#this has haunted me for weeks. i finally sat down and did it because i couldn't stop laughing to myself about it

[sealrock]

because @thefrostflower 's tags wouldn't leave my head

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part two} 5.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; hi, i am posting & feeling shy. please enjoy. <3 dusting off my fingers for this one, i am still not feeling 100%, thank you everyone for your kind words & messages. peese n lurv. <3

Weeks ago your brother decided this Mingyu thing was good, but only in theory. Parading around with him, hanging out with him, going to bars with him, hooking up with him… All of it actually happening, not good.

DK would prefer you to have these rendezvous with someone who didn’t try to drink his body weight in liquor each time the first can hit his hand, but alas, you were brought home safe every time, so who was he to complain or pick and choose who you can and can’t hang out with.

After their first few seasons together it was clear the two had different outlooks on life, neither of them really in the wrong with how they chose to go about their time, but they didn’t match. They clashed. Your brother, after spending time educating himself on his fathers history and evidently learning that baseball wasn’t the only thing he played, he took a different approach to dating, to women. He was a proper gentleman, DK was, never using his status to acquire a girlfriend with status or money or a title, he searched for love.

A star studded, best pitcher in baseball shouldn’t have had his heart broken as many times as his had been, he should’ve been the one breaking hearts. The girls wanted his money, and they only liked him because he played baseball. His status, his money, his title. All the things he didn’t necessarily want, but had been blessed with. 

He was a good man, and he was always right, but you’d never admit that to his face. Especially after that night, after a weekend of staying at Mingyu’s. DK had sat you down, he spoke for many minutes, many dragging minutes, a monologue full of ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to do something else?’ and ‘Have your friends from Nasara come out to stay with us sometime, maybe you all can spend time in the city together.’ He never said the words, “Don’t date Mingyu,” but you know he despised the idea.

Deep down you despised it too. 

The hunk of golden muscle with a voice so pretty and persuading, he wanted to be your boyfriend. Mingyu’s asked a few times before, letting it become your decision, always telling you he’d wait for you, and that you were his no matter what, that he was here for you, he wanted to take care of you, he wanted to love you. He’d keep his word, you knew he would. It was Mingyu, he kept his promises, he spoke with utmost intent, he didn’t say shit just to say it, nor was he using it to coerce you into his sheets. That you did on your own.

His curly hair, his sappy brown eyes, you’d drown it in, in him, suffocate yourself with Mingyu, all of him until the guilt wallowing in your gut was gone. With each passing day it grew smaller. After each night with Mingyu it was easier to deal with. Like last night, like this entire trip would be.

Arriving in Haos, in the warm air that breezed over your skin like a dream when you stepped out of the airport hand in hand with Mingyu sending cameras flashing away, you finally felt like you could breathe. Away from Iloa, away from the restraints the city put on you, really your brother, this trip felt like freedom. Haos has always been a place you’ve thrived since you were a little girl, traveling back and forth on a jet with your parents and DK, vacationing for months throughout the summer, laying on these beaches until your skin couldn’t take it any longer. The air was different here, it excited you.

It invited you to dance in it, to get lost in it like you did Mingyu.

And that’s just what you did.

Waking up to sunshine peeking through the heavy grey curtains of the hotel room, washing over you where you laid in the king sized bed buried in white sheets and blankets, you didn’t even want to open your eyes. Pressing your hands to your forehead first, rolling onto your back, the ache squeezing your brain threatened your stomach, but you wouldn’t allow it to go any further. Taking a slow, calculated deep breath you lay your arms beside you and stretch, your limbs barely reaching the edges of the mattress. Muscles sore, body tired, you blinked open your eyes and scolded the light with a groan.

Moving beneath the covers, the soft sheets caressing your bare skin, you tugged them off and took your time sitting up. The weight in your head shifted, almost sending you forward. Clamping your hands to your knees, still blinking fervently in the bright sunshine, you find clothes scattered about the floor, your bell bottom jeans inside out and slung over a dresser across the room from you.

You weren’t sure whose room you were in, but the denim jacket, Nike luggage, and custom sneakers let you know where you were. Dragging a hand through your hair, the blow dry still bouncing even though your jaw ached, you took another breath and made your way out of his bed.

These headlines were gonna be good.

You scrolled, and scrolled. Instagram, Twitter, all the accounts that reported on you, that reported on Mingyu, you scrolled, and you read. Wandering out of bed, you scrolled, sitting on the toilet, you scrolled, brushing your teeth, you scrolled. The photos were cute, Mingyu’s arm either around your back or shoulders, unless his hand was wrapped around your neck or squeezing your ass. More often than not your lips were locked, the two of you ‘unable to get enough’ as one drama influencer said on her story.

You’ve been here one night and have already achieved what you came here to do.

There was a certain rush accompanied by seeing your name in posts, in headlines, coming out of peoples mouths. Everyone had their thing, everyone in your life, they had their thing. This was yours, and people were catching on. After each blow up of news, of rumors, of new photos, your follower count grew.

But where there were fun people talking about you, doing their makeup in their ‘Get Ready With Me and Chit Chat About Moon Isla…’ videos and TikToks, there were the assholes, mostly men, who spewed their worthless thoughts. That’s what DK would say. Mingyu had started saying it too, that those kinds of people had nothing better to do with their lives.

It didn’t mean their words didn’t hurt.

“I mean, she’s sloppy, she’s drinking all the time, and he’s there to carry her around,” a man with a microphone in his face and big headphones on around his head spoke from your phone. Dressed now, having read an article that informed you that you bought the entire bar shots of tequila, you attempted to liven up your face in the mirror that stretched across the bathroom wall. “His team is in Haos to train. To practice. To begin their season to take back their trophy, and this bitch is with them, dragging Kim all along Festa Street.” Slicking clear gloss over your lips, you narrowed your eyes and glared at the man on the screen.

Fair skinned, bald, with a bush on his face and all around his jaw. He had that nagging sort of voice, one that tugged on your eardrums and stabbed them thousands and thousands of times with tiny needles filling you with rage.

“Photos came out right away when the team got there, you know,” the man said, and his partner, another bald man with a Lions hat on, hummed in agreement. “Not a smile on his face. Sunglasses on, gear on his back, his hat tugged over his forehead. Now what do you think that means?”

“He’s hungover,” the partner said. The man threw his hands out to the side and cackled.

“Thank you, he’s hungover, and he has to play today.” You scoffed and snatched your phone off the counter. “They’re lucky the new first-”

“Shut up,” you groaned, swiping away to another video. A girl with long, waist length braids in her hair, each one entwined with a fun color was smiling to the camera.

“Guys,” she finally whispered after a second of staring. A giggle corrupted her, sending her face down into her pillows. The camera shook, then she picked her head back up and widened her eyes for a few seconds. “How do I become her?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, then giggled maniacally again. “How do I- Wait, hang on.” 

The camera cut and a picture showed up behind her. Your cheeks warmed. Mingyu had you pressed to a pillar in one of the bars you were in, the name unknown to you. His hands were in the back pockets of your jeans and his forehead was pressed to yours. The way he smiled down at you, god. The picture was a little blurry, a little grainy, but damn. He wasn’t looking at you like you were his dinner. Hearts engulfed his irises.

“Guys?!” The girl shrieked and you jumped, forgetting she was here. “Kim Mingyu, save me! Look at this, do you see this, are we all okay after this…” She rambled more nonsense, and you’re certain the thousands of comments were agreeing with her. On every video of girls like this the comments were full of more girls saying the same exact thing.

You dared, and you clicked.

‘how does she not die when he looks like that’

‘LORD WHEN IS IT MY TURRRRRRN’

‘Shes so lucky waht the actual fuck guys its not fair.’

‘how are they NOT DATING’

How are they not dating? How are you not dating Mingyu? How could you look at a photo like this one, all of it screaming that he loved you, how could you see this, witness this, live this, and not date him? Not want to date him?

Locking your phone, tossing it to the counter, you returned to your makeup and put on fresh mascara, not that anyone was going to see it.

Venturing out into the room, side stepping articles of clothing, you pulled on one of Mingyu's grey Lions tee’s and wiggled back into the jeans you wore last night. Your luggage was elsewhere. DK would tell you where it ended up, he’d tell you where you were staying. You haven’t seen him since you left the airport, you were not looking forward to the lecture you’d get when you met him at the field.

Sliding thick black sunglasses onto your nose, making sure your hair framed your face, you spritzed some of Mingyu’s cologne onto your neck, dropped your things into your little purse, slid into your shoes, and left his room behind.

The team was gone, they’d been out on the field for two hours already. Nearing eleven o’clock you weren’t sure who else would be left behind here at the hotel, hopefully someone you’d catch a ride with, but to your demise as you wandered the halls and rode the elevator down to the lobby, your least favorite people were here.

The WAGs.

A piercing cry echoed through the air and the glass ceiling of the lobby.

The WAGs and their children.

To the right of the main lobby, the carpeted area where large leather couches and a fireplace lived, fabulous heads of hair sat around or stood with their babies in their arms. Tight jeans, fun Lions themed jackets, the whole thing screamed WAGs and it made you want to gag. 

Then you remembered what shirt you put on and kept your thoughts to yourself.

Already regretting approaching them, you took yourself toward the couches and attempted to smile at them. In an instant their chatter quieted, their attention turned to you, and they broke out in cheesy greetings. There were only a few faces you recognized.

Seungcheols wife, Talia, who was very pregnant, had their son Tao on her hip where she stood in front of the couches. Luscious blonde hair flowing toward her waist, her full face of makeup smiled back at you. She was one of the few you actually trusted. Gesturing toward her knee high wedged boots, you shot her a thumbs up. From what you know she was weeks from popping out kid number two, so how she was walking around in those boots, props to her.

On the couch directly in front of you rocking her crying baby sat Daya, a brunette with macchiato colored skin married to the Lions second basemen, Soonyoung, or Hoshi, as the city of Iloa called him. They haven’t been married long, but their baby girl, Tora, was six months old. Hoshi was one of the reasons the team started to crumble last season. Between Daya and his new daughter, the family fought the narrative the entire off season. 

Daya sat beside Halle, a woman with curly black hair hanging at her shoulders and the smoothest dark chocolate complexion. She bounced a baby in her arms, her and her husband, Minghao, their eight month old, Sunday. Another daughter born into the Lions family, one toward the beginning of the season, the family just missing the reason for crumble rumors.

The two were best friends, Daya and Halle, just as were Hoshi and Minghao. With their chins turned up at you and their seemingly judging eyes studying what you wore and how you wore it, they smiled and shared a look.

“Isla you’re so fun,” Talia said with a shake of her head. 

Daya laughed under her breath. “She’ll be one of us soon,” she grumbled, and Halle laughed with her.

“Leave the girl be,” Jihyo spoke up as she passed by the couches, wandering behind her and Junhui’s four year old son, Jisoo. Jun belonged to the Lions long before DK had ever been traded, he was a veteran in Iloa. He and his wife, a couple of high school sweethearts, welcomed you back time and time again, treating you no differently, as if no time had ever passed. Just seeing her face was relief enough.

“Hey,” you half whispered, reaching out for her. She took your hand and squeezed it, the smile lines on her cheeks accenting her stunning smile. Talia watched your hands meet, then watched the interaction, adjusting her baby on her hip. “It’s so nice to see you.”

Jihyo tossed her dark brown hair over the shoulder of her leather jacket. “It’s so much nicer seeing you. Don’t let these girls be mean to you,” she shot Daye and Halle a glare and the two turned toward one another, “She’s a baby, she’s not having any anytime soon.” Smiling back at you, she squeezed your hand once more before returning to her motherly duties. “You came down just in time, they’re picking us up any minute now.”

“How are things with Mingyu?” Daya asked, giving you another once over. “You guys conjure quite the crowd.” You didn’t like the way her eyes felt.

Shrugging, you pursed your lips and said, “Things are great. Why?”

She and Halle spoke to one another again with their eyes, then Minghao’s wife looked up at you. “Why aren’t things official, Isla?” 

Because if things become official then you end up on the couch here with these women and their babies, maybe even with a few of your own. You become a WAG, your entire identity succumbed down into just being someone's wife, someone's mother. You’d be an extension of him, of Mingyu, it’s what he wanted you to be even if he’s never explicitly said it.

But, he has.

You’re his. You’re his whether the label is there or not.

The label.

More of their questions bounced back and forth between them. ‘Has he not asked?’ ‘You have to do something, Isla, you can’t just be his pet.’ ‘I mean, what does it look like, you traveling with him to do what, party and sleep together?’ ‘We’ve seen the photos, everyone has, you guys have something-’

“It is official,” you said with a sureness that shut them up.

The words were set in stone before you had a chance to take them back. The chatter of the wives and girlfriends in the lobby filled the air and did nothing to ease the anxiety around the next news story you just created for yourself. For Mingyu. For your brother.

Exactly what he didn’t want.

Taking a deep breath, you thought to yourself, oh well.

You’d be a different type of WAG, you’d change what it meant. You would not end up here wedged between Daya and Halle, two women unable to calm their fussy babies.

Halle smirked, shaking her curls a bit. “What do you mean it is?”

Narrowing your eyes that she couldn’t see at her, you tilted your head. “He’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. How much more official can it get? You want proof? Wanna see the pictures he took of us while he was in me last night?”

Daya threw her head backward with a holler of a laugh. Halle’s own jaw fell open, a scoff falling from it. Talia, eyes analyzing still, she started to smile. 

“No, you keep those to yourself,” Halle said.

Daya chimed in, “If you have any of just Mingyu let us know, though.”

Your heart would’ve shot out your chest if you weren’t so hungover. “I would,” you sighed, then started toward the doors of the hotel, “But, he’s mine!”

First one to get to the cars, recognizing your brother's driver, you beelined for the SUV and demanded he pull away and get you to the stadium before any other women could try to get into the car with you. Barely five minutes away from the hotel and twenty from the stadium, your phone buzzed from your purse, and then it buzzed again, and again. Pulling it out you sighed at the notifications polluting your screen, but weren’t surprised in the slightest.

Someone got their check.

‘BREAKING NEWS: The Lions Princess confirms her relationship with…’

It was too long to read across the screen.

‘Moon Isla and Kim Mingyu CONFIRMED!’

‘IT’S OFFICIAL!’

No matter who it was, no matter who sold the story or leaked it, you didn’t have time to feel bad for them, nor yourself. You were well off and doing better for yourself without the need to leak info to the press for a paycheck. You have a DK, and now you have a boyfriend, who doesn’t know he’s your boyfriend yet, but is about to find out he is your boyfriend and probably already did. 

Now you had to tell him in person.

And you had to swear to yourself that you were not going to become one of the WAGs.

As easy as it would be to just hand your whole life over to somebody, to follow them around, to have them take care of you for as long as they saw fit… It wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t going to be you.

The stadium in Haos couldn’t compare to the one in Iloa. Smaller, less sparkly and flashy, positioned directly in the sun, this stadium was lucky the Lions continued to come here to train for a month and a half. The tickets they sold within February and March were probably enough to fund the rest of the year for this company. 

To the Lions it was home away from home. A field to play on, a place to stay. Players like your brother saw it that way, he and a few others like Junhui, they had an appreciation for it. As long as they were throwing a baseball, running the bases, rolling in the grass, they were happy. You had few memories of this place, one of them being finally kissing Mingyu for the first time when you were eighteen and in Haos with your family for a weekend to watch the Lions play a series here. It was something short and sweet but all the more delicious. 

It was sneaky, in a hallway away from celebrations and cameras. The two of you had spent nearly the entire weekend together, talking, re-getting to know one another like most of the time like this was spent. He only kissed you after a dinner with the team, after a few drinks downed by the both of you, his liquid courage hands dancing along your neck gently before they took your cheeks and pulled you into him.

You started at Nasara that fall, though you longed to go back to that weekend every damn day of that grueling first semester. With little to no contact between you and Mingyu, it was easy to slip away from him, and you did so without even realizing it. There came a point in time where he wasn’t even a second thought, a side thought, a thought way in the back of your brain, he was just… gone.

Coming here, spending time at the stadium with the team you hoped that feeling would come back. That first feeling. The way nerves below your skin buzzed as he touched you, as he smiled at you and tipped his chin closer, whispering to you how he hopes no one turns the corner. His soft lips, his strong hands, his chiseled body you simply melted into… Everything about it screamed perfect.

Strutting over the concrete, a coffee acquired in your hand, sun blazing on your back, coaches, security, and other WAGs standing around eyeing you or trying to say hello, you ignored them and kept your head on straight, knowing he was at the end of this pathway. The stands of seats towered over your head, casting shadows onto the pavement, leading you toward the fence you so easily walked around with no one to stop you. Your feet quieted as the grass began, shade covering the green so lush you almost felt bad you were flattening it beneath your shoes.

The boys weren’t actively playing at the moment, the most activity happening that you could see was that of your brother and the Lions catcher Jihoon, or Woozi, stretching in the outfield together in their sponsored Under Armour get ups. Everyone else was wandering the dirt, chatting it up along the dugout, or checking out their gear. Few players stood in their positions from what you could see, everyone's backs to you as you approached the third base line.

“Isla!” His voice brought an instant smile to your face. He was heard before he was seen, scanning the different figures around you, you finally found him hurrying toward you, a big, goofy smile on his cheeks. Completely different than how those men on that podcast were describing him. 

A little bit sweaty, Mingyu wore a cut off Lions tank and matching black shorts, swapping his custom sneakers for a pair of old cleats that supposedly brought him luck while they trained. It wasn’t Spring Training if he didn’t have them on, no one would catch him jinxing the season before it even started. Some of his curls clung to his forehead, his skin aglow beneath the beating Haos sun.

“Change your mind, or something?” The way he scrunched his nose made you giggle. “Heard we’re dating now?” He made it in front of you finally, resting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath.

Pressing your lips together in a silly smile, you shrugged your shoulders and rocked on your feet. “Maybe we are.” He couldn’t tame his happiness, you were certain his cheeks would break. “Sucks I couldn’t have told you first, who’d you hear it from?”

“Hoshi.” He cocked his head backward toward the dugout. Peeking around his large frame you found the two best friends side by side leaning over the fence with their chins resting on their arms looking straight toward you and Mingyu. Hoshi, hair bleached into oblivion, and Minghao, shaggy black hair hanging down his neck. Both boys wore backwards baseball caps. “After he told me I checked to see if you said anything to me, but you didn’t.”

A pout graced your lips. “I wanted to come here and tell you, I’m sorry.”

He moved quickly, reaching out to take you by your shoulders. “No, please, don’t apologize, holy shit, Isla. If anything I’m sorry, it sucks that we can’t say anything without someone taking it and plastering it to the internet.” His thumbs drew circles over the fabric of his own t-shirt. “This mine?” He snickered.

“Yeah,” you sang, “I was in your room, Gyu. My suitcases are MIA.”

“They’re in your room,” he said as if he knew where it was.

You scoffed. “And you didn’t think to tell me where that was so I could-”

“On the other side of the hotel in one of the towers across the property by your brother.” It was all he had to say to have you both deadpanning in seconds. “Like, a mile apart.”

Laughing within a breath you leaned into him and slid an arm around his back. “Oh, agony,” you drug out, tipping your chin backward. “A mile, how ever are we going to do it?” It was too easy to make him laugh.

“DK did it on purpose,” he said quietly, bobbing his head, taking his arms around your back. “He thinks we don’t know what he does and why he does it but, it’s so obvious.” Sipping your coffee, you looked up at him and waited for more. “Does he know you were gonna do this? Today?”

Toying with the hem of his shirt you took a breath. “No, but I can tell you he definitely already knows, news travels fast around here.” The two of you spare your brother a glance, one he was returning. You’ve never seen DK mad, but you do know when his eyes have fallen upon something he doesn’t like.

“You’ll talk him down,” Mingyu nodded, gazing back down at you. “You always do, you have the magic.” 

Blinking, you turned your chin back up to him. “You could talk to him too, yanno.”

He made a face, baring his teeth, cringing. “Ah, you know how I feel about that.”

“It could potentially turn this whole thing around if you do, Gyu,” you muttered, defeat beginning to pool within you. “You want me, you gotta talk to him about it.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for your coffee cup. “I have you. Watcha got in here?” He took a swing before you could answer him, his reaction making you laugh amongst the karma.

“Black coffee,” you droned, taking the white cup back. “And sugar, because someone made me do tequila shots all night.”

Snickering, he dropped down to press a kiss to your lips, one long and slow, as if he was putting the period on the It’s Official statement. Pulling back just slightly, Mingyu mumbled, “Why don’t you substitute that sugar for vodka so we can keep going tonight?”

“Aye, Kim!” A coach called out for him, the team heading back out onto the field.

Whirling around, pulling you into his side, Mingyu waves off the batting coach and ushers you into the dugout making sure you were along the fence with a good spot to watch him hit. Along the way he whispered nonsense to you, telling you what bars you should explore tonight, where you needed to go, what food you should try, but more importantly what drinks you could get and where.

“You’re gonna kill me, Gyu,” you whispered to him after he kissed you one last time. Laughing aloud, head thrown back with vigor, he took to home plate and his persona shifted. Gone was Gyu, out came Kim Mingyu, the Lions right fielder.

Sipping from your coffee, allowing it to ease the ache in your forehead and the unease in your gut, you stood up and wandered the empty dugout. Names were written on everything, the shirts, the bats, the gloves, the mits, it was adorable, it felt like when you’d watch your brother in little league and your father etched his name into everything he owned. Dragging your feet along the ground, dirt and pebbles scraping against the concrete beneath your shoes, you took a deep breath in through your nose and let the fresh air relax you.

Maybe this was a good thing.

The familiar sound of a baseball smacking into the glove of the catcher brought you more comfort than you ever could’ve imagined. Your brother was on the mound, Woozi behind the plate, Mingyu in the batter's box. The whooshing of the bat through the air as your boyfriend acquired another strike had the batting coach calling out a few things to him. With a small smile on your lips you wandered toward the stairs to the dugout along the first base line, stepping up them to lean against the post giving you the clearest view of the field.

Hangover aside, the day was beautiful. The weather was perfect, the boys were talking and laughing with one another, there was the crack of the ball hitting the bat filling you with excitement as someone shouted in the outfield. The ball Mingyu hit was foul, traveling just over right field, but it wasn’t hit long enough for their bench player whose name you hadn’t learned yet to catch it in right field. Your neck stretched, everyones did. Mingyu ran to first base, but Seungcheol would catch it before he made it down the line.

Except Seungcheol was behind home plate with the batting coach, arms folded over his broad chest, his knee wrapped in a brace.

Whipping your head back and forth, from Seungcheol eyeing the ball, to the team, then you, he shouted a name that made your blood run cold.

“Hansol!”

Every bone in your body went stiff, every muscle froze. Neck nearly breaking, you plastered your eyes onto the boy standing behind first base and your coffee cup almost slipped from your trembling fingers.

You could’ve been sick. You wanted to be sick.

Months. It’d been months.

Months of distraction, months of trying to make him go away, months of squeezing him and pushing him down into a feeling you’d only allow yourself to feel between the hours of one and three in the morning if you were any sort of sober. Even drunk, he was there, a ghost haunting your memory of what could’ve been, what you had and what you left behind. He stood here now, five foot ten, a little scrawny, a little pale. Those brown waves, they were just how you left them, fluffy, soft, inviting. His eyes, chocolate and sweet, were on you, he was looking at you, not through you, not around you, at you.

And it hurt.

Every feeling manifested into a stomach ache, a nausea so debilitating that only he would know what to do about it, like he’s done for you so many times before. The amount of times he’s held your hair, that he’s pulled it back for you. So many nights at Nasara, when he was allowed to, he would get you into your bed and make sure you’d fall asleep on your side, telling Ryujin that if either of you needed anything she could call him. He’d try to not let you drink too much, but when he couldn’t keep up with the way you’d bounce around the house he’d appear with a cup full of water and wouldn’t leave you alone until you finished it. 

He’d bring you to Blend, he’d buy you a coffee, he’d offer you breakfast, and if you refused he’d offer his shoulder and he’d let you talk. And not once would he interrupt, he’d only look away to sip his coffee, reminding you to drink some of yours between the stories you had to tell.

You’d follow him along to his practices, one of the only ones to sit in the stands, or behind home plate when he’d bat or train with his coaches gearing him up for this very moment.

When the hell did he get called up?

When the hell did the Lions get him?

Why the fuck is this the first you’re hearing of it, seeing it?

He missed the ball. It fell a few feet behind him. His teammates shouted for him, they tried to get his attention, so many shouts of a name so foreign to you only because you knew it wasn’t his favorite. He was stuck, much like you, with a thousand things to say splayed out between the two of you.

Vernon.

He was here, in Haos, playing on the same team as your brother. 

On the same team as your boyfriend. 

Holy shit, Mingyu was your boyfriend.

Mingyu was your boyfriend, words you chose to say on the same day the boy you had fallen in too far deep with appears on his baseball team.

“Hansol!”

Finally his gaze of disbelief was ripped from you, having you loose a breath you were holding. Murmurs of his voice, nothing more than a hum hit you where you were standing, a sound so incredibly comforting it had tears welling up in your eyes. You’re sure it was pleading, and apologies, and excuses for missing the easiest play for a first baseman.

He hurried toward Seungcheol and the coach, as did the team, and you hightailed it off the field while no one's eyes were on you, hurried for the closest bathroom and hid yourself in a stall, collapsing to the floor with rushed breaths, willing your heart to calm down.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[s-rosie]

TIG CRACK HCSSSSS #2

30 hours to live, how should i spend themmm…?

max and avery have a game called “uncomfortable flirting” where they go back and forth trying to make the other person either get too caught off guard to make a comeback or quit bc they get uncomfortable (this is actually a real game that me and my friend made up lol it’s actually fun if you are good enough friends for it not to be awkward)

jameson watches barbie life in the dream house and quotes it without even realizing

avery says stuff like “me personally i would never take that level of disrespect but that’s just me” kinda ironically but kinda not

xander and ave had a water balloon fight using gloves from the nurse filled with water at school and they got detention for it after avery accidentally threw a glove at someone she thought was xan but wasn’t

max tried to become a rapper in like 6th grade and she entered the talent show and everything trying to rap to like nicki minaj but it kinda sucked and now the video of her at the talent show haunts her

grayson has the best fake porn star girl moan but he only did it once on a dare with jameson and no one will believe jamie that he can do it and it drives him crazy

libby can do weird things with her tongue (get your mind out of the gutter) like she can lick her elbow, touch her nose and chin with her tongue, do that clover tongue thingy, etc.

nash did gymnastics when he was little and he does random back handsprings now

jameson, avery, and xander are the reason most of the rules at their school were made bc they always found loop holes

oren is fluent in gen alpha and is a translator for when xander and jamie start talking gen alpha

alisa watches spirit and cries every time

gigi blasted “i don’t fuck with you” when sav finally broke up with duncan

lyra has a shirt that says “thick thighs save lives” and grayson gets so embarrassed bc he knows those thick thighs saved his life

jamie went through a phase for like a week where he didn’t shower and just used chocolate axe spray instead in like 5th grade

max, avery, lyra, and libby make spicy dances together and say they are going send them to their boyfriends but they always get too embarrassed so they just keep them a secret (but then the truth came out and xander hacked their phones to get the videos)

max makes those “i just wanna be part of your symphony 🌈🌈🌈🌈🐬🐬🐬🐬🐬✨✨✨✨🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀” memes and sends them to avery at like 3:30 am randomly

xander will barge into avery and jamie’s room and see them kissing and say “omg guys get a room” just to confuse and annoy them

max and Xander make pov tik toks together

Avery once pulled a monica from friends and pinned Xander down to get his eye drops in and xander couldn’t get up and was like was like “omg why are you so good at this!!!” then “wait, why are you so good at this… 😏” and avery just sat there like 🫣😳

when libby went wedding dress shopping, max and avery also tried on wedding dresses and even bought them just to have fun in

gigi and xander love sexyy red and put her on the hawthorne house speakers to make everyone die because her songs are so dirty

i hope you like theseeeeee

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 3

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, a muder case, funerals, drinking, hurt, fluff, smut

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: This week we have heavy relationship stuff, Cassie/Jenny shenanigans, and a full dive into our murder mystery 🤓 Or did you forget about the serial killer on the loose? 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 3: Pour The Whiskey

The sky was vanilla when the sun finally set behind the Montana mountains, the first stars appearing above and announcing the night. You pushed the driver’s door of your SUV shut and trudged back to the motel for a change of clothes before meeting up with Jenny, Cassie, and Beau for drinks. 

You’d been apprehensive about spending the evening with him but knew you couldn’t exclude him. Not forever, at least. It was his home, his friends. You were just a guest here, and you didn’t mind him coming as long as you had the two women as a buffer. You would just have to ignore the stinging in your heart all night. Easy. 

Mindless and tired, you unlocked the door before your heels hit something rustling on the shabby doormat. As you glanced down, you found a brown envelope with your name in bold, black letters on it. Your stomach churned. You knew what it was and what you’d find inside. 

There had been another victim. 

Beau’s heart thumped in his ribcage as he entered the bar. It was a full Friday night, most of Helena ringing in the weekend at the Boot Heel as he looked around the crowd for you and his friends. He hoped Jenny was right, and he could use the evening as an opportunity to talk to you and explain everything – right a few wrongs.

As he spied the three of you at a table in a corner booth, he frowned at the laptop propped open in the middle between all of you. He didn’t expect you to bring work to drinks tonight, but on second thought, he should’ve guessed as much. Relaxing had never been high on your list when you were on the job.

“Guys, c’mon, really? What is this?” Beau asked with a teasing smile. His brow scrunched, however, as he gestured at the computer. “I thought we’re here to have fun.”

“There’s been another victim,” Jenny said without missing a beat and shot him a look that told him to rein in the humor.

Beau’s mouth opened in surprise and then closed for a lack of words, exhaling a breath through his freckled nose. He for sure hadn’t expected that answer.

“We figured you might care since you’re the sheriff and all,” you deadpanned without lifting a single eye at him, which earned you a small glare from him as he sat down next to you.

Jenny and Cassie had cleverly taken seats next to each other, so you were left to sit next to Beau. And thereby went your plan to use them as a buffer tonight. So much for female support. His friends, you reminded yourself.

Fortunately, a new murder victim was also a good excuse to be distracted and not deal with your love life.

“Why didn’t you guys call me there was a new body? Shouldn’t we, you know, go to the crime scene?” Beau looked at you three confused.

“There’s no body yet,” Cassie replied.

His brow creased even more. “Then how do you know there’s been another victim?”

You turned the laptop toward him as a video flickered across the screen. Leaning closer, he squinted his eyes at the content before glancing at you. His brow quirked in confusion. “What am I looking at here? What’s this?”

“The killer always sends video material of the victim’s last forty-eight hours,” you explained.

“We’ve never gotten a video before,” Beau said and looked at Jenny for confirmation, who shook her head.

“Because the killer has been sending them to the FBI. First to the field office in Houston and then to me specifically,” you informed him.

Beau’s look darkened, his features hardening, except for a twitch of his nostril. You could guess what he was thinking as he read between the lines of your words. “What do you mean 'you specifically'? Where was this sent to? The station?”

You exhaled a weary breath. “When the case got assigned to me, the envelopes started getting directly addressed to me and delivered to my desk at the office. This one was delivered by my doorstep at the motel.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Beau’s green eyes widened, his entire body flooding with worry. “Y/N–”

“It’s not unusual,” you interjected quickly. “Our profiler thinks we’re dealing with a narcissistic psychopath. They’re sensation seekers and exhibit a need for control. Communicating directly with me is our subject’s way of controlling the narrative,” you explained but could tell your answer didn’t soothe him in the slightest.

“That’s not the point I was tryna make,” he grunted. “You can’t stay at that motel.”

“I know,” you agreed. “Cassie already offered me her guest room.”

“Yeah, and I’m an empty nester with plenty of space, too,” Jenny added and swiftly turned to her beer upon Beau’s frustrated look.

“Oh… Great, so plenty of options,” Beau grumbled but caught himself quickly, recovering with a tight smile. “Good…”

There went his plan to ask you to stay with him. He had by far the smallest place, but his hope was that you wouldn’t have needed more than a bed. Preferably his. And although he trusted Jenny and Cassie, it still bothered him that he couldn’t keep an eye on you himself. It wasn’t like he’d even insist on sharing a bed with you. He’d take the couch or even a goddamn patio chair outside as long as he knew that you were safe.

“Do I need to worry about you being a target?” Beau’s eyes found yours and held your gaze. You could’ve sworn you heard his heart beating faster in his chest.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied and tried to sound as reassuring as possible. It didn’t work, however.

His brow raised as he retorted sarcastically, “Oh, you don’t think so. Well, that’s comforting.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

You sighed. “Look, the murder victims are all females in different age ranges. What they have in common, though, is that they are all married to a spouse who stepped out on them. The true targets were always the cheating husbands.”

“Why?” Beau’s brow furrowed. All he knew so far about the case was that three female bodies turned up dead at crossroads. He knew their names; he knew their families. Now, there was a fourth.

What he didn’t know was the who, what, how, or why. That was your area of expertise.

“The crossroads? It’s supposed to show that the women chose the wrong path. They stayed with their cheating partners,” you clarified. “On the other hand–”

“–their spouses get punished for getting their loved ones killed,” Beau finished. He rubbed his bearded chin, pointing at the laptop screen. “And what’s the theory with the videos?”

“They’re essentially held in an escape room. The women get locked in a bunker with a box of tools. If they find the right way out, they walk free. If not, their body is dumped at a crossroads after they’ve run out of oxygen. They’re basically buried alive,” you said.

“You ever found the bunker? Has anyone ever escaped?” Beau asked.

You shook your head and spoke quieter. “No, we’ve never found them. Based on the videos, we think there’s more than one location, especially since the subject has hit five states so far, including Montana. We assume the recordings’ purpose is to torture the husbands. A copy of it always gets sent to a partner, so they witness the suffering they’ve caused.” Letting out a sharp exhale, you continued, “And no, no one has ever escaped. We’re not sure if it’s even possible. It might just be a sadistic torture method as well.”

“Make ‘em believe they can get out when they really can’t,” Beau concluded grimly and chewed on his lower lip before flashing a cynical smile. “Well, ain’t that a fun one…”

“We think the killer is highly intelligent and organized,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, and they’re probably keeping tabs on us. They know we’re working the case,” you added and glanced around the patrons of the Boot Heel. The killer might even be in this bar with you. It wasn’t unlikely they followed you here from the motel. As inconspicuous as you tried to be, Beau still caught your little areal scan.

“That didn’t answer my question, though,” Beau then said and looked deeply into your eyes, his brow stern. “Do I need to be worried? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I’m itchin’ to put protection detail on you.”

“Who, Poppernak?” you quipped, but Beau didn’t laugh. “And no, no need to worry. I don’t fit the victimology,” you told him with a poker face. It was the truth. What you left out, however, was that you’d always be a potential target, no matter what the victim’s profile said. You were on a killer’s radar. Hell, your whole job was to be in harm’s way.

Luckily, your phone buzzed on the table, saving you from more questions and drilling looks. Beau was smart and a good detective. You knew he could see right through you.

“Excuse me, it’s my DA in Houston. I have to get this,” you said and stood up from the table.

“Ugh, Ted…” Beau groaned and dramatically rolled his eyes back.

“You’re a child,” you scolded him. “What d’you have against Ted? He’s a good attorney.”

“He’s a douche, and he sucks,” Beau declared with a huff.

You sent him a glare. “You’re just saying that ‘cause we dated briefly.”

“Nope, already didn’t like that slimy coyote before that,” Beau maintained. “Neither did Randy, by the way.”

“Wow, okay…” You scoffed, tongue poking your cheek as you shook your head. “I’m gonna take this outside,” you said with a glower and then fled through the doors of the restaurant to the quiet street.

“Y/N, wait–” Beau tried to stop you, but you had already stormed out and couldn’t hear him anymore. The sheriff then pursed his lips and exhaled a deep sigh.

“Stepped in it again, huh?” Cassie threw him a sympathetic look.

Beau ran a palm over his freckled face, his lips in a tight line. “Big time.”

“Well, she’s got good taste,” Jenny remarked as she looked at her phone before holding it up for Cassie to see.

“Not bad,” Cassie agreed with a low whistle and smirked.

Beau caught a glimpse of the screen, seeing Ted’s stupid face looking right back at him, and scowled at the women. “Really? Well, thanks for the knife in my back. Who’s side are you two on, huh?”

“Aw, Beau, we’re just having fun.” Cassie chuckled in amusement.

“Yeah, well, he’s not that good-looking up close, by the way,” Beau retorted, trying to keep his jealousy at bay. “He just photographs well.”

“He’s cute when he’s jealous,” Jenny said to Cassie, who nodded in agreement.

Beau scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”

“Did Ted make it onto your punch list?” Cassie asked jokingly.

“Oh, you bet he did,” Beau replied with a huff.

“So… is he the new Avery now?” Jenny teased and arched a brow. The two women looked at him expectantly.

Beau narrowed his eyes at them. “I hate you both. I really do.”

“That’s a yes,” Jenny surmised, and both women broke into laughter on Beau’s dime.

But he was a good sport and could take a little teasing. Besides, he really did wish to punch Ted’s face. He knew the guy had held a torch for you for years.

“So, Y/N knew your old partner, too?” Cassie asked and hauled him back from his revenge fantasies.

“Yeah, kinda…”

Beau swallowed the shameful lump in his throat and licked his lips, bobbing his head. He probably had to tell them eventually. The truth would surely come out at some point.

His green eyes drifted to the glass of whiskey in front of Cassie. “You mind, uh–” He gestured at the drink but didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed the glass and downed it in one go.

The girls shared a raised look.

The alcohol burned right through him and numbed the twinge in his heart. He cleared his throat but didn’t look at them, keeping his eyes trained on the glass in his hands as he spoke.

“Yeah, uh, she was his wife.”

His confession was followed by deafening silence, the loud music and chatter of the bar drowning out. Realization dawned on both women’s features as they let the words sink in.

Cassie was the first to speak, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I don’t-… You never said anything about this during grief counseling.”

Beau nodded and smacked his lips, still avoiding to look at them. “Yeah, well, it’s not somethin’ I’m exactly proud of.”

“I get that,” Jenny said after a pause. “But Beau, we would’ve understood. We wouldn’t have judged you.”

“Yeah,” Cassie subscribed and reached out her hand, clasping his. “And we still don’t.”

“Thanks, but I judge myself plenty enough. Trust me,” Beau said somberly and flashed them a sad smile.

As you ambled back to the table, you took immediate note of what you could only classify as a strange vibe. Everyone’s faces looked austere and bleak. So, naturally, you tried to lighten the mood.

“What happened here?” You cocked a brow and tilted your head at the three with a chuckle. “You guys look like you’re at a funeral.”

Beau snorted humorlessly and set down the empty glass in his hand, rising from his seat. “I’m gonna need more of where this came from. ‘Scuse me,” he said and made a beeline for the bar.

Mouth ajar, you stared after him, wondering if you’d said something wrong.

August 2020

The door swung wide open and hit the wall with a loud bang that surely rattled the entire church as you burst into the small back room. Your jaw tightened when you finally found him, sitting on the cold tiles with a bottle of bourbon in his hands, leaning against the wall.

His green eyes looked up, red and glazed, and found yours. Your chest heaved with every surge of anger that rumbled through your body.

“What the hell?” you yelled. He flinched at the sound of your voice. The unshed tears in your eyes threatened to choke you, but you were too livid to let them free. “Where were you? Were you here this whole fucking time? Getting drunk? You were supposed to give the eulogy!”

Beau hung his head in his hands before dragging a palm over his face, the tears stinging his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in over a week and drank a whole liquor store. His body was shaking, his voice trembling. “I-I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry…”

“You’re sorry?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You were supposed to be there for me. You promised.” A few tears finally escaped and rolled down your cheeks. You wiped them away with your palm. “Guess I shoulda known your word isn’t worth a fucking dime.”

You stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind you.

That’s when Beau broke down, sobs wracking through his entire body. Your disappointment was the last straw for him. This was rock bottom. There was nothing lower than the frigid, unforgiving rocks he found himself falling on. The ones that cracked his skull, broke his bones, and shattered his heart. He had built this prison with his own two hands, rock by fucking rock.

Anger rose in his chest and threatened to tear him apart at the seams till his soul spilled out through the cracks. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror anymore. He didn’t recognize the stranger staring back at him. Neither did his family. The only thing he was good at these days was letting people down.

The bottle in his shaking hands then flew across the room and smashed against the wall, shatters of glass and pools of liquor littering the floor.

He was a fucking mess, but he had to make it right. At least by you.

Your hand softly settled on his shoulder as you approached him by the bar counter. He was nursing a whiskey and avoided looking at you. You exhaled a deep breath before you spoke. “So, I’m guessing by the wide eyes, the long faces, and the general awkwardness that you told them about Randy,” you deduced.

His gaze landed on you at that. A light chuckle squeezed past his lips. “You’re good.”

You took a seat on a barstool next to him. “Oh, I know. If I wasn’t, I would’ve picked the wrong profession.”

He gave you a weak smile in return and licked his lips, returning to his drink.

“Look, uhm, if you wanna talk about it, we can talk about it, okay?” you offered, tapping your fingertips on the bar counter. “I know I’ve been mad at you. But I also know you’re struggling with… well, everything that is us, I guess. I mean, I’m still upset, but I don’t like seeing you like this. I never meant to hurt you.”

Beau nodded, and then a smile, a real and genuine one, formed on his lips. “You know, I’m supposed to actually say that to you.”

“Oh yeah? Which part?” You bit your bottom lip, hiding a small grin behind it.

“The, uhm, sorry-I-never-meant-to-hurt-you part,” he said, green eyes boring into yours as he looked up from his glass.

You gave him a one-sided twitch of your shoulder. You were not the vulnerable type, especially not in a public setting like a crowded bar with a guy who hurt you once before. You wanted to avoid any admission of feelings. Because if you did confess, it meant you felt them in the first place.

“It’s okay, Beau. You don’t have to apologize for how you’re feeling,” you said. Sweeping all your anger and pain under the rug of friendship was your safest option. The plan still remained: solve the case and get the hell out of dodge.

“Yeah, that’s just it. I really do,” Beau replied wryly and finished his drink. “Just gimme a chance to explain, alright? Just one. That’s all you gotta do. If afterwards you still wanna end it, I’ll let you go.”

Pensively, you bit down on your bottom lip and gazed into his eyes. Sincerity, longing, and hope shimmered in them, pulling you right back into that green sea. Although it was probably a mistake, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what it was exactly – whether it was the fact that Beau was your friend, your shared history together, or that he was your dead husband’s old partner. But you were willing to listen to what he had to say. You owed him at least as much.

“Okay,” you said.

When Beau took you to, in his words, “humble abode,” you had expected as much. He had been talking your ear off about his “dream home” for three years now, and a part of you was happy for him that he finally had realized it.

Another part, though, knew him too well and itched to make fun of him for it. You even wondered if bribery was on the table if you threatened to bring both Jenny and Cassie into the loop.

Beau stood with a proud grin next to you, gauging your reaction to his home. “So, what d’you say, huh?”

“I think Emily might have been right…” you mumbled into your jacket. At lunch, she called it a “tin can.”

“What?” The sheriff quirked a brow.

“Nothing,” you brushed it off and grinned. “So, who do you think you are, huh? Patrick Dempsey?”

Beau’s lips pursed a little in a caught kind of manner but still tried to overplay it with a shake of his head. “I don’t know whatcha talkin’ about…”

“Sure you do,” you teased and nudged his shoulder playfully with your elbow. Your grin widened; your eyebrows rose higher. “C’mon, Beau, it’s just me.”

“It’s a guilty pleasure, alright?” he barked as his façade broke. “I just want Meredith to be happy.”

You soothingly rubbed his back. “We all do, sweetie, we all do…” you sighed in understanding.

His head then snapped to you, green eyes wide. “Don’t you dare tell Cassie and Jenny about this! If they find out, I’ll never hear the end of this. Lord knows they’d make me watch more Gosling movies…”

“Yeah, that would be so funny,” you remarked, chuckling. Beau scowled at you warningly.

Taking a step closer to the trailer, you let his life in front of you sink in. You imagined how he’d sit in his patio chair with a bottle of beer in front of the fire pit on cool summer nights, how he’d grab his fishing rod that leaned by the door on his days off, and how he’d have movie nights with his friends on the screen and projector nestled in the back of his little porch.

This is what he left you for.

“You okay there?” Beau checked, noticing your vacant stare.

“I’m fine.” You forced a smile to your lips. “This is nice.”

Beau sighed a little. By now, he knew that your “fines” were never that. He also knew you’d never tell him what you were really thinking.

“Beer?” he offered, hoping you’d accept because God knows he needed one.

“Tequila?” came your reply. You’d need something stronger for this conversation.

“Even better,” Beau agreed and went to pour two shots, handing you one.

You downed it before he could even say “salud” and held out your glass for a refill. He raised his brow a little at you but obliged without question, hiding an amused smile. When the second one burned down your throat, you let out a jittery breath.

“I’ll take that beer now.”

“Well, thank God you’re not a lightweight.” Beau snorted as he handed you a bottle and uncapped it for you. “C’mon, just talk to me. What’s bothering you? I mean, I can take a guess, but I’d rather have you tell me.”

“Guess.” The sternness of your voice gave no room for jokes.

Beau scratched his beard, nodding his head. “Is this about Randy? Look, I’ve been going to grief counseling, okay? I’m working through it. I’m a lot better now.”

“Well, good for you,” you muttered wryly and took a sip of your beer. All you really wanted was another shot of tequila, but asking for more would probably worry him at this point.

“I just-… Maybe it’ll help you, too. I could go with you,” he suggested, his eyes flashing to your left hand. “You’re still wearing the ring.”

“And I’m always gonna wear it!” You frowned, your brow knitting in a deadly combination of anger and hurt. “So, what? You left me because I was still attached to my dead husband? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I–”

“You wanna do this? Fine, let’s do it,” you announced a little too belligerently as if you were entering a boxing ring, but you were all guns blazing at this point. You took another swig of beer before placing the bottle down on a table nearby. Luckily, the tequilas were finally kicking in.

“Y/N–”

“Nuh-uh, my turn,” you swiftly cut him off. You needed to get this off your chest before the alcohol-induced courage was leaving you again. You’d been waiting to say this for close to a year. You were tired of having this conversation only with your mirror image. “You think this is about Randy? It’s not! I never had a problem with that. You did. Yes, my husband died, and I lost something, but then I found you, okay? And I thought you felt the same way, but then you just fucking left without a warning.”

“I–”

“Still not done yet.” You held up a finger and paused for a beer break and a deep breath. Your lungs were burning for air before you dove back into the water. “I don’t know what’s there left to explain! You found out Carla was getting married and told me you were still in love with her, and then you just up and left and moved to fucking Montana! But then, you didn’t go back to her, did you now?”

“No, that’s what I’m tryna tell ya–”

But you didn’t let him finish. Another huff before you inhaled enough air for your next tirade. “You retired and then un-retired and went fucking trout fishing! And I don’t understand any of it!”

“What, the fishin’?” Beau quipped with an uncomfortable snicker and swallowed harshly upon your deathly glare that cut like a machete, feeling his head slip off his neck.

“What the fuck was all that for, then? Why did you fucking leave if you’re just… dwelling here? You left almost a year ago, and we haven’t spoken since. What’s changed? ‘Cause I can’t fucking see a difference.”

“Look, I tried callin’ ya. I texted. You never picked up,” he threw in and tried not to sound accusatory. Honestly, he understood why you didn’t. Against all odds, he had just always hoped you still would.

“Oh, I wonder why,” you huffed sarcastically before tears began to sting your eyes and blur your vision. But you powered through, refusing to start sobbing in front of him. “You know I was a broken mess when Randy died, and I really didn’t expect I’d ever feel like that again until you left… Do you even know what that means? C’mon, let’s be honest here. You left Texas ‘cause you couldn’t fucking bear the guilt of sleeping with your partner’s wife any longer. That’s the true fucking reason!”

Beau’s lips straightened into a thin line as he ground his jaw, hands resting on his belt. His head bobbed in thought, eyes drawn to his boots before he gazed up and saw you were finally out of breath. The tears that flowed down your cheeks broke his heart. Your words stung like knives.

“Can I say something now?”

“Go ahead,” you retorted rather challengingly and wiped your wet cheeks dry with your sleeves.

Beau sighed and finally drank his shot of tequila. He hissed slightly before finding your eyes. “Look, you’re right. Carla, everything else… it was an excuse, but not for the reasons you think.”

“Oh, gimme a break!” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t wanna face the truth, okay? I felt guilty. Still do, actually,” he admitted and swallowed thickly. “And not ‘cause I slept with my partner’s wife, but because I fell in love with my partner’s wife.”

Your heart stopped beating for a moment as you looked at him. You always felt it, always wanted him to say it, but he never had until now.

“It always meant something to me. You were never a rebound after my divorce. You were never just a distraction from my grief. I never would’ve even kissed you if I hadn’t had feelings for you from the start,” he confessed and ran a hand over his face as the words rushed out. He tried to shove the unshed tears in his eyes back inside.

“And yeah, I’ll always love Carla. Just like I know you’ll always love Randy, but two things can be true at the same time. And the second one is that I’m so deeply and irrevocably in love with you that it scares the living hell outta me.” He gave a small shrug like his feelings couldn’t be helped. “But every time I felt this pull towards you, I kept wondering if I would’ve felt it if I’d never gotten divorced. If Randy never died… Would I have still fallen in love with you? And then the guilt set in, ‘cause the only answer I ever came up with was ‘yes.’”

“Beau…” You stood there petrified, not knowing what to do or say until you saw a tear fall down his cheek. It broke you to see him like this, see all the guilt and shame he carried in his heart for something neither of you could control.

“I’m sorry that I left and hurt you. I never meant for that to happen. I thought I was doing the right thing by lettin’ you go. I thought you deserved better. I never could give you everything you needed. Not then, at least,” he explained. “I tried to ignore my feelings and shove ‘em down. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t deal with it anymore. He was my best friend and my partner. I mean, I was his best man at your guys’ wedding,” he said and let out a humorless chuckle, dragging a palm over his face. Then, his green eyes bored into yours, drowning in emotion. “But once you showed up here… I just couldn’t stay away anymore. I don’t wanna lose you again. I don’t wanna die without you ever knowing how I feel about you. I love you, and I’ve goddamn missed you, Y/N.”

In a heartbeat, you caught his lips, warm and soft and trembling against yours as you kissed him. His breathing quickened, his heart thrumming wildly against his ribcage, his mind filling with nothing but you. His hands were in your hair and on your waist, yours sliding from his cheeks to rest on his broad chest.

When you drew back breathlessly, you looked up into his eyes. “Look, uhm, I don’t have an answer for you. Maybe we would have found each other eventually, or we wouldn’t have,” you said and gave him a small smile. “I don’t think we’re ever gonna solve this one. I don’t think we even have to. So, maybe let’s not focus so much on the ‘what ifs’ and more on the ‘what nows.’”

Beau’s lips rose to a soft smile. “I can do that,” he said. “So, what now?”

“Now, I’ll tell you that I love you, and we’ll make out for a looong time like we’re trying to catch up for everything we missed out on when we were apart. And then we’ll figure out an excuse to tell Cassie and Jenny for me not coming home tonight,” you replied, smirking.

Beau chuckled. “Alright, sounds like a plan. Although I doubt you’re just gonna stick to the make-out. I mean, let’s be real here, we both know you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” he teased.

You gasped playfully and slapped his arm, making him laugh. “Careful now, Sheriff. You’re getting cocky. You better have some proof to back that one up.”

“Oh, I can deliver.” He smirked and dipped his head, claiming your lips.

Heat rose to your chest as his hands slid up your body. You parted your lips slightly, enough for his tongue to slip inside and taste you. His fingers dented the skin on your waist as your arms locked around his neck. His beard tickled your flushed cheeks as you breathed each other in.

“Damn you,” you sighed as you both came up for air.

Beau smiled before his soft lips pressed against yours once more. He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you inside.

September 2021

Your legs were slung around his waist, holding him tight as Beau carried you into the dainty Mexican motel room, cool and dry desert air hushing inside with your movements. He kicked the door shut with his boot, his lips roaming every inch of you they could reach. Your fingers tangled in his hair, occasionally eliciting a groan against your skin when you tugged too roughly.

His hands, his lips, his heart – no part of his body wanted to ever leave yours.

The first and only time his shaking hands let go of you completely since you two jumped out of the car in the motel parking lot was when he sat you down on the end of the squeaky bed, your feet hitting the stained and dusty carpet. He started unbuttoning his shirt; you strived off your shoes and tank top, flinging each item somewhere across the room before helping him with the remaining buttons.

Your lips touched his abdomen, kissed his warm skin, and felt him shivering underneath you as you trailed your way down his abs. Your fingers unbuckled his belt and opened his zipper, letting his jeans pool around his ankles.

You looked up and found his half-lidded eyes, checking if the next step of your endeavor was wanted. His green orbs were full of desire, a need for you that made you drip between your legs. His breathing quickened, a sharp inhale of air as your hand snuck down his boxers. His eyes closed. You smirked and kissed below his pubic bone, pulling the fabric down to join the rest of the discarded clothes on the filthy ground.

“You don’t have to,” he said with a thick swallow, his voice rasped and strained when his erection sprang against your parted lips.

“Oh, but I want to,” you replied cheekily and wrapped your hand around the base of his hard cock.

His large palm wantonly caressed your cheek, thumbing your bottom lip. You sucked his thumb first, teased with your tongue, and twisted your grip around his dick as you stroked him until a first hiss escaped his plump lips and he twitched in your palm. You let his thumb go with a pop and sent him a naughty smile. Your warm breath ghosted against his swollen tip before your tongue took a salty taste test and dipped into the slit. His head fell back between his shoulder blades with a groan.

“Let go,” you told him, your voice sultry and seductively low in the quiet of the room, only the neighbor’s TV drowning through the walls with a Spanish soap. You planted wet kisses on his length all the way down to the root as you spoke. “You can do whatever you want with me. I want you to…”

“Fuck, don’t tell me shit like that,” he growled with restraint.

You smirked. “Why? Does it turn you on?”

“You have no idea,” Beau replied and bit down on his lip, tugging it behind his teeth.

“I think I have some,” you said with a chuckle, noticing how his dick twitched at your words.

Your lips enveloped the head of his cock and then slid down his shaft, taking as much of him as you could fit until he nudged the back of your throat. He was long and thick, making your jaw ache as you sucked him down. He gathered your hair in his fist and guided your pace, a burn on your scalp that spurred you on.

His hips rocked to the bob of your head, taking him a little bit deeper each time. Hollowing your cheeks, you went nose-deep once your jaw adjusted to his girth, leaving his dick spit-wet before he pulled you off with a hiss.

“Shit,” he groaned between heavy breaths. “Not gonna last long if you keep this up,” he said with a coy smile, admiration gleaming in his eyes as he leaned down, hungrily kissing your red and glistening lips. “I wanna come inside you.”

With your heart beating in your throat, you couldn’t speak and just nodded, planting a firm kiss on his lips.

He unclasped your bra, and you flung it off your shoulders as he slipped out of his boots. You shrieked and giggled when he grabbed your thighs and threw you off your feet with one quick haul, your back and head hitting the mattress with a blissful sigh.

His body pressed on top of yours, heavy and large and perfectly sculpted, his mouth following a trail from below your neck to above the edge of your jeans. He shimmied the tight material down your ass and thighs, all the way down your smooth legs, your black cotton panties following shortly after till you were bare in front of him.

Green eyes traced the curves of your body. His Adam’s apple bobbed when they landed on your slick folds. He knelt between your spread legs and lowered his head to your pussy, nose, tongue, and lips traveling through your soaked slit.

His tongue circled your clit and poked into your tight channel till your breath caught in your throat. His lips sucked and tasted you till your heart pounded furiously in your chest. His teeth nibbled and teased till you were writhing underneath him.

One finger, then two, slipped inside and threatened to turn you inside out as they plunged in and out of you, knuckle-deep against your velvet walls. Your hips jerked upon his every touch, a firm hand holding you in place. Your fist gripped his hair as your thighs trembled, calves resting against his strong arms. The back of your head pressed harshly into the mattress as an unstoppable fire claimed your entire body.

Sweat gathered between your heaving boobs in a thin layer as an explosion hit you so violently it shook every muscle. With his fingers still inside of you as your pussy throbbed around them, he found your lips and stole your remaining oxygen for himself, leaving you breathless.

His wet fingers slipped out of your cunt, your aching emptiness waiting to be filled by his cock that rested heavy against your thighs. As he released your lips, his gaze locked with yours, fingers caressing your cheek like you were precious and breakable all at once.

“Do we need, uhm…”

“A condom?” you finished his dangling question with a smile. He let his head drop to your shoulder and nodded bashfully in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “I don’t know. Have you been with anyone since the divorce?”

“No,” he replied simply. But Beau wanted to say much more than that. He wanted to tell you that he had waited for you. That you’d been prevalent in his mind for months now. That he didn’t want anyone else. All he managed was a one word answer and a shake of his head, though.

“Me neither,” you said quietly. Your husband had died thirteen months ago. You’d grieved but never felt ready to move on, to erase him with some stranger you’d met on the internet or in a dingy bar – not that you ever could.

Until Beau kissed you, you’d never thought you’d be able to love again.

His face changed upon your answer, a hint of worry haunting his features. “You-, uhm, you sure you want me to-… ‘Cause we don’t have to do anything… or, uhm, more, you know? We can just leave it at that and forget about it.”

You cupped his cheeks in your palms and forced him to look you into your eyes. You smiled at him reassuringly. “Hey, I want you to. I want it to be you, okay? I want you inside me.”

He chocked down a thick swallow upon your words, his cock needily throbbing between your legs. With a nod, he gripped his length and guided his tip to your soaking entrance, coating his dick in your arousal before gliding inside. Inch by inch he stretched you, sinking deeper and deeper till he filled you whole. Your lips parted when his forehead rested on yours as he relished in the feeling of you.

Neither of you had been with anyone since your respective spouses, a new feeling overwhelming both of you. Your breaths mingled before he claimed your lips, his hands roaming your sides as you stilled for a moment.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N,” he groaned against the shell of your ear, nibbling down your jawline. “Always wanted this, even though ‘m gonna burn in hell for sayin’ it.”

“You feel good, too. But fuck… Beau, please,” you begged, arching your back to raise your hips and meet his, encouraging him to move. It didn’t take much for him to oblige.

His hips rolled slowly at first, each thrust becoming more forceful than the one that came before. His lips caressed your pebbled nipples, hands groping your tits as he explored every curve of your body.

Sinful mouth and gluttonous hands didn’t leave a single spot of your skin untouched, your flesh turning into unholy ground in his wake. He wanted you to be his, claim every bit of you in hopes of breaking a sacrilegious vow. His pumps were biblical, a great flood that buried you underneath him. Your cries of prayer were devout.

Neither of you spoke a word, your sole focus on each other as passion overtook you both, too busy with impatient kisses on mingling body parts. The silence in the room was filled with ragged moans, salacious sounds, and the occasional squeak of the old mattress.

His fingertips bruised your flesh, your heels digging into his lower back as he bottomed out. His fingers then interlaced with yours above your head till your grips were knuckle-white. You squeezed his cock, your pussy swallowing him whole.

Your cunt clenched and gripped him tightly as you came undone, your second climax washing over you with a slip of his name. Your whole body trembled in ecstasy, your nails digging into his back and your toes curling so much they came close to a cramp.

Beau let go after a few more pumps and grunted, spilling a full load of cum into you as his hips came to a jerky standstill. His head dropped to your shoulder as he caught his breath, sweaty skin meeting heaving chest.

Gently, you stroked his back and carded his damp hair with your fingertips, massaging his scalp as he softly groaned into the crook of your neck. Your heartbeat slowed to its regular rhythm. Your breathing calmed like the waves after a great storm. His head lifted off your shoulder. His eyes fixed on you. A smile twitched on the corners of his lips.

“So… that happened,” Beau said almost to an awkward degree. It made you snort a laugh.

“Technically, it’s still happening,” you noted with an amused smile and squeezed his softening cock inside of you.

“Oh, uh, right,” he muttered with a clear of his throat, his cheeks adorably blushing. He tried to slip out, but you stopped him, fastening your legs around his waist till he relaxed again.

“No, it’s alright. This is actually my favorite part,” you confessed and watched the smile on his freckled face widen.

“Yeah, mine too.” His knuckles caressed your cheek, his fingers tucking back some strands of your hair. “Was that okay? Do you, you know, feel good? Any, uhm, regrets?”

“No, I’m good. You were amazing,” you assured him with a tender smile and saw the relief wash over his features.

Beau tried to choke down the guilt and betrayal that bubbled deep in his chest. Truth was, he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted you, and he wished you could feel the warmth that spread through his heart whenever he looked at you.

“Are you okay?” you checked when you noticed a glaze in his green eyes. At first glance, you assumed it was sadness, your heart weighing heavy in your ribcage before the crinkles of happiness around his eyes betrayed that theory.

“Yeah, I am, darlin’. For the first time in a long time, actually,” he said and kissed you long and deep.

Chapter 4: Rewind

All's well that ends well. Now it's just all lovely bliss till the end, innit? 🤣

Next week we have a bunch of awkward (maybe scandalous even?) flashbacks to dive in... 👀

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[chaoticbardlady99]

Haunting Candles

(Astarion x Ghost F! Reader)

Synopsis: (Pre- Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me) You have been haunting Szarr palace for a couple centuries now when Astarion Ancunin arrives. After being a recluse for the last 100 or so odd years, you make your first friend and Astarion finds comfort in your presence.

CW: Dead dove (Astarion's trauma), OOC (a squeeze) because it's when Astarion first arrived at Szarr Palace

Author note: This is one of the little one shots I threw out. I have a few so I may post my next one tomorrow. A couple of them are when you were a ghost in Szarr Palace and the others are when you possessed a cat to warn Astarion. This is independent from the main work. It is also not very well edited due to me making myself finally post something before my anxiety stopped me.

 You didn’t know what Cazador was making Aurelia do until Astarion arrived. It had been a freak kind of accident, if anything and it had been what had made you finally decide to make your presence known. Astarion had only been there for two weeks at this point- trying to negotiate or find a way to escape has earned him a lot of time in the Kennels.

 You had heard sobbing from the Spawn Dorm and so you decided to check. Aurelia was already fast asleep- trying to find some freedom from this shitty palace. It was Astarion who was crying.

 He was laying on his bunk with his knees to his chest- he looked so sad and disgusted. His nails were chewed down to the quick. He had brought someone home, was given dinner, and you know that Cazador took him to the kennels. You haven’t been paying attention to a lot of the specific happenings around the palace- you stopped after Vellioth’s torture methods became worse and worse. It was better to be ignorant than feel helpless and watch someone you are unable to help be hurt.

 But this was different. 

 His shirt was lying next to him on the floor and it was ripped from his rough washing. A needle and thread was in his hands, but he was sobbing just too hard to keep his hand steady enough. 

 A small stream of smoke was going up towards the ceiling from his candle. You knew he could see just fine, but you also hadn’t thought about a candle being a luxury in almost a century. 

 So, like the responsible little house ghost you are, you lit the flame again. This time it came back stronger and warmer- it almost seemed to engulf the room in the feelings of comfort and safety.

  His sobs began to die down and he sat up- staring at the candle in shock. Astarion looks around wearily, but he seems to feel the same energy in the room. 

“Th-thank you,” he said roughly, “whoever did that.”

 With his trembling hands and lower lip, Astarion began his work on his shirt. You sat next to him on the bed- making sure the candle on the box he found remained lit as he sat crisscrossed with his back against the wall. 

 Eventually, he began talking.

“This might be entirely… ridiculous,” he murmured, “but if there is a person here- can you move the flame to the left?”

  You turned it to the right as a joke and he actually chuckled- a real smile on his face for the first time since he began living here.

“So you have a sense of humor- I suppose you would have to, living in a place this grim,” he grimaced, “are you friendly or the kind of ghost that possesses people?” 

 How in the Hells were you supposed to answer that with only a flame to communicate?

 “Oh- uh right,” he seemed to have the exact same thought, “left for good, right for… inconvenient.” 

  Left, obviously. You wouldn’t consider yourself inconvenient and you do not care for possessing any living creature as far as you know. 

“That is good to know- tell me- does law interest you? Left for yes, right for no, and no movement for you wouldn’t know.”

 The candle didn’t move- you were clueless when it came to that kind of stuff, but you were willing to learn if it would make him happy. 

 “Interesting,” he tilts his head, “would you like to lea-“

 You had the candle going far left before he could finish his sentence and his smile became even brighter. Astarion immediately began to dive in, explaining the basics, and then talking about a recent court case he read about in a book about crime in Neverwinter.

“Chickens- can you believe that?” He scoffed, “they arrested chickens for a whole week because they were convinced it was a group of Druids that had attacked that old woman.

“Nope- just her angry hens. Maybe the bird seed went bad” 

 He couldn’t hear you laughing, but the way he told the story had you in stitches. He described all the evidence in great detail, as well as the commentary from the magistrate and the chickens. He added his own flare, you are sure, but by the end, his shirt was stitched and he was smiling. 

 He put his shirt on, but then he frowned, staring at the candle. 

“You are going to stay, right?” He asked, “I- I don’t want to be alone.”

 You were surprised by his request, but you dimmed the candle ever so slightly and flickered it to the left. Astarion looks emotional again, but he lies down for his trance.

  You felt the energy in the room grow as you began feeling happier. It’s been a long time since you have been able to communicate with anyone and being able to make someone happy? Well, it's an improvement to what you were usually doing.

 Once you were certain he was asleep, you let the candle go out and you walked around the castle- suddenly very determined to protect Astarion as much as you can. 

 ******************************************************************************************************

   It has been a month since that night and you have remained close, but not too close. Especially after it was obvious he had seen you while Cazador carved a symbol into his back. 

 The man is exceptionally clever- it doesn’t seem to matter where you hide. Astarion is aware that you are here and that you have helped him- he is determined to find you. 

 You can only really interact with a number of things- anything in the home seems to be fair game, but you can’t directly interact with people and they don’t seem to realize you are there. You dropped books on Cazador’s head once for a month when he was a spawn trying to get his attention to stop him from turning into an evil jackass- it never clicked. 

  Astarion, on the other hand, has seemed to figure out which books on the shelf you are reading because he is currently holding the third book in the series like a shield. He looks rather pleased with himself too. 

  You scoff- not that he can hear you- but come on! It is the one thing you can do and at least new books keep cycling in and out now. Astarion has been putting ones he finds on his ‘outings’ on the shelf.

 He must be paying attention to which books are missing from the shelves. That is the only way he would know that you are on the third one. 

“I can feel your presence, you know.” 

 “Yeah I got that,” you retort, “can I have the book?”

  Oh right- he can’t hear you. He just walks off towards the Garden with the book. You walk after him- absolutely infuriated with his literature cockblocking. Cazador has been gone for a few days now and won’t be back until the end of the week. He is confident they won’t leave and unfortunately, neither Aurelia or Astarion have tried. You wished they would, but Astarion doesn’t want to go to the Kennels. 

  Astarion sits on a bench in the Garden and begins to open the book, flipping through the pages.

 “You better not spoil this for me!” You scream into nothingness, “I have been waiting to grab this book since Cazador left!” 

“Romance novels?” Astarion scowls, “Darling, this is a travesty, truly. What are you- a hundred year old virgin?”

 Unfortunately, yes, but he doesn’t need to know that!

“But I suppose if this is what you want to read,” he sighs dramatically, “I will oblige.”

 What?

 Astarion is looking at you- well, the space you occupy- he is really quite in tune with where your energy is. It’s a little bit unsettling, but it also makes you a bit happy? It’s nice to be wanted and actively sought out. 

 You wearily step towards the bench and sit down. He smiles at the space next to him, clears his throat and begins reading.

 “Guinevere- okay first of all, an utter cliche for a heroine- strides across the meadow and the summer sun warms her skin. The smell of rain and grass tickles her nose, but it will never be the cologne of Barron,” he puts his hand against his head dramatically before saying the next line, “her one and only true love- the man that owns her entire heart and she would do anything for.” 

 You are somewhere between embarrassed and entertained. He adds commentary here and there, but mostly reads and adds silly voices. You haven’t ever seen this side of him- you have seen it in sparks, but Cazador snuffs it out every time. He doesn’t find Astarion entertaining in the traditional sense, but you? You could listen to him read for all of eternity and then some. 

 You sit and listen to him read all night- only going inside when the sky is suddenly getting lighter and the day threatens to light him on fire. 

 You walk with him to the Spawn dorm and he holds the book tightly to his chest- his eyes darting back and forth. He must be looking for Godey. 

  He doesn’t relax until you reach the Spawn dorm and he is able to put the book between the wall and the mattress. Astarion releases a sigh of relief before laying down to rest. You can feel the peace radiating off of him- there is still some discomfort, but it is not as unbearable as it was before. 

“Please stay,” he asks, “I know you have been, but I-I am a bit worried you might be mad I stole your book.”

 You roll your eyes and lay down in the bed next to him on your side. As if subconsciously, he pushes an arm out and he looks nervous. 

 Is he asking for me to cuddle? 

  You slot your invisible figure into the spot and lay your head on his chest- your arm lays loosely across his torso. You wonder if this is comforting for him- you feel comforted. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for being here.” 

  Astarion falls asleep rather quickly- unusual for him. You try to convince yourself to leave, but you really don’t want to. You feel warm here, safe. It feels nice and you even find yourself dozing off. 

 You let sleep take you, unaware of the emotional grave you have dug yourself.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

◇ Secret Admirer - King Baldwin x Reader: Part 2 (Final Part) ◇

◇ Long Fic ◇

A/N: Hello everyone! This is a Part 2 to a fic that I did a little while ago. Part 2 was requested by @the-princess-has-resurrected and the origional was requested by an Anon! Thank you for all the love on Part 1 everyone! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: Also this has a slight desctiption of y/n

TW: Leprosy, Mentions of death/murder, Mentions of stalking, Mentions of SH and ED, Mentions of poor mental health.

Y/n did not sleep that night.

The crazy grin she wore did not allow it. Her face hurt from smiling and her wild laughter filled the room, haunting the halls of the palace.

She was in utter disbelief at the situation. Her imprisonment was the best thing that had ever happened to her, she was in the same building as the love of her life. Her beautiful muse. He had been mere inches from her. He complimented her writing. He “loved her work”!

Y/n's arms were covered in red marks from pinching her skin in desperate attempts to wake herself up in case this was just a dream. It had to be a dream, and she would wake up any second, having fallen asleep at her desk.

But that moment never came, and soon the first lights of day streamed through the tiny window.

Soon the man from last night would come to collect her and bring her before the king once again. Her chest felt tight and her head pounded from nervousness.

As excited as she was, she was terrified.

Terrified of saying something too strange and making the king lose interest in her. This had to be perfect.

Eventually, the door opened to reveal a maid who carried some clothing, a hairbrush and some perfume amongst other ointments. “Clean yourself up before you see the king madam” she told her before turning to close the door.

Y/n did just that.

She changed into the dark black robes that she had been provided, wrapped the belt around her waist to keep them secure, brushed her hair and applied the perfume. She washed her face using the small sink in the corner of the room, also cleaning up the dried blood on her arms from weeks ago that she had completely forgotten about.

It wasn't until she looked into the mirror that she noticed how terrible her appearance really was.

Her face was dirty and her old clothes were stained with her own blood. Or was it her family's blood? She couldn't tell.

She could barely remember the last time she ate, or even slept for that matter. The dark circles under her large eyes were prominent.

She shook off the thoughts and focused on fixing her appearance as much as possible. When she looked decently presentable, she sat back down on the floor and waited. And waited. Until finally, the man who captured her the night prior came to unlock the door.

“Follow me, speak to nobody. Do you understand?” Tiberias said in a stern voice. “Yes sir” y/n muttered, looking down at the ground and followed him out the door.

As they walked, she memorized the way to the king's chambers. Two lefts, a right, continue straight, then another left. Just in case. 

When they arrived, the door was open. Tiberias instructed y/n to enter, placing his hand on her back and pushing her in when she hesitated. 

She felt her heart rate quicken as she approached. The king was sitting at his desk, reading a book with his back to her.

Y/n stood in the center of the room when he turned around and greeted her.

“Good morning, my secret admirer” he said cheerfully, standing from his seat to approach her.

“Good morning your highness” y/n replied, keeping her voice strong and free from fear.

“Come, sit please”  he gestured to the couch that leant up against the wall. She sat down, her body was stiff and rigid. Baldwin sat down beside her and sighed.

“Now. I have brought you here today because I am extremely curious about you” the king began. “You have my attention in your grasp and I am begging you to explain yourself to me so I can begin to understand your obviously complex and brilliant mind”. Y/n smiled at the complement, looking down into her lap bashfully.

“So please. Enlighten me madam” he finished, looking at her with anticipation. Y/n hesitated, but his expectant look told her of his impatience.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, she began to speak.

“I love you. That is the simple answer my lord. I have been not only obsessed with your work as king, but I have been captured by your beauty for many years now” she paused to think carefully. “You have entranced me as much as humanly possible. That is the simple answer” she finished, not willing to ramble for long.

“And what is the complex answer?” he asked, the expectant look remained in his eyes.

Y/n sighed and thought for a second. She shook her head, feeling her heart quicken again.

“I can't do this, I’m sorry my lord. Just sentence me to death or something please! I can’t do this-” she stood and began to leave.

“Madam wait!” Baldwin called out causing her to stop in her tracks.

Her heart rang in her ears and she breathed heavily.

“I am sorry to put you on the spot like that, we could speak of something else for a bit if you prefer?” he said, a hint of urgency in his voice. “We can be seated on the royal balcony as well so you can get some fresh air, I can even send the servants to get us drinks, just please do not leave” he waited anxiously for her reply.

Y/n turned to look at him with tears in her eyes and nodded.

“I'd like that a lot,” she said softly.

Baldwin released a breath he didn't even know he was holding at the accepted request.

---------------

Once seated on the balcony with a glass of wine each, the king spoke again. “It has just occurred to me, I don't even know your name”.

She looked up at him with sad eyes, “y/n. It is a family name” her voice was as sad as her eyes.

“That is a beautiful name” the king smiled behind his mask.

“Why are you so kind to me my lord? You barely even know me, all you know is I am some freak who writes poems!” she chuckled sadly at her own words, looking down into the glass.

Baldwin reached out a bandaged hand and placed it on her arm, the touch causing her eyes to widen.

“Because y/n, you are single handedly the most interesting and talented person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. The themes you explore in your poetry are incredibly unique, I have never read anything like it! And it just so happens to be about me of all people!” he sighed, shaking his head slightly in amazement.

“You are no freak, you are brilliant! And somebody with your talent should be recognised and treated with kindness and respect. I hope that answers your question”.

Y/n was lost for words.

Never in her life had anybody said something like that before. His words were beautiful, she could have sworn she felt her heart heal slightly.

------------------

The two spoke for a long time on the balcony.

Their conversations were pleasant and by the end, any anxiety y/n felt around the king was long gone.

As well as this, the appreciation for the strange girl that Baldwin felt in the beginning had grown into a strong liking. He loved her view on all things. Her words were as interesting and beautiful as her poems, he hung on the end of every word.

She was wonderful. More wonderful than he could have possibly imagined. He even removed his mask and veil with her permission of course. Despite his face being mostly covered with bandages, she was still truly in awe. 

Somewhere in the conversation y/n mentioned that she could draw. This sparked Baldwin's interest even more so he sent a servant to fetch some parchment and pencils to hopefully, with her permission, get a look at her talent.

As the king told her stories of battle, y/n sketched an image of his unmasked face. She wished for a moment that there were no bandages obstructing her view. She wanted him and his body. Disease and all.

When she was finished, Baldwin was lost for words. He had never seen anything like it. It looked just like him, she captured every detail perfectly. The way his hair fell around his face, to his once bright, now cloudy blue eyes.

Y/n blushed as he showered her in complements.

“How on earth did you do this so quickly? It belongs in a European art gallery! Do you draw things like this all the time? I must see each and every one!” she had never heard anybody say things like this to her, much less about her art work. 

They spent the evening on the balcony, even enjoying dinner there.

It was the first actual thing y/n had eaten in a long time, she did not mention this however. They watched the sunset together until it was dark. 

Baldwin paused his sentence to yawn into his hand, “I'm terribly sorry, it's getting late”. She understood completely.

“I must see you first thing tomorrow. There are so many things I want to show you” he told her as they both stood to go inside.

“That sounds brilliant” y/n agreed.

They stood in front of each other for a long time, staring into eachothers eyes. The gap between them was so small now.

“I wish to do something right now but I am afraid it will see the end of you” the king said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Just do it. It would be an honor to die knowing I have felt heaven on earth” she replied.

“Your words are always beautiful. So beautiful…” and with that, the gap was closed and their lips were pressed together.

Baldwin’s bandaged hand rested itself on her hip, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Y/n’s hand rested on the back of his head, she felt his beautiful soft curls beneath her fingertips. They were softer than she ever imagined.

The two wished the moment could never end, but it was over all too soon.

They said their goodnights and returned to their separate chambers, each with an equally overjoyed expression on their faces and anticipation for what the new day would bring.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

-

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

-

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

-

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

-

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

-

[redvexillum]

✨️ PARKOUR CIVILIZATION ✨️

I am only going to talk about this ONCE because I am not in this fandom and this video has physically affected me.

The other day, my husband was jumping around my office like a hyperactive puppy, screaming "Parkour 360!" and quoting some random video with lines like, "Never go for the beef." Naturally, I sat there confused and mildly irritated, trying to work from home while this absolute silly goose was waddling everywhere in my room.

He had been badgering me to watch this video for weeks, and, in a moment of weakness, I finally agreed to set aside TWO hours of my life to watch it.

Two hours. For a video of some blocky-avatar doing Parkour. In Minecraft.

How?????

Why?????

And let me tell you, I experienced two emotions at the same time:

WOW.

and...

WTF DID I JUST WATCH?

It’s been three days since I finished watching, and I am still haunted. The "duun" sound effect from Vine now plays in my head at random intervals like an audio jump-scare. I lie awake at night, staring into the abyss, asking myself, "Why is the real world not isometric?"

And then, the thought struck me, deep in my soul:

IS THERE A PARKOUR GOD ABOVE, WATCHING US, WAITING FOR ME TO LEVEL UP?!

Cut to: me walking down the street, noticing a sidewalk block that’s been swallowed by construction. My brain whispered, "You can parkour that." It was as if I’d been possessed by the ghost of Minecraft parkour.

...

Fast forward to now, where I’m nursing a sprained ankle and an irrational hatred for parkour.

But hey, the video was lit though. 🔥🤣😊✨️

(I hate how much I enjoyed it 😭🤣)

[winniethewife]

Believe in one thing, I won't go away

(Basil Stitt x Reader)

Chapter 2: I couldn't love you any better

Warning: angst, Nude shower scene, making out, Oral sex (f!reciving)

Minors DNI

Chapter 1

Words: 1080

Over the next week they seemed to just cohabitate, barely talking, barely able to figure out what to say to the other. Until finally one day Basil had enough. He sat next to her on the couch, tears already coming to his eyes.

“If you never left that day… it wouldn’t have happened. If you didn’t agree to move out here…” “Basil…you can’t change the past, this happened and there’s nothing we can do to change that okay?” she says softly not looking at him. He moves closer to her and gently takes her chin in his hand.

“Do you want out of this? I still want to love you, every day, like we promised, I still want…Us, but if you… if you don’t.” He was staring to sob as he looked into her eyes, he was trying everything to keep himself together but was failing miserably.

“Of course not…Basil you’ve been my best friend since the second grade. I’m not going anywhere. I just don’t know, how to deal with this. I’ve never cared about my looks, I’ll get over the scars. But…” She deeply and relaxes into him seeking the comfort of his shoulder. “I don’t know how to deal with…what happened to me. I don’t know…How to live with myself as someone who…was assaulted.” She feels the tears come to her eyes.

“Oh…My love…I’m gutted…you mean everything to me. What happened to you…it’s not your fault.” Basil said with a whimper in his voice, his own tears still flowing. Running his fingers through her hair and pulled her in closer. wrapping his arm around her “I don’t think any less of you because of what happened, and I’ll be here for you every step of the way, just like you are for me. We have each other…that’s all that matters.”

“Thanks Baz…I love you…you know that right?” She says quietly as she plays gently with his hand, He smiles softly and buried his face in her soft hair.

“I do now…I love you too....You know that?”

“I do now.”

~

She stares in the mirror. Over the last month she has gotten more used to the change in her appearance, it doesn’t quite haunt her like it did at first. Basil slides into the bathroom behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leans in to kiss her neck softly. A small smile graces her face. This was pretty routine for them at this point, waking up in the morning side by side, she’ll get up first to get ready for her work from home position, He’ll follow her into the bathroom and they’ll take shower together.

“Morning Baz, Sleep okay?” She asks her voice groggy with sleep, her hands running along his arms on her hips. He lets out an affirmative sound as he nuzzles into the crook of her neck her scent filling his senses. They stand for a minute just enjoying each other���s company, before they strip out of their Pajamas and step into the shower.

Basil was always slightly in awe whenever they got in the shower like this, getting to see her like this, every day? He might as well be the luckiest man alive. His hands running along her soft skin, caressing her breast gently, just being close to her as the hot water beats down on their bodies, washing away their worries. Her lips meet his and they share a gentle kiss, he licks into her mouth wanting to feel every inch of her love for him, their tongues tangle in an embrace that had become familiar over time. Basil wrapping his arms around her naked form. A soft moan escapes her lips as he pulls her in closer, deepening the kiss. Basil lifts his hand and holds the back of her head, weaving his fingers in her hair as he does so, letting out a sigh as he finds satisfaction in this moment. After a moment he pulls away and looks into her eyes, and all he can think is how grateful he is that he called her that day, after everything had happened. He softly touches his forehead to hers smiling, holding her for just another moment before they get clean.

~

That evening she was making dinner when Basil surprised her from behind with a soft growl and his arms around her waist.

“Fuck… I love you. You feel amazing, you are amazing…” Basil starts to nip at her neck, a smile on her face.

“Baz do you want dinner or do you want to get in my pants?”

“Can I get both?” He asks with a chuckle. “Come on…My love. I need this. I need you.” He mumbles against her skin, his hands drifting from her waist into the waistband of her jeans, tugging at her underwear.

“Basil, Baby please. I’m trying to make food. You can wait long enough…”

“No I can’t I need you now…” He gets on the floor and surprised her further by pulling down her pants and shoving his head between her thighs. Licking a stripe up her pussy, drawing a shocked gasp from her lips.

“Basil!” She holds onto the counter beside her trying desperately to stay upright as he eats her like a man starved, he was moaning softly, whimpering into her folds. She reaches to turn off the stove, the food was done anyway but Basil apparently really couldn’t wait. Basil’s tongue was moving in and out of her, his fingers rubbing her clit in quick circles as he continues to make the most pathetic and lewd sounds into her, her own breathing gets heavy and she moans.

“Baby…Fuck… I’m close…” She pants as he nips at her rubbing her clit harder, wanting to feel her release on his face. Her knuckles go white as she holds tight to the counter as the waves of pleasure crash over her. Her mouth open in a silent scream as Basil licks up every bit of her release, still whimpering into her folds. As he stands up he pulls up her pants and turns her to face him. She laughs.

“You’re a mess Baz.” She says grabbing a kitchen towel and gently wiping his face as he gives her a cheeky grin.

“I’ll be a mess for you any time.” He leans in and kisses her. The taste of her still on him. It didn’t matter anymore what they looked like, they loved each other Just as they are.

~

Masterlist

Next chapter

[arealphrooblem]

Surrender Prompt Fills #1

I love the voluntary surrender prompts by @whither-wander-whump so much I decided to attempt them all. This is the first one.

- a character doing it because they have no choice. They’re too tired to run anymore. They just want to get it over with, so they hold out their hands for the chains. What else can they do?

“Quite a merry chase you’ve led me on.”

The villain stepped out from the tree-line, looking impeccable and untouchable despite their complaints.

The hero paid them no mind, keeping their gaze on the sunset blazing before them. Their last free sunset. It spilled across the sky in brilliant pinks and golds and dark blue undertones that made the hero itch to paint.

Not that they would ever paint again. They still imagined it.

“I didn’t expect you to lead me here. Do you think I won’t attack you in a public park?”

The Hero did not bother to point out that the park was empty, that the streets had been declared unsafe while the Villain relentlessly searched for the Hero. That part of the reason for this surrender was to give innocent people their lives back.

“Can you wait until it's over?” they asked instead.

The Villain gave them a dubious look, caught off guard. And no wonder — for weeks the Hero had stayed just out of their reach, pulled so many hail marys and deus ex machinas to keep their freedom. Of course they took the hero’s surrender with a grain of salt.

But then the Villain did something surprising of their own and sat down next to Hero on the old wooden park bench.

“It is especially stunning this evening,” they offered. “I can tell you’re itching to paint it. Tell me, was it worth your freedom?”

“You’re dying to know why I stopped running, aren’t you,” the Hero said, snorting.

“I do find it rather baffling how much effort you’ve spent planning and upkeeping your escape only to stop now for no discernible reason.”

“There’s a reason.”

Hero could feel the weight of the Villain’s side-eyed stare, dissecting them, trying to break them into logical pieces.

“Are you going to elaborate or are you going to keep me in suspense?” they asked.

“Will you shut up and watch the sunset?” the hero shot back.

“You don’t actually need to be quiet to watch a sunset, there’s no auditory component to —”

Hero kicked the Villain in the shin. The Villain shut up. In fact, the Villain stayed blessedly quiet as the sky slowly darkened, the brilliant fire of the sun fading into the soft hues of the night. Even as the moon glowed into view, the Villain did not initiate any capture.

“I’m tired,” they confessed to the warm, breezy night air. “I haven’t slept more than three hours a night for weeks, I barely eat. I can’t stop and enjoy anything because I’m always moving to stay one step ahead of you. I can’t do it anymore. Don’t you get tired of chasing me?”

“I didn’t at first,” the Villain replied softly. “I liked the challenge. Now it’s tedious and exhausting.” They sighed. “I don’t sleep well either.”

The Hero took one last long look at the fading horizon, the tiny pinpricks of stars twinkling into view, before turning towards the Villain with their hands held out.

“I suppose it’s time we finally got some rest” they said.

The Villain gave them a long, searching look. In fact, they looked more disturbed by the Hero’s obedience than victorious. Almost mournful.

Meanwhile, the Hero felt strangely at peace. The fear of discovery had haunted them, hunted them, a constant baying of hounds at the edge of their thoughts. But now the worst has happened. Now there was nothing to be afraid of anymore.

“Well,” the Hero prompted. “They aren’t going to put themselves on.”

The Villain twitched, as if shaking a stray thought. Then they reached into their jacket pocket for the cuffs. Made of platinum, the cuffs looked like flat, thick bracelets, but they each contained a tracker, a tiny, hypodermic needle that injected power suppressants every twelve hours, and the ability to produce an electric shock strong enough to stop a heart beat.

The Hero did not flinch when the Villain latched the cuffs onto their wrists with a reverent tenderness they certainly did not use the first time.

“If I had any other way . . .” They said haltingly. “If I didn’t need you . . .”

The unspoken promise hung in the air between them, and despite everything the Villain had put them through, the thought behind such a promise was sincerely reassuring.

“I know,” the Hero said softly.

The Villain still held onto their wrists, thumb skating back and forth over the delicate skin at the edge of the cuff.

“Perhaps I will take you to see another sunset,” they murmured. “Perhaps I will let you paint me one.”

The Hero almost believed them. “Perhaps,” they said simply, and stood up. “Let’s go.”

The Villain threw one last look at the moon, as if they too thought it was their last time, before  guiding Hero out of the park with a hand on the small of their back.

[according2thelore]

I think I can speak for everyone following you that we would LOVE to know your thoughts on that scene. The one of Dean apologizing to Sam about not sticking up for him more when they were kids cuz John would send him away. I can picture it in my head, the first time it happened- Dean's confusion and hurt, then his desperation when he realizes John is serious. Fuuuuck plsplspls spam our feed.

referring to this post here!

since i was lucky enough to have two people who are willing to listen to me ramble, i have made this one into a little narrative!! y'all are seriously spoiling me over here. <3

-lizzy

"what did i tell you?"

"dad--"

"no." john cuts him off, sharp. he looks up at dean. "i gave you specific goddamn instructions. what did i tell you?" dean almost can't look at him. he feels withered down, like the ficus in the motel lobby--years old, bone dry, more dead than alive.

"you told me to keep a low profile while you were gone."

"and what did you do?"

dean winces.

"i snuck sam into the movies, and we got caught by the manager."

it was supposed to be fun. sam wanted to see the new frankenstein movie, and dean was bored. they didn't have movie theater money, but dean didn't think that should stop them.

dean's only fifteen, but he should know better. and really, he does. but the week had been long and boring without school or work to distract them, and sam never asks for anything.

they got caught by the manager as they tried to sneak into the movie in the theater next door, and were only able to escape with sam's quick thinking. dad found the empty boxed candy in the trashcan when he got home tonight, and knew they didn't have candy or movie money.

dad had been able to haggle for an extra motel room in this town, so sam was sitting in the motel room he and dean were sharing next door, after dad had given a stern, "you're on knife sharpening duty. if i can't cut a piece of paper with every knife in that room, you're running laps until you throw that damn candy up, you hear me?"

sam had stomped off, huffy, but dean knows he'll have those knives gleaming in no time.

dean also knows that it's him who's going to get his ass handed to him, because he's the one who was supposed to know better. he's the example. as soon as sam had left, they'd sat in silence for a few minutes to give dean time to squirm. but it looks like dad is ready to show his hand.

dad looks at him for a long moment, assessing. dean feels about an inch tall, but refuses to shift like his limbs are screaming to. he cannot show dad any more guilt or nervousness than dad already has access to. dean refuses to be cowed, even though he very much is.

finally, dad looks away, and begins reorganizing papers on the motel dresser. he's putting some sheets in a manilla folder, and crinkling up others for the trash.

dean can still feel his heartbeat in his cheeks, and knows better than to feel relief that dad's eyes aren't on him anymore.

"there's a haunting down in lubbock." dad says, and he turns around, handing dean the folder. dean takes it, hestitantly.

what?

he flicks it open, and sure enough, there are a few newspaper clippings about a banker's death, and statements from police. dean recognizes bobby's scrawled handwriting, and knows dad must've gotten this in the mail earlier.

something's not right, but dean doesn't know quite what it is yet. anxiety gnaws on his stomach, but he nods slowly. he starts to turn, ready to go back to the other motel room and debrief with sam.

a new leaf will be good, dean reasons. dad usually leaves aggravations in the towns they occur in, like the wounds they receive and the people they save snap out of existence as soon as they hit the county line. maybe this will disappear, too.

"okay. i'll go get sammy--"

"no. sam's not going anywhere." dad cuts him off. dean turns back around, startled. dad's eyes are hard.

dean swallows. it's unusual to leave sammy behind. it's not unheard of, though. sometimes, if it's a really hard or dangerous case, they'll drop sammy off at another hunter's house and pick him up in a few days. maybe dad's expecting this one to get hot.

dad used to drop both of them off, but dean hasn't been left behind since he turned thirteen.

"okay..." dean says slowly. "then let me go get him ready for pastor jim's and tell him when we'll be back."

he starts to leave again, on edge and eager to escape the menace that comes off of dad like a heatwave.

"'we're' not going anywhere." dad says, tone flat.

"we're...not?"

"no. you're doing this one. by yourself."

dean startles.

"but dad--"

"sir. you're calling me sir. if you want to act like an adult, i'm going to treat you like one."

"i said i was sorry!" dean protests, but dad's jaw ticks in annoyance at his whiny tone. "i'm sorry. i really am, sir. i didn't mean to go behind your back."

"but you did. and i need to know i can trust you, dean. this isn't a goddamn vacation." dad moves back to sit down on the side of the bed, leaning forward and looking at dean intently. "i need you sharp, i need you focused, and i need you to listen when i fucking tell you things."

dean is still spiralling. he's never been on a case by himself before. he guesses he'll never truly have a legal driver's license, but he's not even old enough for one yet. he's fifteen.

how the hell is he going to get witnesses to talk to him? how the hell is he supposed to drive the six hours over to lubbock by himself? and salt a ghost?

every part of this order seems impossible. dean can't dig up a grave by himself. it would take hours. a day, even. how is he supposed to do that without getting caught? no librarian will give him access to city records. he'll have to sleep in the car--no one in their right mind would book a motel room out to a kid.

and what if he gets in trouble? dad can't bail him out. they might transport dean to another city with a better juvie before he can get a call out to dad that he got arrested.

dean can feel his heartbeat in his tongue.

"do i make myself clear?" dad asks, but dean doesn't answer. no, he doesn't. he doesn't make himself clear. dean can't do it. "do i make myself clear?"

his voice is harder the second time. dean swallows.

"yes, sir."

"good. caleb will be a few hours away if you need help, but i expect you to handle this by yourself." dean is relieved to hear that caleb will be around, but dad's second statement is the real order. dean's alone on this one. "i need you gone for a few days."

"where will you be?" dean asks. what changed? why is dean doing this by himself?

"i've got a ghoul up in oklahoma. i'll also be headed out."

this--more than anything else that's happened tonight--alarms him.

"what about sam?" dean asks.

sam's not ready to stay by himself. he's eleven. dean knows intimately how dangerous it is for sam to be left alone. dean still has dreams about the striga, about sammy's pale face behind the cage of dad's protective arms.

"i've left some money on the table. he can fend for himself for a few days--kid's seen worse." dad says, nodding over at the kitchen table. dad is back to all-casual, like this is a regular conversation. dean looks over, and barely resists the urge to count the money. how much is it? $40? $50? dean won't be comfortable until sammy has at least $150, but he doesn't know if they have the resources enough for that.

how is he going to make money, if the--what looks like from--$35 run dry?

"you want him to stay by himself?" dean asks, just to confirm. there's no way he's understanding this correctly. dad wouldn't do that.

he's strict, and he can be harsh, but he wouldn't leave sammy alone for days. right?

"dean." dad says, and it's his annoyed tone. his shut up, kid tone. his we're done talking about this tone. dean feels panic, sharp and hot and tight, shoving its way up his spine.

his entire body feels shaky. dad's going to do it.

he's going to leave sam alone. he's going to take sam away from him. as punishment. as a fucking punishment.

"dad...please. i don't think sammy's ready. i promise i'll go on this hunt as soon as you come back. the second you're finished, i'll head out, i will." dad's expression continues to darken, so dean rushes all of his words out at once, hoping to stop dad's protest before it can come out. "i promise dad, you won't see me at all. i'm not trying to get out of it. we shouldn't leave sam by himself."

dean holds his breath. dad has to see reason, he has to.

"are you questioning my direct order, again?"

dean's stomach falls through his shoes.

"dad, please," dean begs.

"dean--"

"i don't think he's ready--"

"do not talk back to me--"

"dad, please! he's just a kid, he's going to be scared--he's not ready for this!" dean pleads, because sam's not. he has nightmares more nights than not.

dad's hunt might be quick, but dean's is not going to be. dean desperately tries to run scenarios in his head of getting this case done in twelve hours, so he can be home in less than twenty-four, but there's no way he could.

"are you ready for this?" dad asks, and his eyebrow is raised. dean is stopped in his tracks. the words don't sound right.

"sir?"

"is all this because you're scared? you're not ready?" dad doesn't say it like dean thinks he means to. it's a challenge. a pitying, aw is the baby scared? it's a you-better-not-be.

and honestly? yes. a little bit. dean is fifteen. he's not ready to drive six hours away to gank a ghost by himself. he's done recon and research and helped dig things up, but he's never done anything like this before.

but dean's pride will not allow him to say yes. dad didn't raise a boy who could say yes. dad wouldn't even accept it if dean tried. which he won't.

he can't.

"no, sir. i'm ready." dean says.

dad stands back up, grabbing one of dean's shirts off of the bed behind him. he tosses it at dean, whom catches it numbly.

"pack your bag. i want you outta here by midnight." dad says, turning around to begin packing his own bag.

"yessir." dean feels shellshocked. he feels like he felt after he killed his first deer: confused, startled, and completely, totally numb. he knows the implications of this will affect the rest of his life, but he can't see far enough to know how.

dean's tired. he doesn't want to be here anymore, and dad has summarily dismissed him.

dean makes it to the door before he hears dad call his name. dean pauses, hand on the doorknob.

"and dean?"

dean turns around, and dad's face has darkened. his eyebrows are pulled low over his eyes, and when he speaks next, his voice is flint.

"if you ever question me again, you're walking to the next hunt."

dean nods, once.

"yessir."

he wants to say goodbye to sam. he wants to take his dad to the ground. he wants to punch a hole straight through the impala's windshield. he wants to get out of here.

dean packs his bag.

when he comes back a week and a half later, sam doesn't talk to him for three days. he's mad at dean for leaving him alone with dad.

dean tells him to lay off of dad. it's not his fault. he's only in a rotten mood because dean disobeyed, but dean keeps that last bit to himself.

dean should've obeyed him the first time.

[lizmitches]

another day, another wildfire.

last week, there was a spark in our pump house that triggered a small explosion, causing a bird that was sitting nearby to catch on fire. in an act of desperation, he attempted to fly away, lasting only a few yards before falling to the ground. his still-smoldering body then became kindling for the neighboring wheat field. 

i noticed the smoke as i sat at the kitchen table weaving together reeds for a blueberry basket.

on the phone with the fire department, and then the electric company, and then my mother (to cancel plans for dinner), it struck me that while i have in many ways been at my most relaxed since moving here, i also find myself continually waiting for the next disaster. because out here, there will always be a wildfire. a widowmaker during a windstorm. a wasp nest waiting right above the front door.

and yet, nothing has ever kept me on my toes so much. by day, i move irrigation pipes, install floodlights, fix plumbing, attempt to drink enough water to combat the 108 degree heat. by night, i lie in bed, trying to remember if i checked the mouse traps, locked the tool shed. i start creative projects that i never finish, forever distracted by the weight of whatever it is i’m “actually” supposed to be doing.

that said, every morning i wake with purpose—even if that same responsibility sometimes becomes a plume of smoke near an open pasture (occasionally suffocating, perhaps, but a welcome warning nonetheless).

and then there is saffron, our new 5-year-old rescue. she is unlike any cat i’ve ever met; gentle and trusting, but holding back at every step. sometimes i lay on the floor with her for hours, eyes closed and head turned the opposite direction, all in an attempt to get her to step into the light. every now and then i’ll feel something tickle my ear, retreating when i turn to look. it’s as if she’s a ghost—the evidence of her existence only found once she’s picked another hiding place. it’s a happy haunting.

directing the trucks to where the fire began, the wind picked up. i held my breath, noting its direction, and looked down to realize that—in my haste to exit the house—i’d forgotten to put shoes on. the soles of my feet were now burnt, bare on the hot pavement, and with the fire finally being contained i tip-toed back down our gravel driveway and into the house.

i sat at the kitchen table, still messy from my crafting, so i could ice my feet and watch through the window as the flames finally dissipated. the smoke hung in the july air.

i never did finish the basket.

[rainbowfey]

25 Haunted House

@flufftober

When they finally reached the house, Amane sighed in relief. While Kagaya was stoic and calm as ever, the kids had gotten increasingly excited and since there were five of them, Amane’s ears were now ringing from the hours of unrelenting questioning and enthusiastic chattering about how great the new house would be. And of course, the kids had turned to her with every single question, even though Kagaya would probably have been better prepared to answer them. At least they had already moved all of their furniture into the house already while the kids had been with a distant relative for a while. While all five of them were kind and helpful children indeed, Amane had not wanted them to run around and wreak havoc, maybe even hurting themselves while at it.

“Isn’t the house beautiful?” Kagaya asked with a smile and wrapped his arm around Amane’s waist. His warmth calmed her down and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Kanata said and tilted her little head, staring at the grey front of the house. “It looks kind of … old, don’t you think?”

That made Amane laugh and she ruffled her youngest daughter’s hair. “That’s because it is, dear,” she said with a smile. “This house has been here for centuries. At least that’s what they say about it.”

Kuina pulled a face and nodded to herself. “I can tell,” she murmured, clearly unimpressed with what lay before them. “And we bought this monstrosity because …?”

Kagaya smiled at her and gently wrapped his other arm around her. “Your mother and I got a really good deal on it, sweetheart. It’s very rare for a mansion like this to sell for such a humble price.”

Kuina looked up at her father, raising an eyebrow. “Well, then I just hope there is no disturbing reason for the low price.”

The following weeks were rather turbulent but all in all, Amane was relieved to see that her children settled in fairly well. While especially her youngest two daughters still did not seem very impressed with the house, all five of them had grown to love the enormous backyard and the potential for adventure it offered to them. While Kiriya had taken to reading at the pond almost every single day, Hinaki and Nichika had grown fond of playing with their ball for hours on end. And even her two littlest fusspots had started going on adventures in the forest that lay behind the mansion.

But even with this peace, Amane could not help but notice how little time the children spent inside. She had asked Kagaya about that but he had been very nonchalant about it, assuring her that this was only due to it being autumn where it was still warm enough to play outside for hours every day. And while it did not seem to bother him at all, Amane could not shake off the unnerving feeling that something was wrong.

“Kiriya,” she said when he passed by her, his current book in his hand. “Can you stay for a moment?”

Her son looked at her in surprise but then nodded with a smile. “Sure, how can I help you?”

Amane smiled to herself at his formal tone and for a moment, he looked just like her husband when he had been a child. While her daughters all looked a lot like her, Kiriya was the one child that took after Kagaya. “Tell me, do you feel comfortable in here? I know the house is still very new for all of us, but do you and your sisters like it here?”

Kiriya froze and stayed silent for a moment, making that adorable face he always showed when he was frantically contemplating how to veil the truth without lying. “Uh,” Kiriya stuttered which was rather unlike him. “The house is quite … impressive.”

Amane put her hands on her hips and smiled at him. “Come on, Kiriya, what are you really thinking?”

Her son sighed and his shoulders sank down in defeat when he sat down next to her. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “The mansion is a bit … weird. It’s almost like it has a life of its own.”

Amane paused and furled her brows. She had expected Kiriya to tell her that the children would have rather stayed at their old place or that they had not gotten used to the mansion with its long hallways and dark corners yet. This answer, however, she had not expected. “Why does it feel like that to you?” she asked carefully.

Kiriya stared at the book in his hands for a moment, then he shrugged. “Just some strange stuff that’s been happening,” he said. “Doors opening but nobody is behind them, things falling to the ground, and Kanata once said she heard someone whistling when everyone else was asleep.”

A shiver ran down Amane’s spine. “Why has none of you told me about that?”

Kiriya looked at her with big eyes. “Hinaki said it was probably just the wind as the mansion doesn’t seem to be isolated very well. I thought that was it, so I didn’t think it was necessary to make you worry about it.”

Amane sighed and pulled him into a hug. “That’s kind of you, but please tell me if it happens again, alright?”

And with a grin, Kiriya freed himself from her embrace. “Will do, I promise,” he said with a smile before he grabbed his book and headed for the pond for another reading session.

“Kagaya, I’ve heard it too, I’m sure,” Amane said, gently pushing Kanata and Kuina back into their room. “Don’t worry,” she said to her daughters, “your father and I will check it out. Stay in here and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Be careful,” Kuina whispered while clutching her sister’s hand when Kanata carefully closed the door to their room.

Amane looked up just in time to see Kagaya doing the same with Hinaki’s and Nichika’s room. They had both checked all of the children’s rooms, making sure there was nothing there, when Kiriya had alerted them to the footsteps in the hallway. While he had said that he and his sisters had heard them a few times already, this was the first time that Amane had heard them too. Her skin felt cold when she exchanged a glance with Kagaya who seemed as calm as always.

“Don’t worry, love,” he said and reached for her hand. “I’m sure it’s just the house settling.”

And once again, Amane wished that she had the same composure as her husband. Her heart was fluttering in her chest when she listened closely, trying to make out any sound that did not belong in the house. Now that all five children were in their rooms, Kiriya staying with his older sisters until they had made sure there was no one in the house, Amane felt at least slightly reassured.

“Let’s walk down this hallway first,” she said and Kagaya nodded.

Together, they walked along the narrow hallway, their feet making soft noises on the red carpet veiling the floorboards. While walking, Amane glanced at the horrible portrait of a young pale man with black hair that had been part of the mansion when they first bought it. She had felt creeped out by his hollow eyes since they moved in but somehow, she had not gotten around to removing it from the wall yet. And the one time she had asked Kagaya about it, he had suggested leaving it up in honor of the portrayed ancestor of the last owner of the mansion.

They made their way along the hallway, carefully checking each corner and every room for an intruder but as Kagaya had expected, they did not find any trace of someone other than their family being in the mansion. “Let’s check downstairs and the attic as well,” Amane said, even though she did not feel comfortable climbing up to the attic at night.

Kagaya looked at her and for a moment, she feared that he would insist that everything was fine. But then, a gentle smile appeared on his face and he squeezed her hand. “I’d do anything to make you and the kids feel better,” he said warmly. “How about I check on the attic while you make sure that nothing is amiss downstairs?”

Amane nodded, grateful that she was spared of climbing up to the attic in the dark. She watched Kagaya vanishing into the darkness before she descended down the stairs, listening intently. But all she heard was Kagaya’s familiar footsteps fading out, and her own breath that sounded unsettlingly loud in the silent mansion.

Amane slowly made her way around the downstairs and with each room she found empty and untouched, a bit of her tension left her body. She felt more tired than nervous when she reached last room and stepped into the kitchen that had been another room ages ago. She let her gaze wander over the counters and took notice of the empty glass standing at the edge of the kitchen isle. With a sigh, she walked over and was just about to reach for the glass – when it suddenly moved out of nowhere and fell over the edge, breaking with an earthshattering sound.

And for a split second, Amane heard a malicious chuckle in her back. But when she whirled around, the kitchen behind her was empty and as peaceful as it always was. Empty, except for the myriads of shards on the ground, glistening mysteriously in the moonlight.

Amane glanced over her shoulder, making sure that none of the children was listening. Then, she turned back to Kagaya and gave him a pointed look. “I really think we should leave,” she said urgently. “This is not safe.”

Kagaya avoided her gaze and instead kneeled down, carefully picking up the glass shards from the floor. When he was done, he got up again and finally looked at Amane, a pensive expression on his face. “My love, I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with the house,” he said carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. “So far we haven’t seen anything indicating that there’s something else amiss than a few leaky windows.”

Amane took a deep breath and shook her head. She had already thought that Kagaya would react like this and in some way, she even understood his position. Even though the price had been startingly low, they had still invested a lot of money in this mansion, hoping to make it their familial estate that would one day go to their children and later their grandchildren. It would be lunacy to jump the gun and leave just because the mansion had a few quirks.

“But …” she said hesitatingly. Now that they talked about it in broad daylight, her experience from last night did indeed seem less terrifying. She had not even seen anything except for the glass mysteriously falling down. But Kagaya was right, that could have been due to a sudden draft or maybe the table was slightly uneven where the glass had stood.

Kagaya smiled at her tenderly and set the dustpan with the shards aside. He sighed and said, “Maybe the house’s backstory is why it feels a bit unnerving to you. But I’m sure we’ll be just fine, we just have to give it some time.”

Amane looked at him askingly. “The backstory?” she asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Did something happen to the previous owner?”

Kagaya laughed and raised his hands. “No, he’s perfectly fine,” he said with a grin. “I was talking about the man who built the mansion and lived here, many centuries ago. The young man from the portrait in the hallway upstairs.”

Amane shuddered and nodded. She indeed remembered the portrait fairly well as it always gave her shivers whenever she looked at the pale face looking down on her. “What about him?” she asked, slightly curious.

Kagaya’s smile vanished and he subconsciously lowered his voice when he said, “The previous owner’s family has passed down his story for generations. He was a sickly man, weak from fighting against the demons raging in his mind and body. One day, he asked a faith healer for help, but the healer turned out to be a charlatan. He promised the ancestor that his potion would make his body heal, that it would even prolong his life, allowing him to live for an eternity.”

Amane raised an eyebrow. “And he believed that?”

Kagaya smiled wistfully. “The ancestor had been sick for almost his whole life. I don’t think there’s anything he would not have been willing to believe if it meant getting his life back. And thus, he drank the potion, hoping it would release him from the nightmare his life was.”

Amane held her breath and the image of the pale man with dark hair danced in her mind, when she asked, “What happened to him?”

Kagaya sighed. “He died. Not instantly, apparently, but the potion weakened his already frail body and he eventually succumbed to his sickness. And since then, the family says, his spirit has never left the mansion where he was promised the chance of a second life.”

“Mom?”

Amane flinched when she was jolted awake, eyes wide as she stared at her daughter kneeling next to her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down, before she smiled at Kuina. “What’s the matter, dear?” she asked quietly, hoping not to wake up Kagaya sleeping next to her.

Kanata, who sat next to her sister, crawled closer. “We’ve seen him,” she whispered.

Amane’s hair stood on end when she shot up. “Seen who?” she asked sharply, pulling her daughters closer to her.

“The young man,” Kuina said quietly, her eyes widened. “The one from the portrait.”

Amane’s heart stopped and she stared at her daughter for a moment, thoughts racing through her mind. Then, she clenched her fists and nodded. “Kanata, Kuina, you stay with your father. I’ll go check on your siblings.”

Her daughters both nodded and when Amane got up, they crawled under her blanket, clinging to each other. Amane smiled at them softly and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

She carefully closed the door behind her and hurried to the other room, her heart hammering in her chest. Only when she saw Hinaki, Nichika and Kiriya sleeping peacefully in their beds, she calmed down again. Hinaki opened one eye and yawned softly. “What’s going on, mom?” she asked quietly and Amane walked over and gently ruffled her hair.

“Hinaki, please do me a favor,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “When I leave your room, lock the door behind me and keep it locked until either your father or I tell you to open it. Will you do that for me?”

Her heart ached when Hinaki stared at her with big eyes, but then her eldest daughter nodded, a determined expression on her face. “You can count on me,” she said and slipped out of bed, following Amane to the door.

And when Amane left the room, she heard the reassuring click of the lock behind her. She nodded to herself and took a deep breath, staring down the long, dark hallway. Kagaya listened to reason and reason said there was nothing wrong with the house. Amane’s gut instinct however told her that there was something lurking in the shadows. And if they could not leave the mansion, she would sure as hell not allow anyone or anything to harm her family.

“I’m coming for you,” she said through her teeth, glaring at the portrait of the ancestor a few steps away. And when she looked at the young man, it almost felt like he was staring back at her.

Slowly, Amane made her way through the mansion, searching the upstairs first. And while she could feel a dark presence, it did not seem close at the moment. She even took a look at the attic and to her relief, the presence was weaker there. When she walked downstairs, however, she felt the air getting colder and she knew, she was on the right track. She followed the cold, empty feeling that grew with each step she took towards the kitchen that had once been the infirmary of the ancestor. And when she had gotten to the kitchen, she felt the presence reaching for her heart with its icy claws.

“You are here,” Amane said, looking around in the empty kitchen. “I can feel you.”

For a moment, everything stayed quiet but then, a door of a kitchen cabinet slowly opened, creaking loudly. Amane nodded grimly. “I knew it. What do you want?”

The door creaked again and then, she heard faint footsteps coming closer. It took her every last bit of her courage to stand still. She raised her chin, determined not to back down even a single step. And when the footsteps reached her, she felt a cold breeze grazing her skin.

“I … can … show … you,” a voice whispered right next to her ear.

And when Amane felt an icy hand grip the back of her neck, she closed her eyes. Images flashed through her mind and her body started shaking when endless despair and agony drove their claws into her soul. She saw the garden behind the window that looked way older. She looked down at her pale, frail hands and when she looked up, she saw an old man offering a potion in a clay bowl to her. Hope surged through her body when she drank it. And then, a fire started burning in her, agonizing, never-ending, slowly turning her body to ashes until there was nothing left of her. Nothing but a faint echo of the man she could have been.

“You can come downstairs,” Amane called out and she carefully checked one last time that the box was hidden behind her back. “Quiet now,” she whispered to the box and the rustling from inside stopped immediately.

Not a moment too late as now, she heard several sets of footsteps running down the stairs. Kanata was the first to pop her head in the kitchen, followed quickly by Kiriya and Kuina. And one by one, her elder daughters and finally Kagaya also walked into the kitchen. Six faces looked at her curiously and even Kagaya seemed entirely clueless as to what surprise she had prepared for them.

Kiriya was the first to speak up.  He looked at her, his small face full of anticipation. “You said you had a surprise for us?”

Amane smiled at him and nodded. “I do. As you know, I have promised to take care of our little mansion problem. And I’ve found the perfect solution to it.”

Kanata’s eyes widened and she whispered something to her sister excitedly. Kagaya smiled at Amane, raising one eyebrow. After the night where he had woken up to his youngest two daughters clinging to him, telling him a wild story about a pale man wandering through the hallways, it had taken Amane quite a bit of convincing until he had agreed to let her handle the situation all on her own. Amane returned his smile with a grin and took a step to the side, revealing the box behind her.

“You know, rumor has it that certain creatures are very good at protecting a house from evil spirits,” she said and smiled when five sets of eyes went wide as saucers. “And therefore … meet the new protector of our home!”

And with a grand gesture, she opened the box and carefully lifted a black kitten out of it, holding it in her arms. “Meet Kibutsuji Meowzan, head of the home for now and always.”

And when the kitten lifted its head and meowed proudly, her kids erupted in excited screams and stormed towards her, gently taking the kitten from her arms. Smiling, Amane watched them gush over the kitten and its perfectly black, silky fur and its beautiful eyes that almost looked plum red in the right lighting.

“I see you’ve decided to honor the owner’s ancestor with the name,” Kagaya said while he tenderly wrapped an arm around her. “I didn’t think you’d want any connection to the past of the mansion.”

And when Amane leaned in, resting her head against his chest, she quietly said, “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

[cup1dt3a]

Love Letter’s pt.1

Ace and Deuce or their infamous nickname Adeuce. The two of them are also known to be the trouble makers of the campus along with many many other infamous nicknames due to their disagreements. But the one thing they could both agree on but never admit is their crush on the so called perfect of ramshackle. (Y/n) was what the school called a helpful but odd person. A very odd person for that matter at NRC.

For they wielded no magic, no special traits, or even powers. The only magical thing most thought they had was their ability to withstand the treacherous overblots throughout the school year. But not to Ace and Deuce. No, to the two boys they were one in a million. A brave, kind-hearted, and beautiful person who never gives up. In their eyes (Y/n) couldn’t even harm a fly, but they both admired the perfect beyond anyones belief. But the two were hopeless when it came close to even express their feelings for the perfect.

For instance Deuces juvenile background would always haunt him but make him want to work harder on being someone who his mother could be proud of. And hopefully the perfect too. Ace on the other hand had only dated once in his short life, but got very easily bored after what felt to him years of his ex constantly nagging him. So he wonders if this time it’ll be different because it’s you. But even though the twos insecurities don’t get the better of them their only problem is each other. In constant competition for your attention. The other members of the group wonder how much harder they have to sigh or roll their eyes in order for the both of them to take a hint and just say they love them for the love of god already.

This leads us to present day at the lunch table as Ace and Deuce impatiently wait for the perfect to show up. Ace’s constant tapping and Deuces constant looks around the lunch room was annoying the trio once again. Jack gave the two knowing glances once again as if trying to get one of them to say something. Sebek was the first to finally snap at the two.

“ Can you both please give it a break already?” he sneered at them fed up with their sad puppy eyes. The two only gave him confused looks.

“ What do you mean “huh” all week you have both been poorly flirting or fighting each other over the human!” he once again snapped at the two love-sick boys who were now blushing.

“ Pffft! As if I would ever like the perfect!” Ace awkwardly laughed at the smaller boys remark.

Meanwhile Deuce only sat there and blushed not denying anything. The trio rolled their eyes at his remark.

“ Wait.. your not denying it at all… Do you seriously have a crush on them?” Ace teased the bluenett.

“Wow! You might as well go and confess since you have no competition.” Epel sarcastically told Deuce as the foolish boy took it seriously.

“ That’s a great idea Epel thank you!” Deuce thanked him as he rushed away with his tray. While Ace panicked and rushed after the fast boy.

Rubbing their temples Jack sighed ” Well at least we won’t have to deal with that anymore.”

Meanwhile a very confused perfect came to the table to only witness an Ace and Deuce running out of the cafeteria shoving each other constantly out the door. While hearing an Ace scream “ Not if I confess to them first asshole!”

As the Blue haired boy rushed down the hallway to look for you he then realized he had no plan on how to confess to you at all. Or even deal with romance. As he stopped in the middle of the hallway for his search for you. The red head had finally caught up with the Blue haired boy after he accidentally shoved him too hard leaving him for dead.

“ Ha! did you chicken out already?” Ace chuckled at the blue haired boy.

“ No! I just… why does it matter to you?”Deuce snapped.

“ It doesn’t matter to me…just curious that’s all.” He replied.

“ I bet you don’t even have a plan to confess to them!” Ace exclaimed as the other boy argued back.

As the two boys bickering went on the bell pierced the boys ears as the hallways soon flooded. With both of them thinking “ I have no idea how to confess at all.”

As classes ended the two were still pondering what to do. They had no idea what or even how to confess. So they thought of the best idea that could help. To ask their Senpai’s. What could go wrong the two clueless boys thought as everything could.

Deuce decided to ask Cater and his solution was a love letter.

For and I quote “ Well, since you can bearly tell or express your feelings without becoming a blushing mess… How about you write them a cute little love letter! “

And then on Cater being the good senpai he is helped poor Deuce write his feelings even though he still became a blushing mess over writing.

Ace decided to ask Trey for advice because Trey was his only option at that point. And also due to him not wanting to run into an angry Riddle again. Just because he once again broke one little rule, but in his defense there are too many to keep up with.

Along with the magicam obsessed Cater no where to be seen. Only if he looked a littler harder would he see them outside. And so on Trey’s advice was to write them a letter or go ahead and confess to them after classes. Ace choose to write a letter just to try and be a bit more romantic then just saying “ Hey I like you date me Perfect” For when he tried his confession on Trey the man only sighed.

Alas the sun soon set and the boys letters had soon been written.

The next day as the two boys headed for the Perfect’s locker. Which was easy to find for it was the oldest and most worn out due to the other person who owned it had anger issues and fire magic. (P.S it was not riddle). But as the two came upon your locker they had then came upon each other.

“ What are you doing at the perfects locker?” Ace questioned the bluenett.

“ I’m just waiting for the perfect… I agreeed to walk with them to class.” Deuce replied awkwardly looking away.

“ Cool…” Ace said as their eyes met with each other’s and soon a fight broke out between the two of them. As the two tried shoving their own notes in while arguing back in forth who should put their letter in.

They soon stopped as someone said “ What are you two doing?”

The perfect questioned as they patted the lazy cat that lied on their shoulder.

“ Nothing!” The two exclaimed as Ace accidentally managed to shove his and Deuces letters in the locker.

The tired perfect payed no mind to their friends antics as the weasel around their shoulders kept whining for food. As if the poor fat weasel has been starved for days. The perfect sighed as they offered for the two boys to come with them to shut up the weasel. To which the both of them agreed without hesitation.

It had felt like the day would never once again end. For being the “ Perfect of Ramshackle “ was no piece of cake. For almost every moment you had someone Overbloting, having too much trauma, and Crowley never giving you a break. And the dramatic crow could never even have the decency to help get you accustomed to this strange new world. The traumatized students were your only hope. But besides that your friends Ace and Deuce could always put a smile on your face from their stupidity.

For where they lacked brains they made up for it in heart. Even though Ace could sometimes be a bit of a bitch. And Deuce well he was a sweetheart to be honest Ace just loved to test his luck with the blue haired boy so much.

As you thought about the two idiots you felt with besides grim while you rummaged through your damaged locker two bent letters you had never seen before. One with a huge heart sticker holding the envelope closed; the other didn’t have an envelope but was just a note that got bent in half and folded hot dog style. Along with your name on it.

The bent envelope with a heart on it had deep and meaningful words about how much this person loved you and would love if you would also meet them at the gate for a bike ride along the beach at 5pm tomorrow. It made your heart flush at all the sweet things said in the letter. Meanwhile the bent note wasn’t as meaningful and said to meet them at 5pm tomorrow at the rose garden in Heartslabuyl. But still was very sweet as it was said throughout the note how much this person also adored you. Still making your heart flutter a bit more. It almost made you giddy at how sweet the two letters were.

“ Henchman!!! The great Grim isn’t gonna hold all these…what’s that?” The mischievous cat asked at they yanked the heartfelt notes from your hands.

“Oooooo! The Henchman has two secret admirers!” The weasel awed taunting you as your cheeks fumed reder them riddles from the annoying cats actions and that they took your letters.

“ Give those back you stupid weasel!” You hollard as the cat ran away out of fear with the notes in hand or paw in this matter.

“ Wait so your telling me that Ace asked you for advice on confessing to the perfect?” Cater asked the vice dorm leader.

“ Yeah… please tell me you also didn’t tell Deuce to write them a letter.” Trey said as Cater then chuckled.

“ Welp… I did and there is no going back now. Did you tell them to have them meet up at 5 pm too?” Cater asked.

“ Sadly Yes again.” Trey sighed.

“ DAMINT!” Cater said.

Who will the perfect pick stay tuned to find out! hope your all doing well and that your days get better if they aren’t well! CupidTea signing off ༺♥︎༻

[genopaint]

Week 6 of the Daily Dragon Challenge! This is my last week before I start moving, which will likely be a HUGE strain on my time. So hopefully I can keep it up? We'll see?

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut

Daily Dragon #35 - Ghouldrogon

When the knights finally played the dragon tormenting the village... Something went horribly wrong. It didn't decay right. It lingers in the mountain. And it's corrupted soul haunts the lair forever. They have creepy undead magic, spewing foul smelling paranormal green flames. If you somehow successfully steal something from their horde, it's gonna be horribly cursed.

This is a redesign of a 2012 skeleton! Was looking for an old dragon to redraw and settled on this dude! But it's REALLY been changed up I guess. It's barely the same thing anymore lol but I think the new one's way cooler!

Daily Dragon #36 - Floofizard

These more rodent-like dragons are typically found near park trails and in cities with trees to hide in. They love to collect nuts and fruits, but aren't afraid to get close to humans and snatch scraps when the chance comes up. They're fast runners too, so good luck catching them if they snatch a snack out of your bag. You don't commonly see them as pets, but some people love them because of how soft and fluffy they are!

Daily Dragon #37 - Orbodon

Not exactly "man's best friend" as they can be very mischievous! Causing small problems like stealing food, knocking things over, and other trouble, then rolling away before they can be caught and get a little water spritzed in their face.

Had a plan for a big dragon today but ended up feeling a little tired when I sat down to draw tonight so I went with something simple. My brain kept telling me "do a circle one... just make it a circle" and I gave in and now we have the second dog dragon of the challenge lol

Daily Dragon #38 - Dragostein

Dragons slain across the land suddenly go missing, remains of the beast go unaccounted for... Suddenly, a new dragon appears in a long abandoned laboratory. It can't move well, but it doesn't feel pain, is physically power, and has electric powers!

This is the dragon I wanted to draw yesterday! Based on "Dragonstien" that I got from the infinite craft game. For some reason I thought it was so funny, I just had to draw it

Daily Dragon #39 - Rammosaur

A highly aggressive dragon that loves hitting and smashing things with its horns! They can even use those huge horns to shovel dirt and rocks out of their path and territories high up on the mountains! Very versatile creatures!

This creature is a redraw of this weird fella from roughly 2019 I think? Was looking for some random dragons I did in the past and found this thing. It was called the "Rammasaur" but it doesn't really look like a dino? So I wanted to redo it lol

Daily Dragon #40 - Arachnosaur

A strange hybrid of reptile and arachnid! 8 limbs, 7 eyes, Scorpion tail, powerful jaws, and lethal venom make this dragon a feared beast inside most caves. It can also spit webs from its mouth!

Daily Dragon #41 - Magma Dragoon

And of course, this is today's dragon! I actually wanted to draw a nice and simple dragon, but hated how they all came out. So of course the obvious solution was to swap to something complicated!

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Slow Down by Caleb and Kelsey

Master List of The Adventure of Y/N Barton and Yelena Belova

Summary: You and your father finally sit down to have a much needed talk and he answers a question that has been haunting you: Why did he become the Ronin? With his answer will you be able to move on?

Warning: mention of the Ronin, fluff

Word count: 2.3k

You sat on the step of your family home with lemonade in your hands. It was a beautiful day. You, Kate, and Yelena made a trip to Iowa. Your parents wanted to get to know America, who was doing a great job dealing with Nathaniel. “She seems to be fitting in nicely,” Clint said, sitting next to you. You were watching Kate, Yelena, and America play soccer with your siblings. The dogs were laying on the grass with their tongues out. You smiled. 

“Yeah,” you said. “She’s a good fit for the group.” She was. You liked pulling pranks on Peter with her and Yelena when you went to the tower. Clint smiled. 

“You’ve grown up into a remarkable young lady,” The switch in conversation gave you whiplash. You looked at your dad but he was staring straight ahead. “And I know your mother and I didn’t make it easy for you.” 

“You did what you thought would keep me the safest.” He shook his head. 

“What we did was put a leash on your neck and pull you back when you got too far away,” You chuckled, looking down at your hands. “I’m surprised you didn’t grow up to resent us.” 

“I did,” you admitted. “For the longest time I hate you and mom and this house,” You looked up as you heard Lila laughing. Yelena had her arms wrapped around her waist to keep her away from the ball. You smiled at the sight. “It’s why I fought so hard to go to college in California or for that trip,” Clint sighed, leaning back with his arms crossed.

“I remember when you were born and you never slept through midnight to the morning,” he glanced at you. “You drove your mother and me insane. Before I knew you were walking and trying to free your fingers from my hand because you could do it on your own. I just wanted it to slow down,” you watched him as he looked at your siblings' play. It was now or never, the burning question was on your lips. 

“Dad,” he hummed, looking back at you. “Why did you become the Ronin?” You asked. He didn’t answer. “I know you said it wasn’t because of me and that’s fine I just want the truth.” He sighed. 

“It wasn’t you just my thoughts pushing unrealistic ideas onto you,” you gave him a confused look. “Let me explain,” he laughed. “You look so much like your mother, not just in looks but also in spirit and personality,” he looked up at the sky. “That entire ride to the compound, I debated turning around back to bring us back here. But every time I looked at you I saw your mother, not just her but Cooper, Lila, and Nate, and I failed to protect them.” Your gaze softened as you looked at him. 

“Dad, you couldn’t have stopped Thanos,” he shrugged. 

“Maybe if I didn’t retire and was there to help. I could have been another guard for Vision or fighting against the army. But I wasn’t there. So I became the Ronin to even the scale,” your heart ached at the mention of the android. You missed him. “It wasn’t fair that our family was taken from us but so many people stayed that were doing horrible things,” he shook his head and looked at the ground. “I was justifying my actions because I was doing something good. But soon I became something else, something darker. I was down such a rabbit hole that I figured you would be better with Natasha,” he finally looked at you again. “I’m so sorry.” You had to look away from him, the intensity of his explanation and his apology was extreme. It was breaking through the wall you put up. But you believed him. This ‘I’m sorry’ felt different than the one he gave you when he returned from Vormir. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” you whispered. “1 week turned into a month, a month turned into 3, then a year, and then 5,” you glanced at him. “You may have been disappointed in the man you became but I just wanted you,” you laughed. “For the first time in my adult life, I just wanted my dad and he wasn’t there.”

“Probably the first time in your life,” he joked, which made you laugh. “I remember every missing tooth, and every bedtime story, and how you’d crawl into our bed on Sunday morning to sleep in,” he took your hand in his. “I wasn’t there for you, squirt, and I’m so sorry.” You smiled. 

“I waited so long for you to say that to me,” you let go of your hand. “I want to forgive you and move on but -”

“It’s okay if you can’t. I’m not expecting forgiveness,” he smiled. “I just hope you know I’m your biggest fan and I love you.” You smiled. 

“I love you too.” 

“Y/n,” Nathaniel called out. “We need your help!” You laughed, looking at Clint. 

“Go, we can talk more later,” you smiled, hugging him, and ran to join the game. 

*

Clint watched his oldest run to the makeshift soccer field and grab Yelena by the waist. The Black Widow fought against your hold as her laughter echoed. Clint couldn’t believe this was his life. He remembered telling him that she was pregnant. It terrified him, excited him, and he vowed to love that little girl with all he had. He knew they were going to have a girl. Laura on the other hand wanted a boy. It seemed like yesterday when they discovered your ability. You were scared by a thunderstorm that was shaking the house. Clint entered your room when he heard your cries but instead of finding his daughter, a small kitten was in your crib. The fear of someone taking you and using you because of your abilities paralyzed him, and it led to some questionable decisions as parents. 

He heard the wood creak as Laura walked out of the house. She sat down next to him with a sigh. “How did your talk with her go?” She asked. Clint smiled, taking his wife’s hand in his. 

“Good, there are still things I need to say to her but it's a start,” they heard your laughter as you scored against Kate and did a victory lab. You fell to the ground as Nate jumped on your chest. Clint smiled. All of his kids were together; safe and happy. “Sometimes I wish all this would slow down,” he admitted. Laura smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” she said. “But let’s enjoy the time we have with them.” Clint kissed the top of Laura’s head. Yelena was sitting behind you, your back against her front with Nate sitting in your lap. You were making your youngest sibling laugh as you tickled his sides. The archer smiled. There was work that still needed to be done to repair the relationship between you and him but he was grateful you were giving him the chance. 

*

“There you are,” you looked up from the scrapbook you were flipping through to see your girlfriend. She was wearing sweatpants and an old college T-shirt of yours, that you thought disappeared. It was nice seeing her like this; relaxed and happy. This moment with her was almost taken from you. “What are you looking at?” You held out your hand, a silent invitation for her to come to join you. She smiled and closed the distance as she sat on your bed. 

“Just a photo album,” you answered, passing it to her. You watched her flip through the pages filled with memories. Towards the end of the book, you became less frequent as you weren’t home. “My dad and I were talking and it got me all sentimental.” Yelena handed the book back to you. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head. 

“I’m okay, Lena,” you took her hand. “He just apologized for being the Ronin.” But there was something else nagging at the back of her head. It’s what Clint said - ‘I remember every missing tooth and every bedtime story.’ You didn’t. You didn’t even remember the first time you used your powers, only through the story. You chalked it up because he was your father, those moments were important to him. As a parent, you remembered those milestones. 

You stared at Yelena and your mind began to picture you and her filling a scrapbook to persevere those moments. Did she even want that? You weren’t sure.  

“Moya lyubov' (my love), I can see the smoke leaving your ears,” you giggled. “What else is on your mind?” You looked at Yelena; the woman you loved, the woman you would die for, and the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You sighed. 

“Do you want kids?” The question took her by surprise. 

“I can’t have kids,” she whispered. You smiled. 

“I know,” you knew what Black Widows went through at the graduation ceremony. “And I’m not saying I want to carry,” you’ve seen your own mother go through it 3 times. “But we could adopt.” Yelena smiled. 

“All this talk about kids and I haven’t even asked you to marry me,” you stood up, walking over to the bookshelf to put the scrapbook away. 

“Who said you're going to be the one to ask,” you said, over your shoulder. “I may ask you.” You heard Yelena stand up and walk over to you. Her hands went to your waist and spun you around. 

“You are going to ask Alexei for his blessing to marry me,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Please Alexei and Melina love me,” it was true. Every time her parents called to talk to her, they asked about you. 

“So hypothetically speaking,” you put your arms around her neck. “If we were to get married and have kids, where would we live?” 

“Anywhere,” you said. “We could move to Iowa, stay in New York or Ohio.” Green eyes locked into yours. 

“Ohio,” she said, slowly. “You would move to Ohio.” You giggled, playing with the baby hairs at the base of her neck. 

“Of course,” you said. “I would move anywhere with you. We could get a house in a nice neighborhood with a backyard for Fanny. I could get a job as a counselor and you could travel to New York for Avenger stuff.” 

“Or I could walk away from fighting and get a regular 9 to 5,” you were surprised by that. Yelena didn’t seem like the type of person to have a regular 9 to 5. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. You loved the idea of having a family with Yelena. Take your kids out trick or treating for Halloween, decorate a tree for Christmas and put presents under the tree, and help with school projects. “Hypothetically speaking.”    

“Of course,” but you didn’t miss the hope in her eyes. 

*

On quiet feet, Yelena left your room and closed the door behind. She thanked all her years of training that she could sneak out of your room without waking you up. She had to be quick because she knew you would notice her missing. Yelena walked to the living room where she saw your parents. Before everyone turned in for the night, she asked if they could meet up. The conversation you brought up about marriage and kids was constantly playing in her mind. But as Yelena stared at the backs of Clint and Laura, fear suddenly took over her. It was a simple statement. Okay, simple was not how to describe it but her heart was pounding in her rib cage. “Are you okay?” Laura asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Yelena said, joining them on the couch. “Sorry, I was lost in my head.” 

“You said you wanted to ask us something, what’s up?” Yelena sat up straighter and cleared her throat. 

“I want to ask Y/n to marry me,” they kept their faces neutral. “I know we haven’t been romantically together for long but your daughter is the most important person in my life. She’s helped me overcome grief, and transition into a normal life, and has loved me through every mistake I made. I can’t imagine my life without her.” She took another steady breath. “So, I’m asking for your blessing.” They didn’t say anything and under their intense gaze, Yelena felt very small. 

“I’m telling Natasha you called Y/n the most important person in your life,” Clint deadpanned. The joke caused Yelena to laugh and the tension was released. Laura rolled her eyes, slapping Clint on the chest.

“Ignoring my idiot husband,” Laura said. “Yelena,” the mother of 4 looked directly at her. “You and your daughter have been through a lot together, probably more than most couples,” Yelena smiled. “I can’t think of anyone else I want to marry my daughter.” The blonde felt relief leave her shoulders. She looked at your father, she wasn’t leaving until she got both of their blessings. A smile crept to his face. 

“It’s about time you asked,” she felt her cheeks heat up. “It feels right for you to officially be part of this family.” 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ve never thanked you for everything you’ve done for me.” 

“Your family,” Laura said. “Dating or marrying our daughter wasn’t going to change it.” 

“Now go get back to bed before she realizes you're gone,” Yelena stood up. 

“You are right,” she rubbed her hands together. “Goodnight.” 

*

“Goodnight,” Laura said, watching the Black Widow walk up the stairs. She turned to face her husband, putting her legs over his lap. “So, our firstborn is going to be engaged. How does that make you feel? Still want things to slow down.” He smiled, massaging each calf. Finally, he shook his head. 

“When it comes to those two, I couldn’t be happier for them,” he said. Laura grabbed his hand, playing with the wedding back on his finger. 

“Yeah, me too.”    

_

Ugh, I love this AU. I have something planned when I hit 500 followers for this story, which I’m only 10 away which is crazy to me!