“He’s standing on a chair, and you’re scolding me for interrupting?” I ask, a laugh escaping me once more, “I’ll admit I’m enjoying you making a fool of yourself, Garrison. But this is the most ridiculous and dramatic display I��ve ever seen! I mean how important must a man be in your life to cause you to act in such a way-”

Almost on cue, one of our house attendants came through the dining hall’s double-doors. He bowed his head to address us, and spoke up.

“So sorry to interrupt, but your final guest has arrived; Mister Simon Bootles.” He says.

I look towards the doors to see a man turn the corner and pass through the doorway. He was certainly a handsome man, but the first thing that caught my eye was his royal purple vest. I’ve never seen such a color anywhere else. The only thing close to it would be the sunset I look out at each evening.

He gave a polite smile, and his eyes met mine. They were a beautiful shade of brown. Who was this handsome stranger? Was he the one that would whisk me away into the woods? I smiled back at him, but his smile faltered. I made his smile disappear with a mere glance. 

Suddenly, all of the memories of my brother and sister calling me ugly reared their heads like a snake with 1,000 heads. Why would my face cause someone I’ve never met to stop whatever joy their face expressed? Was something wrong with me? Or was he just as cruel as my brother? 

“Simon! What a delightful surprise,” my father said, “Garrison, all you had to say was who you planned on inviting into our home, and I would have said yes in a heartbeat.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, sir!” Simon said, “and I truly appreciate the hospitality. You see, my work is incredibly exhausting and it would have taken over two days to travel from my home to the city.”

“No need to explain yourself, Simon. You’re welcome anytime! Please, have a seat.” mother said. Simon made his way to our side of the table and sat in the once empty chair next to me. Now that he was closer, I studied his face for a beat.

Now I remember. Simon was Garrison’s best friend in college. The last time I saw him was over 2 years ago, when they finished their schooling and our family hosted a large party in their honor. Despite it being only 2 years, he and I looked vastly different from who we were back then. Clearly, he had been taking better care of himself. Maybe he’s not used to seeing someone as homely as me in whatever high society he comes from. That’s probably why he looked so disgusted when he saw me. Just another pompous ass like the rest of them.

“I’m sorry, do I have something on my face?” He asked. Had I been staring?

“No, sorry. I was just staring off into space and your large face was in my way.” I retorted. It felt good to hurl an insult at him before the weekend of mistreatment began. It excited me to finally be the one to strike first.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)! Watch your manners. That is no way to speak to a guest,” my mother snapped. “I’m so sorry about her, Simon. You know how it is to have a black sheep in your family, I’m sure.” Hearing my mother call me out for being different hurt. Especially in front of everyone. But, I knew what she expected of me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in through my nose. I turned to Simon with a small smile on my face.

“I’m sorry, Simon. How rude of me! I think your face is perfectly average.” I said. I had been made a fool within seconds of him arriving. He looked slightly taken aback. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my apology or what my mother had said. Maybe he felt bad for me? He had quickly redeemed himself in my mind.

“Thank you… I appreciate that. For the record, I think your face is too!” He laughed. Nevermind, he was just as much of an ass as I thought. Everyone else at the table laughed too. They were all laughing at me. Alice made eye contact with me from across the table. She was smiling and laughing with the rest of them, but I wanted to believe she was doing it for the sake of survival, not ridicule. I must have looked pretty upset, because Margot spoke up.

“Don’t make that face, (Y/N)! As you age, that will cause wrinkles. You won’t stay young forever.” She said. Jeffrey laughed. 

“No one will want to marry you if you look like an old hag by 25!” He said. Everyone laughed once more. I didn’t deserve this.

I stood up abruptly, knocking my chair backwards as I did so. The laughs immediately stopped.

“Shut your mouth Margot. Fuck off, Jeffrey. How dare you all let Simon speak to me that way? Did you not see how he looked at me when he walked in? Like I was a parasite? Garrison invites some man off the street to stay with us, and you’re already treating him better than your own child.” I said.

But I didn’t say that. I had already caused enough of a scene. 

Feeling overwhelmed, I left the room without saying a word. I headed straight to my room and closed the door, being careful not to slam the door. I knew that would only cause problems. I hated feeling like I wasn’t allowed to be angry. I hated that my brother just got to bring whoever he wanted into our home without any objection. I hated that I was stupid enough to think that Simon was handsome when he saw me as nothing more than mud on his shoe. I hated that he made my family laugh at me within seconds of being here. Is this how it would be during his entire visit?

I walked over to my window. The sky was already too dark to see any more beautiful colors. I already knew I would go to bed unhappy, but this solidified that fact. 

I heard a knock on my bedroom door. I walked over to it and spoke to whoever it was, careful not to open the door so they wouldn't see me cry.

“I’m sorry to have caused a scene, I’ll do better in the future. I didn’t mean to embarrass us in front of our guest. I should have known better. I’m sorry.” I threw out every possible phrase I could to conjure up an apology worthy of forgiveness. A long silence hung in the air.

“Actually, I was hoping to apologize to you. May I come in?” It was him; Simon. He wished to apologize?

“I- I suppose…” I opened the door and there he stood. The look on his face was sad in a way, I couldn’t tell if the missing component was shame or desperation. He looked at me with downcast eyes. I turned my back on him and walked further into my room. He followed.

“Listen, I am so sorry about what I said. I thought that we were just joking with one another, I didn’t realize my words would have struck such a nerve with you.” He said. I paused for a moment.

“Close the door.” I finally said. He looked taken aback by how direct I was, but he didn’t miss a beat. He closed it immediately. Silence fell between us once again. I was trying to figure out a way to phrase what I wanted to say. I began to speak.

“My entire life, I have tried to get my family to love me. You show up, and you’ve won them over by simply associating with my brother. How? Why? Why do they like you more than me? You’re not even their child- I am!” As I said that, I could feel my nose and corners of my eyes start to prick and sting. I needed to relax before I embarrassed myself even more than I had.

“I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear all of that, I’m sorry. I’ve just been really sick of the way I’m treated as of late. You didn’t deserve all of that information being thrown onto you. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve just said ‘I’m sorry’ for a 5th time since I walked in.” he said.

“Oh.” was all I said. I bit my tongue from apologizing once more.

“Do they treat you like that often? Like a so-called ‘black sheep’?” He asked. I nodded in response, “Then I suppose I chose the wrong member of the family to spend my time with.”

I smiled down at my feet, so he wouldn’t see. He was charming, I'll give him that.

“You should probably go back down so they don’t worry about you.” I said, folding my arms across my stomach. I looked back up at him and his eyes met mine.

“...and why should they worry?” He asked, taking a step towards me.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Prolonged exposure to the family’s pariah could have lasting effects on your wellbeing.” I quipped. He laughed and looked down, then back up at me.

“Then I had better hurry back.” He turned and walked towards the door. Before he left, I called after him.

“Simon?” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

“Yes?”

“Can you tell them I apologized for causing a scene?”

“Of course, (Y/N).”

“A-And can you mention that you didn’t mind my outburst?”

“Yes, of course.” He smiled and opened the door. Before closing it, he lingered again.

“For the record, I prefer the wool from a black sheep far more than that of a white sheep’s.” He said, over his shoulder. He closed the door, and I was left there smiling like an idiot. I wondered how I would respond if he had stayed a second more.

“And for the record,” I would say, “If an outburst is what it took to get you into my room, I might just have to raise my voice at God himself each night.” He would smile and stay behind, and we would talk about how horrible my family is all night.

I dressed myself in my nightgown and climbed into bed, blowing out the candles that had been lit by my attendants while I was away at dinner. I laid there for what felt like hours, just staring at the ceiling. I was thinking of Simon. His hair, his eyes, his clothes. If I had felt like the purple of the sunset was my only friend before, it was only fitting that I felt a connection to the man in a purple vest.

I finally drifted off to sleep, excited to see Simon again tomorrow.

╚═════════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════════════╝

[wendelalice]

Balranald night 2. Population approx. 1100.

Of course! Not only is “Hairy Man” really named Herman, he is from Chile, not Austria! We had Herman to ourselves all day, as we were the only people who had booked a tour to Mungo National Park/ Lake Mungo. He was a fantastic guide and it is hard for me to describe this vast, empty, flat plain (200 sq km) that hasn’t seen water for more than 10,000 years. It is vast, and pretty much treeless. It used to be inhabited by Aboriginal people for 50,000 years and was a paradise, that started to dry up - nobody is really sure why - during the past 16,000 years. This was exacerbated in the 1800’s with sheep grazing, tree felling and rabbit plagues. Around the perimeter is a “wall” of what I can only describe as sand dunes that look like a moonscape, created by thousands of years of erosion and wind. “Somewhere” here, in the 1960’s the skeletal remains of an Aboriginal woman (Mungo Woman) who had been cremated, was discovered and in 1978 (?) the skeletal remains of a cremated man (Mungo Man) was also discovered, both appearing as the sand blew away from their bodies. Where they were found and where they have been re-buried is a secret apparently. I can’t do it justice in my description, so if you are interested, there is a lot of information on the Net - or visit it….. Herman would love to see you! We had quite a long walk over the sand but I might have to wait until tomorrow to send a couple of photos as they haven’t transferred to my iPad. In the 1880’s, the Barnes family who owned what was then Mungo Station, built a BEAUTIFUL shearing shed which we couldn’t go in to as they are repairing it. Also hope to send you that photo too. It is a beautiful building. In 1978 the NSW Parkes and Wildlife Service acquired Mungo Station and it was listed as a National Park in 1979. The discoveries of the skeletons and hundreds of artifacts, gave people chance to understand that Aboriginal people made up a human society that possessed many things familiar to modern culture - religion, trade, assets and social structure. I have often said I WISH white Australians could learn about real Aboriginal culture - not just kids learning a few words - to see that, as ancient as their civilisation was, it was a civilisation, with ceremony and structure.

That’s enough if THAT'! The other thing about Herman is he LOVES birds and plants and he and Wendy (Horticulturist) were often heads down/bums up, identifying and discovering plants and trees. It was truly interesting to hear them comparing notes. In both directions, he would suddenly stop, didn’t matter which side or middle of the road (not many cars as you can imagine!) and we’d all leap out and run (?!) to a plant or tree. On our way back to town, we called in at the Homebush Hotel, the only one left of the many hotels that used to be spread about 10 miles apart to service the various trappers, mailmen, teamsters, drovers, travelers and station families etc, who travelled, worked or lived in the area. We had a G and T there - shouted Herman a beer - and toasted ourselves in front of the BEST open fire (which happily lasts all night). They don’t make them like that any more!! Or pubs, for that matter!!

Back to town and another Chinese meal (we share one dish) at the RSL and now I’m ready to keep reading my book for a while.

Tomorrow we visit a famous homestead and wool shed (?) just out of town and then drive to Wentworth via Mildura, where we’ll stay the night and have a look at the confluence of the Darling and Murray Rivers. Apparently it is a site to remember.

Sorry if this is a bit long. It was an amazing and quite spiritual place to spend a day.

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day one - what family is

@anaroceitweek

prompt: forest/magic

relationship: platonic/found family anaroceit

word count: 3.6k

(cw -> whump, physical abuse, kidnapping, selling people (implied), chains, codependent relationships, cursing, bruises, creepy/intimate whumper)

By now, Janus was used to this. All of this. 

He trudged through the forest in a pattern, his feet adjusting to the soft yet spiky underbrush. His face hardened into one expression so his captor couldn’t tell how he was feeling about anything, though anger rose and fell in his chest each time he took a breath. His hands, bound in front of him in fists, the rope coiled around his fingers, and being pulled along, as if he was a dog on a leash, didn’t hurt so much anymore. Now, they just felt numb and tingly from the tightness of the ropes and the force behind each yank pulling him forward. 

Janus had lost count of how many times he had been stolen like this. He wasn’t dumb. He knew he was valuable. Having magical powers tended to add a lot of rarity and demand for a person. Especially powers like Janus’. People liked what Janus could do for them, even if the hallucinations he created weren’t real. He could just cross his fingers together, and show any fantasy that people wanted. Loved ones, memories, images of fame and grandeur. Janus could create anything. Sure, none of it was real. But in the moment, did it really matter? Sometimes, pretending is just as good as having the real thing. 

A tree root jutted up from the undergrowth that Janus didn’t see, his eyes clouded over in thought. His foot caught underneath it, and he came crashing down onto the forest floor, the damp fallen leaves doing little to break his fall as his bound hands curled upwards and knocked the wind out of his chest as he landed. Kicking his feet, Janus scrambled to get upright from his position, but his captor only yanked his hands out from underneath him, starting to pull Janus along once again, dragging Janus along and wrenching his shoulders painfully. 

“We don’t have time for this,” his captor threatened, his voice cold and demanding. “You’re going to be held with my new apprentice. He’ll take real good care of you until we can get a good enough price for you.” 

“You aren’t selling me,” Janus seethed, finally finding his footing and stumbling upwards. “I’m not an object. I’m a person just like you.” 

“Hmm,” his captor responded. “You keep telling yourself that. My apprentice is here under punishment. Poor thing hates the forest and the outdoors. So…feel free to cause as much harm as you’d like. After all, if you manage to escape from him, it’ll only lead to more punishment for him. And he’s got another…product…with him. Who knows? Maybe you two will be friends?” 

One of the sentences the captor hummed carelessly stuck with Janus, and he yanked a little on the ropes to try and stop his captor. It didn’t work. He only got pulled harder along, almost falling forward for the second time. 

“What makes you think I care about your little apprentice?” Janus hissed, his voice laced with venom. “If he’s anything like you, he deserves whatever he has coming.” 

“Oh, darling,” his captor laughed in a disgusting giggle. “He’s nothing like me.” 

There wasn’t anymore time for questions, as Janus was dragged to what looked like an abandoned shack in the middle of the woods. There was no other civilization, no signs pointing to where to go. Even if Janus did manage to escape, it would be a long way back to any city where he could get help. But Janus didn’t care. He’d escaped from worse. 

The door to the shack was opened, and Janus was shoved inside with little care. The inside was even dingier than the outside, the only source of light being the cracks in a boarded up window. From the corner of the room, chains clattered gently. Janus peered over in that direction and saw a man who looked to be around his age, maybe a little older, playing with a small, dirty, torn up stuffed animal. Surely, this man was far too old for such a toy, but he didn’t seem excited or happy. He seemed vacant, closed off. Defeated. 

“Virgil! I’m back!” his captor called out. “And look at this! I brought you a friend! Here, I’ll put him right next to you.” 

Janus seethed as his captor pushed him to the floor and started to attach the chain cuffs to his ankles before untying the ropes around his wrists, and quickly replacing them with the chains after putting mittens on Janus’ hands to prevent any sort of power usage. After all, his fingers had to be linked in order for his powers to work. Now, Janus was rendered useless. 

Looking to his right, Janus tried to get a better look at Virgil, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. Virgil’s raven black hair was a matted mess, and he had bruises blooming all over his face and pale, exposed chest. He had been wearing a white t-shirt, but it was tattered and ripped to the point where it was providing him no protection. His eyes were dark and stormy with unspoken emotion, but his body was still. He didn’t even look like he was breathing. Janus felt the overwhelming urge to take Virgil’s hands and comfort him, but obviously he couldn’t in this state. 

“Roman! Get out here!” the captor shouted towards the kitchen. 

Janus listened closely, and to his surprise, he could hear sobbing coming from the other area where the man named Roman apparently seemed to be. His cries sounded young and scared. Janus almost felt pity, but he was also confused. Virgil seemed to be the other prisoner his captor was talking about. So who did that make Roman? 

When Janus realized, his eyes narrowed. The apprentice. 

Why would the apprentice be crying? He didn’t have to be chained up. He had all the power here. He was probably the one who hurt Virgil so badly. Janus hardened in resentment with every sob he heard. This Roman guy didn’t have the right to cry. He could leave at any moment and nobody would stop him. 

“Roman!” the captor shouted again, but his voice adopted a chilling sing-song attitude. “Don’t you wanna come out here and meet your new pet?” 

“No!” Roman shouted, still not revealing himself. “Please don’t make me, I can’t do this again!” 

“Oh, please, you certainly can,” the captor replied, rolling his eyes playfully, as if Roman was an over-dramatic child. “Come and meet him. He’s almost as lovely as you. Come on out, my dear, and if you’re good to me from now on, I’ll give you double rations.” 

That seemed to be what convinced Roman to emerge. And Janus was not expecting what he saw whatsoever. 

A scrawny redheaded boy with dark skin and extremely curly hair came out of the kitchen. He seemed to be an adult, but he was definitely on the younger side. Roman stood tall, even taller than Janus, and definitely taller than Virgil, but he shook like a leaf, which rendered his domineering height unthreatening. If Janus was unchained, he could make mincemeat out of such a person. Especially in this state. 

Roman appeared to be just as battered and injured as Virgil, his body caked in dirt, and his clothes ripped up and ruined. One of his pants legs had been nearly completely ripped off, revealing his bruised and scratched up knee. But more importantly than any of that, Janus’ eyes locked on the most shocking thing about Roman: the chain around his ankle. 

The crying man was just as trapped here as Janus and Virgil were. 

“I trust you’ll take good care of him,” the captor said, approaching Roman and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Roman flinched at the touch, but folded in relief when he realized the action was kind and gentle. 

“I will,” he whispered. “I will, I just- I need- I-” 

“What do you need, pet?” the captor asked, starting to weave his fingers through Roman’s hair. “Tell me what you need.”

“Please let me be beautiful again,” Roman whispered. 

Janus didn’t understand what Roman meant. Sure, he was dirty and was wearing rags, but he was undeniably beautiful. His tangled hair framed his face, his cheeks round and youthful. His eyes were large and downturned, and they were a bright amber that could almost be mistaken for orange. He had a flat nose, and small yet plump lips that were chapped, but still a rosy pink color. 

Either way, his captor laughed at Roman’s request, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking Roman down so the boy was forced onto his knees. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling,” his captor teased. “You’ll never be beautiful again. Those days are over. You’re mine, and nobody who’s mine is ever. Beautiful. Got that?” 

Roman opened his mouth to speak in protest, but his hair was harshly yanked again, which led to him slowly nodding, a tear sliding down his grimy cheek. 

“Now…I’d better see some new bruises, and you’d better write down any information you learn,” his captor threatened. “It could be so much worse than this.” 

Roman took a deep, shuddering breath, his entire body trembling. His voice came out in a soft, terrified whisper. 

“Yes, sir.” 

The captor left with a laugh that shook Janus to his core, slamming the door behind him. Roman and Virgil flinched at the sound, but Janus remained stoic, his eyes narrowing as he thought long and hard about the entire situation. Roman was a prisoner too. Why? 

“Do you have powers too?” Janus asked Roman, who was still crumbling on the floor and crying. 

Roman didn’t respond. But Virgil did. His voice was quiet, and it sounded like the vocal equivalent of wind breezing through trees. 

“He has none,” Virgil whispered. “But that doesn’t matter. He belongs to Foster just as much as we do.” 

“Ah. Foster. That’s his name,” Janus said, his words clipped. “What’re you here for?” 

“I just got snatched off the street one day. Foster somehow knew everything about me. My address, my name, my powers.” 

“Me too,” Janus realized. “I guess he captured us in the same way. Stalking us, and then just…going for it, I guess. He wants to sell me.” 

“Same here,” Virgil said. “I don’t know what kind of creep would buy a person in this century. But I guess there’s a market for it. Foster seems like an expert on all this, after all. It doesn’t matter anymore, but…I can control clouds. I can move them around, I can make it rain, snow, lightning, whatever I want. It was cool.” 

“You think that’s cool?” Janus joked softly. “I can make people see anything. It’s an illusion, but I can make anything look real. I can make your best friend appear right in front of you. I can make you think you look like Angelina Jolie. It was…kinda fun. To just play pretend with anyone who wanted to.” 

For a moment, silence filled the room. But soon, Roman’s gasps and shuddering grew louder. 

“Please don’t hate me,” Roman whined quietly from where he sat, still on his knees. “Please. I have to do this, I have to make him happy, I have to. I have to.” 

“Roman, buddy, you gotta breathe,” Virgil mumbled, reaching out to put his chained hands on Roman’s thigh. “Breathe. He’s gone.” 

Janus stared at Virgil with incredulous shock. Why was Virgil helping Roman? Why was Virgil helping the person who would keep them stuck here? Was it Stockholm Syndrome? Was Virgil on drugs? 

Roman practically lunged at Virgil, and Janus flinched back, prepared for a fight, but when he didn’t hear any punching or kicking, he looked over at the two, and realized that they were embracing, Roman sobbing into Virgil’s shoulder. 

“Come on,” Virgil whispered. “Let’s do this again. You hit me, I hit you. Let’s do the right shoulder this time. Are you ready?” 

“No, I can’t, I can’t, please, please don’t,” Roman gasped, starting to panic as he shook in Virgil’s arms. “I just want to get out of here!” 

“We both do. Well, we all do now,” Virgil mumbled. “Okay. Let’s take a break. Let’s…get to know the new guy. How’s that sound?” 

“Okay,” Roman agreed, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay. I’m sorry, Virgil.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Virgil said, a strange sort of command to him considering his situation. “Fix it.” 

“You’re right,” Roman nodded, with a brotherly sort of sheepishness before turning to Janus. “What’s your name?” 

“Why should I tell you?” Janus asked with hostility. 

“Because I said so,” Virgil hissed, with an edge to his voice that Janus hadn’t detected before. 

A jolt rushed through Janus’ body. Virgil’s strange protectiveness towards Roman was terrifying to be on the receiving end of. 

“Alright, alright, fine,” Janus sighed. “I’m Janus. I already know both of your names because…well…yeah. What do we even do here? Do we just twiddle our thumbs and wait?” 

“Not exactly,” Roman said awkwardly. “Foster comes around for random checks. He wants to make sure that you both are…weakened well enough to be compliant.” 

“He wants Roman to hurt us,” Virgil muttered venomously. “Cruel ass motherfucker can’t even do the dirty work. He has to make his son do it.” 

Janus almost choked on air. 

“What?? You’re Foster’s son??” he demanded. 

“I might as well be,” Roman shrugged. “He saved me. I don’t know what from, but he told me it’s better if I don’t remember. He raised me, and…he’s given me everything. I owe him my life.” 

“And that’s why you’re here,” Janus realized. “You do whatever he asks of you, no questions asked, huh?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Roman asked. “That’s what family is.” 

Janus couldn’t help but scoff. 

“No it’s not! Family isn’t just blindly doing someone’s bidding just because they gave you food and clothing and shelter. Those things are the bare fucking minimum. A family is…people you can trust. People who you help and who help you just because you all want to make each other’s lives better. There’s no owing, no debts. It’s just…a friendly tradeoff. Family is who you feel safe around.” 

Roman shuddered. He certainly didn’t feel safe around Foster. 

“Right,” Virgil whispered, rubbing Roman’s back. “Right.” 

He seemed just as mystified by the idea of family as Roman. Roman seemed to listen to Virgil like he had the answers to everything. What sort of nonsense had Virgil been telling Roman about family before? 

Janus shook his head, figuring that it was unfair to judge Virgil for such a thing. After all, he had no idea how long Virgil had been kidnapped or the treatment he was subjected to. The treatment both of them would be subjected to, now that they were chained up and at the mercy of a puppet. 

But Janus found that as he glared at Roman, desperately trying to muster up some defiance, some hatred, something in those amber eyes, shiny with tears, made every negative feeling dissipate. Janus wanted to make those eyes light up with happiness. He could practically imagine how beautiful Roman looked when he smiled. Was this the same spell that Roman had Virgil under too? 

And when Janus decided to focus his attention on Virgil, he couldn’t help but feel extreme admiration rise through him as he watched Virgil, chained up and stiff with pain, holding Roman as if he were a child under his care. Virgil was so gentle, so careful, even though he had every reason not to be. He had every reason to be bitter and resentful towards Roman, no matter what his situation was. Janus’ face burned with shame as he realized that he almost had been exactly that. Virgil was much stronger than him. 

“Why were you talking about hitting earlier?” Janus asked. “The whole “you hit me and I hit you” thing? What was that about?” 

“Oh.” Virgil squirmed a bit awkwardly. “It’s…how we make it fair. Since I have to look all beat up in order for Roman to not get in trouble, every time he hits me, I hit him back in the same place. Anything Foster can do is a lot worse than what I can do.” 

“That’s…fucking awful,” Janus said after a long moment of bewilderment. “Are you serious? It’s just…a cycle of pain?” 

“Trust me, it’s a lot worse than the alternative,” Roman said. “We’ve tried so many other things. This is the only one that works. Besides…Foster- he likes how I look when I-” 

“When you’re all bruised up?” Janus joked, and when Roman flinched, Janus’ smile dropped. “Holy shit, seriously??” 

“It’s a win-win,” Virgil snapped angrily. “Except Foster gets both wins. He gets to see me too weak to escape, and he gets to see his little pet in pain. What a perfect world he lives in, where he gets everything he wants.” 

“I’m not joining in on that,” Janus said. “That’s insane. This isn’t like a game, this isn’t- I’m not falling for his trap. I’m getting out of here.” 

“No the fuck you’re not,” Virgil glowered. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Do you know what will happen if you escape?” 

“I’ll be free?” Janus said with a short laugh. 

“Sure, whatever, but think about what you’re leaving behind. Foster will see that you escaped, and you know who he’ll turn on?” Virgil asked. “Huh?? Do you??” 

“Virgil, stop.” 

Roman’s voice was demanding. Virgil rolled his eyes, but he slunk back against the wall. 

“You know I hate it when you talk for me,” Roman said. “I’m not a kid. I can handle this just as well as you can.” 

“Clearly, you can’t,” Virgil snapped. “We just saw-” 

“I don’t care about what you just saw,” Roman interrupted. “We protect each other. You don’t just protect me. If anything, I have it better than both of you. At least I know that Foster’s keeping me.” 

“Gee, thanks for the reminder,” Janus hissed. 

“So, let’s just…work together, okay?” Roman said. “It’ll get us hurt, but it’ll get us less hurt than any of the other options.” 

“What do you mean?” Janus asked. “There’s one option where nobody gets hurt at all.” 

“Yeah?” Virgil snorted doubtfully. “And what would that be?” 

“If we all escape.” 

Virgil and Roman stared at Janus for a long moment, before making eye contact with each other and starting to weakly laugh. The action seemed to take a lot out of them. They seemed almost out of practice with it. 

“You really think we have a chance of escaping Foster?” Roman asked. “Didn’t you forget we’re in chains? I don’t have a key or anything.” 

“We’ll pick the locks,” Janus said. “It can’t be that hard. These look to all be controlled by the same key. If we could pick one lock, we could pick all the others too. And we’d start by freeing me, because once I can make my illusions, Foster will be helpless against us.” 

“Wait, how do I know you won’t just run off the second we let you go?” Virgil asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Okay, let’s let Roman out instead and see how he does against Foster,” Janus snapped sarcastically in response. 

“You’re really fucking annoying, you know that?” Virgil muttered. “Okay, look. We’ll let me out first. I won’t be going anywhere without Roman, and my clouds can obscure Foster’s vision just as well as your illusions can. Sounds like a plan?” 

Roman was starting to smile, and Janus had been correct. His smile was gorgeous. 

“I can’t believe this,” he whispered, “Foster is pretty much all I’ve ever known. I want to be myself. I want to be in charge of myself. I want to have my own family. A real one.” 

“Hold on, Roman, you were talking to Foster about something before,” Janus said. “About being beautiful. What were you talking about?” 

Roman inspected his arm. Littered with bruises and caked with dirt. 

“Nobody could ever love somebody who looks like me but Foster,” he said plaintively. “Nobody. I look like a punching bag. They’re all over me. They’re all over my arms, my legs, my chest, my back…my neck. He’s made some of them. And he makes sure that they never fade away.” 

Roman took a long look in the dusty mirror that was hanging on the wall. 

He really was very superficial, wasn’t he? 

“Your vanity’s resolve is almost admirable,” Janus mumbled fondly, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what he does to you. You’re very beautiful.” 

“You’re just like Virgil,” Roman laughed. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“No he’s not,” Virgil said. “And I don’t either. Just like you tell me I’m strong, I’m telling you that you’re beautiful. It could take you a hundred years to believe me, but I know that one day you will.” 

“And one day, you will,” Roman said in response to Virgil. “Look at Janus. He looks like he could be a bodybuilder, and Foster still got him. You aren’t weak for landing in his clutches. Just…unlucky. Really, really, really unlucky.” 

“Whatever,” Virgil sighed. “We all have insecurities, blah, blah, blah. We need to focus on getting out of here. This is everyone’s last chance to back out. Are we doing this?” 

Roman nodded immediately. But Janus hesitated. He barely knew these two. Who was to say they wouldn’t just leave Janus behind? But either way, being left behind would probably be just as bad as being here with them. There was nothing to lose from this plan unless they failed. And that was no reason not to do something. 

“Alright,” Janus said finally. “Let’s escape this place.”