#so of course that's what makes her snap but still she; even at 14; was the only one with the spine to stand up and say it was fucked up

[nobodieshero-main]

i'm actually still not quite over the fact that oveta and korahi's stories continuously overlap until they finally cross paths in that market. that they don't even say anything to each other, they just smile from their different stalls. oveta rolls her eyes bc kova is being ridiculous and korahi bites her lip so she doesn't laugh and it's so simple, so peaceful, so fucking mundane. they have no idea who the they are to each other. oveta, the girl who killed the queen that destroyed korahi's people, her family. proof that someone tried to fight for them. korahi, the very creature that oveta was almost executed for defending, the push that became a shove to build her own kingdom and write her own laws. proof that nakia failed. but for just that moment, that blip of time, they were just two girls sharing a silent joke, and everything was okay.

[solelifauna]

When you say the love interest might be worse, does that mean "being mean to reader" wise or "being possessive over the reader" wise?

ERMMM...both I'd say. The love interest for the Werewolf AU is Jon Kent. He's about the same age as the reader and older than Damian by one year (From the time-skip space mission that he went on that aged him). But bro, this boy is fucking nuts.

Yes, Kryptonians aren't werewolves in this universe, but Lois Lane is. And a strong one at that, coming from a military family and all that jazz. So Jon Lane Kent is literally one of the strongest beings on earth, being half-kryptonian and half-werewolf.

Now i know what youre thinking.

But wouldn't Jon also be outcasted from werewolf society/wouldn't the bats not like him cause he's a half-blood?

WRONG!!! Yes, Jon is a half-blooded werewolf, but the other half is Kryptonian, one of the strongest species in the universe. If anything, his breeding makes him a very respected figure and the Bats definitely find him worthy. He and Damian are still the best of friends.

Now Jon's relationship with (Y/n). Yikes. Funnily enough, it was (Y/n) who started crushing on Jon first. She'd see him around the manor often, and she'd watch as he interacted with the Waynes or messed around with Damian. From what she could see, he seemed nicer than her family, so maybe she could be friends with him right? Plus, he's super cute!

And of course, this doesn't end well. I mean, this is a dark au. First off, Superman doesn't quite see humans as equals. Werewolves, they have his respect, and all the other races too. Yes, Clark Kent's adoptive parents were humans, and yes he loved them, but they were weak. Fragile even. And he made sure to instill that teaching in Jon as well.

Did Jon love his grandparents? Absolutely, but that meant that Ma and Pa stayed confined to Smallville and their house. They were too weak, they needed to be protected.

Lois also helped push Werewolf culture onto him as well. Weaker werewolves and humans were subservient to the stronger, and if necessary, could be killed and eaten. Jon didn't quite get the eating part, finding it quite gross actually, until he had his first taste of flesh. And, yikes, the boy was hooked.

In his mind, humans were either things to be taken care of (like pets) or food.

What's even more scary is that he's sweet around his family and friends, but those he deems as lesser? Well, let's just hope you don't catch him in a bad mood or piss him off. Which is why when weak, pitiful, abandoned (Y/n) Wayne comes up to him, he's insulted.

Why on earth did you even think you were worthy of talking to him?

Yes, he's seen you watching them, lurking around the manor, keeping your distance. It was quite annoying actually, he could practically hear your heart leaping out of its chest every time you saw him. He knew your intentions, trying to make friends with him.

He just looked down at you, eyes pooling with something nobody could explain, whilst you smiled at him and made small talk. Or tried to make small talk.

"Damian, should I snap her neck? Or is your family still insistent on the old laws?" Jon says.

You freeze, eyes widening in fear. Ah...you've made a severe lapse in judgment.

So much for a new friend.

"You know what? How 'bout I just go?" You quip nervously before trying to run off.

It's too bad Damian grabs you by the back of your shirt, basically choking you in the process. You let out a strangled noise as your body loses balance and lurches backward. When Damian lets go, your having a mad coughing fit, trying to get as much air as you could into your lungs.

Damian only makes an annoyed sound while Jon watches, a sick type of glee in his eyes. "When the time comes friend, you may feast with us. Now (Y/n), apologize to Jon."

You do not even have to think twice about that. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry! I shouldn't have approached you, I'm sorry." And at this point, you're crying. (reader is 14 when this happens)

And god doesn't that make Jon smile. He wouldn't deny, that you were pretty (I mean, you do have half of Bruce Wayne's DNA). But as much as he'd consider coveting you, you weren't worth that honor, no, he'd much rather taste your sweet, sweet flesh. (He could practically smell it wafting off you).

But alas, he'd have to wait.

But of course, in normal yandere fashion, he goes from wanting to eat you to wanting to eat you. The obsession starts to change around (Y/n)'s 16th birthday party that the Waynes throw. It's customary that all children do some public ball or whatever, so this was yours. Jon and his family are there obviously, and you're there as well, looking as miserable and tired as usual (and still somehow being the most beautiful thing in the building). However, he sees you light up in a way he's never seen you do before when your (what he's guessing) friends show up. They're human. They're weak, like you.

Seeing you interact with them, hearing you talk normally(super-hearing, duh) without fear, watching the way you laughed...He realizes he wants. And he wants bad.

Looks like you've got a new problem now.

Anyways, this is all I got!! I don't want to spoil the story more than I already have, but yeah, say hello to "absolutely bonkers Jon Kent". Hope you enjoyed!!!

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays! Do you have any zagreus interacting with other gods? Thanks so much

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Other people are learning about Zagreus.

Not that they know it's him, of course. He goes by the moniker prince.

Just enough to direct prayers and pay tributes, but a nameless god standing against Demeter? It's enough to send the whole pantheon in an uproar.

It's enough to send Demeter to heights of rage that Artemis previously thought her incapable of reaching.

There are gardens that her frost can't touch. Fruit she she has no hand in growing.

There are people who will not submit and die as she wishes it, blaming mortals for her daughter's death and so making them pay the price for a lost goddess.

Not even Zeus has rained destruction upon the mortals like Demeter had and not even Zeus can stop her.

It's too much. Too much taken, too much suffering.

Persephone was a sweet girl. But her loss is not worth the life of every mortal upon the earth.

Artemis is with Aphrodite, both of them having been evoked powerfully enough to send shivers down their spine. She leans against her spear and tried to think of any other way to fix this.

It's a town on the edge of collapse, a thick forest between them and the rest of civilization. In spring the journey is long but easy enough, but it hasn't been spring for a long time.

There's no game to hunt. Loved ones are dying. They beg and beg to any god that will listen but while every god can hear them no god can save them.

None but one.

But how would they know? This far out, there only contact is other isolated villages too deep in the world.

"I'm tired," Aphrodite whispers, knees pulled to her chest, something about her coltish in her helplessness.

Artemis has never tried this. She doesn't even know if it will work. But he won't ever find his way here on his own. "Can you keep a secret, Aphrodite?"

She shifts her head enough to look at her with a single garnet eye. "What secret do you have, sister mine?"

"Aphrodite," she says warningly.

She huffs, amusement aging her. "Yes, yes, my silence or my life. What is it?"

Artemis hopes she doesn't regret this. She hopes it works. "Prince Zagreus!"

"What's Zag going to do?" Aphrodite blinks. "He can't even-"

She cuts herself off and Artemis knows she's thinking through the first part, coming to the obvious conclusion and rejecting it out of hand.

"Artemis?"

They both turn and Zagreus is standing there. Not as image or projection like he was the last time they met face to face, but solidly beside her in the flesh.

He grimaces in pain and raises a hand to his side before straightening and forcing his arm down. Whatever it is that keeps him in his father's realm still has some hold on him, it seems.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," he says. There's blood on his teeth. There wasn't any a couple seconds ago. "Oh, hi Aphrodite. Er. Please don't tell anyone."

"It's you?" Aphrodite demands. "You?"

"I am me," he agrees.

Artemis would beat him if they had the time for it. "Can you help them? This village will die. Word of you hasn't reached them and your temples are too far to travel too even if they had."

He grins it's all red. His blood drips down his chin. "It's not going to be pretty."

Artemis has never thought about how exactly the god of life and blood spreads his blessings. She thinks she's regretting that now.

"Pretty's my domain anyway," Aphrodite snaps. "Help them."

Zagreus moves too quickly for Artemis to stop. He grabs her spear and slices down his chest and then there's blood everywhere, pouring out of him, more than should be in any one body.

Aphrodite screams and Artemis wrenches the spear away, horrified. "This is celestial silver! You can't - even gods can't heal from it!"

"Death heals all wounds," he says and there's blood down his chin, spilling out his mouth with his every breath.

Then he's running.

They talk off after him and it's easy to follow his trail, the deluge blood and smell of copper filling her nose as they chase him.

Zagreus is mad. When she wasn't looking he went insane and now she's killed him.

They have to slow him down, have to get him to Hermes. It should be easy, they're goddesses and he's dying, but he stays fast enough to stay just out of their grasps.

He's lose a body's worth of blood a dozen times over and yet still more flows.

He finally trips and falls, giving gurgling breathes.

"Zagreus!" she shouts as she and Aphrodite fall into the snow beside him. "Zagreus, hold on, it's going to be okay."

He laughs and pats her cheek. He's too pale. "Relax. I die all the time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aphrodite demands, trying to put her hands over the wound but it's too long to stem.

Zagreus doesn't answer.

His body goes slack and it takes Artemis several seconds to realize the person screaming is her.

Aphrodite is sitting there shell shocked and bewildered and then Zagreus's body sinks into the earth, not even reacting to Artemis's attempts to hold on.

"Oh."

She looks up and Aphrodite is looking behind them. Artemis slowly follows her gaze.

Every place blood touched the ground, there now grows bushes of bright purple berries, more vibrant than any fruit she's seen grow that shade. They grow thick and fat on every branch and if there anything like the other food in Prince's gardens, it will keep them alive and they'll be able to grow more themselves.

If they're willing to sacrifice the blood.

The next time Artemis sees Zagreus, she's going to kill him.

[thehypnone]

Sundown: Chapter 14

WC: 2,7K

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, Transfeminine Mountain, Fluff, Wedding!!!

Swiss’ hands shake as he slides the ring down Mounty’s finger, but it’s okay; so do hers. They giggle quietly at each other when it takes a small eternity for Swiss’ ring to end up on his finger, but soon enough it’s done.

Playlist here. / Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 14 under the cut or on AO3.

When Mounty’s leg is healed and Swiss’ stitches are out—a few weeks after the scariest day of them all—the real countdown begins; it’s all pure chaos and days blurring together.

One day, though, Swiss and Mounty wake up in the morning tangled together and realize it’s the day.

They kiss about it and giggle into each other’s mouths, so happy and yet still unable to fully grasp what really is going to happen in a few hours.

After a little while Mounty goes down to the bar to prepare some light breakfast and Swiss packs his stuff, planning on going to Rain, Dewdrop, and Phantom’s place later to get ready there, leaving their space for Mounty.

He can’t find his bolo tie, though—of course—so he jumps down the stairs and calls out to his girl, “Momo, have you seen my…”

Swiss doesn’t finish his question, getting distracted by the presence of the tallest man he’s ever seen in his entire life. He’s just there, standing by the bar and talking with Mounty. They both turn, hearing Swiss’ voice.

“Good morning,” he says with reservation, even though Mounty is completely at ease; obviously comfortable with the man.

“Good morning,” the stranger replies, “I'm Earth, Mountain’s father.”

Swiss’ jaw drops.

“Oh, you–her…her father, I–uhm, good–good morning…sir,” he stammers out.

“You said that already,” Earth chuckles and Mounty hides her smile with a hand. “Indeed it is.”

Swiss now understands where his girl got her height and sense of humor from. He completely forgot Mounty had talked about him and mentioned inviting him to their wedding.

He jumps off the last step he’s been lingering on and makes his way to the bar, albeit keeping a safe distance from the huge man.

“I think you scared him, dad,” Mounty gets on her tiptoes to whisper into her father’s ear over the counter, but it’s still loud enough so Swiss can hear it.

“No, no, hah, I–” The cowboy blushes. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Earth nods with a gentle—but still a bit scary—smile and turns a chair for Swiss to sit on. He obliges, of course. And buttons up his shirt. “I've heard you saved my so–daughter's life.”

Mounty doesn’t seem bothered by the tiny slip up, so Swiss ignores it. He can see Earth is supportive and loving, and that it was an honest mistake, probably an effect of all the years he did indeed see Mounty as his son. Swiss learned that little errors like this don’t matter when someone really cares for the other person.

 “Me? I–I guess you could say so…sir, but–”

The cowboy yelps in surprise when Earth suddenly throws his arms around him and hugs him tightly. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Mounty holding herself back from bursting out laughing.

“Thank you.” Her dad finally pulls away. “Mountain didn’t tell me much, but I’m grateful you were here to protect her when I couldn’t.”

Swiss looks down on his feet, a wave of guilt washing over him; Mounty wouldn’t be in danger in the first place if it weren’t for him, after all, but the next thing Earth says snaps him out of it and fills him with something that almost feels like pride.

“I can see in both your eyes how much you love each other. I have no doubt you will make her happy, son.”

If Swiss tears up a little, nobody mentions it. He swallows through the lump in his throat and nods with a smile, finally looking Earth in the eye properly. “Thank you.”

Mounty decides it’s time for a distraction, so she brings out food for the three of them.

“So…have you seen my tie?” Swiss asks again as he takes the plates from her and Mounty smirks, taking it out from under the counter. The cowboy furrows his brows, confused as to what it’s doing there but then he remembers last week—when he was trying his suit on—and blushes bright red. He silently begs any god that will listen that his soon-to-be father in law doesn’t connect the dots. “Thanks, sweetheart…”

After the incredibly awkward breakfast, Mounty’s dad decides to go for a walk to kill some time before the wedding and Aurora comes knocking on Mounty’s door with two boxes of beauty products under her arms just when Swiss is about to leave. He helps her with the cargo and then gets shooed out of the saloon and waved goodbye by the two giggling women.

He doesn’t go straight to his groomsmen’s house, though, as planned. He goes to the stables, to Monty, first.

The mare is happy to see him—as always—and Swiss thinks she can sense his happiness and excitement as she seems to mirror it. He leans against her and talks to her quietly; an old habit they have been cultivating since Monty was a foal.

“What are you doing in here?” Swiss gets interrupted at some point, hearing Dewdrop behind him. “Not planning on leaving Mounty at the altar, are you?”

“Oh, I ain’t going anywhere, don’t ya worry,” he chuckles. “Just thinking. Trying to…comprehend it all.”

Dewdrop nods, understanding.

“And talking to this ol’ chick. She’s the one who’s been with me through it all.”

The other man hums in acknowledgement and gives Monty a pat.

“This reminds me of something from a few months ago,” he says after a moment of silence. He’s right, Swiss doesn’t miss the parallel. “Look how far you’ve come.”

“I wouldn’t be here if not for you, you know that?” Swiss finally looks at Dewdrop. His eyes are glassy, but there’s a smile on his face and the other can see genuine gratitude in his expression. “I would be long gone if you hadn’t stopped me that day and I would be convinced I was doing you all a favor. Especially Mounty.” 

“I hope you can see now how wrong you were.”

“I do. And I ain't ever again gonna even think about leaving her.”

“Atta boy.” Dewdrop mirrors his smile and claps a hand over his shoulder. “Now come on, let’s make you presentable for your girl.”

Swiss laughs, pats his mare’s neck and lets Dewdrop lead him to his house.

In the meantime, the girls are having the time of their life in the saloon. By the time Cumulus arrives with Mounty’s wedding dress two hours later, Aurora has already done her makeup and hair.

Weeks ago, when the tailoress had asked Mounty what she wanted from her wedding dress, she only said two words.

“Just…me.”

The tailoress didn't have much time so they decided to make it rather simple, but special and very Mounty nonetheless. Now when she is putting it on, Mounty realizes she could not have dreamed up a better dress for her wedding than what Cumulus came up with.

Also because of how little time there was, Mounty told her bridesmaids to just wear something green instead of dooming Cumulus to sleepless nights spent working on matching dresses for them all. Swiss said the same to his groomsmen and for himself decided to get Cumulus to tailor a suit that's been waiting in her workshop rather than to make something entirely new. It's not about clothes, after all, especially not for Swiss. All he wants is his girl to be happy and he never doubted Cumulus’ ability to make Mounty the happiest bride with her work.

“How are you feeling?” the tailoress asks as she finishes tying the corset of the dress up.

“Lussy, this is–I’ve no words, it’s so beautiful,” Mounty mutters, looking herself over in the mirror. She can barely recognize herself; in a good way. For the first time in what feels like forever the barmaid sees a beautiful woman in the mirror and there’s no nagging voice in the back of her head telling her otherwise.

“I’m so happy you like it, my dear,” Cumulus chuckles, “but how are you feeling, really? About all of this? There must be a lot of emotion, let it out.”

Mounty sighs. There is a lot of emotion, indeed, but it’s not so easy to put it into words. She tries her best, “I never thought I’d find someone who…who’d take me seriously. I didn’t ever expect anyone to see me as a real woman and love me as one, too. This is more than a dream come true and Swiss is…he’s a lot of things and he might not be perfect but he’s perfect for me. Makes me feel whole, you know?”

“I know,” the tailoress—and Mounty’s maid of honor—agrees. “I’m very happy for you, Mounty.”

The bride grins and can’t help but throw her arms around the other woman and hug her tightly; as a thanks for everything.

“Careful now,” Cumulus laughs, “let’s not crease your dress before Swiss can get his hands on you. Though I must admit I’m a little scared for it, because he will want to rip it right off you when he sees you, my dear.”

Mounty pulls away and can’t help but giggle. It’s contagious so they end up laughing so hard they can’t breathe as they joke about Swiss and how the bride has him wrapped right around her little finger.

Cumulus was chosen by Mounty to be her maid of honor with Aurora, Cirrus and Mist—Mounty’s cousin that traveled with Earth—as the remaining bridesmaids, while Rain, Dewdrop and Phantom are Swiss’ groomsmen. He and Mounty gave Phantom a choice whether they wanted to be one of Mounty’s bridesmaids or Swiss’ groomsmen and they chose the latter, wanting to make the number on both sides even.

Albeit, to most guests it still won’t seem even.

They decided to get married in the groove. Mounty has always loved that place, it’s where Swiss proposed—or rather tried, the first time—and it’s simply beautiful. It was clear to both of them it had to be there. And considering it’s August, the weather would be perfect for an afternoon wedding out in the open.

Setting it all up took some time; they put tons of chairs around the trees and a carpet for Mounty to walk on down to the altar made of a few short steps and a platform with a floral archway. A similar passage was put at the entrance—this one with a curtain so Mounty could be unseen before its time for her to walk through it. Behind it all, on the edge of the groove there’s a tent for the reception party with a wooden floor that took the longest to make. They also built little stables with hay and water for people that wanted to come on their horses; many indeed did.

When the clock in Sundown strikes three, it all begins.

Dewdrop, Rain, and Phantom go first, standing in a neat line on the left side of the officiant already waiting there, but one step down. Then come the bridesmaids—Cumulus, Cirrus, Aurora, and Mist—and line up on the right. Swiss takes a few more deep breaths and walks out after them to wait for his girl at the top. It feels both like a second and an hour as the space is filled out with overlapping murmurs of the guests.

But then it all goes quiet.

Everyone stands up and Swiss feels his heart in his throat.

His knees nearly give out when Mounty walks out from behind the trees with Earth by her side and a pretty bouquet in her hands. They begin to make their way to the altar and Swiss’ eyes sting; he tips his hat downwards to hide the wet shine in them.

“Dude, are you crying already?” Phantom teases quietly. Indeed, he is. Already.

“Yeah, just…just look at her,” Swiss chuckles. Phantom does look over and they can’t deny Mounty looks absolutely divine. Her dress is long and puffy with layers upon layers of tulle; the top part of it a simple off-shoulder corset with a sweetheart neckline—how on point. It’s all pure white, just as the veil that’s cascading down over the bride's let down amber hair down to the very ground, but there are green applications scattered all over it. As Mounty gets closer everyone sees they are patches of leaves with tiny red flowers amongst them.

“She’s a goddess,” Swiss whispers wetly and no one would dare disagree with that.

Mounty smiles brightly as she and her father cross the remaining distance to where her future is waiting; she hugs Earth before he goes to take his spot in one of the front chairs and turns to Swiss. She takes that last step but her foot catches on the edge of the platform through her dress and she sways; falling right into Swiss’ arms.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he chuckles, looking deep into her fresh-grass-green eyes. Mounty blushes, regaining her footing, and stands proudly in her spot. Cumulus runs up to her quickly to smooth down her veil and the back of her dress and when she nods at the officiant it all begins.

They made it.

Neither Swiss nor Mounty will remember the next twenty minutes—they’re not even listening to the officiant, staring at each other and smiling like two teenagers in love instead. Only when it’s time for them to speak—for their vows—do they snap out of it. Well, not fully, of course.

“Mounty, love of my life,” Swiss begins. “You know I ain’t much good with words, so I’ll just say what…comes to mind. We haven’t known each other that long, but you already know me better than anyone else ever had; better than I know myself. You looked at me once and your kindness and beauty captivated me and I can’t imagine my life without you now. I was lost and you found me and I can never repay you for that, for all you’ve done for me. But I’ll try, I’ll do my damn best to give you a better life than you’ve dreamed of. If you’ll let me.”

Mounty chuckles, nodding with a grin and glistening eyes.

“Swiss, my darling, you gave me something I doubted I could ever have. You made me feel loved and important and now I wake up every day with the knowledge that I’m someone’s. That I’m yours and I couldn’t imagine it being different, now. You filled the empty spaces in my heart and soul I didn’t even know were there. I look forward to waking up next to you and facing the world for the next tens of years and more. You also gave me something to worry about and I do think you may have to work on that aspect.”

This time all the guests laugh with them.

Swiss tries to be discreet when he wipes the tears from his eyes, but he’s not doing a very good job of it. Neither is Mounty, even though she’s more graceful when she pats them away with a corner of a napkin.

The bride looks back at Cirrus as it’s time for them to exchange rings and she brings them out; just two simple golden bands. They decided they needed nothing but a symbol; their love alone already made them richer than any jewelry could ever be a proof of. 

Swiss’ hands shake as he slides the ring down Mounty’s finger, but it’s okay; so do hers. They giggle quietly at each other when it takes a small eternity for Swiss’ ring to end up on his finger, but soon enough it’s done.

They made it.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant announces and the world goes quiet.

Swiss grins as he throws his hat away before wrapping his arms all around Mounty and dipping her so low the ends of her hair touch the ground. The guests cheer loudly, but neither the cowboy nor his wife pay them any mind as they kiss; it’s just them despite the crowd, just like the first time.

And the sun that shines upon them through the treetops is the missing best woman.

look at the beautiful art by @arkeusruin!!!

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #14

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You try to move on after the Universe has been saved.

Word count: 4,700

Warning: Angst

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

You're standing in the middle of your old apartment.

The same apartment that had a helicopter crash into it and left nothing but rubble, ash and melted cement in its wake. Except now it's restored, like nothing ever happened.

Your rickety dining table sits in the middle of the room, propped up by a hardcover book to make up for the fact that one leg is crooked. Your tiny double bed with your lumpy mattress is pushed up against the wall. The usual piles of clean and dirty laundry indiscriminately mixed together sits unattended on top of the unmade covers.

You don't understand.

Why is it all back to normal?

You shake your head, snapping yourself out of it.

Miguel… You need to get back to him and you don't have time for this right now.

"Lyla," you summon. A warm ping vibrates against your inner wrist as Lyla appears. "Take me back to the void."

Lyla shakes her head firmly. "I'm sorry I can't do that."

"What do you mean? Of course you can, you've brought us there twice. You did it when Miguel commanded you."

She peers up at you through her pink heart-shaped glasses, with a solemn look in her holographic eyes.

"The first time was a miscalculation. The second was to eliminate the continued threat to your life."

Her words stop you cold. 'Continued threat...' Is she referring to Miguel?

"Lyla, please. Stop messing around. Take me back to Miguel."

Lyla's eyes go blank, no longer the flippant expression you are so used to seeing.

"Request denied. My programming does not allow me to expose you to danger."

"He's going to die if we don't do something Lyla!" You shout at her.

There is a tremor in your hand. Your nerves are shot, exhausted and tired from everything that has happened in the last 24 hours and you can feel the tears pushing up against your throat.

"Isn't it part of your protocol to protect him?!"

"I was built to protect you. My primary directive is to make sure you're safe above all else. That is my purpose."

She recites the words as if she's reading from a manual. It's flat and emotionless in a way you've never known Lyla to be before. Like the line is hardwired into the very core of her basic coding. There are no funny jokes. No sass.

"Lyla, please," you beg.

She doesn't answer you. That same impassive expression as before is still on her face.

"Lyla..." you try again.

You scramble to think of your options. To devise a plan B. But to your horror, you can’t think of anything.

What are you meant to do? You’re not a super genius who can build source code out of thin air that can break the laws of physics. You have no superpowers. No magic that allows you to travel to other dimensions.

The only thing you know how to do is file claim insurance applications. You’re useless.

There's nothing to be done.

It's over.

Your legs give in from the oppressive weight of your realization. You slump to the floor, unable to hold yourself together as the hard wooden floor hits your knees. You fold in two, hunched over the floor and you let the ache inside your chest break and pour over and you cry.

When you come to some time later, you find yourself curled up on the floor. You don't know how long you must've been crying for. But it must’ve been long enough for you to have cried yourself to exhaustion and slipped into unconsciousness.

Turning onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling, shivering from the cold breeze of the evening coming through the window.

Your limbs are cramping from exhaustion. You're dehydrated. Mouth dry and eyes crusted with dried tears. There's a deep-seated headache burrowing into your skull. It's a struggle for you to get up from the floor into a seated position, as you properly take in your surroundings.

At first glance, this version of your apartment looks identical to yours, but on closer inspection there are some stark differences.

By the window, there are black out curtains hanging from the ceiling to allow for sleep-ins during daylight hours.

On your bed, amongst the mountain piles of laundry strewn haphazardly, there are items you don’t recognize. Oversized hoodies that are big enough to fit a bear. Male sweatpants. Socks so big they look like they're Christmas stockings.

Walking over to the kitchen area, there's a distinct lack of coffee. It's been replaced by expired Reese's Peanut Butter cups, milk duds, and Hershey bars that fill every corner of your kitchen cupboards to the brim, stuffed haphazardly on the upper shelves that you could never reach. They have even made their way into your nightstand and stuffed and hidden between books on the bookshelf.

Lyla doesn't even have to tell you where you are. You already know.

This is your home. In your other self's dimension. It belongs to Miguel's nena.

Miguel sent you here, the closest universe he knew of that was identical to yours, so that you could live out your days in safety, without him.

Fucking idiot.

This is not what you wanted.

Days pass.

It's an odd and empty existence, you've beaten the impossible odds and won against the universe itself and made it out alive. Yet you're not sure that anything about this truly qualifies as a victory.

For all you know, the world that is your home may have been destroyed.

After all that's what Stark said: there is no guarantee that just because you left, everything would go back to normal.

And who are you to argue with the (second) smartest man on earth?

There's no way of you knowing what the outcome was, and Lyla refuses to transport you out of this current dimension.

You spend most of your days curled into a ball in bed unable to summon the strength to keep yourself upright or awake for more than an hour at a time, haunted by the knowledge that your escape from your death might have doomed trillions to theirs.

In the hours in between, when that inescapable guilt doesn't eat into your mind, the only thing you are left with is replaying the moments of your life in the past three months.

It flits through your closed eyes like an old film reel and in every one of those moments, Miguel is there, reminding you of what you have now lost.

You feel hollowed out, scraped out and empty like there's nothing inside. The only time you manage to feel anything that resembles an emotion is when you clutch onto whatever piece of oversized clothing that once belonged to Miguel. The only physical trace you have to prove to yourself that he existed and it's not just some fantastical made up story in your mind.

Miguel once told you that anyone who gets lost in the void gets erased. Their very existence scrubbed from the records of the world. Does the fact that you can still remember him mean that he's still there? And if so, how much longer will you be able to mourn him before he's faded entirely in that space. Before your very memory of him and the love you have that sits inside you with nowhere to go is gone too?

Nothing about this feels like a happy ending.

In the first few days, you don't leave the house. You tell yourself that it's better that way. Now that Miguel is no longer here, the idea of walking out in into open streets in broad daylight seems strange to you.

Lyla tries to tempt you with exotic holidays.

“Bali, India! The world is your oyster, we can fly out first class tonight and do an Eat Pray Love for as long as you want to!” Lyla’s voice sings in your ear. "Thailand is lovely this time of the year, barely any tycoons."

Most of the time, you ignore her presence, burying your head into the pillow, pathetically hugging onto one of the oversized shirts that’s been left behind.

Everytime you hope to catch a whiff of the remnant traces of Miguel’s presence there. But there’s nothing. It just smells of stale detergent.

After surviving the end of the world, a lot of things that used to be important seems meaningless to you now.

Alive as you may be, there’s no real purpose for you carved out in this dimension. You don't go to work in the mornings, because the you of this universe died years ago. Showing up at your office at the Chrysler building would likely induce heart attacks amongst your old co-workers.

You could scour Careerbuilder for job ads, but there's a sour pit in your stomach that hugs tightly around your guts everytime you think of the prospect of having to speak to job recruiters.

You don't think you have it in you to lie to some stranger at an interview and pretend that being in front of a white screen poring over excel sheets 8 hours a day is the way you want to spend the rest of your life until you hit retirement.

Besides, rent is not an issue anymore. Nor is money when Lyla is there to take care of you and act as your digital sugar momma. A standing order for any and all bills needed to maintain this home had already been set up long before you arrived.

You feel sorry for Lyla. She's been programmed to take care of your mental and physical well being and you know she is at wit's end with your listless behavior.

She pulls out all the stops. Lyla orders take out for you, delivered right to your door to try to get you to eat. If she had a physical body, you think she would hold you down and force feed you.

But something is wrong with you, because even though every dish is your favorite, rounded up from your favorite restaurants in the city, for the first time in your life since you were born, you no longer have much of an appetite.

You usually only manage mouthfuls just to keep Lyla from constantly nagging, before you shove the take-out box back into the fridge and then crawl back into bed.

Everything tastes bland and grey. Everything around you seems to have lost its color and shine. Was the world around you always this dull?

On the fifth day, there is a familiar baby-pink box with Gladis' logo printed on the lid arriving at your doorstep.

“Surprise!” Lyla announces. “It’s your favorite! I ordered the luxury box with the elderflower lemon flavors, as well as the lychee-raspberry jello!”

You sit down by the table, staring at the beautifully adorned cupcakes in the box. Spirals of white and pink frosting with petals of edible flowers. There's freshly cut strawberries and blackberries and chocolate shavings on op.

Picking one up, you cram the whole cupcake into your mouth, trying to cling onto the memory of that first time when the flavor of lemon zest bursting on your tongue had made you squeal with happiness.

That doesn't happen.

This time, as the sugar hits the top of your mouth, all you can think about is how much you miss him. How things will never be the same without him.

How you'll never get to have him sit next to you, smiling softly as he watches you eat. That you'll never get to see him demolish a cupcake in one bite and leave frosting on his nose.

It doesn't feel the same, you just feel hollow. Wetness spills across your cheeks, and snot clogs your nose and throat. You must look like a looney, ugly crying with your mouth stuffed full of cupcake, barely swallowing.

After that Lyla doesn’t order them for you anymore.

It's morning you think, judging from the bright sun pouring in from the blinds.

Lyla is buzzing near your ear where you've taken off the watch and placed it on the pillow next to you for company.

"You need to get out of the house. You're turning into a social recluse. It's not a good look," she says, as she peers down at you over her pink-tinted glasses.

"How about I get a date for you? Have a fab night out on the town? I have a roller-dex of the top bachelors in New York. I'm happy to hack into their calendar!"

You ignore her, burying your face deeper into the pillow, hugging Miguel's worn hoodie tighter to your chest. You pull the cover over your head, but you can still hear her babble on through the thin separation of fabric.

"What's your type? Oscar Isaac? He’s hot– No, no you're right he's happily married and we don’t wanna be homewreckers here. What about Lenny Kravitz? Doesn't get cooler than Kravitz and he’s long divorced."

"Lyla stop," you groan, poking your head back up above the covers. You just want quiet. Just want to stay here cocooned in this space that is the closest you'll ever get to Miguel for as long as you can remember him, until that too is taken away from you.

"I'm fine. I don't need a date."

"You're not fine though. You've only eaten a box of cupcakes in the last week. You haven't showered and you look like a mess. Your hair is greasier than the BP oil spill off the gulf of Mexico. My purpose is to keep you safe, and that includes your mental and emotional levels, which are... " she stops, throwing up some diagnostics boxes in floating holograms, then makes a face. "Yikes."

She’s doing this on purpose. Talking incessantly, so that she can nag you into doing what she wants. Suddenly you gain newfound sympathy for Miguel. You used to think it was funny when she nagged him and got on his nerves, but now that you're on the end of it, you see how he must’ve suffered when Lyla was in one of these moods with him.

"Will you stop if I step out of the house for a walk," you offer as an olive branch, hoping for a little peace and quiet.

"How long of a walk?"

"Five."

"Minutes?!" Lyla screeches with outrage. "The general recommendation is 150 minutes of weekly exercise, I'm going to need at least an hour's walk from you boss-girl."

"Twenty minutes."

"Forty!"

"Half an hour, or I'm going back to bed and wearing earplugs."

Lyla grins. "Deal".

The streets here look the same as the ones in your dimension, down to the Bodega owned by the old Korean couple around the corner. This version of earth is identical to yours in almost every way you know of.

Except in this New York, instead of Matthew Ellis, a man named Biden who is apparently over 100 years old (give or take a few years) is president.

In this reality, Leonardo Di Caprio apparently won an Oscar, while Amy Adams still hasn't, which is nuts to you.

The Avengers also don't seem to exist here. Though Superheroes still seem prevalent. A group of misfits that refers to themselves as the Fantastic Four seems to dominate the news cycle more often than not.

Ahead of you, the street splits into two paths and you take a corner into the smaller street that you know should cut through to a dog park.

But it doesn’t. Instead of green grass fields and park benches, you end up in a small narrow dead end of a street. Somehow you're lost. Shit. You should've paid more attention.

Looking up, you turn your head left and right to try to make sense of where you could be. You’re just about to pull up google maps, when the flickering light of the one sole streetlamp illuminating this alley catches your attention.

You're 12 blocks from Chinatown, but you recognize this alley even though it shouldn't be here.

From a distance, you spot the familiar red stall. The same small rickety table. The same red cloth draped on top. The same old lady with her abnormally large shiny head, comically large sunglasses and white-blue robe. The same giant sign spelling out: Fortune teller.

Only this time, there's only one folding chair set up in front of it.

She takes one look at you, as you sit down with a look of familiarity in her milky-white eyes.

"Your bad luck is gone," she says.

You should be more surprised that the scam fortune teller from another dimension seemingly remembers the conversation you had with her other self. But it doesn't. You've learned by now that nothing is as it seems.

Random near death accidents are not just due to bad luck. A superhero that repeatedly saves you isn’t just doing it out of sheer goodwill and duty. A starmap is not just a starmap, and you’re willing to bet your life that this fortune teller is not just a fortune teller.

“Who are you?” you ask her.

“Is that of importance to you?”

“Yes.”

She takes off her sunglasses and stares directly into your eyes. Without the obstruction of dark tinted lenses, you can see that it's not glaucoma causing the whiteness in her pupils. In her eyes, there are galaxies, millions of tiny dots of glowing stars, endless and mesmerizing as you stare back into them.

"My name is Ulana. I’m a Watcher. My role is to observe the Multiverse from the Nexus of all realities.”

There’s no longer that harmless demeanor and friendly smile that makes you drop your guard. She holds herself with reverence as she speaks, with the aura of the divine.

“Does that mean you are able to observe every reality in this moment?” you ask.

“Yes.”

The image of your New York with its pink cracked sky and the chaos you left it in crowds your vision.

"Can you tell me what happened to my old world after I left? Is it still there?"

"Your old home is intact and safe."

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you had been holding all this time.

Thank god.

Relieved tears spill from your cheeks. Somehow you haven't single-handedly caused the destruction and death of whole worlds and countless lives.

Even if you can never go back there, that place will always be your home, and your chest warms at the thought that even without you it will always still be there.

You take a moment to gather yourself, to wipe the errant tears that are welling up with the back of your hand.

Then you take a deep calming breath before you ask her the question that has been plaguing your mind since you arrived in this reality.

"Is Miguel still alive in the void?" you ask her.

"Your husband is still alive. But he doesn't have much time left. He's fading."

Your fingers curl into fists on top of your knees, "How do I save him?"

"I couldn't tell you.” She shakes her head sadly. "My kind is not allowed to intervene. We are only meant to observe the ongoings of the universes. I've already meddled too much.”

Ducking down, she reaches under her desk, sorting through the pile of junk paper, before she leans back up over the table.

"This is the only help I can give you," she says, reaching over to place something into your hands.

You look down to see a familiar bright yellow Star Map.

"He'll be home this time," she tells you.

You're standing on the doorsteps of the old brownstone on 177A Bleecker Street, staring up at the old ornate wooden front doors.

Unlike last time you were here, there's no hesitation in you anymore. It doesn't matter that you've come alone with no other superhero to validate your mad and fantastical story about the Cosmos that was out to kill you.

You don't care if Strange thinks you're a random crazy from the streets.

If he doesn't believe you, then you'll make him believe you. If he tries to have you hauled out, you'll kick and drag and scream at the top of your lungs, and chain yourself to his front door if that's what it takes.

You bring your hand to the door knocker and tap it three times. Then you wait.

Nothing.

Didn't the fortune teller say he was going to be home this time?

Goddamnit, was she a scam after all? What kind of name is Ulana for a celestial being anyhow? Did you end up wasting another ten dollars?

You grit your teeth and step forward again, grabbing the door knocker to pound it down against the front door, even harder this time and you don’t stop at one or two, you keep slamming it down fervently.

Mid-knock, the door creaks, swinging open, as an exasperated voice greets you.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm coming. There's no need to knock that aggressively, I'm not going to come to the door any fast–"

He stops mid-sentence as he looks at you. For a man you've never met, Dr. Strange's eyes go wide at the sight of you standing on his doorsteps. His eyes are filled with the disbelief of a man who's seen a ghost.

"You're alive," he says.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Strange says as he hurriedly pulls out a chair by the old oak table in his dining room.

“I’ll make us some tea,” he says.

He waves his cape with a dramatic flare in the empty space, and from a distance you hear a small click, before you realize that he must’ve used magic to put on the kettle.

For someone that’s supposed to be a sorcerer, you don’t know why the hell he bothers having a kettle. Seems a bit redundant, couldn’t he just use magic to instantly heat water?

You sit down as instructed, hands folded in your lap as you try not to fidget.

There’s a prolonged and uncomfortable silence as you both wait for the water to boil.

Strange opens then closes his mouth, as if he’s unsure of who should speak first. In the end though, he doesn’t say anything at all, he just drums his fingers impatiently on the wooden surface as he smiles politely but awkwardly at you. Across the room, the water starts simmering to a boil.

This wasn’t what you had expected. You had counted on him to try to kick you out and you having to make a passionate plea for him to listen to you. Instead he’d opened the door and insisted on inviting you in and now the two of you are drowning in a sea of uncomfortable silence.

There’s a tinny whistle from the kettle, and Strange darts up from the chair, as if the interruption was a godsend. He rushes over to pick it up, before walking back to the table with it at a much slower pace.

Then he stands next to you, tilting the snout of the kettle into your small tea cup.

Strange stares intently at your face as he pours the boiling water into the cup. So focused on you that he doesn't pay any attention to the level of the hot water, until it spills over the rim and onto the table surface below. Then he seemingly snaps himself out of it.

"Shit! Sorry," Strange begins. He wipes up the spillage with his robe, even though there are perfectly good paper towels behind him, even though he could’ve just used magic to make it vanish in the blink of an eye.

"You look exactly like her," he says, then he stops himself.

Strange considers the statement and does a curt little nod at himself as if berating himself for how stupid that comment sounded. "Which of course you do. You are her, just… from another dimension."

From your time with Miguel, you’ve been able to glean from his childish rants about the man’s “ugly” and “useless” and “impractical” cape that there’s a hostility there towards Strange that goes beyond just Miguel being Miguel.

Judging from the guilt in this man’s eyes as he looks at you from across the table, you can guess that there is a complicated history between Strange and Miguel and you.

“Did you know me?” you ask.

“Yeah, we were friends. Good friends,” Strange corrects himself. Then a sadness seeps into his eyes as he stops wiping the table and pulls back his robe close to his body. “Although I supposed I wasn’t a great friend to you near the end of things.”

He places the cup down on the table in front of you, the rising steam wafts through the air, smelling of mint and honey as he drags out the chair and sits himself next to you.

"Why don't you tell me everything from the start," Strange asks you.

So you do. You tell him of that first day when you fell out of the Chrysler building and was saved by Miguel. Tell him about how Miguel saved you again and again and how you tried to trap him with cookies and how you fell out of the Chrysler building a second time on purpose, which makes Strange laugh that sounds fond and warm.

You tell him of the void, the fortune teller, the Avengers and everything in between, and how despite surviving all of that Miguel had exiled himself to the void and sent you here by yourself, with each event you tell him his eyes grow sadder.

When you're done, Strange nods solemnly. He picks up his cup and takes a small sip of his tea to buy himself time to gather his thoughts. Then he finally speaks again. "What can I do to help?"

"Miguel is still in the void. I need your help to send me there so I can get him back."

Strange frowns, then goes entirely quiet as he stares out of the window in deliberation. It takes several moments before he speaks again.

"The void is a dangerous place, stay too long and you will be erased from existence. If you go in you may not be able to find your way out and I wouldn’t be able to help you from here."

“That’s fine, I just need your help to get there” you say.

He sets down his cup as he continues. "I can’t in good conscience send you back out there. I've already broken my promise to keep you safe once."

Frustration brims in your chest. As flattered as you are over Strange’s concern over your safety, you bristle at the fact that there seems to be none extended to Miguel’s. Every second you spend here is another second wasted.

“Miguel is there. If I don’t save him, he’s going to be erased from existence.”

That doesn’t seem to move the doctor in the slightest.

“For Miguel, his own life is a small price to pay in exchange for yours. He’d sacrifice the whole world for you to live.”

“That’s not a choice for him to make.”

Strange scratches his thumb over his bearded jaw, as if he's trying to figure out how to solve a puzzle, before speaking again.

"Right now with Miguel gone, the volatile cosmic energy surrounding you is stabilized. The version of you in this universe died and is viewing your presence as an equivalent exchange. You could stay here. You'd be safe. Miguel would've known that. That's probably why he sent you here.”

"I don't want to stay here if Miguel isn't here," you counter.

Leaning back in his chair, Strange up at the ceiling in deep thought.

"It's risky, if I sent you there, you may not even be able to find him. He might not even have his physical shape anymore, he’s been there too long by now."

His head ducks back down as he looks at your face, observing you for long moments.

You don't know what it is he sees, but a small amused smile quirks at his lip as he shakes his head again.

"But... I think you already know the risks and nothing I can say will dissuade you will it?" he says.

You nod.

It's not that you've stopped being scared of the void. It's not that the very thought of it doesn't fill your stomach with a cold dread. It's that Miguel is there, and there is no risk you're not willing to take to have the chance to see him again.

You square your chest and confidence swells inside you with your answer.

"Send me there."

~ Next Issue

Credit and Dedication: We're almost there guys! Next issue is going to be the final one. Thanks to everyone who has been with me on this ride! I cannot wait to share the final conclusion with you all.

Special thank you (as always) go out to my bestie: @thirstworldproblemss who is a big reason this story even lifted off the ground in the first place.

Big BIG BIGGEST thanks to my muse @guruan who has gifted me with so much inspiration be it thirsty twitter art of our favorite rude spider or her own insanely gorgeous art. Have you seen this heartbreaking beauty?!

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

Tolerate It

Inspired by 'Tolerate It' by Taylor Swift :)

"I know my love should be celebrated... but you tolerate it."

Quite frankly, Y/N isn’t sure how much longer she can take this. It’s the second time this week Harry hasn’t been home for dinner and it’s only Wednesday. Y/N is normally fine looking after baby Elle by herself, she knows Harry has important things to do and people to meet and deals to close its just… lately he’s been different. More withdrawn, constantly at work and seemingly finding less and less time to spend with his wife and 6 month old daughter. That morning he had left in a whirlwind, pressing a quick, barely there kiss to her cheek before promising to be home for dinner at 7. 

Y/N swirls what’s left in her wine glass as she glances over at the clock that reads 9:14. He’d be out for a while yet, she knew. Sighing, she puts his plate in the fridge, washing the dishes before getting ready for bed, popping into check on Elle. She smiles softly at the rise and fall of her daughter’s chest as she sleeps, leaning down and kissing her head then moving away from the crib and towards her own bedroom. It’s Y/N and Harry’s shared room but Y/N can’t remember the last time she actually woke up to Harry still in the room. Or the last time she fell asleep with him beside her. 

Y/N intends to wait up for her husband but when her eyes flutter closed she can’t seem to stop them. They open after what only feels like minutes later when the bed dips on Harry’s side. She blinks sleepily, watching him slide into bed and prop himself up against the pillows, reading with his head low. She shuffles, catching his attention and when he meets her gaze, she smiles tiredly up at him.

“Hey. Thought you were going to be home for dinner?”

“Things got busy. Ate at the office.” He turns his attention back to the book he’s reading and Y/N’s smile droops. 

“You could have called. I waited for you.”

Harry scoffs at her confession, rolling his eyes. 

“Y/N I don’t have time to give you a call every time I’m going to be a bit late coming home. Get off my case, it’s fucking annoying.” His voice rises slightly in volume as he gets frustrated, but not loud enough to wake Elle in the next room. 

“I’m not trying to be annoying H. I’m just saying that I missed you today and as your wife it would just be nice if you could let me know.” Y/N sighs, rolling over, her back to him as she tries to go back to sleep. Her breath hitches as she feels Harry come closer to her, kissing her shoulder before burying his face in her neck. 

“Sorry my love, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just really caught up lately.”

“I know you are.” Y/N tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as he sponges kisses on her neck, shoulders and then slowly down her arm. 

“Tomorrow. Take Elle to my mum’s and I’ll be home around 5. Let’s make it a date night, just us.” At this, Y/N turns to face him, a small grin on her face. 

“Yeah? Just us?”

“Just us bub. Promise I’ll be home in time and I’m all yours.”

~

Y/N believes him. So, she does what Harry says. Take’s Elle over to Anne’s around midday, the older woman over the moon to spend some extra time with her granddaughter. Around 2, her best friend makes a surprise visit to the house, finding Y/N slaving away in the kitchen.

“Are you cooking for 12?” Lucy laughs as Y/N rushes around putting finishing touches on what seems to be a ten course meal.

“No… just Harry and I. But I’m making all his favourites. I want tonight to be special for us. He’s been so busy with work lately.”

“What are you wearing?” Lucy smirks at Y/N who simply blushes.

“It’s on the bed.” She says referring to the lacy white lingerie set that Harry had bought her for their first anniversary. Lucy wolf whistles, causing Y/N to turn even redder.

“Lucky husband, that Harry of yours. Now hurry up and finish so we can have a glass of wine before he gets here and I have to go.”

Y/N grabs a bottle and the two women sit and chat for a few hours before Y/N realises it’s 10 to 5 and she needs to go and change. She kicks Lucy out as politely as possible before getting ready and waiting for Harry. 

The clock ticks over to 5:00pm. Then 5:01pm. Then 5:20pm. 

At 5:30pm, she calls. His phone is off. 

At 6:00pm, she finishes a second bottle of wine, and then she calls again. His phone is still off. 

At 6:17pm, Lucy sends her a link to an article and Y/N feels the sudden urge to throw up. Because the article is about Harry and the headline reads: Trouble in Paradise? Styles and Co CEO Harry Styles seen partying on a yacht with ex Kendall Jenner, just months after celebrating his third wedding anniversary and welcoming daughter Elle Styles. 

The photos are incriminating. Kendall’s face in his neck, his hands around her waist. Kendall getting into a cab, leading Harry behind her.

Lucy calls. Y/N doesn’t answer.

At 8:15pm, Y/N picks herself up off the floor, goes upstairs, grabs a bag throws essential things inside for her and Elle and gets her keys. 

That’s when the door opens and her husband walks, stumbles, through the front door. 

“Sorry I’m late. Something smells good.” Harry’s words have a slight slur to them, she knows he’s been drinking but she can’t bring herself to care. He steps closer and she wrinkles her nose. 

“You smell like her.” Y/N comments, willing herself not to cry. 

“Who? Kendall?” Harry is suddenly ten times more alert, worry evident on his face.  

“Nothing happened Y/N.” “Sure didn’t look like nothing. In fact the photos were… quite something.”

“Love… I don’t- I put her in a cab and she went home. It was supposed to be a quick meeting and then it turned into a yacht event and I know you wanted me home earlier but I-”

“This isn’t about me wanting you home earlier Harry. I wanted this night for us. Because we’re drifting apart and I don’t know what to do about it.” 

“You’re being dramatic, I’ve just been busy.”

“You’ve been “busy” for 4 months Harry. Are you not in love with me anymore?” Y/N’s voice trembles but she holds his gaze. Harry feels his heart drop into the floor.

“…What?”

“Tell me it’s all in my head. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Y/N calm down. You’re acting insane, of course I love you.”

“Harry, you make me feel annoying when all I want is for you to love me back as much as I love you! You just sit there and you… you just tolerate me. And I don’t deserve that. I sit here in this stupid mansion you bought for us with our daughter who probably doesn’t even know that you’re her father because you’re never around. I just sit here and I wait with Elle. For you to come home to me, for you to tell me you need me as much as I need you. And I don’t think I can do it anymore.” She pushes past him to the garage and he grabs her wrist gently. “Y/N. Baby where are you going?”

“Bit late for the pet names H. Don’t you think?” She scoffs. 

“I need space. Come find Elle and I if you think you’re going to be able to show up for us, because I don’t feel the need to explain to our daughter why she doesn’t have a fucking dad.”

Harry steps back, looking at her helplessly as her words cut him deep.

“Bye Harry.”

Read Part II here

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge

[igncrxntripley]

their secret weapon pt. 14

synopsis: y/n's reunited with her loves, and they all begin to see just how much of a toll being away from them has taken on her.

author's note: grab your tissues and get the hell ready for this roller coaster

mentions: poly!judgment day, fem!reader, mentions of regular wrestling violence, some illusion to feelings of anxiety and depression, overall SFW

tags: @thesithdiaries @cassiesgreta​ @roseheartsworld @theworldofotps​ @babybatlover @ripleyswhore @auburnwrites @obl1vionblackhart​ @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkin​ @embertargaryen​ @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname @i-have-issues-lol​ @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia​ @infamousvampcx​ @christinabae @kagome2909

"oh my god..." rhea had never reacted so fast to a text message. she was in bed, pajamas and all, ready to finally get some sleep after a hectic travel schedule and not having y/n home. but reading her phone for the last time before she planned to shut her eyes for the night had the eradicator jumping out of bed.

the rest of the group was scattered throughout the bedroom area; finn still deep in thought in the shower, dom fast asleep in bed already, and damian trying to make his side of the bed as comfortable as possible before hoping to be just as fast asleep as dominik. rhea getting out of bed and hurrying to slide someone's hoodie over her head was enough to wake dominik from his deep slumber, the young lucha rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "is there a fire?" he mumbled.

damian was just as confused. "rhea? babe, what's wrong?" he asked, watching the aussie hurry out of the bedroom and following closely behind. "rhea!"

"no no no no..." she was mumbling, panicking at the thought of what could have been on the other side of their front door. of course rhea wanted y/n home, they all did. but she also feared this was some sick joke. a nightmare she wasn't able to wake up from and she'd be forced to sit through the whole thing. the rain was drowning out the sound of damian's footprints rushing behind her, and a small crack of thunder sounded as she opened the door.

there stood y/n. soaking wet from the rain, shaking and trembling like a leaf, and the sight of rhea alone caused a sob to leave her lips. "m-mamí..."

"oh honey, shh," rhea tugged y/n into her arms and brought her inside the house. "i've got you, it's okay. you're home."

those words didn't feel real...none of this felt real to y/n. she'd spent the last month being ostracized from the people she loved as a form of payback. she was used as canon fodder against the judgment day, simply because she chose her own path and not what edge wanted for her. enough fear had been instilled in her that she didn't just go back home to her little family, and now that she was finally back in the safe embrace of the eradicator herself? that fear was even more rampant in her veins.

y/n was wriggling in rhea's arms, shivering and her teeth trembling as she tried to get warm. her entire body was drenched from the rain. even the warmth of rhea's body wasn't enough to make the shivering stop, and rhea realized that very quickly. "damian, dom, towels please?" she looked up at the top of the stairs, where dominik's mouth had practically dropped open with shock. "did i stutter? towels, dominik! dry clothes, blankets, anything!"

dominik snapped out of whatever trance he was in and ran into the bathroom for towels. finn was still showering, and upon hearing all of the commotion entering the steam-filled room where he was trying to process all of his emotions, he poked his head out from behind the curtain. "jeez, dom." he groaned. "it's late, what are you doing?"

the panic was written all over dom's face. "y/n..." he said, grabbing a stack of towels from a cabinet. "she's here. she came back in the rain." without another word, he left an astonished finn in the bathroom and rushed back to where rhea was holding a terrified y/n.

"i-i...i couldn't...rhea, it..." y/n could barely formulate words from how hard she was sobbing. it was hard to even distinguish what was tears and what was raindrops on her face.

rhea shook her head gently and wrapped y/n in a towel, then a blanket. "don't talk, y/n." she said softly, immediately pulling her close again to try and calm her down. "just take deep breaths for me, okay? come on, you're safe here. we've all got you."

damian, who's just finished bringing the warmest blankets in the house to where rhea and y/n were sitting together, took one of the towels from dominik and began drying y/n's hair so it would stop dripping down her back. "shh, estas en casa ahora hermosa." he said softly.

meanwhile, finn was left in a daze from dominik's words. y/n was here? she came back? how did she manage to do that? isn't she going to get in trouble? how he didn't slip when getting out of the shower was a mystery, because he got out of there as fast as he could and got dressed before rushing downstairs. the sight in front of him was one that not only broke his heart, but fueled every bit of anger that had already been permeating in his body. seeing y/n, shivering and huddled in rhea's arms as she sobbed and mumbled absolute nonsense was every reason for him to unleash absolute hell on edge.

go to her, my prince. she needs you now more than ever.

"oh, lovey..." the irishman rushed to where his girls were sat, his arms open for y/n who immediately rushed into them with another sob. "baby, what are you doing here? you know what they told you."

"i don't care!" she cried harder, hiding in his neck. "they can't keep me out of my home! t-that i pay for a-and clean and have a key to!" finn wrapped the towels around her a little tighter and she leaned into his loving touch. "no one is in charge of me but me."

all four members of the judgment day, while saddened this feud with edge and beth had gotten to this point, had to admit that there was an aspect to their princess's anger that had them feeling proud of her. the y/n they originally recruited into the judgment day probably would have never stuck her metaphorical middle finger up to her bosses or mentors. but her being in this position had forced her to dig up that buried confidence and finally put it to use.

time had passed, with all five members of this reunited judgment day sitting in the living room trying to warm up and calm down y/n until she was no longer sobbing and shivering. she'd been reduced to silent tears and the slightest trembles in her shoulders, but nothing more. more than anything, y/n was exhausted and she wanted to sleep in her own bed. "can i please go take s shower?" she asked quietly from finn's shoulder.

the prince nodded in response, damian moving the blanket and wet towels from her body as she stood up from her tight ball on the floor. "i'll put your pajamas in the dryer so they're warm for you, love."

the two walked upstairs, one of finn's arms around y/n as they went into the bathroom together. he grabbed a spare towel for the dryer as well, and gave a gentle kiss to y/n's forehead. "what else do you need, angel?" he was expecting something simple as answer from y/n; maybe her water bottle to be filled and by their bedside, or something to eat, maybe even a request for a specific member of their little family to hold her that evening or to sleep in the middle. but her words instead held a much deeper meaning.

"revenge. i want revenge."

****

monday night raw. only three weeks away from wrestlemania, the grandest stage of them all, and the judgment day only had one thing on their minds; ending this feud with edge, once and for all. for everything he did to them. for all of the chaos he put their little family through. every one of them wanted a piece of the fight, but finn ultimately was the one who'd be in that ring with the hall of famer.

edge stood in the ring, facing four members of the group who stood at the top of the ramp. they stood strong, like a solid barrier against the negativity and hurt edge had put them through. "a few weeks ago, you challenged me to a match at wrestlemania, right?" he asked finn. "and since you're not man enough to come in here and face me, you want your match at wrestlemania? fine, you got it!'

finn was hyped; he was nodding, smiling at the other man while the other members were getting just as hyped alongside him. finn had been dying for this match. he issued this challenge weeks ago, and the desire to be in a ring alone with this man was only getting bigger and bigger. the cheers of the crowd around them wasn't helping anything either.

"hey, did you hear that, dom?" the prince asked. "rhea, did you hear that? finn's going to wrestlemania! you think the beating i gave you at extreme rules was bad-" the adrenaline was pumping through his veins, he was trying his best to get through this promo without letting his hype get the better of him.

"shut your mouth!" edge's words silenced him, the crowd reacting in the canadian's favor. "for the last year of my comeback, i've wasted it on all of you." by his choice, for the most part. "the year before that, i wrestled in front of a bunch of tv screens in the thunderdome. i don't have time for this. i'm running out of time."

the irony in his words could be felt by the judgment day on an entirely different level. he had so much to accomplish that he abandoned y/n, left her in the dust in favor of his own career that had lasted twenty-plus years. sure, he was running out of time. but running out of time so fast that he had to practically forget y/n ever needed him in the first place?

the anger was pulsing through finn's body. the others could sense it, and dom put a careful hand on finn's shoulder in hopes that he'd calm down. but he couldn't stop pacing and moving as he glared deep into edge's soul from the top of the ramp.

"so the way i see it, there's only one way that this can end." edge said, holding onto the top rope as the audience also picked up on where he was going. finn was watching him carefully, his top lip twitching in anger just at the sight of him. "at wrestlemania, edge versus finn bálor, inside hell in a cell."

the audience reacted exactly how one would expect; finn stood stoic in his spot, edge was shaking with anger and adrenaline. the cheers from the crowd only fueled the two men and their respective anger.

finn was gripping his mic tight, his knuckles starting to whiten. "edge, i've been to hell before." he stated. "it spit me out because hell couldn't handle my demons. i'll see you at wrestlemania, but until then..." he looked at the other three members of the group, but what edge didn't see was what stood behind him with her own weapon of choice.

there y/n stood, coming up from her hiding spot under the ring with her own adrenaline rush. no one wanted this revenge on her mentor more than she did. no one wanted a front row seat more than her. this would be her first taste of that, as she swing her arms back and the kendo stick in her hands struck the back of the hall of famer. she hated to admit it, but there was a sense of pride as he fell to the mat and her partners began to unleash their own hell on him. y/n hit edge not once, not twice, but three times; and the yelps of pain that emanated from him sent chills down her spine.

even as the rest of the ring burst into chaos, other superstars coming out to edge's defense, she stood in front of him with her breath ragged and her palms sweating. "you're going to wish you never asked to meet the prince in the gates of hell." he'd never heard that growl to her voice or seen that ravenous look in her eyes. this was a new y/n, one that was sticking it to the people who'd caused her more pain than she'd been able to manage in her small body.

"get ready to meet the demon you created, pops."

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello, hello!!!I saw your post here with the answer to the question (If the age restriction was done away with, do you think Harry's name would have been picked for the tournament at 14?). And your thoughts on Cedric and Hufflepuff, and I'd like to know your opinion. I've always disliked the Hufflepuffs and Diggory himself because of their behavior when Harry was chosen champion. Cedric is always called a good guy, but he did nothing when his friends wore badges against Harry and laughed with them about it. Your thoughts?

I'm so glad I found your blog! You are miracle!

Hello again 👋

(Referencing this post)

Well, I don't dislike all the Hufflepuffs in the books (I like Susan Bones a lot because of the 2 lines she has in the whole series), but I do find it interesting that a lot of the students we see in Hufflepuff when Harry's at school, don't really exemplify Hufflepuff traits.

The Potter Stinks badges I'm kinda fine with. Like, I can understand it. See, Hufflepuff usually doesn't get the spotlight, and then they have Cedric Diggory as the school champion. Of course, they're excited. And then, oh, what's that? Harry Potter from Gryffindor is stealing the Apotlight again as the fourth champion! WTF? This isn't right!

For them, supporting Cedric and renouncing Harry is the just and fair option. Becouse Harry isn't supposed to be a champion, and they're supporting the "true champion". It doesn't really matter Harry didn't want to be a champion, it's unfair he was chosen as one at all.

So, I get it. I get the support for Cedric and resentment of Harry. It's other smaller things that make the image of the house fall apart a little for me.

It's Ernie McMillan making grandiose declarations not becouse it's the right thing to do, but for appearance's sake:

“Well said!” barked Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry had been expecting to speak long before this. “Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!” He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry, “Surely not!” When nobody spoke, he went on, [...] “Er . . .” said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass him. “Well . . . I’m sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is.” But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. “I — well, we are prefects,” Ernie burst out. “And if this list was found . . . well, I mean to say . . . you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out . . .” “You just said this group was the most important thing you’d do this year,” Harry reminded him

(OotP, Ch16)

Or his general concern with appearance over substance, really:

Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect’s badge gleaming on his chest.

(OotP, Ch11)

It's Justin and the others snap judgment of Harry in CoS without actually being fair and hearing him out:

the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn’t have explained. He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful — but certainly not angry and scared. “What do you think you’re playing at?” he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

(CoS, Ch11)

and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming toward him. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.

(CoS, Ch9)

It's Amos Diggory having no idea what "fair" is even if it punched him in the face and being the most insufferable character that isn't an outright villain:

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” said Amos Diggory. “Told us all about playing against you last year. . . . I said to him, I said — Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will. . . . You beat Harry Potter!” [...] “Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. “I told you . . . it was an accident. . . .” “Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman . . . but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!” “Must be nearly time,” said Mr. Weasley quickly

(GoF, Ch6)

(I hate that man sooo much it's not even funny.)

It's Cedric needing to be nudged to tell Harry about the egg from Moody/Barty as I mentioned in the post you referenced.

Zacharias Smith being a bit of a prat is fine, it's not like he's ever pretending to be anything else, so at least he's honest. But the point is that a lot of the Hufflepuffs we meet aren't exactly just and fair people like their house would suggest.

And I love it.

I mean, we talk about how Gryffindors aren't all brave, like Remus and Pettigrew who are both cowardly lions who'd rather run away in many situations. Or how Slytherins aren't all bad, that "the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters" and that Slytherin is more than just power-hungry evil people.

Showing Hufflepuffs who aren't noble, just, and hardworking is great. In fact, it's essential worldbuilding. It's another nail in the coffin of houses not being the be-all and end-all of who a person is. Becouse Hagrid is wrong in what he tells Harry:

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.”

(PS, Ch5)

Some Hufflepuffs are assholes, some Slytherins are nice, some Gryffindors are cowards and some Ravenclaws aren't smart. Houses aren't just about what you are, but what you value, what you want to be. I always saw someone's house as a mix of their traits, yes, but also their priorities, approach to problem-solving, or what they value most about themselves.

Remus and Peter may be cowards, but both of them value bravery greatly. They both looked up to James for his courage. There could be a Ravenclaw who isn't the sharpest, but they like to learn and solve riddles, even when they aren't any good at it. Slytherins like Tom Riddle, who value bravery and courage and despise cowardice like a Gryffindor, but they're so set on being great, of leaving a legacy, that the hat places them in Slytherin. Hufflepuffs like Ernie, who want to be noble and looked up to as a beacon of justice, but it doesn't come naturally to them so they act the part ("fake it till you make it"). I love this idea of Hogwarts houses that all these Hufflepuffs exemplify. Houses aren't always what you are, and sorting is more complicated than that.

So Cedric isn't the peach perfect noble and just Hufflepuff and it's great. Becouse people aren't always perfect and just and he's human. I would give him that he is a hell of a lot fairer than some of his housemates. But I don't think Cedric is the poster child of a just Hufflepuff — he isn't, and I prefer him that way. He's nice, don't get me wrong, he's not a bad person, but the idea that he was so perfect just because he died tragically sucks.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hello! I saw you were taking requests so if you don't mind can you do one with cassian where reader and him have a cute little baby girl and just some lovely bonding with their family. Lots of cute moments with their baby girl ❤️

Wings.

Cassian x f!Reader.

Masterlist

Warnings; Mentions of abuse (clipping)

Hope you enjoy it!

Clear sky, and bright sun the day was perfect and what made it even better is that Cassian put all his duties on hold to spend the day with you and your beautiful 14-month-old baby girl Alette. You and Cassian picked that name because it means -small winged one- in an ancient language. Alette recently started walking and you were exhausted, she would stand up, flare those little wings and run around the house, bumping into tables and breaking everything along the way. You dreaded the day she would figure out how to fly and the thought that you won’t be able to fly with her brought too much pain. You and Cassian met in one of his missions, he came to the Illyrian camp you were raised in because someone had informed them that they kept the clipping. When he landed, he was met with the sight of you, naked and blood streaming down your back, then the mating bond snapped and he went feral, he slaughtered everyone responsible for your clipping. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t save your wings and even though you were devastated he helped you so much that you got over it very quickly. Well not entirely because when Alette was born, and you saw her small wings you realised that you wouldn’t be able to teach her how to fly or play with her in the sky. Cassian of course noticed this and reassured you that he would help you experience all those things.

 Alette is the spitting image of her father, black hair, golden- brown skin and your personal favorite; hazel eyes. Other than that, she is also taller and stronger than the other kids her age. At first you joked that you would call her Cassian junior or Cassiana but when you saw your mate’s excitement you quickly told him no and never mentioned it again.

Alette’s giggle pulled you out of your thoughts, she was currently sitting on the floor in the dining room watching Azriel’s shadows slithering around as he got ready to leave. Cassian was still sleeping.

“I’m leaving do you need a ride?” Azriel asked as he patted his body probably checking if he has all his weapons.

“No, thank you… I will wake Cassian up if I need something” you replied. “He’s still sleeping?” Azriel quirked one eyebrow.

“Yes, Alette kept him up all night” you muttered. The shadowsinger nodded and with a kiss on Alette’s head he was gone.

“Dada” your daughter shouted. “You want dada?” you asked her and smiled when she eagerly nodded. She is such a daddy’s girl. You thought and picked her up.

You walked into your room; Cassian was sprawled on the bed in his underwear. His muscled body on display and his face soft with his full lips parted as he quietly snored. Alette was wiggling in your arms, trying to escape as she saw her dad.

You placed her on the bed, and she crawled towards him, when she reached him and tried to get on top of his chest Cassian grabbed her and started tickling her sides making her scream and laugh. “Got you little bat” he boomed and filled her face with kisses.

Alette was laughing so hard that you could swear everyone in Velaris could hear her.

Cassian stood up with her in his arms and approached you. “Good morning doll” he said and kissed you. Alette giggled and caressed your cheek.

“Good morning dada” you laughed making him grin proudly.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After Cassian had his breakfast and you gave Alette her fruits you decided to go out and spend the day in the nature, so Cassian picked both of you and flew you to a field by the Sidra. You were sitting on the grass with Cassian, and you watched Alette running around chasing butterflies, both of you had smiles on your faces as you watched her. “Thank you” Cassian whispered and you looked at him, confusion evident in your expression. “For giving me Alette… thank you. I love you both so much, I feel like I’m the happiest male on the world.”

You teared up “Oh Cass we love you too.” You replied and opened your mouth to continue but stopped when you saw his worried gaze, your head snapped in the direction he was staring at and…

Alette was flapping her wings; her little legs weren’t touching the ground, and she had a determined look on her face. She was trying to reach one of the butterflies that was sitting on a tree.

“Cass…” your voice was shaky. “Got it” he whispered and got up. Alette was floating higher than before. Cassian tiptoed towards her and when he reached her, he stretched his hand and grabbed her making her yelp. She looked back and giggled when she saw her father. Cassian chuckled and brought her back to you. His palm was beneath her belly, and he kept her up in a laying position, her wings were fluttering, and she was acting like she was flying. You laughed and reached for her, once you had her in your arms Cassian grabbed you both and shot to the sky, making both of you yelp and laugh. He was flying in circles above the field, diving and then shooting up again. When you touched the ground again you wiped the tears from laughter and watched your mate and daughter both of them with bright smiles on their faces running around you as Cassian chased her.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Alette was sleeping on Cassian’s lap; she was exhausted from playing with both of you and didn’t even eat the lunch you packed for her. The moment she crawled on her daddy’s lap, and he started stoking her hair she was out.

“Thank you for flying us around today” you muttered as you caressed his jaw.

“I told you doll; I will make sure you get to experience those things with her, I will fill the space your wings left empty.” He smiled.

I'm working on all your requests, I will post everything as soon as its ready. So please be patient and forgive me for any delay! Requests are open but delayed!

[explosionkatsu]

“Age doesn’t matter” 10

Dad!Bakugo x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Days have passed and you're finally discharged from the hospital. You were happy of course, especially when you remembered what Katsuki offered you.

"What I'm trying to say. No one will take care of Kazui. I can't always rely on my parents. My friends are heroes as well. Since you mentioned you used to be a babysitter. I would like to hire you."

You looked at him surprised once again. Are you in heaven? Are sure you're still alive?

“M-me?” Y/n stutters placing a shaking hand on her chest.

“The fuck am I talking to.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. Are you really even a teacher? “I don't need to repeat myself. If you fucking reject it, it's fine.”

“N-no! I was just surprised!” Y/n immediately shut Katsuki. “I-i was just surprised, honestly.” Finally, Y/n smiled. “I didn't expect you to say that. It makes my heart melt. I’m happy.”

After that day, Katsuki dropped you off at your apartment. He’s been stopping by to visit you at the hospital after his shift which you don't mind. But you often think you were bothering him which he says you're not.

Now here you are getting ready to leave your apartment to babysit Kazui.

Y/n grabbed her keys from the counter and left, securing the door behind her. Better safe than sorry is what they say.

It's a good day for her. Of course, you were trying to ignore the new insecurities. You kept reminding yourself that the scars you got were a sign of your boldness.

Yes yes.

A soft smile appeared on your lips. Bravery isn't something you should be insecure about. You were even glad you protected Kazui. Not an ounce of regret you were feeling. So you took a step towards your destination only to realize Katsuki didn't give you their address.

Great.

Y/n mentally smack herself. How could she forget to ask for the address? So much for being confident.

Y/n grabs her phone from her bag deciding to call Katsuki. Boy, she was glad she had his number due to school purposes. While standing a few meters away from her apartment, she clicked the call button and placed her phone in her ear waiting.

..

It just so happens that it's Katsuki's day off.

Due to exhaustion, Katsuki overslept which we all know is pretty rare. So, when he realized this, he panicked and rapidly stumbled out of his bed reaching for his phone. But as soon as he saw what day it was. He relaxed while on the carpeted floor.

Katsuki still decided to get up though. Slowly, he got off the floor and stretched, snapping a few bones, and stepped out of his bedroom, not even bothering to pick up his thick shroud nor fix his bed.

“Kazui? Are you awake?” Katsuki shouted as he made his way to his son’s bedroom.

He quietly flares the door open only to see a sleeping Kazui, snuggling comfortably on his bed. The sight made Katsuki smile. He was glad Kazui was okay. His treasure. Even though sometimes Kazui can be a brat, he loves him more than he even loves himself. More than he loves his job. His barefoot quietly made contact with the floor as he walked closer to Kazui. Carefully, he bent down kissing Kazui's forehead making him squirm but went back to sleep.

After this, Katsuki left Kazui’s bedroom and made his way to his kitchen. Now that he’s fully awake, he needs breakfast. He was scratching his head as he strides down the stairs, yawning a bit. Once he reached the kitchen, he placed his phone on the countertop and reached for the refrigerator handle only to get interrupted by his phone ringing.

It’s too fucking early for a phone call, unless it’s his company finally realizing they needed his guidance on some work issue. Probably? Who would even call this early anyway. Groaning, he reached for his phone and took a closer look to check who was the caller. Almost instantly, he picked it up.

“Good morning, Bakugo-san.”

God. Hearing your voice early in the morning sends a shiver down his spines. Not that kind of shiver you perverts.

“The hell I said about formalities, hah?” Katsuki said ignoring that his voice is still raspy.

“O-oh! I’m sorry. I forgot, haha.”

Fuck, was he in heaven right now? Unconsciously, Katsuki lips turned into a small smile. “The hell do you want this early.”

“W-well.” Why the hell are you even stuttering? Hell you can even defeat Izuku stuttering, “I kinda forgot to ask for your address..”

Oh yeah, now that you mentioned it, you’ll babysit Kazui today. “I’ll message it to you.” Katsuki simply said.

“Thank you, Bakugo!”

He can hear the happiness in your voice. Weird.

“Can’t pick you up. No one will watch over Kazui.” Katsuki mumbled finally reaching for the refrigerator handle and pulling it open to check the contents inside.

“You don’t have to! I can get there on my own!”

“I’ll be waiting then.”

“See you!”

When the call ended, Katsuki was staring blanky in the fridge. Why the fuck he said he’ll be waiting? He groaned out loud this time. Why the hell is he sounding desperate? Is he desperate? Oh, hell nah.

..

Eijiro was glad he was off duty as well. That means he can visit Kazui and spend time with him. But his main priority right now is to find the location an intel told him.

Location where Katsuki’s ex-wife is.

Just thinking about this made his blood boil. Of course, he’ll never hurt a woman. It wouldn’t be very manly of him. But this one made him want to be unmanly.

Fists inside his pocket, he reached the said location. Eijiro was standing in front of a huge house, face staring blankly at it.

It’s now or never.

Eijiro gradually made his way to the front door. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Few seconds only passed when the door opened. His eyes hardened when he laid his eyes on her.

“I’ll join you in a minute babe!” She was giggling. But stopped when she saw who it was.

“K-kirishima.”

Eijiro didn’t say anything. He was staring at her intently.

“H-how did you-

“I came here to give you this.” His voice was low, so very not like his usual tone handing her a bunch of documents.

“What’s this?” she asked curiously as she raised a shaking hand and reached for the documents from his grasp.

“Discover it yourself.” Eijiro glared.

Gulping. She shakingly flipped the folder open in her hands and read its content.

A divorce paper with Katsuki’s name in it but without his signature, whilst the next paper was a warrant of arrest for abandoning Katsuki and Kazui.

“Ms. *, you are under arrest for abandoning your child.”

A sudden sound of a police automobile was heard making her panic.

“N-no.” She plead. “No! Please!!”

“The court will deal with you.” Eijiro left the scene as soon as the police arrived and dealt with her.

It was wrong that Katsuki didn’t know about this, but he’ll do anything for his buddy and his nephew.

“You’re free, Katsuki.” Eijiro mumled as he disappeared from the scene.

..

Meanwhile, while cooking breakfast, Katsuki suddenly felt a huge weight disappear from his chest.

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part V

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: sight fluff, angst, violence, blood, panic attack

Words: 6713

You lightly trace your fingers over your lips as you stare absently at the mirror in front of you. Your mind keeps replaying that moment from yesterday when Natasha’s lips had briefly met yours. 

“...Y/n”

You still remember the warm and tingling sensation on your lips that lingered even after she pulled away. Her soft exhale as she stared into your eyes and then the way her gaze dropped to your lips.

“Y/n?”

Unconsciously, you bite your lips, lost in thought at the memory.

Was Natasha about to lean in again or was that just your imagination?

Did you want her to?

But that can't be right. Natasha is just a friend, and she doesn’t see you as anything more than that either. So you shouldn’t want her to lean in again.

Right? 

Confused by your swirling thoughts and emotions, you release a deep sigh.

“—Y/n!” 

Startled, you jump in your seat, Wanda's yell snapping you out of your thoughts. You turn to her, a mix of surprise and confusion on your face.

“Wha–Wanda?” 

She stands beside you, hands on her hips and her expression filled with concern.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks. “You’ve been staring at your reflection for a while now, and you didn't respond when I called you.”

Realizing that you’ve been in a daze for so long, you shake your head lightly, pushing aside thoughts of yesterday's encounter.

It was all an accident, after all. You shouldn’t dwell on scenarios and situations that will never happen.

Instead, you should focus on your current objectives which, at the moment, is to prepare yourself to go into town.

“I’m fine, Wanda,” you answer her question. 

When she shoots you a skeptical look, you reassure her once more.

“I really am fine. I just got distracted about something this morning.” 

Thankfully, Wanda accepts your answer, but then a teasing expression appears on her face.

"Thinking about something, or should I say, someone?" she teases.

“Wanda!” you exclaim, feeling a light blush creep onto your cheeks, as you attempt to swat at her arm in reprimand.

She steps back, dodging you, and shrugs playfully as she continues her teasing.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted ever since you came home last night with Princess Natasha,” she remarks and raises an eyebrow pointedly, “...lost in thought while touching your lips.”

Last night, after your encounter with your father, you had explained the situation with Natasha to Wanda and Pietro, recounting all the events and decisions that transpired.

And now the two of them have been teasing you about your new “relationship” with Natasha ever since.

“We were just practicing. It wasn’t a real kiss,” you defend. “It’s just to make sure we look comfortable as a couple.”

"Of course," Wanda agrees sarcastically, her tone tinged with a playful skepticism. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

You huff in disbelief at her and give her a reprimanding glare.

In response, she raises her hands in surrender, indicating that she’s finished with the teasing on the topic for now.

Wanda then glances out the window, where gray clouds cover the morning sky, and her brows furrow slightly in concern. 

“It looks like it might rain. Do you want me to get your cloak before Princess Natasha comes to pick you up?”

You sigh at the reminder of the princess joining you today, your gaze dropping to your hands as you contemplate your father's words from the previous night.

“I’m still not sure if spending more time with Natasha is the right idea,” you tell Wanda worriedly.

There's a reason you've been avoiding her since last year.

Wanda studies you closely as if searching for signs of trouble.

“Did it happen again?” she asks cautiously.

Anxiety flares up within you at the thought, causing your hand to tremble momentarily in your lap. You quickly cover it with your other hand, but Wanda has already noticed, her gaze darting worriedly to your hands.

“Maybe I should go into town for you instead,” she offers.

You shake your head quickly in refusal, standing up with determination.

“No, it should be fine. I’m okay to go.” 

As Wanda goes to insist further, you place your hand gratefully on her shoulder, stopping her, and give her a reassuring smile.

“Besides, you and Pietro are supposed to be taking the day off. I can’t exactly have you picking up your own birthday presents. That would spoil the surprise.”

Wanda groans exasperatedly at the reminder of her shared birthday with her brother. 

“Speaking of surprises…” she remarks, her tone unamused.

Wanda takes a deep breath before extending her hand toward the door. Slowly, a faint red mist forms around her hand and similarly envelops the door handle.

Her eyebrows furrow in concentration, and with a quick flick of her hand, the handle turns, and the door swings open.

Instantly, colorful paper confetti pieces burst into the room.

Pietro enters right after, holding the sack that contained the makeshift confetti.

“Surprise!” he exclaims.

You chuckle in amusement at Pietro as you brush off some of the confetti that managed to reach you while turning to the other twin.

“You’re getting better with your control, Wanda,” you praise her.

The three of you discovered Wanda’s innate magical abilities when you were young and have decided to keep it a secret among yourselves ever since.

Although sorcery is not forbidden in the kingdom, it is still a feared and dangerous skill to possess, both by those who are afraid of its power and by those who seek to abuse it.

So far, Wanda has been able to manipulate small objects, moving them slightly but not without a lot of effort.

However, her magical capabilities and her control over her powers seem to grow stronger and easier to maintain every year.

With no other known sorcerer in the kingdom, she mostly practices and learns about her abilities from any readings that you can find for her.

Wanda grins proudly at your praise.

“Thank you, I’ve been practicing.”

She then turns to her brother with a reprimanding look.

When Pietro sees Wanda’s unimpressed expression and the lack of confetti covering her, he frowns at her in confusion.

“How did you know to dodge the confetti?”

Crossing her arms, Wanda replies with a raised brow, "You do the same thing every year," though a faint smile tugs at her lips. "Now, who's going to clean up this mess?"

You chuckle at her words and then shift your attention to the other twin.

“Be careful, Pietro. She's not exactly in a celebratory mood right now.”

You playfully nudge Wanda's shoulders. “She's too busy worrying about others.” 

Wanda scoffs in disbelief, commenting, “You’re one to talk.”

In response, you lean toward Pietro, covering your mouth and pretending to whisper.

“Make sure she actually takes some time off and enjoys her birthday today too.”

Pietro nods and makes a sound of understanding while Wanda rolls her eyes at the two of you.

He then plucks a piece of confetti from your hair and playfully taps it against your nose.

“And you, go enjoy your ‘date’ today,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows before nodding toward the door.

“Princess Natasha and the others have arrived. They’re waiting for you outside the gates.”

Surprised at his words, you tilt your head in confusion as you ask curiously.

“Others?”

Outside the manor's gates, Natasha stands with her arms crossed, her disapproval evident as she glares at the two unexpected guests seated innocently in the carriage, their respective canine companions resting at their feet.

With a suspicious squint, she questions them.

“Why are the two of you here again?”

Yelena responds with a nonchalant shrug and a bored tone, “I wanted to go into town today too.”

Kate, at least, looks a bit apologetic as she explains, “Yelena invited me.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me you were coming?”

Yelena answers her question with a roll of her eyes and a small groan, “Oh my god, we’re not here to ruin your ‘date’,” her hands make air quotes at the word before continuing.

“We just wanted to hang out together for a bit. You know, like before, and then we'll leave the two of you alone.”

“That’s not the problem,” Natasha says, though she understands Yelena’s reason for wanting to come. 

When you avoided her during the past year, you also avoided the younger princess by extension, and even if she doesn’t admit it aloud, she knows Yelena also missed spending time with you. 

Still, this is not the proper way to go about it.

“You can’t just invite yourself and join in on her trip without asking Y/n first,” Natasha reprimands.

“I don’t mind,” you interject from behind.

Natasha turns around at the sound of your voice, examining you closely when you stop in front of her.

You appear like your usual self, almost as if the distraught version of you from yesterday never existed.

Everything seems perfectly normal.  

Natasha furrows her brows lightly at a sudden unsettling thought.

Were you always this good at hiding your emotions from her or is she the one who can’t read your feelings like before anymore?

Noticing Natasha's upset expression, you ask her curiously, wondering whether there's an issue if Yelena and Kate join the two of you.

“I’m fine with them coming along, if that’s okay with you?”

Truthfully, Natasha had hoped for a chance to speak to you alone after your unusual behavior yesterday.

Your reactions to your father's words especially troubled her throughout the night. 

But when you tilt your head at her expectantly with a hopeful look, Natasha finds herself agreeing with you.

"Fine, they can stay."

Your pleased expression afterward makes her smile softly in return.

Behind her, she hears Yelena let out a fake cough and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "whipped" under her breath.

Natasha sends her sister a warning glare, causing Yelena to turn away while whistling innocently. 

Shaking her head slightly, Natasha guides you a short distance away from the others. She still wants to confirm that everything is okay with you first before you all leave.

“Can we talk about what happened yesterday with your father?” she questions gently.

Your body briefly stiffens at the mention of your father, causing Natasha's eyes to narrow in suspicion as your gaze nervously shifts toward the carriage.

You wave your hand dismissively.

“That was nothing, Natasha. He’s always had a sort of intimidating presence.”

You pat her shoulder reassuringly.

“Anyway, we really should get going. We don't want it to get too late.” 

Looking closely at your expression, Natasha realizes that she can still recognize some of your emotions.

You're clearly hiding something.

Nonetheless, she relents with a sigh, understanding that she won't get more from you at the moment.

As she glances up at the dreary skies, Natasha quickly realizes that your current outfit offers no protection against the impending weather.

Without hesitation, she swiftly unclasps her black cloak and gently drapes it around your shoulders. 

Just as she's about to fasten it, your hand stops her.

"I could go back and get my own cloak, Natasha."

Ignoring your protest, Natasha secures it firmly in place, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought we needed to get going.”

A small, amused smile escapes her as your lips twist into a pout when she cleverly uses your words against you.

Rolling your eyes at her pleased expression, you step past her toward the carriage.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The cobbled streets are bustling with townspeople by the time you arrive, each person scurrying around to complete their daily errands. The market is alive with the voices of merchants beckoning customers to their stalls and shops.

“There sure are a lot more people in the town than usual,” Natasha comments in observation.

“Obviously,” Yelena responds with a roll of her eyes, gesturing to her. “Your coronation is coming soon, and with the upcoming festival in a couple of weeks, it’s no wonder people from other kingdoms have already started to arrive here.”

As the carriage turns a corner, Kate excitedly points toward a certain direction.

“Oh, can we stop by Clint’s shop? He told me he should be almost finished with my new bow.”

“That’s fine," you respond, instructing the coachman to stop, “I needed to drop by the bakery nearby anyway.”

The carriage comes to a halt in front of the blacksmith’s shop. The owner, Clint Barton, once served as a knight at the castle before retiring to be with his family. 

As the bell atop the door chimes upon your entrance, Clint emerges from the back with a rag in hand.

“Well, this is a nice surprise. What can I do for the four of you?” 

Kate steps up to the counter eagerly, barely able to contain her excitement.

“Is my bow ready?”

Clint smiles at her and nods, replying, "Just about. It needs a few finishing touches, but you can take a look."

With a flourish, he retrieves the bow from the back and presents it to Kate with a wave.

"Go ahead, check it out."

Yelena, equally impressed, lets out an appreciative whistle at the weapon while Kate admires its craftsmanship and the feel of it in her hands.

With Kate and Yelena occupied, Clint shifts his attention to Natasha with a meaningful look.

"I have something in the back for you also, Your Highness."

Natasha frowns when Clint's eyes briefly flicker towards you beside her, catching his unspoken message.

Recognizing the seriousness of the atmosphere, you excuse yourself in understanding, “I’ll go make sure those two don’t hurt themselves.” 

As Clint heads to the back, he asks over his shoulder, "Did you want me to sharpen your sword for you too?"

Following Clint, Natasha hands him her sword with a disapproving sigh.

"You know Y/n is a trustworthy person. She's not one to spread anything important."

“Even so, my duties are to the members of the royal family alone,” he says before raising his eyebrows at her. “Though from what I hear, she may be joining the family soon.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at his teasing tone.

"We're together, Clint. That doesn't mean we're engaged."

“Not yet, you mean,” Clint corrects her pointedly. “With how long you've held back your feelings for Y/n, a proposal is bound to happen sooner or later now that you're finally together.”

Natasha shakes her head at his playful banter, but she internally sighs in relief that Clint wholeheartedly believes her relationship with you is genuine with no suspicions.

However, his last comment puzzles her. What did he mean by her feelings for you?

Pushing aside the thought, she brings Clint’s attention back to the original point.

“You said you had something for me?” 

Clint lets out a deep sigh, his demeanor growing solemn.

“There have been troubling whispers coming from the Hydra’s den.”

Natasha raises her eyebrow at the name of the tavern known to be frequented by less savory characters.

“You know that Laura doesn’t like you poking around shady areas like that. You’re supposed to be retired.”

He responds with a sneaky grin, “Doesn’t mean I don’t still keep in contact with some informants.”

His face turns serious again as he explains his discoveries.

“The ambush on the king. It sounds like Rumlow may have known about it.”

Natasha crosses her arms with a frown at the revelation before giving Clint a knowing look.

“But there’s no evidence of an actual connection with the mercenaries who attacked, right?” she says, already aware of Rumlow's knack for concealing his involvement in anything shady.

Clint nods grimly before continuing, “Even if there was, I doubt he was able to organize something that precise. Somebody else has to be one pulling the strings or helping him.”

Natasha tilts her head curiously at his sure tone.

“You have some suspicions?”

Clint’s gaze briefly shifts toward the door leading back to the front where you and the others await.

He leans closer, whispering, “I heard Lord Dreykov and Rumlow had some meetings a couple of days before the attack.”

At that moment, the sound of your voice interrupts their conversation as they hear you inform Yelena and Kate that you're heading over to the bakery first.

Natasha looks regretfully at the door when she hears you leaving. She didn’t intend to hold you back from completing your original errands.

Clint lets out an amused huff at her expression and waves her away knowingly.

“Go, I’ll finish this up and let you know when I’m done.”

Natasha nods thankfully and starts to leave but she pauses at the door, turning back to Clint.

“Keep this information quiet for now and let me know if you hear anything else.”

After checking in on Kate and Yelena, who choose to stay back a bit to continue their conversation with Clint, Natasha exits the shop. She spots you across from the shop, engaged in a conversation with a nearby flower vendor.

When Natasha steps to join you, the sudden growling at her side captures her attention.

Both Fanny and Lucky were originally told to rest and wait outside the shop for their respective owners, but now they stand upright and alert, growling at something in the distance.

Natasha surveys her surroundings, carefully observing each person. Her eyes pause on a suspicious figure lurking in the shadows of a corner.

Following his gaze, Natasha realizes he's watching you.

Meanwhile, you remain distracted, examining the different flowers in the cart, completely unaware of the attention on you. 

As the stranger begins to move in your direction, the two canines become more agitated, letting out warning barks that attract the attention of people around Natasha, including the suspicious figure.

When the stranger notices Natasha's presence, he quickly turns around and disappears into the crowd. Natasha goes to follow him when a hand grasps hers.

She turns and finds you looking at her with concern.

“Natasha, is everything okay?” you ask her.

The dogs have calmed down and are now nuzzling against you.

Natasha glances back at the crowd and finds that the mysterious figure has disappeared without a trace.

She turns back to you, nodding in reassurance. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” she grips your hand firmly before pulling you towards the bakery in the opposite direction.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As Natasha and you enter the shop, the warm and sweet smell of freshly baked goods envelops you. You greet the young shopkeeper with a friendly wave.

They recognize you and immediately head toward the back, calling for someone.

Your old stablemaster, Cedric, emerges from the back, greeting you with a warm hug.

“Y/n, it’s so good to see you again.”

You return the hug, glad to see he was well.

“You too, Cedric.”

After the embrace, Cedric notices the princess standing beside you and offers her a respectful bow.

Reaching at your side, you pull out a pouch of coins, presenting it to him with an apologetic tone.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything about your dismissal.”

Cedric shakes his head with a reassuring smile, pushing the pouch back toward you.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

You frown and insist, placing the pouch in his hands.

“Still, I want you to have this, please.”

He finally accepts the pouch graciously, already knowing your stubborn determination.

“Alright, how about I give you some pastries in exchange.”

You follow him to the counter, where an array of baked goods is displayed, as you clarify one of the tasks that you had for today.

“Actually, I was also planning on purchasing some cakes and pastries for the twins’ birthday.”

Cedric waves off your offer with a warm smile.

“Nonsense, consider it our present to them. And this time I insist, so don’t think you can change my mind, dear.”

“I’ll be sure to let them know then,” you smile softly at his gesture.

Cedric has always treated the three of you with compassion as if you were his own children.

He places a plate of various pastries on the counter, waving his hand in an offer for you. 

“Here, try some of these new pastries that Martha made this morning while I have those cakes and pastries ready for you.”

Martha is his wife, who also worked in the kitchen at your manor for a long time. She would always let the three of you sneak and have some of her desserts that she made even when you weren’t supposed to.

You take a bite of one of the new pastries, and the creamy custard filling fills your mouth immediately. It was nice and fluffy and not overly sweet.

Nodding in approval, you take another piece and offer it to Natasha.

Natasha raises her hand, politely declining, “Thank you, but I’m good.”

At her refusal, you frown with a playful pout.

“Come on. Try some, Natasha. It’s not too sweet.” 

Natasha shakes her head firmly.

“No way.”

“Don’t tell me the princess is scared to try something new,” you challenge, playfully bringing the pastry closer to her face.

She scoffs in disbelief at your words.

“Oh, so you do remember that I’m still your princess,” Natasha tells you as she deftly dodges your hand.

You try a different approach, tilting your head at her and giving your best pleading look.

“Please, just one bite, Natasha. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Natasha locks onto your pleading eyes in defiance for a moment before giving in with a sigh, unable to refuse. She takes the pastry from your hand and takes a bite.

You were right — it isn’t too sweet.

As Natasha takes another bite in satisfaction, you chuckle lightly at the small cream left at the corner of her lips.

Reaching up to her face, you wipe away the cream with your thumb before bringing it to your lips. 

“I told you it was good,” you say nonchalantly, not noticing how Natasha had frozen at your actions and was looking at you with wide eyes.

“Which cakes would you like, Lady Y/n?” the shopkeeper calls out to you, causing you to turn around and go behind the counter.

Natasha finishes her bite slowly as she watches you go, recovering from her shocked state. Her fingers reach up to trace where you had touched her lips.

Her attention is so focused on that moment that she is startled when Cedric speaks up from beside her.

“Lady Y/n is a brilliant and kind woman,” Cedric comments, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Natasha recovers her composure and acknowledges his words with a nod. She's known that since the first time she met you.

“She’s one of the best people I know,” she says proudly.

“Indeed, she is.”

Cedric's expression turns solemn as he looks at you.

“But sometimes, I worry she keeps too much of her troubles and worries to herself. She’s always trying to protect everyone else.”

He turns to Natasha with a grateful smile.

“That’s why I’m glad that she has you back in her life. Someone needs to care and love her as much as she does for others.”

Natasha looks at you, remembering how you brushed off the events from yesterday when she brought it up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“You’ve worked at the manor for a long time. How would you describe Lord Dreykov as a father?”

Cedric’s eyes widen, and he glances around nervously as if checking the shadows.

“I shouldn’t say—”

“Please,” Natasha gives him an imploring look.

With a sigh, he responds quietly.

“Lord Dreykov has always been a strict and cold person in general.”

He rubs his hands nervously as if recalling some troubling memory.

“Calm and calculating. But if something displeases him, his temper can sometimes become…aggressive.”

Natasha frowns at his wording, her concern deepening.

She is about to inquire further when you suddenly appear at her side, interlinking your arm with hers, and holding up a bag of pastries victoriously. 

“All done. The rest will be delivered later today.”

You look between Natasha and Cedric curiously.

“Are you ready to go?”

Natasha gives you a small smile, nodding in response.

You turn to Cedric and give him another hug goodbye.

“Thank you again for everything,” you whisper to him. 

He pats your head fondly, “Take care of yourself.”

When the two of you step outside, you find Yelena and Kate waiting for you. You offer the bag of pastries to Yelena, who, unlike her sister, has a sweet tooth.

“Yes! Thank you!” Yelena exclaims, taking the bag excitedly, “This is why you are way better than my sister.”

You smile in amusement at her reaction while Natasha rolls her eyes.

Her hand finds yours naturally and intertwines them together, holding your hand firmly.

“Where to next?” she asks you.

You point in the distance, as you grip her hand tighter, pulling her down the street.

“The jewelry shop.” 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“Welcome!” The elderly jeweler lady greets and bows at the sight of the princesses.

“Please take a look around,” she kindly offers. Yelena and Kate wander off to explore other displays, while the jeweler turns her attention to you and Natasha.

"Your order is nearly ready, Lady Y/n. They're just finishing up the wrapping for you." 

"Thank you," you reply appreciatively.

She beckons for you and Natasha to follow her to another section of the store.

"In the meantime, I thought the two of you might enjoy examining these while you wait."

The display showcases a collection of rings, each bearing distinct styles and precious stones. They are unmistakably engagement rings, you realize.

“Oh, um, I don’t believe we're in the market for such items at the moment,” you tell her. 

“Nevertheless, it never hurts to explore what might interest you for the future,” she suggests, glancing between the two of you. 

You exchange a questioning look with Natasha who gives you a small shrug in response.

After a moment's thought, you decide it would be better for the validity of the charade to pretend as if you are searching for an engagement ring for each other for the future. 

As you contemplate Natasha's preferences, you shake your head, unable to find a suitable option among the displayed rings.

“I don't think you'd want something extravagant. Probably something more simple and elegant, maybe with a meaningful inscription inside the band instead of a gemstone.” 

You tilt your head as you examine Natasha and place your hand lightly on her chest, your thoughts wandering.

“We could even attach the ring to a delicate chain so you can wear it as a necklace. That way you can always keep it close with you even during your training.” 

“What do you think, Natasha?”

Finally looking up at her, you find Natasha staring at you with the same dazed expression as the one that she had in the carriage yesterday after she accidentally kissed you.

Blushing at the memory and the realization of your closeness, you retract your hand and turn away, unable to maintain her gaze as your face flushes with warmth.

Beside you, Natasha clears her throat awkwardly, snapping out of her daze before responding.

“Um, yeah, that sounds nice.”

The lady nods in agreement, seemingly unaware of the sudden tension in the air.

“It’s so lovely to have someone who truly understands you, Your Highness. And as for you, Lady Y/n, which one would you prefer?”  

Regaining your composure and thankful for the shift in focus, you shrug casually as you reexamine the rings on display.

With a smile, you point to one that captured your attention.

“I like this one.” 

Natasha peers over your shoulder to see the ring you've chosen, an elegant design with a red gemstone at its center.

"Why’s that?" she asks curiously.

Turning back to her, you playfully take strands of her hair between your fingers before waving it in front of her face in an obvious manner.

“The color reminds me of you.” 

Natasha’s mouth opens slightly in surprise, but she can’t seem to gather her thoughts to respond, too stunned by your words.

At that moment, Kate calls you to come over and see something.

You give the jeweler an apologetic smile as you go across the store to them.

Natasha’s gaze focuses on you the entire time, watching your retreating back in a daze. There’s that strange feeling in her chest again.

A tap on her shoulder draws her attention away, distracting her from thinking further about what that feeling might mean.

The jeweler leans across the counter, whispering to Natasha in a secretive manner.

"I can have this ring prepared for whenever you're ready, Your Highness," she says, gesturing to the ring you liked.

Realizing what she means, Natasha waves her hand in refusal, chuckling nervously.

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary."

After all, it’s not like you and she are going to get married soon.

As soon as Natasha finishes speaking, your laughter fills the shop, drawing Natasha's attention back to you. Her eyes soften, and a fond smile graces her face as she watches you. It's been a while since she had the chance to see you so happy and carefree.

Next to her, the jeweler nods resolutely as if coming to an understanding. She takes the ring from the display and places it in a small intricate box.

Then she presses the item firmly against Natasha’s palm, telling her knowingly, “You may need this sooner than you think.”

Natasha’s mouth hangs open in surprise, speechless and confused at her words.

Someone from the back calls out for the jeweler, causing the lady to quickly excuse herself and leave. 

"Wai–" Natasha says in an attempt to stop her and return the ring, but the lady quickly disappears behind the back doors before she finishes her call.

Defeated, Natasha looks down at the box in her palm in confusion.

This is the second time today that someone has suggested such a thing to her. Why does everyone keep thinking that she is going to propose to you?

Before she can wonder about it any further, you and the others approach her, and she swiftly hides the item from view, tucking it into her pocket. 

"Alright, I've got the presents," you announce happily. "There's one last place I need to visit, but I don't want to keep you all out this late." 

Natasha frowns at the thought of leaving you by yourself.

“We can come with you. It’s no bother.”

"Actually,” Yelena interrupts, raising her hand and remarking. “Your sword and Kate's bow should be ready now, right, Kate?"

Kate’s face twists in confusion, replying, “Clint said it was going to take a whil—ow.”

Yelena’s elbow is pushed in a sharp nudge at Kate’s side, and the young princess’ glare silences Kate’s previous statement as Yelena pointedly gestures at Natasha and you with her eyes.

Kate opens her mouth in understanding and continues, “Right, and I have a lot more questions to ask him, like the different types of bow strings, arrow tips, nockin— ”

Yelena covers Kate’s mouth with a tight smile at the two of you.

“The point is, I can go with Kate to pick that up for you, and we’ll head back whenever we finish.” 

She then pushes her sister closer to your side.

“Meanwhile, Natasha can go with you, Y/n, and then the two of you can go back home together afterward.”

The two of them hurry away before you can respond, leaving you staring at their retreating figures in confusion.

“That was strange, right?” you ask, glancing at her.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and sighs in exasperation.

“Nope, that was just Yelena.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The roads have significantly cleared since the morning as more dark clouds loomed overhead. Most of the merchants are already closing their shops in anticipation of the impending rain.

The gloomy weather seems fitting for your final destination of the day.

With reverence, you carefully place the flowers you had acquired earlier onto the tombstone of Iryna and Oleg Maximoff, the parents of Wanda and Pietro.

Natasha stands respectfully behind you, patiently waiting.

Your face has a sorrowful expression as you begin to explain.

“They both died during a raid by some remaining enemy soldiers still in the kingdom after the war,” you sigh, “just as they were celebrating the twins' birthday.” 

You manage a melancholic smile as you remember how they were earlier this morning.

“They don’t show it, but I know today is a tough day for both of them.”

Natasha's hand rests on your shoulder in comfort as she responds sincerely, "Then it's a good thing they have you."

“And I’m truly grateful that they’re in my life," you say honestly, placing your hand gently on the tombstone.

"I promise I'll protect them,” you whisper.

As you rise to your feet, a light drizzle begins to fall from the sky.

In response, Natasha guides you under a nearby tree, pulling your cloak closer to shield your body from the cold rain.

“Take cover here. I’ll go have someone bring the carriage around."

“Okay,” you reply appreciatively as Natasha turns to go.

After a few minutes, the rain intensifies, forming puddles around you as you wait under the cover of the tree branches.

Thunder booms and fades into the distance until you hear the distinct sounds of approaching footsteps.

You turn toward the splashing water, expecting Natasha's return.

“That was fast—”

A hand closes tightly around your throat, forcing you back harshly. Pain shoots through your head when it collides with the trunk of the tree.

Instinctively, your hands clutch at the hand retraining you as you look at your attacker. 

“You!” the stranger snarls inches from your face. “You’re supposed to be dead! I made sure you and that woman died in that fire.”

Your eyes widen in shock at his words, piecing together the reasoning for his anger directed at you.

This was the man who killed your mother?

Growing up, you had learned that the perpetrator had escaped that fateful night. You always wonder how you were able to survive his attempted murder against you and your mother, but all you had ever managed to uncover was that he was an enemy soldier who wanted revenge against your father for capturing him as a prisoner during the war.

Your surprised gasp at the realization of his identity was choked out as he increased the pressure on your throat.

It won’t matter who he is if you end up dying from lack of air though.

Desperately, you try to fight against his hold, clawing at his hands and kicking with your feet to give you some sort of leverage, but you can feel your strength draining as it gets harder and harder to breathe.

Suddenly, the pressure around your throat disappears, and the man is forcefully pulled off of you as you stumble to the ground.

As you gasp for breath, you look up to find Natasha's familiar figure now positioned protectively in front of you, her eyes glaring fiercely at the man who is currently groaning in pain on the ground. 

“Stay down,” Natasha growls in a stern warning.

Her body is shaking as she struggles to contain her anger at the man for hurting you, but her primary concern is to ensure your safety first. 

As if ignoring her words, the man clutches his head, shaking it violently as he mutters incoherently under his breath.

“...supposed to dead...destroy…kill everyone…nonono…not my fault…what he did to me…needs to pay...He needs to pay!”

At those words, his furious gaze locks onto you with seething anger.

He pulls out a dagger and lunges toward you, the blade glinting menacingly in his hand. 

Natasha steps in swiftly, intercepting the attack. She catches his hand and redirects his assault, causing the blade to veer away from you.

However, it still manages to graze her arm.

She ignores the slight pain of the injury as she presses on. Using the momentum of his strike, she deftly twists his hand, disarming him of the dagger.

Then with a swift action, she sweeps him off balance, and he crashes to the ground with a resounding thud.

The man groans lowly in pain before finally slumping unconscious.

Natasha straightens up and goes to confirm that he is truly down.

As the fleeting rush of adrenaline begins to subside, she winces slightly at the stinging pain in her arm from the earlier cut. The wound doesn't feel too deep, but it appears she may need to have it looked at soon, seeing how her sleeve is gradually staining crimson as blood now drips down to her hand.

Cradling her injured arm with her other hand, Natasha turns her attention back to you, only to find you standing a distance away with your face turned pale just like how it was yesterday.

"Y/n, are you okay?" she asks, her voice filled with alarm that you may have been hurt.

Meanwhile, in your mind, Natasha’s concerned voice feels distant and muffled as your eyes focus on her bleeding arm.

Sudden panic surges in your chest at the sight of her blood, triggering a rush of emotions.

Memories from that terrible night flash before your eyes, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to tighten further.

The present and the past blur together as you vividly remember the sight of Natasha coughing up blood while calling your name.   

"Y/n?"

Natasha's brows furrow with concern when you don't respond to her call. That's when she notices your hands clenched and shaking by your side as your breathing grows more and more erratic.

Worried, she rushes closer to you to comfort you.

However, at her movement, your eyes widen in fear, and you back away from her. Your voice trembles as you whisper.

"You're hurt."

Realizing that you're focused on her bleeding, Natasha turns her injured side away from your view and approaches you again, cautiously and slowly this time, extending her hand in a calming gesture.

"Y/n, look at me," she speaks softly with a soothing tone. "I'm okay. We're safe."

Again, you barely register her words amidst your racing thoughts. The guilt and trauma from that night resurfacing to remind you of your role in what happened. 

Natasha is injured.

She got hurt because of you.

You're responsible for this.

As your eyes stare blankly at your hands in a distracted state, Natasha finally reaches you and gently takes your trembling hands in hers. Up close, she makes out your fearful and panicked voice as you continue to unconsciously mutter to yourself.

"I did this…"

Natasha’s brows furrow in confusion at your words, but before she can correct and reassure you, she needs to calm you down first. Tilting her head, she tries to lock eyes with you to help control your rapidly increasing breathing.

“You need to breathe, Y/n," she says gently, guiding your hands to her chest and taking a slow, deep breath to coax you to follow along.

Despite your distant state, your body still responds to her calming presence and guidance, and you gradually slow your breathing.

After a moment, Natasha speaks up again, this time to reassure you.

"This wasn't your fault."

Her words jolt you out of your trance, and your eyes finally focus on hers in disbelief. Pain and anguish taint your voice as you cry out to her.

“You almost died, Natasha!” 

Your hands clench against her chest, and you attempt to push her away.

This was a mistake.

You should have never allowed yourself to get close to her again.

Natasha widens her eyes in surprise, realizing that you're referring to the incident from last year.

Seeing your pained expression and the tears in your eyes, Natasha feels her heart break at the sight. She tightens her grip on your hands and envelops you in a comforting hug, cradling your head against her chest. 

Your hands push weakly against her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge, not willing to let you go.

Unable to break free, you bow your head in defeat, tears mingling with the rain as they stream down your face. 

“That night…you almost died…because of me.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Sorry this one was kinda long but thank you for reading!

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin,  @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529

[chelseaknoo]

25 days with Eminem

Eminem x reader

Day 14

The house was buzzing with pre-photo-shoot chaos as you rushed around, trying to get everything ready for the big Christmas pajama picture. It was supposed to be a simple, fun family activity, but, of course, nothing was going according to plan.

Jackie was on the changing table, squirming and wailing at the top of his lungs, his tiny fists flailing as you tried to wrestle him into his festive red-and-green pajamas.

"Jackie, come on, baby," you pleaded, your voice a mix of desperation and patience. "It’s just pajamas! Don’t you want to look cute for the pictures?"

Jackie responded with an ear-piercing cry and kicked one of his little legs free, sending his pajama pants flying off the table.

"Marshall!" you yelled toward the hallway. "I need help! Jackie’s fighting me like he’s trying out for WWE!"

Marshall strolled in, still in sweatpants and a t-shirt, holding a mug of coffee like he had all the time in the world. “What’s going on?” he asked casually, clearly not grasping the chaos you were drowning in.

“What’s going on? *This* is what’s going on!” you snapped, gesturing at Jackie, who took the opportunity to grab a nearby baby wipe and fling it at Marshall.

The wipe smacked him in the chest, and Marshall blinked down at it. “Okay, so he’s got an arm. Noted.”

You shot him a glare. “Can you stop standing there and actually help me? And why aren’t you in your pajamas yet?”

Marshall raised his hands defensively. “I was getting there, but someone needed coffee to deal with all the screaming.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, turning back to Jackie. “Hold his arms while I get the pants on!”

Marshall set his mug down and stepped in, holding Jackie’s wiggly hands. “Alright, little man, settle down. You’re not running a marathon, you’re just wearing pajamas.”

Jackie stared up at his dad for a second, momentarily calm, and then let out another screech, twisting like a tiny tornado.

---

From the living room, you could hear the girls arguing over their outfits.

“Hailie, these pants are *so* itchy!” Stevie yelled.

“They’re pajamas, Stevie,” Hailie replied, her voice dripping with exasperation. “They’re supposed to be soft.”

“Yeah, well, they feel like sandpaper!”

“Guys!” you called out, still struggling with Jackie’s pajamas. “Can you sort it out without killing each other, please? And make sure Alaina is ready too!”

Marshall chuckled as he finally managed to wrangle Jackie into his pants. “Your sisters are out there turning the living room into a war zone, kid,” he said to Jackie. “Maybe we should just let them do the photo shoot instead.”

“Marshall,” you said, shooting him a warning look. “Not helping.”

---

Finally, you managed to get Jackie into his pajama bottoms, but just as you reached for his matching top, you realized it wasn’t on the changing table.

“Where’s his shirt?” you asked, looking around frantically.

Marshall shrugged. “I don’t know. You had it last.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” you groaned, lifting a pile of clothes in search of the tiny shirt.

Marshall walked out of the room and called down the hall, “Girls! Anyone seen Jackie’s pajama top?”

“Why would we have it?” Stevie shouted back.

“Because you touch everything!” Marshall yelled.

“I found it!” Hailie called from the living room.

“Where was it?” you yelled back.

“On the Christmas tree!”

You blinked. “The *tree*?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “No idea how it got there.”

Marshall shook his head. “This kid is already causing trouble, and he can’t even walk yet.”

---

By the time Jackie was finally dressed, you stepped back to look at Marshall, who was still wearing his sweatpants.

“Marshall,” you said, hands on your hips. “Why are you not in your pajamas yet?”

“Because someone had to help you with Jackie,” he replied.

“Well, he’s dressed now. Go change!”

Marshall groaned dramatically. “Fine. But if these pants are as itchy as Stevie says, I’m calling off this whole thing.”

“Daaaaaad!” Stevie called from the living room. “Mom’s making us do this, not you!”

“Great. I’ll blame her then!” Marshall shot back, grinning at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Just change, Marshall!”

---

As Marshall left to get ready, you carried Jackie to the living room to check on the girls. Stevie was still complaining about her pants, Alaina was curled up on the couch scrolling on her phone, and Hailie was trying to adjust her Christmas sweater in front of the mirror.

“Okay, girls, everyone’s dressed now except your dad,” you said, bouncing Jackie on your hip.

“Shocking,” Hailie muttered.

“Did he really say he was going to blame this whole thing on you?” Stevie asked, smirking.

“Of course he did,” you replied. “But don’t worry, he’ll look ridiculous in his matching pajamas, so I’ll call it even.”

Jackie giggled, tugging at your sweater, and you kissed his forehead. “At least *you* look adorable.”

“Only because we found his shirt on the tree,” Hailie said, shaking her head.

You sighed. “Can someone please explain how it even got there?”

“Honestly,” Alaina said without looking up from her phone, “I just assume Jackie’s behind every mystery in this house now.”

---

Marshall reappeared just then, tugging at the waistband of his festive green pajama pants. “Okay, these are officially the worst pants I’ve ever worn.”

“Join the club,” Stevie muttered.

Marshall pointed at her. “See? She gets it!”

“Can we please focus?” you said, trying not to laugh. “We’re losing daylight, and we still have to set up for the pictures.”

Marshall sighed dramatically, but when Jackie reached out for him with a big smile, he couldn’t resist. “Fine,” he said, scooping the baby up. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Christmas spirit, Marshall,” you teased. “Try it sometime.”

“Christmas spirit,” he said, bouncing Jackie. “Right. I’ll work on that.”

You shook your head, already dreading the next round of chaos as everyone started getting into position for the shoot.

The house was a madhouse, and the Christmas pajama photo shoot was beginning to feel like a cursed idea. Every time you thought things were under control, something else went horribly wrong.

---

Just as you herded the girls into the living room to start setting up for the photo, Jackie grabbed a shiny ornament off the tree and promptly decided to put it in his mouth.

“Jackie, no!” you shouted, rushing to him.

Marshall, still holding Jackie, pulled the ornament out of his mouth just in time. “This kid’s part raccoon, I swear,” he muttered, handing the slobbery ornament to you.

“I *just* cleaned that,” you groaned, wiping it off with your sleeve.

“Why are we doing this by the tree?” Stevie asked. “It’s clearly a hazard zone.”

“Because it’s Christmas, and we need the tree in the background!” you snapped, trying not to lose it.

Alaina, perched on the arm of the couch, chimed in. “So, what happens if Jackie pulls the whole tree down during the shoot?”

You froze, the mental image of your perfectly decorated tree crashing to the ground flashing through your mind. “Don’t even joke about that,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her.

Marshall grinned. “I give him five minutes before he goes for it.”

“Marshall!”

---

While you were making sure Jackie didn’t make another attempt at eating the Christmas decorations, Marshall finally started putting on his pajama top.

“Why is this so tight?” he grumbled, tugging at the fabric.

“It’s not tight,” you replied without looking.

“Uh, yeah, it is. I look like I borrowed Jackie’s shirt.”

You turned to look and, sure enough, Marshall’s pajama top was hilariously snug, clinging to his torso like shrink wrap.

Stevie burst out laughing. “Dad, you look like you’re trying to show off your abs for Instagram.”

Marshall frowned at her. “These abs built this family, kid. Show some respect.”

Hailie rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should just, I don’t know, wear a bigger size?”

“This *is* my size!” Marshall protested. “Who made these pajamas? Why are they so small?”

“They’re not small,” you said, trying not to laugh. “You just don’t like wearing fitted clothes.”

“Fitted?!” he repeated, gesturing to himself. “I look like I’m about to bust out of this thing like the Hulk!”

---

Meanwhile, Stevie was still complaining about her itchy pajama pants.

“Mom, seriously, I’m not wearing these,” she said, tugging at the waistband. “They’re torture devices.”

“Stevie, we all agreed to matching pajamas,” you said firmly. “We’re not changing the plan now.”

“I didn’t agree!” Stevie argued.

“Yes, you did!” Hailie shot back. “You said, and I quote, ‘Fine, but only if we can order pizza after.’”

“Well, I take it back!” Stevie snapped.

Marshall, still fiddling with his shirt, sighed. “She gets her drama from you, you know.”

“Oh, *please,*” you said, glaring at him. “I’m not the one who just spent five minutes complaining about a shirt.”

“Hey, this shirt is a legitimate problem,” Marshall replied, holding out his arms to show how tight the sleeves were. “I can’t even lift my arms in this thing!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Alaina quipped. “Less chance of you knocking over the tree.”

---

After finally wrangling everyone into the living room, you realized something important was missing.

“Where’s the camera?” you asked, looking around.

The room went silent.

“You brought it down earlier, right?” Marshall asked.

“No, I didn’t,” you replied, your voice rising slightly. “I thought you had it!”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “Why would I have it? I don’t even know where you keep it!”

“Are you kidding me?” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s upstairs in the bedroom!”

Stevie groaned dramatically. “So now we’re just gonna sit here and wait while you find it?”

“No, you’re coming with me to help!” you snapped, pointing at her.

“Why me?!”

“Because you’re the one who complained about the pants, so you owe me!”

Marshall plopped down on the couch with Jackie, who was gnawing on a teething toy. “We’ll just wait here while you two figure it out. Jackie and I are chilling.”

Hailie and Alaina exchanged amused looks. “This is going great,” Alaina muttered sarcastically.

---

While you and Stevie went upstairs to retrieve the camera, Jackie decided he was done sitting still. With surprising speed, he wriggled out of Marshall’s lap and made a break for it, crawling toward the tree.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Marshall said, scrambling to grab him. “Little man, where are you going?”

Jackie giggled, his destination clear: the pile of wrapped presents under the tree.

“Dad, he’s gonna open the gifts!” Hailie warned, pointing.

“No, he’s not,” Marshall said confidently, lunging to catch Jackie.

But Jackie was faster than he looked. He grabbed the edge of a shiny red gift and tugged hard, ripping the paper with glee.

“Jackie!” Marshall yelled, finally scooping him up.

Jackie laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world, waving a piece of wrapping paper triumphantly.

Hailie and Alaina burst out laughing. “He’s already more destructive than us,” Alaina said, shaking her head.

---

By the time you and Stevie returned with the camera, Marshall was holding a smugly giggling Jackie, the girls were laughing at the chaos, and half of the presents looked like they’d been attacked by a very determined squirrel.

You sighed, looking at the mess. “What happened *now*?”

“Nothing,” Marshall said innocently. “Just Jackie showing off his gift-unwrapping skills.”

You groaned. “We’re never going to get this picture done, are we?”

Marshall grinned. “Not a chance.”

Finally, after what felt like hours of wrangling pajamas, salvaging the tree from Jackie, and convincing Marshall to wear his “fitted” shirt, the family was assembled in front of the tree. You and Marshall sat in the middle, with Jackie perched on Marshall’s lap, flanked by the girls. Everyone had matching plaid pajamas, the tree twinkled in the background, and the fireplace crackled warmly. For one fleeting moment, everything seemed perfect.

“All right, everyone ready?” you asked, holding the camera remote.

Stevie adjusted her hair. “Wait, wait, do I look good?”

“You always look good. Just sit still,” Hailie said, rolling her eyes.

“Marshall, smile,” you prompted.

“I *am* smiling,” he muttered, his lips barely moving.

“That’s not a smile, that’s you baring your teeth like a wolf,” Alaina teased.

“Just take the picture before someone else complains,” Marshall grumbled.

As you prepared to hit the button, Jackie let out a tiny sneeze—right on Marshall’s chest.

“Ah, come on!” Marshall groaned, holding Jackie out at arm’s length like he was radioactive.

Before anyone could recover, the camera timer went off with a loud *beep,* and the flash filled the room.

“Did it take the picture?” you asked, unsure whether to laugh or apologize.

“Oh, it definitely did,” Hailie said, smirking.

Stevie leaned over to peek at the camera screen. “Yep, we’re keeping this one. Jackie’s sneeze face and Dad’s ‘I’m grossed out’ expression are priceless.”

“Delete it,” Marshall insisted.

“No way!” Alaina said, grinning. “This is going on the Christmas card.”

You laughed, shaking your head as Marshall grumbled under his breath. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Slasher!Josuke with Nerdy Darling? (Based off Scream)

Darling is a Horror Movie Fanatic, as she’s seen them all, from B Films, Foreign, Classics, Silents and the more Recent ones

Reader comes off as a Geek, but she doesn’t really care if people like her or not (She even works part time at the local Video Store) she’s kinda a loner as she has no friends at school

Reader is sorta based off Randy (I loved him in the Scream Movies and was upset that he was killed off in the Sequel) as she takes pride in her Horror Movie knowledge

If Darling has a Stand, maybe it’s called ‘Mortician’ (Based of the Band known for their songs based off Horror Movies) maybe she affects her surroundings like a movie based upon the 3 simple rules she makes? (If you break the rules you get injured or attacked, but if you don’t break them nothing happens)

Josuke gets a crush on Darling after they were grouped together for a school project and realized Darling is pretty cool (She even tutors him so his grades don’t slip since she’s a straight A+ student at their high school)

However Josuke noticed Darling only shows interest in Horror Movies and Slashers, so what better way to get the girl of his dreams than by becoming a real life slasher himself?

I’ve been watching Slasher Movies on loop, including delicious plot twists so what if Darling is Kira’s daughter? (She doesn’t know about his hand fetish or about him being a serial killer) She doesn’t have interest being in the spotlight like her dad (This can be scrapped if you want)

Ooh this is so interesting I had to start writing. I ended up writing a prologue.

I'm going to set the main part of the story a couple of years post DIU (mainly to age up) but the prologue takes place just before with reader being 14/15.

Still thinking about the stand. Possibly being a stand that almost looks like a phone dangle charm on her phone that sometime gives out rules in the form of a text for a set amount of time (anywhere from an hour to 24). It's one of those self destructive stands (not literally but it's always screwing with darling).

Really loved the Kira daughter idea, writing that darling knows and is actively trying to hide it after his "death". In a way she ends up paralleling him with her need to hide it as it previously ruined her life back in marioh cho.

If you have any more ideas please let me know as I am really invested.

(Also an odd fact, my dad's bday is the same as Yoshikage kira's)

Sins of the father prologue

(Yandere Josuke X female Reader)

Warnings: mentioned abortion

You looked at the address you'd written down before knocking on the door. Your lucky your friend had offered up the cover of a sleepover to your grandparents as they'd be furious to find out what you were doing, but you needed closure on the matter.

There was a car in the driveway so you knew he was home so you knocked on the door again. Who exactly? Your father.

You'd never met him in person as from what you knew him and your mother had been at odds over the idea. So the most he did was sign his name on your birth certificate before the relationship had ended. About a year after your mother had visited him to try and rekindle the relationship only to disappear.

You snapped out of your thoughts when the door opened. He was definitely the same man that your mother had stashed photos of.

Blonde hair, blue eyes and sharp features.

He was probably wondering why some random middle schooler was at his door.

“Mr Kira?” You asked.

“Yes, that is me,” he told you. You looked oddly familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on as to why. You quickly held out a paper bag, you'd gone to the effort to buy him a castella cake as a sign of good will.

“My name is (Y/n) Kira, I was hoping we could talk” you told him. He took the bag but he had a scrutinizing look.

“Is this about your mother's disappearance? I already told your grandparents all I knew” he asked.

Of course he lied, he simply told them that she'd left his house. In truth she never had but back then the villas hadn't been developed yet so no one was around to discredit his claim. Yet your grandparents had not believed such a claim.

“No, I wanted to meet you” you said and immediately he began to close the door before you wedged your foot between the door and the frame.

“I'm not asking anything of you, after this we can just go our separate ways… I promise” you said, desperation in your tone.

He sighed before opening the door again.

“Just this once, if I ever see you here after I'll call the police” he warned you as he stepped aside to let you in.

You came in and left your shoes on the shoe rack before following him into the living area. You sat down on the cushion behind the low table.

“Tea?” he asked.

“Yes please Mr Kira” you responded with a nod. You looked around as you waited. This was definitely one of the older houses in Morioh cho. tatami mats, sliding doors and hanging lights. Probably made around the 50s/60s like your grandparent's. Most of the houses in the town now were around tenish years old at most.

Soon he brought some cups and a teapot before sitting down himself and pouring the tea.

“So why did come here? I thought your grandparents would have been completely against you coming here?” He asked.

“I found some of my mothers belongings. After reading her diary I was hoping to get your side of the story, if you're comfortable with that?” you told him.

“Well I suppose you should know” he said with a sigh. Your gaze was just like hers and a small part of him was terrified by that, that dead woman's stare haunted him.

You rummaged through your school bag before grabbing out a piece of paper full of questions you jotted down.

He told himself to think of this like how he would any other interview. The sooner he answers your questions the sooner you'd leave.

“So first off, mom wrote down that you two were in the same homeroom in highschool when you two met” you said.

“Yes, she was seated next to me. I hadn't realized she'd had feelings for me til Valentine's day” he told you.

“Why'd you accept?” You asked. Now that was a hard question to answer. He'd been shaken after killing Reimi, a girl from the same school. He'd tried to keep his urges in check. After your mother had confessed her feelings to him he believed that if he'd had a partner maybe he'd have no need to ever do it again and she happened to have a lovely pair of hands. His eyes couldn't help but drift to yours. They were quite pretty too, he noticed the light polish on them and spoke up.

“I thought the schools had a no polish policy” he told you. You rolled your eyes, you'd painted such a similar shade to your skin hoping no one would notice.

For a while you continued to ask him questions. Until you inevitably asked why he and your mother broke up.

Another tough question, he had many reasons. He'd realized that his plan to keep his desires in check wasn't working, not to mention your mother's pregnancy had caused issues. He'd swore up and down he'd worn protection. At first he believed your mother had cheated but that was disproven. He never heard the end of it when his mother found out. She believed her son wouldn't have ever done something like that and demanded your mother have an abortion if true. In truth he'd silently wished for the same but your mother was headstrong and was determined to keep the child.

Eventually he'd decided to break up with her and at least fill out the birth certificate but that was it.

“It was complicated, in honesty my feelings for her washed away and when we found out she was pregnant, both our families had a feud over it. We decided it was best that I wouldn't be in the picture… I also wasn't ready for a child in my life” he explained, his eyes gazing upon his tea.

“Thank you Mr Kira” you thanked him, you knew these were hard questions so you appreciated that he gave you the answers. At this point he couldn't help but have questions of his own, as he couldn't quite figure out what type of person you were.

“May I ask you a few questions of my own? nothing too personal” he asked.

“Of course, it's only fair after all that I've asked you”

“What after-school club are you in?” That was probably the best way to gauge the person you were.

“Oh I'm in a book club” you replied, that was the same club he'd been in when he was younger.

“You like to read?” He asked.

“Kinda, in truth it was the only club that gave me privacy. My media interests are more on movies but reading the original sources are always fun” you confessed.

“Any plans after highschool?” He asked.

“I'm not entirely sure, I do want to do university but I'm unsure of what course to take” you told him with a sigh.

“You'll figure it out in time, I only decided what I was going to do during my last year” he told you.

It wasn't long after that you left. To go to your friend's to watch movies over the weekend. They had a large collection of horror movies that your grandparents would never allow you to watch.

Unfortunately your life would never be the same after your father's true nature became public news. Forcing you and your grandparents to have to start a new life away from Marioh cho.

[gatitties]

Glitter

─Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─Summary: Everything here is too dark or lifeless, why don't you change that? You decide to give it a cuter touch

─Warnings: none

ty to Gay4kitty on ao3 for the idea again!! :pp

12 < 13 > 14

Today you woke up and thought it was a wonderful day to ruin everyone's day -something quite common in your daily life- the crows were cawing, the air was hard to breathe, the fog prevented you from seeing beyond three meters, it was so cold that it could freeze your bones and the forest looked as dark as a horror movie, that's the perfect day here in the realm of The Entity.

You took a breath through your nostrils, closing your eyes as you raised your leg in the air like a comical scene of the perfect sunrise, you choked on your saliva as the thick dark smoke traveled through every corner of your body, what better way to start the day than a trial? You took a good minute to get your bearings, even getting to work on one of the generators because everything was too quiet, you had appeared alone and you hadn't seen any signs of survivors or the killer, so you took it as an advantage to do everything faster and go off to do your original plan, to disturb the killers in their camp.

Your head snapped up like a deer about to be run over when you heard quick footsteps approaching, Élodie put her fingers to her mouth so you wouldn't make a sound, but your bewilderment got the better of you and your mouth spoke for itself.

"Mama... mama, girl behind you."

You pointed out, confusing the woman, she turned around to find a red-haired doll gaining momentum to stab her in the abdomen, if it hadn't hurt her you would have laughed right there, this new killer had to be a joke, he didn't even reach your knees. In fact, on one of the occasions when you were being chased you just got tired and kicked him, bitch, this midget is not going to ruin your new outfit that you earned with sweat, tears and of course, blood points. The game ended without many complications and without casualties, proud of your work you went to your cabin to collect the essential material for your mission.

Running through the forest you quickly arrived at the assassins' camp, it seemed quite empty and depressing ─as always─ Michael only shared a brief look with you and decided to leave for his domain as quickly as possible, you snorted at his behavior, fine, whatever, you have more assassins to choose from.

"Hey, hey, hey Oni!"

You smiled from ear to ear when you saw the Oni sitting by the fire, he seemed quite calm, as strange as it seemed, you never had many problems with him, although if you were being a little annoying he would simply carry you on his shoulder until you calmed down. He looked at you waiting for you to continue, which made you move towards him quickly, taking out from behind your back a couple of medium-sized bags with an easy-open zip.

"I promise I'll be quick! I'm sure you'll like the change."

Without knowing very well what you had in mind he stood still waiting for whatever, he didn't expect you to try to take the weapon from him, although he had to move it for you because you weren't able to move it. He looked at you skeptically seeing how its sharp blade was now covered in stickers of Hello Kitty and her different characters, he didn't expect it, but he didn't know what to think about it either.

"Ready! A cute weapon now hehehe, every time you hit someone the blood will have glitter on it."

Sadako, who was hanging around, was drawn to the conversation, moving slowly towards you, she looked ─or so you thought because her hair covered her face─ at the stickers on the Oni's sword, you looked at her with a smile, holding up the bags of stickers and the little jars of glitter.

"Don't worry, I have plenty of material."

She seemed indecisive for a moment, after all, she doesn't have a weapon as such but her powers, but you had the solution, you gathered her hair with some clips, enough so that half of her face was visible, and you placed stickers of stars and flowers on her face, she nodded in approval after looking at herself in the mirror, making your chest swell with pride at your work.

Chucky arrived a while later, but as soon as he saw you he decided to run away, you shrugged, you wouldn't be happy either if you had been kicked and ruined one of your first games. Some other killers came and went, not all of them were so easy to convince, and maybe you stole some of their weapons to decorate them without permission, you had some trouble getting The Trapper's machete and The Trickster didn't let you finish your job but you still made many of the bloody and rusty weapons shine like fairies. Of course, your faithful like Ghostface and The Legion didn't even ask and let you do whatever you wanted with their weapons, Susie even used some of your stickers to decorate your face as well, not even you ran away from your silly idea.

Returning to your camp you saw some of the survivors with their recent wounds just as shiny because of you, making you smile at having achieved your goal, it wasn't the most effective way to annoy the others since as strange as it was the assassins seemed much more docile today in the face of your idiocy, that, or maybe they really are getting used to your nonsense once and for all and are accepting that if they can't fight you, they must join you.

[ouma-kichi]

Mahiru Koizumi, Peko Pekoyama, Ibuki Mioda, Mikan Tsumiki, and Chiaki Nanami with a crush on yo

LOL SO LIKE. i completely abandoned this account but i felt a little nostalgic and checked on it and this draft was here, it was originally gonna be the whole drv2 cast but i am not finishing this so here is all that is left because if youre for some reason still here you at least deserve this

Info/Warnings: no warnings, besides things that could be considered spoilers for the game ? reader is gender nonspecific, though pronouns r not even used !

---also these first few are from april 14 holy shit---

Mahiru Koizumi:

i guess this would be the most obvious thing, but she would definitely take pictures of you basically constantly

she cant help it okay !! its like every single moment shes with you is so so important to her that she can't help but just snap pictures at every moment

like she already takes pictures all the fuckin time but NOW....

now that she has a subject that she believes to be so effortlessly breathtaking.

now that she has a model who can do something simple- quietly flipping through the pages of a book, breathing softly in peaceful moments, looking at her with sleepy eyes- and look so utterly captivating.

now that she has something worth taking photos of.

she really cant help but take a picture every time you turn to look at her.

its like she sits there for a moment; her eyes widening in the same way the aperture of her lens widens, to take in more light, to take in more of you

and she absolutely makes sure her camera is in focus . she constantly has her focus on you, it simply wouldn't do you justice if her camera didn't do the same

you make her so blushy.

before either of you realize it, she has her camera pointed toward you, with a giggle and a red face

she secretly thinks its a disservice to ignore how perfect you are to her. with a sigh, she believes art with your beauty as the focal point is simply something you deserve.

her camera serves as her eyes, she uses the lens to look at the world

but most importantly, she uses them to look at you

Peko Pekoyama:

oh she is super protective but not in the LOUD CHARISMATIC GOOFY WAY (like akane p much hehe)

instead she's protective in a very silent way

like she doesn't protect you by goin LEMME BEAT THE BAD GUY UP she simply protects you because that's what's natural to her

she would never be the type to scream out how much she cares about you from rooftops, but she's always there beside you

you know she likes you in every moment you're together, she shows it in very quiet and subtle ways

in the way she walks silently beside you, eyes carefully observing for any sense of danger or even just annoyance that threatens you

the way she gently pushes you behind her, when she comes to defuse a heated argument you're in

the way she grips you tight in any possible moment of fear

the way she plays with your hair, her calloused and tired hands gently touching your hair, as she waits for you to fall asleep at night

the way she looks at you, warm eyes and slightly red cheeks

the way she carefully remembers things about you, everything you've ever told her

the way she makes you feel safe

the way she makes you feel held

the way you want to be protected by her

the way you want to be held by her

Ibuki Mioda:

oooowowoowo she would definitely be like super straightforward about it

i mean this is ibuki we're talkin about !!

and shes very loud about it too

like she'll do shit like stereotypical shit like writing songs about you or serenading you at concerts

she probably named an album after you, and she used like a voicemail from u as like the intro to one of her songs

its like her brain just NEVER EVER shuts up about you

first of all, she is barely ever apart from you .. she absolutely will constantly be at your side just because she wants to laugh with you

but even when you're apart she's still just !!!!!!!!!!!!!! thinking about you !!!!

so of course she just writes every single soft feeling for you and word vomits it all into songs

the first few months after she realized she really liked you was a period where literally every song she wrote was just .. about you

there's a solid chunk of her discography that is just

(listen i really wanted to write nonsense song titles for ibukis section)

Sugary Sweet Lovesick Girl

Butterflies In Digestive Organs

An Eye For An Eye (And My Eye's On You)

Crushing Hard, Ms. Hydraulics

Puppy Love For Barking Dogs

I Should've Brought My Inhaler (With The Way U Take My Breath Away)

Sights for Sore Eyes, Touches for Tired Hands

it's easily her biggest form of expression, and she has so much to say about you

so be prepared for her next album to be full of references to the days you spend together

references to your face and the way your eyes look at her

and references to all her feelings for you

Mikan Tsumiki:

oh man she is so obsessed with you

like at first shes like U-UM A-A-ARE Y-YOU P-PRANKING ME ? bc youre so fucking nice to her

obviously she is not used to gentle treatment, i think that's partially why she fell for you so fast

she has never been treated in a kind and soft and loving way in her entire life, and now ?? some mf just genuinely wants to be around her

you just wanna be with her

and she very much wants to be with you

i mean she has never been treated with any sort of respect ever, and she is so insecure and afraid ..

and suddenly, you come along and you treat her with care and with love

slowly but surely, she starts to realize that you genuinely care about her and you're safe and you're not tricking her and she is just. so smitten

very much following her whole "you... are the one who has forgiven me..." dialogue from the game

she realizes, every time she cries out and begs for you to forgive her (for something you didn't even care about), you will always just look at her with a smile

you'll always look at her and say it's okay

because you forgive her.

so she never wants to be away from you, and most of the time you're never separated anyways

she clings to you, because you make everything feel okay. you make her feel okay when she panics or starts to tremble.

when she can hardly speak from anxiety, when she starts to spiral

when it feels like the entire world is falling apart, you make it okay

even if it's just for a moment,

everything's okay

because she knows you'll forgive her

---this part is frome june 25 lol---

Chiaki Nanami:

oh she is really fucking soft and cute

i think this is really obvious but she would absolutely make you play games with her constantly

she basically lives, breathes, and eats games so its kinda a no brainer here

and it's very important to her

because she isn't good at dating games, she doesn't quite understand the inner workings of human interaction, and she certainly doesn't know where to even begin with talking to you

she really doesn't want anything to be awkward or weird

and so... games

sometimes when you're playing, she sits there, with her cheeks all puffed up and her cat hood on, focused on whatever game she decided to show you that day

before sneaking small glances at you, glances that probably go unnoticed on your end

but man those small glances and the little moments she spends playing with you really mean a lot

because she only really knows how to connect with people via video game

[beskarthief]

Chapter 14 of the Star Wars fic "Order 65". The rest can be found here.

19 BBY, Coruscant, Coruscant Underworld

 Scars used to be a mark of honor.

 Cody could still remember when he got it. He hadn’t thought much of it, at the time; just another mark the war was leaving. The General had joked that it made him look tough. Cody remembered that he had laughed.

 “Are you implying that I’m not tough already?” he’d asked. General Kenobi had chuckled and flashed him one of those smiles. 

 “I’m not implying anything, Commander. Simply stating that it suits you.”

 Cody clenched his hands into fists under the table, nails digging into his palms. Not tough enough to think that name, apparently.

 “Hey, you gonna order or what? Tables are for customers.” a terse voice brought him back to reality, and Cody pulled his hat down further.

 Scars weren’t a mark of honor, anymore. They were an identifying mark. And standing out was a one way ticket to someplace Cody had no illusions he was coming back from.

 “I’ll take a glass of your strongest.” he said. 

 “Hmph.” the women grunted, starting back towards the counter. Cody cleared his throat.

 “Actually, make that a bottle.”

 She chuckled at that, throwing him an appraising glance over her shoulder. “Now that’s more like it.”

 He watched her walk away, slowly unclenching his fists as he did. There were little crescent shaped indents in both his palms, from where his fingers had dug into them. He rubbed one palm, then the next. Just act casual.

 The bartender returned with his drink a few minutes later, setting the bottle and a glass on the table before him. Cody dug out the last of his credits and passed them to her before pushing the glass aside and pulling the bottle across the table towards himself. He popped it open and took a swig. 

 Blech. It burned like fire going down and tasted vaguely like what he imagined sewer water would. Not his sort of drink. It had the desired effect, though, and he felt his muscles relax as he leaned back in his chair. Cody’s eyes scanned the bar, flicking every so often to the chrono on the wall. 

 They were late. Or maybe they weren’t coming. Maybe this whole thing was a hoax, or worse, maybe they got caught and Stormtroopers are headed here right now to haul me off to who knows where.

 Maybe I should have just stayed. That thought was self-pitying enough to snap him out of it, and he took another swig from the bottle. Of course I shouldn’t have stayed. I couldn’t have.

 But he could have, and he knew it. Knew how easy it would have been, too. Just wake up every day and do the same things he’d been doing since the day this accursed war had begun.

 Fight. Die. Get up and fight some more anyway. 

 Cody found that the bottle was empty. He frowned, set it back on the table, and checked the chrono again. 

 They’re not coming. This was a stupid waste of time.

 He pushed his chair back and got up, pulling his cap down further to cover his face. Not that it did anything. It was like the bottle; a bandaid for a problem too great to fix. 

 He left the bar with one final glance at the chrono on the wall, letting the door swing shut behind him. Once Cody would have looked down on people who hid their scars and lived in the bottom of bottles. How far the mighty have fallen. Would he even recognize me, now?

 “Cody?”

 He whirled at the name, the blaster already in his hand. But he’d chosen this place as a rendezvous for a reason; it was remote, and the little back alley where he now stood was dark and deserted. Except for a single, cloaked figure blocking it’s entrance. 

 “Who said that?” his aim wobbled, and he cursed his stupidity and the bottle. “Show yourself.”

 “I never thought I’d see you again.” The voice was familiar. He heard it every day. But that didn’t mean anything, not anymore.

 “I said show yourself.” Cody said with what little authority left that he could muster.

 The cloaked figure took a step forward, raising its hands, and Cody’s finger twitched towards the trigger. But he only removed his hood, letting it fall back to reveal-

 And he’d thought he’d hit rock bottom before. Now he was seeing ghosts.

 The gun is his hand bobbed wildly, and Cody wasn’t sure if it was the booze kicking in or the fact that the man standing before him was dead.

 “I don’t know who you are,” he snarled. “but I’m going to put you in the ground for wearing his face.”

 “Cody, you have to listen to me-”

 “I don’t want to hear another word out of your traitorous mouth!” he fired, but the other clone dropped and the bolt went over his head. In a single smooth motion he kicked Cody’s feet out from under him, sending him sprawling on his back in the alleyway.

 “You’re going to draw attention!” the ghost scolded. “Just give me a minute to-”

 Cody growled, kicking his feet out and knocking the other clone over, buying himself just enough time to scramble to his feet. He searched wildly for this blaster, which had flown from his hand upon impact. There.

 He lunged for it, but the ghost did too, the pair of them colliding over it. Cody hit the other man in the face with his elbow, and in the split second that bought him, grabbed the blaster and pointed it down at him. 

 The ghost panted on the ground at his feet, wiping blood off his face. Ghosts don’t bleed, Cody thought distantly. But lookalikes do. I’m not crazy then. 

 “I don’t know how many of my brothers you’ve gotten with that… that guise of yours.” he managed, pressing the blaster closer to the other man’s head. “But I’m not going to let you use my friend’s face to hurt any more of my brothers.”

 “Cody. We all have the same face.”

 The point of the blaster bobbed, and Cody took a deep breath. I’ve never killed a brother before, he realized. But I bet he has.

 It was enough to harden his resolve. Cody considered closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch, but it felt disrespectful. Instead he looked into the other man’s eyes as he prepared to pull the trigger.

 “Sometimes in war, it’s hard to be the one who survives.”

 Cody’s eyes widened, and he stared down at Rex sprawled at his feet.

 “But you didn’t.” he whispered. “You didn’t survive.”