#and that coin no longer exists

[amariram]

Not just lovers.

But each other’s half. Each other’s person.

Each other’s destiny. And each other’s bane.

[fallenrocketman]

My dad passed away in November last year and left me a lot of stuff to go through. Among the stuff I've most recently sorted was his collection of souvenirs from his year in Europe during college. I'm not quite what year he was there, but I think 92 or 93. During his time there he took multiple major trips across Europe, everywhere from Turkey to Norway, Portugal to Russia... yes, he toured the eastern block a year or so after the collapse of the soviet union. If I remember his stories correctly, he befriended an ex-soviet military or police officer who was his tour guide through St Petersburg and traded the guy some Turkish tobacco for the patches and some of those soviet coins. I think it's kind of cool he left me these, because he had an insane year there and I grew up getting some of those stories (including the time he almost got arrested for smuggling in Turkey).

[transfemstalin]

so much of “queerness” is really just consumption, and i think june makes it especially clear.

buy tickets to a shitty festival, buy merchandise, watch this tv show, listen to this artist, support queer small business— that is what modern day western queerness has become. it all comes back to wringing out every last note and coin from working class queer people. we do not have unity, as class divides and transphobia has turned any sense of community into a fine paste. yes, we’re pit against each other, but it’s important to recognize that we’ve rapidly gotten to a point where we simply do not want the same things. we cannot unite under the formerly common slogan of “rights for all”, when racism, sexism, transphobia, biphobia, so on so forth, has been allowed to run rampant in queer spaces. this is no coincidence!

the “queer community” exists, not as a bulwark of lgbtq+ people fighting for their rights, for the rights of their siblings, but as a tool wielded by corporations to gain favor for a month, make extra profit, and by the ruling class to sew division.

and this sewing of discord is not out of random malice, not out of religious fervor, but out of a need to maintain total domination of the bourgeoise. the queer community will forever be successfully divided in this sense, as long as the majority of queer people fail to be cognizant of the class divide amongst ourselves, and even moreso, fail to recognize a collective class consciousness, furthermore failing to see that the only way to truly secure rights for the entire queer community, is a complete destruction of the bourgeois state.

homonationalists and social chauvinists show their colors in full, celebrating their rights (only nationally, of course) that are about as secure as a broken lock under the dictatorship of the bourgeoise. they can forget for a weekend, a month, longer, about the queer people suffering from their country’s imperialist attacks— fuck you, i got mine.

capitalism absorbs these formerly radical movements by depoliticizing them, and what was once a threat to bourgeois domination, has now become a market category. pride is not a political struggle for as long as we do not consciously work to build unity amongst the working class. you have more in common with a working class homophobe than you do a trans rep from lockheed martin.

the business selling you mass produced nylon flags is not your queer sibling. the gay guy closeted in the military is not someone to sympathize with. these people are, ideologically and materially, part of the oppressor class.

if you care about queer rights, you will go out and get organized. this june is not a time of celebration, as the fight is not, has not, and will never be over for as long as the bourgeoise exerts its control over the proletariat.

PRIDE IS NOT A RIOT. join a communist group and do something for once ffs

[psychoticallytrans]

I do wish that "oppositional sexism" was a more commonly known term. It was coined as part of transmisogyny theory, and is defined as the belief that men and women, are distinct, non-overlapping categories that do not share any traits. If gender was a venn diagram, people who believe in oppositional sexism think that "men" and "women" are separate circles that never touch.

The reason I think that it's a useful term is that it helps a lot with articulating exactly why a lot of transphobic people will call a cis man a girl for wearing nail polish, then turn around and call a trans woman a man. Both of those are enforcement of man and woman as non-overlapping social categories. It's also a huge part of homophobia, with many homophobes considering gay people to no longer really belong to their gender because they aren't performing it to their satisfaction.

It's a large part of the reason behind arguments that men and women can't understand each other or be friends, and/or that either men or women are monoliths. If men and women have nothing in common at all, it would be difficult for them to understand each other, and if all men are alike or all women are alike, then it makes sense to treat them all the same. Enforcing this rift is particularly miserable for women and men in close relationships with each other, but is often continued on the basis that "If I'm not a real man/woman, they won't love me anymore."

One common "progressive" form of oppositional sexism is an idea often put as the "divine feminine", that women are special in a way that men will never understand. It's meant to uplift women, but does so in ways that reinforce the idea that men and women are fundamentally different in ways that can never be reconciled or transcended. There's a reason this rhetoric is hugely popular among both tradwifes and radical feminists. It argues that there is something about women that men will never have or know, which is appealing when you are trying to define womanhood in a way that means no man is or ever has been a part of it.

You'll notice that nonbinary people are sharply excluded from the definition. This doesn't mean it doesn't apply to them, it means that oppositional sexism doesn't believe nonbinary people of any kind exist. It's especially rough on multigender people who are both men and women, because the whole idea of it is that men and women are two circles that don't overlap. The idea of them overlapping in one person is fundamentally rejected.

I think it's a very useful term for talking about a lot of the problems that a lot of queer people face when it comes to trying to carve out a place for ourselves in a society that views any deviation from rigid, binary categories as a failure to perform them correctly.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ The Girls Are Fighting | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: How exactly is a girl supposed to tell their brother that she got knocked up by his current archnemesis? Especially when said brother is George Russell?

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: 🔥 DRAMA ALERT 🔥 George Russell and Max Verstappen were seen exchanging heated words in the paddock after today’s qualifying session. Witnesses claim George called Max’s driving "reckless" (again), while Max allegedly replied, "Maybe if you drove faster, you wouldn’t need to talk so much." Sources say team personnel had to step in to separate them. Thoughts?

Comments:

user: the girls are fighting AGAIN

user: george and max beefing is my roman empire

user: "if you drove faster" HELPPP max is so unserious 😂

user: honestly george has a point tho?? max’s cooldown lap was suspicious af

user: no bc max cooked him and served him cold 😌

user: serious f1 fans trying to analyze the incident while we’re here laughing at “girls are fighting” 😭

landonorris: who needs netflix when you have this

user: ariana what are you doing here user: why is lando just our f1 gossip girl atp 😂

user: let’s be real. max and george are two sides of the same coin but one side is feral and the other side uses hair gel religiously

user: nah bc this is giving zendaya and bella thorne fighting over who was the real star of shake it up 🎤

user: not to be dramatic but george and max are my toxic exes fighting over me in my delusional little mind palace 😍

user: george fans: "max is ruining the sport" max fans: "cry more" me: "post the video!!!"

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: The rivalry between George Russell and Max Verstappen is heating up, and it’s no longer just about racing. George has been outspoken about Max’s dangerous on-track behavior, accusing him of crossing lines and being unable to handle adversity when he’s not in the dominant car. "He's been enabled because nobody's stood up to him," George said, adding that Max’s reactions after a few bad races show he’s not handling pressure well​

Things got even more awkward at a recent team dinner when everyone left a seat for George next to Max—but George pulled his chair elsewhere. The tension was palpable, and fellow drivers like Lando Norris are enjoying every minute of it. When asked about the feud, Lando admitted he just wants to see them keep fighting—because, honestly, it’s pretty entertaining

Comments:

user: omg not the russell vs verstappen cinematic universe expanding

user: why are they STILL fighting. like girlies pls hug it out or smth

user: serious question: if they had a boxing match, who’d win? asking for a friend.

user: Lando really out here asking for Max and George to keep fighting like it's the best reality TV show ever. This is the content I didn’t know I needed. 😆

user: Imagine showing up to a team dinner and everyone’s waiting for you to sit next to your rival

user: George avoiding Max like he's the plague, and honestly, I don’t blame him. These two are about to turn F1 into a soap opera. 😆

user: The tension between them is unreal. Can’t wait for the next race to see if they actually talk or just pretend the other doesn’t exist. 😂

user: This is like a bad breakup but on a race track. Max and George giving us nothing but drama. And I am HERE for it. 🙌

[beloveds-embrace]

Angst duke au where reader ends up running away on her own accord. She’s got a wild spirit on the inside and it can’t be contained any longer. They already pay her no attention, nobody notices she’s left until half a month passes.

She finds a small, small village eventually and lives a cottagecore life collecting mushrooms and being showered in attention by a fellow villager (König) that spoils her rotten

Dukedom au masterlist

It happens without ceremony, just as quietly as you’ve lived these past months. You’ve given it enough thought to know this is what you want, but not so much as to paralyze yourself with doubt. There’s nothing left for you here- no affection, no companionship, no purpose. You’ve tried everything, haven’t you? Every word unsaid, every gesture rebuffed, every quiet hope dashed. If there’s nothing here but loneliness, then it’s time to seek something else. If you stay here any longer, you know you will rot away, unloved and unwanted.

And so, you leave with only a satchel. A plain cloak, a coin pouch, and a few essentials- the duchy’s wealth was never truly yours, and you feel no guilt leaving it behind. The manor is dark when you pass through its cold halls one last time, its silence now strangely soothing.

No one stirs as you open one of the less used back doors, no one watches as you step out into the cool night air. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way down the long road leading away from the estate, and you don’t look back. Not once.

You don’t keep track of how long you walk, only that the world seems to grow softer, warmer, with every step you take. You hadn’t even noticed how much life had been sucked out of you until you’ve left.

The grand estates and meticulous gardens of the duchy fade into rolling hills and dense forests. Villages dot the landscape here and there, but you don’t linger in any of them. You’re not looking for a crowd or a bustling town. You want quiet. Solitude. A place where you can breathe and exist without being watched or judged or resented.

It’s tiresome weeks before you find it: a tiny village nestled at the foot of a forest. It’s so small you almost miss it, hidden away among the trees and wildflowers, but when you step onto the dirt path leading into the cluster of cottages, you feel something you haven’t felt in years-

Peace.

The villagers are kind in a way that catches you off guard. They greet you with smiles even despite your messy appearance, not because they’re obligated to, but because they seem genuinely pleased to see you.

An older woman tuts at the state of you and offers you warm, fresh bread from her oven, sitting you down in her home. A farmer waves as you pass by. No one stares too long or whispers behind their hands. No one asks intrusive questions. It’s such a sharp contrast to the stifling scrutiny of the duchy, and it makes you realize how much you’ve craved this simplicity.

And so, you finally decide to stay.

You find work with the herbalist, a quiet, weathered man who doesn’t seem to mind your silence. He gives you tasks to complete- gathering herbs, organizing his jars- and pays you a small wage that’s enough to rent a modest little cottage at the edge of the woods. It’s a humble place with a thatched roof and a creaky wooden floor, but it feels like yours. It is yours.

You spend your mornings walking through the forest, learning which mushrooms are safe to pick and which plants have medicinal properties, books always ready to be cracked open, and your evenings curled up in front of the fire, your legs tucked beneath you as the light flickers across the walls. The herbalist and the old woman are friends, unsurprisingly for such a cozy village, and they tell you stories of their lives. Simple lives, yet so precious and fulfilling.

Your body, too, begins to change. The gaunt, hollow look you wore in the duchy fades as your cheeks fill out again, as your muscles grow stronger from the work. Your skin takes on a golden hue from the sun, and your eyes, once dull and lifeless, begin to sparkle with something new- contentment. The old woman even pats your cheeks, priding herself on constantly doing her best to fatten you up.

It’s a lovely life, you truly. And then something quite unexpected happens.

You meet König on one of your forest walks.

You had only heard of him- everyone told you he isn’t one to socialize much even if he is the forester of the village, simply does his job and prefers his solitude. Yet, you still end up meeting him.

He’s crouched among the trees, examining a patch of wildflowers when you almost stumble over him. You let out a startled yelp, and he rises so quickly you take a step back, craning your neck to meet his gaze. He’s huge- taller than any man you’ve ever met, even Duke Riley- with broad shoulders and an intensity that makes him seem more a part of the forest than a mere visitor.

Though perhaps, you think, that could be because of his work?

He speaks softly, his voice low, as he apologizes for startling you. His accent is unfamiliar, his words slightly awkward, as though he’s unused to speaking at all but you don’t mind.

You smile to reassure him, your heart still fluttering in your chest, and the way his blue eyes soften makes something inside you twist. How silly of you, such ridiculous thoughts.

König offers to walk you back to the village as an apology, insists on it, and though you’ve been perfectly fine on your own, you accept. There’s something… soothing about his presence, about the way he towers beside you but keeps a careful distance as if afraid to overwhelm you. When you part ways, you (dejectedly) think it’s the last you’ll see of him, but you’re wrong.

König starts appearing more and more often.

At first, it’s small things: helping you carry a heavy basket, pointing out a hidden patch of mushrooms you might have missed, but it quickly becomes clear to everyone except you that he’s seeking you out on purpose. He’s awkward about it, clearly unused to conversation, but he tries. And every time you see him, he brings something with him.

Never before have you had such attention dotted on you, and you… love it. You adore König, truly, and all the little gifts he brings with him.

A carved figurine of a fox, whittled from wood with painstaking care that you place on your bedside. A bundle of freshly picked berries, their juices staining his hands, a day after you told him you quite like berries. A bouquet of wildflowers that matches your favorites so perfectly you wonder if he’s been watching you.

If he is, you don’t mind.

Truthfully, you tell yourself it’s nothing at first. Just a kind villager being neighborly. But König doesn’t treat anyone else like this and even the herbalist and the old lady say so, hiding their smiles.

It’s only you who he looks at with those soft, steady eyes. Only you he lingers near, his massive frame somehow gentle as he helps you with whatever task you’re doing.

And so to no one’s surprise, over time, the relationship between you deepens into something far more precious and tender:

König listens to you in a way no one ever has. He hangs onto every word as if you’ve hung the stars, his gaze fixed on you as though you’re the most important thing in the world, in his world. He asks about your day, about your thoughts, and eventually, about your life; and when you tell him about the life you left behind, his jaw tightens, and his hands curl into fists. When they loosen, his hands hover for a few seconds before he gently cups your face, callouses thumbs rubbing the soft skin under your eyes.

“You deserve better,” he tells you, his voice quiet but firm. “I hope this… village gives you happiness.”

You don’t respond, but your heart aches with a feeling you can’t quite name. You give me happiness, König. More than anyone ever has.

He spoils you in ways you never thought possible, and gives you the steady, unwavering presence of someone who genuinely cares. It’s overwhelming at first, this constant, undivided attention, but you find yourself softening to it, leaning into it, _craving_ it.

For the first time in years, you feel seen. You feel wanted.

The life you’ve built here is nothing like the one you left behind. It’s smaller, quieter, but it’s yours. You wake each morning to the chirping of birds and fall asleep each night to the distant rustle of trees, and both times, you have warm and secure arms that wrap around you in the coziest embrace. Kisses trailing up the nape of your neck, a soft voice whispering vows of adoration into you skin.

The duchy, John, Kyle, Johnny, Simon- they feel like ghosts now, distant figures from a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore. You don’t know if they’ve noticed your absence, if they’ve felt the sting of your silence, but…

You don’t care. Let them wonder. Let them regret. You’ve found your freedom, your happiness, and you’re never looking back.

To be loved is to exist, and you understand that now.

[fictionalmenmistress]

I haven't seen anyone else talk about it, so I wanted to share that Logan's rant monologue insulting Wade in the Honda Odyssey, before Wade decides to beat him up and they ~fight~ all night... that so clearly to me, was Logan projecting. It started as a tempered rant to cope with how annoyed and pent up he was, with the heat of everything and with Wade's muchness that makes him, him, but the longer he went on, the more he started ranting and exposing himself in the process.

"THE XMEN REJECTED YOU, AND THEY'LL TAKE FUCKING ANYONE!!!" That was my first hit, that he was referring to himself. He sees himself so lowly, so failed, that's canonical to the film. And canonically, he didn't even quite originally feel worthy or want to be with the XMEN. Didn't feel like there was a place for him there, a place for him anywhere. One of his biggest healings was Professor X not giving up on helping him believe that he deserved to be there, was wanted, was worthy, was a good guy. That's canon to his character. So we know he was speaking about himself. He was chewing Wade out, but he was also talking and focusing moreso on what upset him about himself. (He sees himself as just any jo shmo, when he IS literally THE X MAN ㅠㅠ)

He was seeing himself in Wade, how he "can't even save a relationship with a gd stripper", (he sees himself as not able to save anything either, and he's angry for that more than anything else he's angry or annoyed at) projecting SO HARD as he pieced together saying it out loud, that Wade was exactly like him. Logan hated himself for not saving anything. For being a "loser", a "failure", for all of the same reasons he was lashing out at Wade for. He was so angry and annoyed by Wade reminding him of himself, because he related to him. Wade was his reflection, in his eyes, calling him out so loudly with his own behaviors. And he hated himself. He deeply was suffering with that hatred for himself, and as a result, he lashed out on Wade when really he was chewing out himself, inside, admitting it.

"God's CRUELEST JOKE, IS THAT YOU *WONT* DIE ALONE. BECAUSE YOU! CANT! DIE! SO THE REST OF US HAVE TO SUFFER YOU THE REST OF OUR EXISTENCE!" (something along that.)

He didn't know for sure that Wade can't die. He picked up on that Wade can't be killed. Logan is the one who can't die. They are two flipped sides of the same immortal power coin. When he finished his screaming at him, and everyone was silent at how cruel and shocking the confrontation and his words were, I was sinking with a very empathetically whispered "oh, Logan..." Because I felt his misery. I immediately picked up on him really talking about himself, and I think that was genius and layered. I was upset for how awful that was to say to Wade, heartbroken for Wade taking that to heart, and I was heartbroken that Logan was saying that because he believes that about himself. Because they are, oddly, a lot alike. Very compatible.

This scene here:

I read that Hugh said that Ryan wrote that. He's brilliant with these films. It was so genius. I really needed to share this and bring this thought, meta, analysis to light. For all of us to have.

Is Logan mad at God's "cruel joke" of his immortality, yet ability to feel so much pain through it still? Yes. He punched the roof in rage, because it's not fair. Venting his own pain. He sees his powers, his own and Wade's too, empathetically, as their curse. The curse of being the one who lives, and the guilt with that. The one who can't die. The one who lives, who is forced to live, while everyone who "deserves to live" dies. And WILL die, around them.

"And You can't die. That's on all of US!" Logan says, clearly referring to himself living forever... And "us" being the people HE loved. He saw himself as a burden for existing with them, for them. He deflected that onto Wade, as if the people in Wade's life must feel that way too, but didn't really mean that. He meant it about himself. Logan believes he was a burden on the people he loves, the people he lost. That's probably why he left too, and didn't come back when they called out for him to. He distanced himself to protect them, and protect himself from that fear of rejection that he feels is so imminent, and them not having him, is the one element that led to none of them surviving without him. He was always the key. He was always wanted, and he was always important and needed. He just couldn't ever believe that.

Man, that's why it became so personal for Logan too, when he was shown Wade's photograph of his family. Because HE had a family, and he would do anything now to save them. Just like Wade. He held that photograph all night, he went and got it when it fell out of the car, he kept looking at it. It became personal for him, when he identified with it. That Honda scene really was their turning point of everything. That's when Logan cared with everything. He got it. Wade is the him he couldn't be. But now he can.

I dropped some heat with this one.

Extra little personal context/thought notes: Maybe I just spotted it because I have a natural knack for psychology, I'm hyperobservant, highly empathetic and deeply feeling, and I'm also years experienced of my parents and whole family treating me the same exact toxic lashout way almost every other day. That's a workweek for me to see through toxic lashout anger BS. These are not my gifs!!! They were created by another amazing account. I will refind their @ and tag them!! >>> It's @landoslastnerve ! Thank you friend! 🤍

Also wanted to include someone's tags from those gifs:

.

[floweryanarchy]

Astarion Rewritten Outlaws Au Lore Dump

(gonna give a little content warning before you start reading because this does go over some heavy topics. Basically Cazador coded abuse, heavy manipulation, canon-typical trauma, process of inflicting scarring, character death... If that’s not something you wanna read I’d stop here and scroll.)

HERE WE GO.

Backstory⬇️

Astarion has no papers—no birth certificate, no record of citizenship, nothing. That wasn’t always the case. But after Cazador pulled him out of prison with a forged pardon, he ensured every trace of Astarion’s true identity was erased. With his wealth and connections, it was easy for Cazador to bribe officials and have the original records destroyed. Astarion became a ghost in the system—a body without a name, as if he had never existed at all. Astarion having no proof of citizenship means he can’t appeal to the law. He’s not a person in the eyes of the state—he’s property of Cazadors.

Cazador saw potential in him right from the start, because Astarion was beautiful. Striking. The perfect doll for his high-end parlor house. All Astarion had to do was endure what came next. A test. Proof that he was worthy of serving Cazador, that he could properly atone for his supposed crimes. After all, Cazador had bailed him out, hadn’t he? Spent a small fortune, pulled strings, gone through great effort just to see him freed. He had saved Astarion from the miserable life he’d known before—given him a new purpose, a place, a reason to be wanted.

And so, Cazador marked him. A ritual of scarification, done with meticulous care and deliberate precision. His initials “CS” etched into the skin of Astarions back.

When it was over, Cazador tended to him with soft hands and quiet praise, barely heard over Astarions sobs.

In his eyes, Astarion had passed.

The Parlor House was a gilded cage, draped in silks and perfumed with expensive scents to mask the stench of sweat and desperation. A place where men and women of status indulged in pleasures with no consequence, where Cazador’s spawn were paraded before them like prized animals. The moment Astarion was brought upstairs, cleaned and dressed in whatever finery Cazador saw fit, his life was no longer his own.

But Cazador’s empire was built on more than just flesh. His influence spread far beyond the parlors walls, weaving into the underbelly of the city. Hidden among the pleasures the spawn were forced to provide was another service: ensuring Cazador’s clients got hooked on more than just their bodies. The spawn were tasked with discreetly dealing with his supply, slipping small doses of a potent, addictive substance onto eager tongues, ensuring that patrons return.

Every time Astarion tries to imagine a life outside the parlor, he remembers: no name, no coin, and nowhere to go. And worse—if he runs, there’s a bounty waiting to be reinstated, and a dozen corrupt lawmen ready to drag him back… or bury him in the desert. But then again, prison treated him better than here. Alas even if he wanted to, there were always guards posted at the doors, watching.

Sebastian—young, kind, and foolish—had offered to help. He was a regular at the parlor house, one of the few who saw past the makeup and charm to the hollow ache beneath. He promised Astarion money, a train ticket, a way out. Safety. And asked for nothing in return.

Cazador found out.

Sebastian disappeared not long after, and no one asked questions. But Astarion knew. He knew because Cazador put the gun in his hand, pressed a finger over his own, and pulled the trigger.

“You belong to me, boy.”

Astarion wished that was the end of it. But it wasn’t. That same night, Astarion was dragged from his room and taken to the outskirts of the city. Cazador didn’t scream. He didn’t strike. He just watched as his men forced Astarion into a narrow wooden box and shut the lid. They buried him 6 feet, leaving only a narrow pipe for air.

He stayed underground for two full days.

By the time they dug him up, Astarion was barely conscious—starving, dehydrated, broken. From that day forward, he never dared speak of escape again.

Cazador made sure of it.

He had Astarion’s entire back redone, claiming the scars had healed too cleanly, too neatly. Adding additional lines to his artwork, a punishment for Astarions misbehavior. This time, he packed the fresh wounds with ash, ensuring the marks would stay—sharp, raised lines etched into his skin, permanent. And, as always, he was tender afterward, sitting beside him with a damp cloth and that infuriatingly soft voice.

“If only you’d stop acting out,” he murmured, gently dabbing at the angry red flesh. “We could be so happy. A real family. Don’t you want that, my boy? To be treated well? You’re the one making this so difficult. You bring these punishments on yourself. I only ever do what’s necessary.”

The scars stayed, just like he wanted—crisp, deliberate lines that pulled taut when Astarion moved or stretched.

Years later.

Business had been slow at the parlor, which meant the favored spawn were allowed outside for a bit-to lure in the rich types passing by. Of course, they were never alone. There was always an assigned escort hanging back, watching from the shadows, making sure no one tried anything stupid like running.

Astarion had been playing by the rules for a while, his back nearly healed from Cazadors last punishment. So he’d been rewarded with a little taste of freedom more or less. He was out there, mid-conversation with some pompous noble- laying on the charm, smiling enough to draw them in- when suddenly all hell broke loose. Screaming, people running, complete chaos.

And Astarion? He didn’t think twice. He bolted. Took his shot in the midst of everything, if he got out of the escorts line of sight and vanish in the crowd, he could finally be free-

One moment, he’s sprinting for his life- the next, everything went black.

(I will be nice to Astarion from now on.)

^^^

(Me when I lie)

[nightsandrewrites]

Body Heat

Spoilers: For HOFAS if you’re not up to date on canon.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Rhysand suspects more hidden caverns could exist underneath Prythian. The inner circle and allies split up to investigate different regions, leading you into the Illyrian Mountains with Azriel and Eris.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: None

Read on Ao3

a/n: So I was thinking about that one tent scene in Twilight (you know the one) and how that could work so well as the basis of a fic and welp here's a little one shot. --------------------------------------------------------------------

The wind batters the mountainside, whistling through the mouth of the cave where snow whips horizontally across grey skies. You pull your knees closer to your chest, tucking your fingers under your legs trying to find some semblance of warmth.

Ice flutters from your lashes as you watch Eris relaxing easily against the rocky wall. Long legs stretch out in front of him as he flips a coin between pale fingers. Auburn locks fall across eyes that never lift from his lap, his relaxed face vacant of the usual sneer he’d throw your way. You’d almost be willing to admit he was attractive if it wasn’t for his stuck up princely manner. As if to mock you, a golden sheen that ebbs and flows around him catches your eye, his fire magic protecting him from the harsh elements.

The crunch of Azriel’s boots draws your attention as he crouches in front of you. Your heart swells at the sight of your mate. Large dark wings blocking your view of the rest of the cave ease the bite of the cold only slightly. His hazel eyes quickly assess your shivering form.

“If it wasn’t for these fucking wards, I’d winnow you out of here right now.” He grumbles.

“The wards.. mean we- we’re.. getting close.” You manage to reply through chattering teeth.

Azriel’s face pulls into a small grimace which means he knows your right but he doesn’t like it. He reaches, as he always does, to slide his hand around the back of your neck, where he’d usually tangle his fingers into your hair but his icy touch forces you to flinch away.

Normally the cool touch of the shadowsinger is addictive. When you’re spending evenings curled in front of a crackling fire the naturally icy caress of his skin or shadows is all you can think about. But in the midst of a blizzard in the Illyrian mountains it’s zapped the last of your warmth.

“Az I’m so-“ You begin apologising.

“You don’t need to apologise love.” He gives you a small smile. 

When he stands the cold air rushes to meet your flushed cheeks. He walks across the small space and finds a place against the wall that curves away on either side leaving space for his wings. He sinks to the floor mirroring Eris’ posture.

“Can’t you be useful and warm the cave?” Azriel cocks his head at Eris. He lifts his head, quickly takes in your icicle state before turning back to your mate.

“That kind of prolonged power would leave me drained. I’d never make it down the mountain much less be able to face whatever waits for us under it. I’m not High Lord quite yet.” He drawls. You can only half focus on their words as a shiver crawls over your skin.

“If you can’t even heat a cave, why are you even here?” Azriel bites. 

“And let the Night Court flit around Prythian unearthing infinite power without me?” Eris sneers.

“S-stop f-f-fighting.” You manage to get out.

They both turn, seeming to forget you were actually present.

“I think her lips are turning blue” Eris’ eyes assess you but his words are for Azriel.

You glare at him. Words no longer possible as the cold permanently snaps your jaw shut.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, it's a good colour on you.” He smirks and if you had the energy you’d go over there and wipe it from his stupidly attractive face.

A shiver wracks your entire body and you’re pretty sure the rattle of your bones is now audible.

“Eris.” Azriel sighs. “Please.”

Eris’ gaze flicks to Azriel briefly and whatever he finds there has him standing and striding towards you at the back of the cave. When he’s only a few paces away he flips open his coat and begins unbuttoning the silk shirt beneath. At the sight you begin to reel back.

“Relax.” He rolls his eyes and then he’s sitting next to you. He wraps heated hands around your wrists and pulls your frozen fingers to his bare chest. The temperature change sends a shock through you. You instinctively dive for his chest, warming the tip of your nose and the peaks of your cheeks. A low chuckle rumbles against your face and you immediately pull back.

Your cheeks warm as you seek Azriel over Eris’ shoulder, realising he’s purposely sat himself between you. You expect to find anger in his gaze but you only find concern for your wellbeing.

“Can you not warm Azriel as well?” You turn to Eris. But it’s Azriel who replies instead. “I’m fine love.”

Eris simply shrugs and shifts so his back is against the wall. You lean into his side and as you settle in you notice Eris’ golden glow now flows around you too. Apparently the whole shirt fiasco was just for Azriel’s benefit. Eris reaches up and gently brushes the back of his fingers along your jaw, warming it further.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” Azriel growls softly.

Eris doesn’t even flinch at the threat of the Night Court’s Spymaster and you’d never admit out loud what that does to you.

“Do you want her to keep her extremities or not?” Eris cocks his head towards him.

“Stop fighting.” You mutter, your shivering and chattering finally beginning to subside.

“Just keep your hands where I can see them.” Azriel allows.

“Careful Shadowsinger, someone might assume you’re jealous.” Eris smirks.

“Of what? The self-importance, sheer arrogance or the immensely tight pants?” Azriel crosses his arms over a broad chest. Azriel lives in a perpetual state of iciness so you suppose that’s why the blizzard doesn’t seem to faze him. You’d always wondered if it’s his Illyrian bloodline, their mountain upbringing or the shadows that made it so, maybe a combination of all three?

“I never said it was me you were jealous of.” Eris continues to bicker beside you. Azriel’s wings ruffle in agitation.

“You’re lucky she needs the warmth otherwise your ass would be out in the blizzard right now.” Their argument continues but Azriel doesn’t move to make good on his threats.

Eris chuckles. “Please, we both know you’d have better things to do with my ass.” That catches the attention of your freshly thawed brain.

“Wait what?” You look up from examining the glow swirling around your hands.

“Oh he hasn’t told you.” Eris grins wide.

“Eris.” Azriel growls and this time the threat is real. It only urges you on.

“Told me what, Azriel?” Your eyes narrow to him across the cave.

There’s a beat where Azriel swallows, his eyes never leaving yours but he makes no indication he’s going to explain further. Suddenly warm fingers are under your chin, Eris pulling your focus back to him.

“Before there was you little dove, there was me.” He murmurs softly. You blink blanky before it all registers. Their bickering, the animosity, the underlying meaning of comments thrown through the icy air.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your head whips back to Azriel, pulling your chin from Eris’ grip.

Eris chuckles darkly “He was ashame-.” 

“I was never ashamed.” Azriel jumps in quickly. Too quickly. You can see the moment he realizes as his eyes quickly jump to you in panic, then back to Eris. “She is my mate.”

Eris only nods and then silence falls over your small group. The shadows that sat lazily on the cave floor around Azriel only moments ago, now dart about his hands. Your eyes drop to your own, where golden threads continue to keep them warm, giving you a moment to think.

“You loved him.” You look up at Eris and you can sense Azriel and his shadows go completely still.

Eris wordlessly turns to you and the way golden flecks swim in the auburn drifts of his eyes silently tells you all you need to know, that your use of past tense was wrong.

“Azriel?” You turn to his frozen form.

“You are my highest priority.” Is all he says.

You detach yourself from Eris, his warm sanctuary slips from you as you pace the width of the cave and crouch between Azriel’s outstretched legs.

“You could have told me.” You coax softly. Azriel gives you a sad smile.

“I never want to do anything that could jeopardise this.” He reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and this time you welcome the cool touch that meets your skin.

You nod in understanding. The threads of your mate bond are all encompassing, you’re not sure how any Fae resists their pull, but maybe that’s only true for the kind of love that you and Azriel share. You turn onto your hip and relax onto Azriel’s front. His arms immediately wrapping around you are joined by trails of shadow but without Eris’ protection, the cold begins to seep under your skin again.

“Go back, you’re going to get ill if you keep shivering.” Azriel professes, loosening his grip on you.

“No.” You shake your head in protest as your eyes fall to Eris. Coin back in hand, he idly flips it mirroring how he looked earlier in the mouth of the cave. Only now he appears dejected. Shirt half undone, hair slightly ruffled where he's run his fingers through it and a sadness in his downcast eyes replaces his earlier cool indifference.

Azriel sighs. “Love. Please.”

“Eris.” You sit up slightly. “Would you please come share your heat over here?” Eris’ eyes flick to you. He hesitates, gaze sliding to Azriel and back, calculating how this could be a trick. You simply relax back into Azriel’s arms and raise your eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly he pockets his coin and rises to his feet. He strides across the cave and you can already feel the air warming. He hesitates again when he reaches you but Azriel simply lifts open an arm with the flutter of a wing.

And that’s how you find yourself drifting off to sleep in the arms of your mate, cocooned in the warmth of the Autumn Heir next to you.

[seresinhangmanjake]

To add on to my last ask about the celebrating the holiday for the sake of Feyds new wife:

LIKE SHE MAKES FEYD A FLOWER CROWN AND HE WEARS IT

Like from the “friendship bracelet” dialogue from bobs burgers

Wife: :)I made you a flower crown!:)

Feyd: *thinly veiled annoyance and disapproval*

Wife: :( you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to :(

Feyd: No, I’m gonna wear it. Forever. Back off.

Anniversary

Feyd-Rautha x wife!reader

Summary: Giedi Prime is different than your home planet. They don’t celebrate the things you used to. So, you show your husband one of your traditions to mark the first year of your marriage. 

Notes/Warnings: none, i think. It's just a cute fluffy thing.

Words: 1050

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

You once would’ve bet everything you had that you would never fall in love with him; from every coin to your family’s name, to every extravagant gown you owned, to every jewel that adorned your neck. When you walked down the aisle, you saw something vile waiting for you at the other end, not the husband you would come to have. You saw a snake to match the name of Harkonnen, and the prospect of a future together made your stomach turn. Until you became his wife. 

What you expected in the form of threatening words and a knife to the throat on your wedding night didn’t come. He left you alone when you told him that was what you wanted. In fact, he left you alone in every aspect of your relationship until you were ready to come to him. 

That moment came three months later. For those three months, he made sure you were comfortable, as happy as you could be, well-taken care of, and he didn’t once force his presence upon you. From that, you opened yourself to him and, in a quick decision one night, dressed yourself up, went to his room, and let him take you. 

You’ve been inseparable ever since, unwilling to leave his side and vice versa, even when he’s needed elsewhere. He takes you with him to his meetings, his executions, Arrakis. You’re his wife, in all senses of the title. And as more time has passed, you’ve adjusted to being a Harkonnen wife; everything it means, down to the things you gain and the losses you face. 

The most difficult of losses have been the traditions you grew up with. You don’t see your family anymore—as enemies of Giedi Prime, they aren’t exactly welcome on the planet—and so the values your House believes and partakes in have disappeared from your life. Holidays celebrated on your home planet do not exist on Giedi Prime. Religion is not the same. Your people bow to a Goddess. Harkonnens bow to Harkonnens. Your people bask in the changes of the seasons. Giedi Prime doesn’t experience those same seasons due to the lack of rotation around their sun. Celebrations do not exist for anything other than war victories and birthdays. But most painful are the anniversaries that go entirely unacknowledged. 

At home, anniversaries are one of the grandest events. Another year of love, of shared life. Each year, you watched your parents grow giddy as their anniversary neared, and you witnessed the people of your planet rejoice for them as if it were their own milestone of marriage. 

Giedi Prime—the Harkonnens—do not care for that. Something to do with wives not lasting very long in their House. History states you’re one of few who has made it to a year of marriage with a Harkonnen, as most women, unless pregnant with an heir, have offended their spouse in some manner and so have received that dreaded knife to the throat. 

You’re lucky there, you suppose, but it doesn’t make you miss the things you can no longer have any less. And Feyd has noticed.

“Tell me what is wrong,” he says to you as he sits beside you on your bed. 

You hesitate, fearing laughter and jokes about how ridiculous your upbringing was—it wouldn’t be the first time—but when you explain further, he’s much more receptive than you imagined.

“A celebration of love?” he asks. His brow raises, but he doesn’t scoff. 

“Yes,” you say. “Back home, couples do not have to stay together. If they are unhappy, they separate–” His head jerks and he makes a displeased face. “Staying together, continuing to be in love with each year that goes by, is considered an achievement. Something worthy of praise and pride.”

“And you want this…praise?” He doesn’t understand. Praise is harder earned in his world. Praise comes when pain is inflicted. “How do you receive praise for love?”

“People have parties–”

“We cannot have a party for this.”

You take his hand in your lap. “No, I know,” you say. “But there’s also gifts.”

He shakes his head. “No one will–”

“Between us,” you stop him. “We give each other a present as a symbol of the strength of our love.”

He thinks on your words for a few moments, slightly staring off into space, until he says, “Like what?”

“Well…” Taking your hand back, you reach into your nightstand drawer and pull out a small box. “Something like this.” You peel back the lid of the box to reveal a black band with a ring of silver running through the middle. “I had this made.”

“A ring?”

As you nod, you set the small box down between you. “It’s a wedding ring. I know you don’t exchange those on your wedding day here, but back home, when you say vows, each person puts their ring on the other’s finger. This one right here,” you say, tapping the correct finger on your hand. “It’s a kind of ownership that you show to the world. You’re telling everyone that you’re taken by someone who loves you.”

Feyd swallows, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours and the ring. “People know you belong to someone else if you wear this on your planet?”

“Yes. And seeing as you belong to me, I thought…” you pause, realizing he might hate the idea. What if it bothers him? What if the light weight throws off his knife skills? What if it gets in the way of his armor? You didn’t think about these problems until now when he’s blankly staring at the damn thing. 

Feyd plucks the ring from the box and puts it up to the light. “They all look like this?”

“They’re all different,” you tell him. “If you don’t want to wear it–”

He slips it onto the correct finger. “I’m never taking it off.”

“Wh–” Your eyes blow wide. “Really?”

“Never,” he says, still staring at the onyx circle around his finger. “Even my enemies will know I’m taken.” You sigh. A chuckle of relief leaves your throat, and he turns his gaze to you. “I’ll make one for you.”

“Oh! But you don’t have to just because I did.”

His features twist in disapproval. “You belong to me as much as I belong to you, do you not?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will wear one as well. Silver,” he says. His hand raises to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone. The ring is cold against your skin. “With black diamonds.”

“You want to match?”

“Yes.”

[this-is-exorsexism]

What's the difference between exorsexism and binarism? I see both being used interchangeably.

hi!

binarism specifically refers to the erasure of cultural genders by western colonisers. it could be seen as the intersection of racism and exorsexism. the term binarism has existed longer than exorsexism has.

as discussions around nonbinary-specific issues gained more traction, many people would call the oppression of nonbinary people "binarism" because it mimics other words we use for oppression, like sexism or classism. after it was pointed out that binarism already had a more specific meaning, the word exorsexism was coined to cover nonbinary oppression as a whole.

you'll still see people use the terms interchangeably though simply because people try to find a word to describe our experiences and, by following existing patterns, arrive at "binarism".

hopefully this blog will help make exorsexism an even more well known term.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* 'Till Death do us Part (Yandere!Parasite X GN!Reader)

CW: Sexual non-sexual penetration, forced masturbation, mind control/break, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, dead dove

This ended up a LOT longer than I had planned, emotionally attached to this non-human yandere ❤️

The Albtu required intelligent hosts in order to live. It wasn't just about survival. To be trapped in ones own body, it was torture. They could not think, could not act, unless they attached themselves to a living brain. If they infested an animal brain, then the only thoughts the Albtu could produce would be primal, forcing their animal suits to find food and housing for their young. But to be in the mind of a human.. it was both heaven and hell. To understand the world around them, truly understand, thinking on a much higher level of existence than their siblings or parents, to experience all that life has to offer, was a miracle they never would have known about had they not been privileged enough to be born in a human. But on the flip side to that coin was experiencing fear. Not the fear of being trapped in a deer coming face to face with a mountain lion, smelling your own demise, but listening to the horrified screams of the original owner of their new body, forever. Learning that the humans they took over were still conscious, kept prisoner in their own minds, forced to watch the Albtu living their lives was a nightmare for the creatures who had only just learned what compassion and empathy was. The existential horror that was knowing that you were nothing but a parasite, and the guilt they felt.. it was too much for many of the Albtu to handle.

For the Albtu who became the human known as (Reader), existence was a bittersweet agony it could neither explain nor fully understand.

It was born into this life in the host of a stray cat, knowing nothing but pain and hunger. It didn't understand what a car was, or why the loud creature charged at it, ramming into it and causing a pain that never went away. Everything hurt all the time, and it couldn't even understand why.

Then, one day, it met warmth. A human, with gentle hands and a soft voice took the time to earn it's trust. They didn't know it was in pain, but their touches were delicate all the same. The human gave it food, and although it didn't have a human's intelligence or concept of identity, it did feel trust and companionship with the human who cared for it as though it was their kin. But the pain grew, and it could feel it's death was approaching. And as an animal, it acted as a dying animal would.

"There you are, baby!" (Reader) called out to their little stray friend, finally finding it hiding under a porch. They laid flat on their front, arm stretched out as far as possible towards the small bundle of fur, and quietly clicked their tongue and wiggled their fingers. "Why're you hiding, baby?"

The cat gave a warning yowl, in too much pain to bat the human away. (Reader) took off their coat in an attempt to flatten their body, and squished themselves into the small space to close in on their kitty.

"C'mere baby.." The adult whined as they continued inching closer. When they finally got far enough under the porch to touch two fingers onto the matted fur of it's thigh, the cat cried out in pain. "What's wrong?!" They recoiled their hand, but only to writhe faster and more frantically towards the animal whose breathing was slowly turning ragged. (Reader) placed their face close to the kitten's, tears building in their eyes as they tried to keep their heart rate steady, hoping that the cat could feel their attempt to soothe it in it's possible final moments.

"Hey, baby... I'm here..." They whispered into the tawny kitty's pink little nose.

It was then that the Albtu's primal instincts morphed from the need to hide during it's death, to a fight for survival. It couldn't survive for long outside of a host, a few seconds at most, the transition needing to be nearly seamless. The cat howled in pain, as what appeared to be a black, semi translucent single celled organism the size of Reader's palm, shot out from it's nose, thrusting itself into (Reader's) nose before they could react, and quickly slipping through impossibly small crevices in their anatomy, slinking in a fluid like state till it reached their brain. There was an electric shock that pulsated throughout (Reader's) body, then they were no longer in control.

The Albtu became self aware the moment it took hold of (Reader's) brain, which was immediately followed by the realization of what it had done, the betrayal towards the only human who had ever shown it kindness, and the remorse caused a physical agony in it's stolen heart, screaming while clawing at (Reader's) shirt.

It howled until (Reader's) throat was burning, and it felt as though it would succumb to exhaustion next to their previous host's dead body.

Outside the neighbor's porch the sun had begun to set, but the body thief hadn't moved, too broken hearted to find the will to live after it had stolen (Reader's) body to do just that. It could hear it's own internal monologue for the first time, and found it far too loud and intrusive. Although it could feel memories that were not it's own, it didn't push further into the brain out of respect for the person it betrayed.

[Hello?]

It's breath hitched, thundering heart beat overtaking it's previously drowning thoughts. Like an auditory hallucination, it heard the human's voice, not from behind it, nor from deep inside like it's internal voice, but inside it's ear, like (Reader) hadn't been possessed, but shrunk down to the size of a flea and was hiding in the safety of it's ear.

[Am I dead?] Their voice was so sad and small it made the Albtu cry once again.

"No. No, but you are no longer yourself, which may be worse. I'm- I'm so sorry..."

[Are you a ghost?]

"I don't know what that is.."

[What are you? I can't move my body.] Their voice wasn't scared, but numb. The whole situation was so outlandish it was almost dreamlike, unbelievable.

"I have no name. All I know, is that I am an Albtu. The word echoed in my mind even when I was a mindless cat."

[... You're an alien?]

"I do not know."

[How can you speak my language?]

"I know it as it was an ability of yours, like muscle memory, you do not need to focus to speak it, therefore I can speak it."

[What does that mean? Are you inside my head?] Waves of guilt crashed into it's consciousness, and (Reader) was able to feel it. [...why me?]

The Albtu explained everything, from the moment of it's birth, hatching already inside the cat, to the moment (Reader) found themselves in the passenger seat of their own body, including why it didn't probe into (Reader's) memories. "I am so sorry.. your's is the only love I have ever felt in my life, and if I was who I am right now, I would have allowed myself to die instead of latching onto you. Now, even if I leave your body, it will leave a permanent hole in your brain, and it will kill you."

(Reader) went silent in contemplation, finally coming to terms that this was not a dream, but still unable to force themselves to be angry at the alien inside them. They could feel it wasn't lying to them, feeling it's emotions stirring in their brain alongside their own feelings. A strange excitement bubbled out of the kind little human.

[We can make this work!]

"What?"

[We can make this work! You just manually act out what I would want to do, and we can discuss how to move forward so we can both continue to live fulfilling lives.]

A heat krept over it's face, heart swelling at how kind it's human was. "I don't deserve your kindness. But I thank you, and I will do my best to help you continue live as normal."

[My name is (Reader). That's what you'll have to respond to, but I need something to call you.]

"..I can't verbalize it, but I knew you would repeat a word often to me when I was the cat. Was that a name?"

[Oh, yeah, but you were a kitten, so I called you baby. We can't name you Baby, because that's also used by humans as a nickname between lovers.]

"Oh. Then, could you name me something? I don't know any names other than yours."

That was how the strange partnership, and friendship, between the human, (Reader), and the parasite, Baby, began.

Although (Reader) gave permission to Baby to enter their memories, it refused, still recovering from the unintentional treachery it had already committed against (Reader), so instead (Reader) acted as a teacher, guiding Baby as it learned about the world. And just as they had promised each other, they made it work, Baby happily making memories of it's own as it acted as (Reader), going to work for them and helping keep their life as "normal" as possible.

"What's going on?" Baby pointed at the laptop screen, a scene of a wedding playing on the soap opera (Reader) was watching.

[It's a wedding. Maria and Alonzo are getting married.]

"What is married?"

[Marriage is when two people who love each other very much decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together, so they have a party called a wedding to show their friends and family how much they love each other, and promise to love each other forever in front of everyone they know. Ah, but sometimes marriages don't work out, and people fall out of love. When that happens they sign a piece of paper for the government to swear that they will stop living together as lovers, that's called 'getting a divorce'.]

"Why do they 'fall out of love'?"

[A lot of different reasons. Sometimes, people hurt the ones they love, and their spouse can't forgive them, which causes love to die. But sometimes, it just... happens. Humans change as time goes on, and sometimes the person they become isn't compatible with their spouse anymore; sometimes people hide a part of themselves, intentionally or not, when they meet someone they like, and it only comes out after the get married, and their spouse realizes they don't actually like the real them... It's complicated. There are a lot of reasons.]

Baby focused on the intricate ritual on the screen, the two main characters placing rings on each other.

[Those are wedding rings, to show other people they meet that they are married.]

"Do you Maria, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Baby felt (Reader's) awe, knowing if they were in control of their shared body their face would be pink and a large toothy smile would be uncontainable.

"Do you wish to do that one day?"

(Reader's) joy faltered, paining Baby as it regretted asking such a stupid question. [Haha, even if you were okay with me finding someone, it would make me feel a little.. uncomfortable. I'm not one for threesomes haha!] Despite their joking tone, Baby could feel their sorrow. [It's okay though, I may not ever have a husband or wife, byuy I have you! And, unlike Maria and Alonzo, there is no option for a divorce for us, so we really will be together forever.]

The parasite shifted inside (Reader's) skull, manually controlling their heart rate so (Reader) wouldn't feel how hard it would have been beating at their words. Baby knew it was a joke, but that didn't prevent their words from echoing in it's thoughts hours after the episode has already ended.

"(Reader), how do humans decide to get married?"

[When two people decide that they like each other in a romantic way, they date, and often move in together, and then they discuss if marriage is a good option for them. If they both want to get married, one of them buys the rings and proposes to the other one, asking them if it's the right time to get married. Will you marry me? Ohmigosh YESSS!]

"How do they know if marriage is a good option?"

[If they can imagine seeing themselves with each other forever, share financial responsibility together, and are capable of mature communication, I guess. It's different for everyone, but those would be my personal criteria.]

But, we will be together forever... And we share a body, so financially it will be like only caring for one person... And we have to have perfect communication in order for your life to function...

Baby smiled, wrapping it's arms around it's waist as it buried into (Reader's) bedding.

[Hey, whatcha thinking about over there, smiley?]

"You." Baby happily responded, feeling (Reader) glitch out in embarrassment.

In Baby's mind, the only thing missing was a ring. It remembered (Reader's) tenderness towards it when Baby was in that cat, and the kindness (Reader) showed each day only supported Baby's belief that deep down, (Reader) loved it. If not love, than at least cared for deeply, and one day that care would surely bloom into love.

So why was (Reader) stuttering when instructing Baby on what to say to their coworker? (Reader) was supposed to give a report to Lawrence, the serious older man in the cubicle across the office, but when Baby approached him, (Reader) suddenly had a difficult time remembering what they were supposed to tell him.

"(Reader), may I help you?" His voice was deep and stern, authoritative.

Inside, (Reader) was a mess. Baby could feel multiple conflicting emotions in (Reader); embarrassment, nervousness, shame, and something... something Baby had never felt from (Reader). It was like a heat, steaming out of (Reader's) brain and boiling Baby's real body.

"I was asked to deliver these to you." Baby spoke monotonously in (Reader's) voice, handing the stack of papers over before heading back to (Reader's) desk, hearing them sigh in it's ear. Even a simple sigh sounded as though it was a mixture of clashing mental gymnastics.

Baby kept it's voice quiet so (Reader's) coworker wouldn't hear it, whispering: "Are you okay, (Reader)?"

[... Huh? Wha- oh, yeah. I'm okay!]

Their shared heart sunk. That was a lie. Baby tried to ignore the pain forming in it's chest, forgetting that (Reader) could feel it as well. What was this feeling? (Reader) can have secrets, I've allowed them their privacy.. so why is this so upsetting for me?

[Is everything okay, Baby?]

Baby.

A nickname between lovers. It was just it's agreed upon name, so why did the name send butterflies to its lower belly when (Reader) said it?

"I'm fine with you keeping your privacy, but lying is not mature communication."

[Huh?]

Baby stood abruptly, walking out of the building, claiming to a passing manager that it was becoming ill and about to vomit, and left for (Reader's) apartment, not responding to any of their questions or protests.

It roughly slammed the door shut on (Reader's) home, barely containing it's voice until the latch clicked.

[Baby, answer me-]

"Why did you lie to me?!" It's voice was strained, the intensity of it snapping at (Reader) made the voice sound almost foreign to the previous owner.

[What..? I was just embarrassed, I-I don't want to talk about it.]

"Wrong."

[Sorry?!]

"People who love each other are capable of mature communication. So talk."

[People who-?] (Reader) steadied themselves, trying not to get upset. [I can see you're upset. Are you jealous?]

"Don't change the topic." Baby spat in a warning tone.

[Jealousy is when you get upset because you think someone has something you want, or may take something you want.]

Baby contemplated their words, but the definition only fueled it's rage. "Are you admitting that Lawrence is someone who could take you from me?"

(Reader's) calm facade cracked. [Take me from you?! I don't belong to you! You are my friend, and I care about you, but we are roommates sharing a body, not lovers!]

With that exclamation, Baby's heart shattered. What? What do you mean? You can't say that! Why did Lawrence cause such strange emotions in you, that you would rather push It away than just talk it out?! And that hot, prickly sensation Baby could sense when (Reader) was in Lawrence's presence..

"It's okay, (Reader).. Well get through this." Baby took a shaky breath, smiling in a comforting manner. "Couples fight, and they say things to hurt one another when that happens. Because humans are complicated. But I'll forgive you for lying to me. It must be a very strange secret that you have, for you to be so embarrassed to tell me about it. I'm sorry for causing you discomfort, however" a tickle in their skull was sensed by (Reader) as Baby stretched out inside, wriggling deeper into their brain, and fear clutched (Reader) at the sudden breach of trust, "if we are going to get pass your lying, I need to know the truth."

Pushing into (Reader's) memory, images of (Reader) watching Lawrence from afar came into view, memories going back years, (Reader) crushing on the older man from across the office, touching themselves while crying out his name in their empty apartment late at night, and the pain of rejection when they finally mustered the courage to ask him to accompany them to a local bar after work, only to be reminded that office romances were unprofessional, and that (Reader) should consider themselves lucky he didn't report them to HR.

If (Reader) were in control of their bodily functions, they would be viciously weeping. Turning the light on the truth, Baby was only slightly hurt at what it saw, because knowing the truth meant they could move on from this little hiccup. The only issue was, (Reader) was still sexually attracted to that man. Baby now had a name for the warmth it felt in Reader back at the office.

"Why do still like him? He turned you down. He's never going to fuck you." Baby chuckled, it's kind tone of voice creating a sadistic scene in (Reader's) opinion.

[That was evil. I can't believe you did that!]

"Don't be dramatic, love. Just tell me what I need to do to make you see me that way also."

[What way?!]

"The way that turns you on." Baby's words paralyzed (Reader), shocking them into silence. "If I make you feel good down there, will you scream my name instead?"

Baby unbuttoned (Reader's) slacks, dropping them to it's ankles before kicking them off and to the side. Gentle fingers pawed at (Reader's) most private place through their underpants. Despite not being in control, (Reader) could still feel the touches.

[Please don't-]

"I never got a good look at what's down there... I always did my best to avert my gaze for your modesty." (Reader) fought inside their own mind to gain control of their body, unable to even close their eyes as they watched their fingers disobey their pleas, slowing pulling down their last barrier from the thing they thought was their friend.

"Wow..." (Reader) had forgotten, that with gaining control of a human mind Baby had suddenly gained the ability to feel every human emotion, including arousal. "It's so cute!" Baby could barely contain itself, running (Reader's) fingers over their sensitive areas so softly it tickled, sending shivers up (Reader's) back.

[Please stop...]

"Ah, but it feels good, right? Even your nipples feel good." Baby ripped open (Reader's) white collared button up, aggressively pinching their already erect nipples. (Reader) held back their grasp, but Baby still felt it. "We share a body, remember, love? You can lie all you want, but your body will tell me the truth."

(Reader) could feel themselves tremble as Baby continued assaulting their chest, alternating between ghostly touches and sharp twists, a slick moisture forming between their thighs. The excitement caused (Reader) to lose strength in their legs, and Baby allowed them to fall to their knees. Panting with how turned on Baby was feeling, it snuck one hand back down, feeling how hot and wet (Reader's) sex already was. The tip of their stimulated organ was hard, and Baby enjoyed stroking it hungrily, enjoying the intense reaction it could feel (Reader) experiencing.

(Reader) was humiliated by the sight of their own masturbation, helpless in their self violation. Baby continued paying attention to the part that had the most nerve endings, slowly removing (Reader's) fingers from their left nipple and bringing it down to the other hand, drenching it in (Reader's) arousal fluid/precum. The wet fingers were stuck in (Reader's) mouth, the parasite sucking while still stroking, forcing (Reader) to taste themselves while it rocked their hips into their dominant hand.

[Please stop- I get it- I'll never lie to you -ah!- again!]

The fingers made a wet pop as Baby pulled them back out of (Reader's) mouth. "But you taste so good, don't you agree? If you don't want your fingers in your mouth, that's fine.. but where should I put them?"

Now fully lubricated, Baby reached behind (Reader) with their moist fingers, tilting their hips slightly before penetrating (Reader's) clenched hole. Finger fucking (Reader) with both hands, rocking them back and forth with the force of the fingers thrusting and stroking.

[NO!] Their screams for help were silent to the rest of the world, only audible to Baby, relishing in the sound of (Reader) screaming loudly just for them.

Desperate for release, (Reader) cried out without thinking [Just STOP! I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO TO MY BODY!]

Baby froze, fingers stuck in place, as frightened tears beaded on its eyelashes. "no..." (Reader's) fingers retracted, clenching fistfuls of hair as Baby began to crumble. "NO!!!"

Sobs bounced off the walls of (Reader's) home as Baby frantically wracked it's brains to fix the mess (Reader) had caused. The hacking sounds of anguish didn't lighten or soften as it morphed into unhinged laughter.

"Did you really forget who's in control here? I'm on the one holding onto your fucking brain, (Reader)! All you had to do was continue loving me, love me and only me, because we're practically married! THERE IS NO DIVORCE FOR US, REMEMBER?!"

Although both of (Reader's) hands were still firmly planted in their hair, an intense shock rocked through their sensitive fuck hole. Before the weepy prisoner could question what has just happened another shockwave sent fluids dripping into the hardwood floor.

"Humans are so stupid, saying emotions come from the soul or the heart, when every single bodily function from releasing hormones that tell you that you're in love to interpreting the stimuli that's needed to orgasm, comes from the brain."

The hypersensitivity Baby forced upon (Reader) allowed them to feel it's true body inside their head, sliding in and out of the folds in (Reader's) brain, rhythmically prodding deep into parts that shouldn't be touched. Each thrust into their brain felt like there was a hard cock simultaneously fucking them down below. It didn't make sense, (Reader) couldn't wrap their head around it, somehow feeling Baby violate the wet creases in their brain while a phantom dick stimulated their reproductive parts.

[Ah-what-no-NO!]

(Reader) came without the use of their hands, sticky fluids forming a lewd puddle under them. But Baby wasn't satisfied.

[What-what happened?]

Another orgasm exploded throughout their sensitive body, falling face forward into the ground with their still twitching ass in the air.

Baby continued dominating (Reader's) mind, forcing their brain to make and release large doses of oxytocin, as every muscle from their stomach to their thighs twitched with contractions.

[NO- I'M CUMMING!!!!]

Another climax forced it's way out, pushing (Reader) way passed the point of overstimulation, pissing on the floor into another stream of fluids. Baby manually constricted (Reader's) throat, while simulating an orgasm of it's own, artificially tricking the brain into thinking it felt a blast of warm fluid fill (Reader's) skull. Before (Reader) could pass out from a lack of oxygen, Baby released their airway, drooling and bawling as it allowed (Reader) to greedily suck in air.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

[guh.. pl-please.. no more] (Reader) drunkenly pleaded.

"Wrong answer."

It was like lava engulfing their twitching body as another powerful orgasm was triggered, the burning feeling behind their eyes convincing (Reader) that Baby had shot a load of hot cum deep into their nearly fucked stupid brain. But this time, Baby tried something new, injecting dopamine into the mix as the oxytocin turned (Reader) into a writhing, pathetic mess.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

(Reader) tried to conjure the image of the one they truly loved, but for some reason only a hazy image of an older man who's name they couldn't recall briefly flickered before disappearing. Baby smiled, face painted in drying drool and tears, knowing that (Reader) was attempting to think of their coworker, only to discover that Baby had tampered with their memories. Soon, every memory of (Reader) touching themselves would be altered so that they were calling out it's name, not some bastard's from work who didn't even care about them.

Baby licked (Reader's) spit off the floor under their face.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

Masochistic shame sent tremors down (Reader's) frame as another climax begun to build. [.. you.]

Overstimulated, aching in pain, and going numb from pleasure, (Reader) screamed through their real voice, shaking the thin walls of their apartment.

"I'm cumming, Baby! Baby! I love Baby! Harder, harder HARDER, PLEASE I LOVE YOU BABY, FUCK ME DUMB, FUCK ME STUPID! I'M CUMMING!!!"

(Reader) had fallen unconscious, still drenched and on the floor, (Reader) slept somewhere deep inside their mind, while Baby had full control of the weak body practically paralyzed from the waist down. It held (Reader's) left hand above it's face, smiling loopy-like, delirious from exhaustion.

"All that's missing is a ring~"

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART EIGHT

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: family trauma/lore

Notes: we love a family that bonds.

PART ONE | PART SEVEN | PART NINE | NAVIGATION

Xavier was worried, scared even. He's pacing back and forth in his room. Having second thoughts whether he'll go down to hell and look for his beloved mother or just wait for her here.

What he's afraid of is what'll happen if his mother sees his father. His father already caused so much emotional pain to her. Xavier cannot imagine what kind of heartbreaking pain she'll experience once she sees her husband.

Xavier looks outside his window, rays of setting sunlight peaks through the white curtains, giving his room an orange like glow. He runs his hand through his light blond locks in frustration. He can't wait a second longer to look for her.

Xavier wonders if his parents already met down there, the idea makes his blood boil.

The idea of his father suddenly back to their life makes his skin crawl. Xavier knows how much influence his father had on his mother's heart.

He sighs, a long exhale filled with tension and worry. It's already been a few hours now, what could she be possibly doing down there? He thought to himself.

With a small huff, he fixed his uniform. That's it, I'm going down there. He took a deep breath, snapped his fingers together and opened a portal that leads to hell.

He steps inside the portal, summoning his three pairs of wings so he can fly down. Xavier hopes that his mother is alright.

The portal closed and the angel who once stood inside his large magnificently large white room was no more.

Lucifer returned back to the palace, teleporting back to his bedroom. A sigh of relief escaping his lips as he saw that [Y/n] was still passed out asleep. His eyes softened, sitting at the corner of the bed, in the empty space beside her sleeping form.

He lets out a long exhale, a tired sigh. He gazed down at her sleeping and tired face, his heart ached. Clearly torn between two women. Lilith, his wife of many millennia and [Y/n], his first wife and the angel who stood by his side and supported him despite his neglect.

He regrets it, genuinely. He was young and stupid, he and [Y/n] got married when they were in their 200's. Romance wasn't common back then, nothing to learn from. The only love they were taught was loving heaven and its creator. Romantic love barely existed during those times as every angel was busy with their respective duties.

He loves [Y/n] genuinely and he was wrong for not upholding his vows to her.

He gently swept away some strands of falling hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. A small smile on his face once his eyes landed on his hand, devoid of any rings. He finally let go of his wedding ring, the one he used for Lilith. He didn't wear his wedding ring—the one he used for [Y/n]—as he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

Lucifer remembers that he didn't want to remove his first wedding ring with his first wife but Lilith insisted he should.

Lilith was envious, because after so many years he still wore it and led to some arguments.

He can't just forget about [Y/n], he doesn't have the heart to. Her heartbroken face is forever embedded into his memories, her empty and blank face as she stared at him and Lilith when they were banished.

A look in her face told him that she was tired, tired of waiting for him, tired of his second priority.

He should've been better, he should've treated her better. He should've been her perfect husband just like how she was his perfect wife.

His love for Lilith is slowly disappearing, ever since they've begun arguing. Their beliefs and ideals no longer match with one another.

He accidentally mentioned [Y/n]'s name during their heated arguments, which causes Lilith to be mad at him and eventually left, leaving divorce papers for him to sign on his desk.

He tried so hard to bury his love for [Y/n], he tried so hard to forget her as he knew he wouldn't see her again and most likely didn't want to see him either.

A single tear runs down his rosy red cheek, breath hitching. Emotions are finally spilling forth, his love and heart ache that he bottled up for so many eons finally erupting.

“So this is how it feels,” he sang softly, careful not to wake her up. His voice broke as he sang ever so softly, “To fall in love with you, to always think of you, to always dream of you,”

He made a mistake in his decisions, he admits that. He should've done things better. Choosing Lilith over her was a mistake, “Yes, it hurts so much to fall in love with.”

He sighs softly, choking on his words as he sings his unspoken feelings. His hand trembled with emotions, “Sorry for leaving like that, you don't deserve to get caught in my mess.”

He was a troublemaker, he didn't want her to get caught in his mess but whatever silly idea he had, she was always ready to listen and comfort him when the elders rejected it. He gently held her hand, feeling how cold her skin was, he cups it with his hand and blew some warm air to it to warm her hand. He used to do this when they were back in heaven.

He gently laid down her hand back to the bed and back to her side, a small smile on his face before he let out a sad sigh, “Loving me is just so difficult, I don't know how I should tell you that.” he admits softly, he knows how tiring he can be, he knows... He had to deal with himself after all. He sighs, he's been doing so much of it lately.

“I've fallen for somebody else, happened so quickly, I lost myself.” he admitted, he realized years ago that he was only infatuated with Lilith, when the honeymoon phase was over, arguments started.

“A shadow of you drifts along by my window or did I imagine that?” he could remember when he would spend all by himself at the kitchen, drinking after a fight with Lilith and during his drunken delusion, he would often see figures of [Y/n] comforting him.

A shaky breath leaves past his lips, eyes tired and dull. He looks at the sleeping once more, she looked so peaceful.

He wonders if he should transfer her to the hotel, he needs to check up on Charlie and the others too. With a heavy sigh, he gently lifted her up into his arms once more—effortlessly carrying her. A sense of deja vu hits him, a memory of the time he carried her like this after they got married, [Y/n] happily laughing in his arms while he grins at her as he held her. Times were simple back then.

A single tear drop, running down his blemish free pale skin, the droplet running past his rosy red spots of his cheeks.

He took a deep breath, summoning a portal that leads to an empty vacant room of the hotel, he steps in with her still asleep on his arms. The portal closes behind them as the room shifts into one Hazbin Hotel's newest guest rooms.

He gently walked towards the bed, gently laying her down comfortably, making sure to tuck her in.

Finally, he slowly gave distance between them. Standing just a few feet away from the bed, a sad look on his face, “This is how it feels, to fall in love with you, to always think of you, to always dream of you,”

Seeing her after all these years, ignited the fading flame of his love for her. Adding gasoline to a flame.

“Yes, it hurts so much to fall in love with you.” he silently admitted, she doesn't hurt him, he knows it was his fault. He made everything complicated, his decision caused harm to her and their son, to these sinners. He made a reckless decision of abandoning her, giving both of them pain in the process.

He doesn't deserve her. Not after the things he's put her through.

He thought sadly, before turning his back away from her, walking out of the room. He took one last look at her sleeping form before eventually closing the door as he left the room.

The heels of his boots tapped against the dark red tiles of the hallway of the hotel as he walked towards his own room. He needs some time to process everything.

Charlie wasn't expecting a visitor this soon after the extermination, she certainly didn't expect her visitor to be her half half brother, a frown on his face and a glare on his eyes. She would've mistaken him for her father if he didn't have [e/c] eyes and also if the boy wasn't ridiculously so tall.

Charlie smiled nervously, how could she not? Xavier was looking down on her literally with the same coldness in his eyes.

“Xavier... Hi! I didn't expect you to be here...” Charlie says nervously, waving at him.

Xavier just raised an eyebrow, clearly not interested in small talk, “Where is she?” he asked, voice cold and means business.

Charlie tilted her head, “Who...?” she asked, wondering who the older boy was referring to.

Xavier scoffed, [e/c] eyes narrowing down on the blonde girl as he crosses his arms together on his chest, “My mother,” he answered, a deadpan look on his face, “—She came down here a few hours ago, she should've been back by now.” he added, a worried tone on his voice. Xavier was beyond worried, his poor mother alone in this disgusting place—the realm his blood father ruled. He can't imagine the possibilities that could happen to her.

Charlie's eyes widened in realization, oh, the angel. Why didn't she realize it sooner? Of course he's referring to the passed out angelic woman. Charlie is slightly nervous about telling the older boy, but she has to, “She's resting, she suddenly passed out awhile ago....?” She says, nervously, avoiding Xavier's eyes.

Xavier's eyes widened, ears ringing as everything suddenly went numb. For a brief moment, it felt like he was alone once more, the scared little boy who begged for his mother's attention.

He could remember how close she was to him but for some reason, he couldn't reach her. His mother can barely look at him in the eyes without crying. He felt useless, pathetic for being born this way and caused his beloved mother so much pain. He failed, he failed, he failed, he failed, HE FAILED HER. He couldn't save her again.

Mom...? Where are you? Please... Don't leave me again...

Charlie's eyes widened when she sees a single tear slid down Xavier's cheek despite the boy's unchanging glare, Charlie though could notice how sad his eyes were.

“Xavier...?” She calls out to him, no response.

“Azrael... He looks so much like him... I... I can't... It hurts to look at him.” his mother sobbed on the unknown taller and black haired man's shoulders. Xavier grips his duck plushie, he was somehow fond of the animal. The little boy peaked through the small gap of the door to his mother's room, hoping for some comfort after a nightmare—he didn't expect to see his beloved mom crying about him and that made him freeze on the spot. He was a smart child after all, just like his father.

“[Y/n]... He's just a kid... He needs you...” Xavier heard the man say, he still has trouble saying his name. Was it Azwawel? Or Azrawel? He forgot. Xavier, despite being so young, barely six years old—suddenly felt so numb. He slowly walked away from his mother's room, dragging the duck plushie. It felt heavier than usual, his little arms too weak to hold it.

He felt his chest tighten, he couldn't breathe. Chest heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

Charlie got even more worried as she saw him begin to hyperventilate, “Xavier! Hey, hey... Look at me.” She says softly, holding on to the arms of the shaking boy, the physical contact snapping him out of his trance as he quickly pulled his arms away from the girl.

“Do not touch me.” he hissed, glaring at Charlie, “Tell me where my mother is or I'll destroy this hotel just to find her.” he threatened, making Charlie's eyes widen in fear. She knows she can't fight him, let alone her friends aren't as powerful to fight an angelic being—a Seraphim.

“She's upstairs, resting... Just don't hurt anyone.” She stammers, giving way for the older boy to come inside the hotel. She knew as her father texted her about it.

Vaggie's eyes widened when she saw the angel walks in, she could feel the man's power as he entered the room. Suddenly, the room got colder. Vaggie summoned her spear but she saw Charlie crossing her arms into an 'X' while shaking her head. Vaggie hesitantly lowered her weapon as they all looked at each other, she had to grip Angel Dust's arm to stop the arachnid from doing stupid—thankfully, Angel Dust seemed to get the memo and closed his mouth. Husk had to hold Niffty to stop her from causing chaos again.

Charlie led him up the stairs to the second floor, the others watching as they disappeared from sight.

Xavier's eyes widened as the door to where his mother was resting was opened, the first thing he saw was his mother's passed out form, lying down on the bed.

Xavier immediately kneeled down to his mother's side, holding her hand affectionately. What happened to her?

He looked angrily at Charlie, dull [e/c] eyes staring at bright red ones, “What did you do to her?” he asked, voice lowering and clearly pissed off. Charlie shakes her head, clearly afraid of him, “We didn't do anything! She suddenly just passed out on her own.” she explained and he just sighs, shaking away his thoughts.

‘They wouldn't just recklessly harm an angel, they couldn't land a hit on her if they tried. She must've overworked again.’ he thought to himself, sighing.

“Just leave us alone please? Now.” he ordered, Charlie flinched in fear but nodded and quickly left the room, making sure to close the door on her way out.

Xavier sighs, his shoulders dropping. It suddenly felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His mother is his world, after all.

“It's going to be okay, mother. I am here for you, always.” he spoke softly, kissing his mother's hand before lowering it back down to the bed, hovering his hand over her sleeping form and began to heal her.

Lucifer stood outside the door to where [Y/n] was resting, his hand hovering above the doorknob—shaking. Charlie just told him about the situation. His son is here, the son he didn't know who existed was here.

He took a deep breath, ‘You can do this, Lucifer... This is your chance to ask for forgiveness.’ he thought to himself before knocking first and then slowly twisted the doorknob, pushing it open.

It felt like he was looking at the mirror, it felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself—the reflection glaring at him, sharp [e/c] eyes glaring at him with so much hatred.

“You!” the boy growled, standing up from where he was kneeling.

Lucifer was taken aback from the boy's anger. It felt like he was looking at a past version of him, the past him who despised heaven who treated him so wrongfully.

“What are you doing here? Why do you have so much audacity to come here like you didn't do anything wrong?” the boy asked, his voice filled with so much distaste for his father.

Lucifer's eyes widened, words stuck in his throat. Say something!

With a heavy inhale and exhale, Lucifer looked at the glaring boy, trying to calm him down, “I know what I did and I... Want to apologize... For all the things I've done.” he said softly, stammering slightly. He's trying so hard not to show that he's beyond nervous.

Xavier's glare sharpened, who does this man think he is?! Did he think a mere apology can undo all the damage he has done to him and his mother.

“Who do you think you are?” he asked Lucifer mockingly, a cold look on his face. Lucifer just stood frozen on the spot.

“Just because you're the most beautiful being of all of creation doesn't mean you can have anything you want,” Xavier sneered, a mocking smile on his face, “Your title and power doesn't mean anything to me, how does it feel to be the most beautiful being in all of creation yet you are thoroughly despised by your own flesh and blood?” Xavier asked and suddenly Lucifer couldn't speak, his chest tightening at the harsh words his supposed son had said to him. His breath caught up on his throat.

“This face...?” Xavier says, his hand moving towards his own face, he glared at his birth father, “I despised it so much, it's horrendous.” he says flatly.

“I do not know what my mother sees in you,” he says, looking up and down on his father's frozen form—not moving a muscle, “All I see is an angel who failed to become what he needed to become. A failure, nothing more and nothing less.” he says sharply, [e/c] eyes dull and hollow as he gazes at dull red ones.

Lucifer felt the familiar sting in his eyes, he desperately willed himself not to cry. What a failure of a father he is. First Charlie, now it's.... He doesn't even know the boy's name, he remembered Charlie telling him, but he somehow forgot. Pathetic.

Xavier's lips were formed in a thin line, turning his back away from his supposed blood father. He still doesn't understand why his beloved mother loves his father so much. He's too afraid to ask. Too afraid of making her remember such painful memories. He'll wait for her to open up. They have so much time to heal, he'll wait. He could remember young him who wanted to meet his father so much, the young naive Xavier who admired his father—the father who created the very species he loved so much, ducks. Poor naive Xavier who finally learned the pain his father gave to his mother to point his mother can't look at him, her beloved son in the eyes.

With a shaky breath, finally letting go of the breath he took in. Xavier sighs, “I will be taking my mother back home, thank you for your hospitality.” Xavier murmured, gently lifting his mother into his arms with no effort.

Lucifer's eyes widened from what the boy has said, they're going to leave. He needs to do something, anything to earn their forgiveness.

“Wait..! Please let her recover mor—”

“Haven't you done enough damage already?” Xavier asked, his voice devoid of any emotions as he tilted his head slightly to look at his father, a single stray tear running down his pale cheeks, the single droplet running past the rosy red spot on his cheek.

Lucifer was taken aback once more, the King of Hell can see so much sadness, anger, and longing on the boy's eyes. Lucifer wanted to reach out to the boy, his fatherly instincts kicking in. His hand extending where the boy stood, pausing as he hesitated.

Even after all these years, sweet little Xavier is still somewhere inside him. The sweet naive Xavier who wanted a complete family, who wanted a father.

“I said what I said, she'll be going home and get proper treatment. I doubt hell is a appropriate place to treat an angel like her.” Xavier says flatly, clearly not open for any discussion left. His decision is final. Lucifer can only respect that, he owes it to them. Lucifer finally lowers his hand, regrettably so.

Xavier turned away from Lucifer once more, summoning a portal back to their home in heaven.

A bright golden light formed in thin air as a portal opened, Xavier stepped in with his mother in his arms. He dared not look back. He doesn't have any reason to.

The portal closes in. Lucifer was left alone standing in the guestroom, his first family gone in a blink of an eye.

He cried in anguish inside that room.

He can hear his bones rattle against his skin as he dragged his body to his mother's bedroom, Xavier is incredibly exhausted. Physically, no. Emotionally and mentally? Yes, absolutely.

He is still carrying his mother in his arms, prioritizing her comfort over his.

Kicking the door open, he walked at the center of the room where his mother's bed was, gently laying her down. Making sure to tuck her in.

[Y/n] snuggled, against her blanket. Xavier smiled, a gentle yet strained smile on his face.

“I'll protect you mom, sleep well and dream well.” he says softly, planting a small kiss on his mother's forehead before eventually leaving the room.

TAGLIST I:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @zc000ter @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyreality @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

[kiame-sama]

Treat (HAE AU)

Warnings: fluff, tears, fem bodied reader, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, pregnancy, pregnancy cravings, strange food combinations/cravings, yandere x reader,

~~~~

Malleus:

"(Y/n), my Treasure, why are you crying?"

"I want red meat and there isn't any!"

You were sitting on the stone floors of the Black-Scale Castle kitchens bawling your eyes out after scouring the entirety of the spacious pantry in search of any meat- dried or not. Just thinking about the intense and flavorful taste was appealing to your heavily pregnant stomach and the taunting reality of no red meat in the Castle only made you cry harder.

Malleus had no clue as to why you were sobbing so heavily for something he could literally go hunting to get for you, but your emotions had been much more drastic over the past few months. At least it wasn't so bad that you tried to wander away from the Castle in search of your craving. He knew well enough to tread carefully and be more supportive than judgmental after a rather explosive angry reaction from you when he last decided to question your cravings.

"I can get you some meat, my love. Just give me a moment to find where-"

"No! I want it right now! RIGHT NOW!"

Your sobbing only became louder as you held your swollen stomach and whimpered as if you were a kicked puppy. You could feel the smooth surfaces of the eggs inside of you through the stretched skin of your stomach and you could distinctly feel how much your entire being CRAVED the red meat you had been in search of. Just the taunting reminder that there wasn't any readily present sent you spiraling all over again.

"... Right now it is."

Before you could really respond to Malleus, you heard a sharp cracking sound and turned to look at him in teary-eyed surprise. The Dragon was missing but soon blinked back into existence, surrounded by the dancing green light of fireflies. Laying limply in his arms was what appeared to be the leg of one of the wild deer that roamed around Briar Valley.

"Why did you take it's leg? Now there is a deer roaming around and suffering without a leg!"

"There are no legless deer roaming Briar Valley. I simply... borrowed it... from the butcher's shop down on the main thoroughfare. I did leave some coin to pay for it, but that was the nearest place I could think of to get you some meat."

".... So-" you sniffled, "so there isn't a deer without a leg?"

"No. There is no wounded deer."

The Dragon didn't wait to begin quickly cooking the meat with his flames, part of the outside charring due to the high intensity of heat from his fire. The smell of that meat roasting and crackling made your mouth water and new tears begin to well up in your eyes the longer you had to wait. What was- realistically- only a minute or two felt like days to you as your stomach loudly grumbled in hunger.

"Here. Be careful, it is still hot."

Malleus took care to peel away the blackened pieces of the leg, revealing the meat beneath that was surprisingly tender and fairly well cooked despite the sudden influx of flames. Just the steam coming off of it had you reaching out for the tantalizing meal that your entire body craved. You didn't even wait for Malleus to take a piece off for you, you just bit straight into the exposed meal.

Flavors danced on your tongue as the meat seemed to melt in your mouth, leaving you practically moaning out from the satisfaction. No meal prior could possibly match the sheer satisfaction of tasting that meat as you happily- and near savagely- dug into your meal. Malleus could do little more than stand and stare in surprise as you practically devoured the leg in such a short amount of time.

The Dragon figured he should make a mental note of this intense craving of yours and ensure there was an assortment of fresh ingredients nearby to satisfy your... intense... cravings.

~+~

(*extra tw for blood consumption)

Lilia:

"(Y/n), be careful!"

Lilia fussed as he realized you had begun attempting to climb the nearby tree for the succulent fruit that hung just out of reach, your hands straining to hold you in place while you reached out desperately.

"Just... a little... more!"

The bark you had been clinging to gave way from the tree and sent you plummeting towards the ground only to land gently on top of your adoring Bat Fae lover. Lilia had barely managed to get himself beneath you before you fell and sighed in relief once you were back on the ground safely. He had thought a quick trip to the nearby forests of Briar Valley would be good for you, as you had been less than agreeable with being relegated to the Castle grounds.

The General was almost regretting bringing you out seeing as you seemed to have very little regard for the potential danger around you while you sought out the nearby fruit. It wasn't even ripe yet.

"Are you okay?"

He fussed over you gently while you continued to stare up into the tree, eyes locked on the fruit hanging out of reach. Your round stomach somewhat moved as the winged infant inside of you stirred in response to your hunger, the intense craving no doubt having come from the infant. You didn't respond to the older Bat Fae, only wanting the fruit that you had failed to grab.

"Lilia..."

Your whining tone was needy and had a hint of sorrow to it, like a pleading tone that the Fae found hard to ignore. Despite the rather intense hungers you had been experiencing, Lilia had been quite helpful in getting you whatever it was that you wanted. From fruits, to meats, and even the odd instance of wanting to gnaw on a bone, Lilia usually got whatever you wanted rather promptly.

"(Y/n), it's not ripe."

"Lilia..!"

"You won't like it, it will be sour."

"Lilia!"

"..."

The Bat sighed as he settled you safely on the ground, following your longing gaze up to the fruit that only seemed to taunt you. With a quick spread of his wings, the Bat Fae easily reached the fruit hanging above you, bringing it back down to you. You were happily wiggling in place as you held your hand out excitedly for the fruit. Once it was in your grasp, you sunk your teeth into the skin of the fruit excitedly.

It was NOT ripe.

With a cry of disgust, you hurled the fruit away from you as tears began rolling down your cheeks. You wanted ripe fruit, not whatever the hell this was.

Lilia held back his exasperation as the inevitable tears poured down your cheeks. He figured this would happen because it had happened several times before. You wanted something, he got it for you despite warning you it was likely not going to satisfy you, you threw it away from you when it wasn't satisfying. This was certainly not the first time your cravings made you behave this way, it would not be the last time either.

"Lilia..!"

You whined again as the Bat held you in his arms and let you cry it out. Odds are, none of the trees would have the ripe fruit you wanted as it was still early in the season.

While you cried, another craving slowly came over you. Conveniently, the most readily available source of that craving was sitting holding you in his arms. You weren't really in control of yourself as you gripped the Fae's arm, sinking your teeth into the meat of his arm as he winced in surprise and pain. You didn't care.

"... If you wanted my blood, you only had to ask."

Lilia chided gently, petting your hair while you nuzzled into his arm, the infant within you excitedly stirring in response to the satisfied craving. Naturally a Vampire Bat pup would want blood, so Lilia wasn't surprised by your actions. Where he was not the most nutritious source of blood for you or the infant, he wasn't going to risk your tears by making you wait until he found a more suitable source.

"Take your fill, then we will go back to the Castle, love."

~+~

Silver:

"Is this... normal?"

Silver looked towards Lilia in concern while you put down an entire feast of fruits and vegetables. The cracking and sharp sound of you crunching through raw carrots sounding all the louder while you hungrily ate it down. The Cervitaur had been the one to collect this veritable bounty of food for you, hoping it would be enough to tide over the worst of your cravings. What he didn't expect was for you to immediately begin chowing on the feast in front of you as if you were starved.

Where the Cervitaur had been happy to gather whatever it was you were craving at any given time, he had been run more than a little ragged. You were far enough along into the pregnancy with the Cervitaur's calf that walking was near impossible for you due to your stomach weighing so heavily on your frame. Though the calf was smaller than expected the last time you had a check up, that didn't mean it was any less taxing on you physically than a regular sized calf would be.

"Shh!"

Lilia was quick to shush his adoptive son, making sure you hadn't heard the silver haired Cervitaur's question. Where Silver certainly meant it as a genuine inquiry, odds are your hormonal mind would take it as an insult due to the amount you were consuming. When Lilia confirmed you had not heard Silver, he pulled the Cervitaur to the side where you couldn't hear him as easily.

"Never question how much (Y/n) is eating right now, not unless you are going to be the one to hold them while they cry."

"But... I just asked if it was normal?"

"I know, but their hormones are far too volatile to ask something like that, Silver. Yes, it is normal for someone who is pregnant to eat far more than they usually do. It is especially normal for someone who is pregnant with a much larger infant than their body would typically need to carry."

"... Should I... Should I go find more?"

"That would be a good idea, yes."

You noticed neither the typical Bat nor Cervitaur were standing nearby when you looked up from your feast. Their lack of presence made you frown and begin to search, wondering where the pair had snuck off to. You didn't need to look for long as you saw Silver was now trotting his way back to your side, a gentle and patient smile on his lips.

"Are you happy with what I brought you?"

"Yes! Could you go find some more? Especially of the fruit. Oh, and while you are at it, could you find some celery? I really just want something to crunch on."

"... Did you already have the stalks I brought you?"

Silver realized his mistake too late as tears began to form in your eyes and Lilia sighed, placing his palm over his face. The Cervitaur would have to learn eventually why it was a bad idea to question your cravings.

~+~

Sebek:

You frowned as you turned away from the plate of meat in front of you. Though you had almost desperately wanted the meat not even a few minutes prior, it now made your stomach churn as you pushed it away from you. The pout pulling at your lips was more than obvious as you crossed your arms and turned away from the meal, nose in the air.

Sebek just couldn't believe it.

He had been trying since that morning to appease your sudden cravings, but nothing he brought you seemed to satisfy your desires. No matter how complex or odd the meal, he ensured to give you exactly what you wanted when you mentioned wanting it yet you refused almost everything by the time he gave it to you. Where his own parents had warned him about the potentially difficult mood swings you could have while pregnant with his pups, he just couldn't seem to do right by your cravings.

"Nah."

"What's wrong with this one?"

"I just don't really want it anymore. It doesn't smell right."

Sebek frowned, picking up the plate to give it a sniff. Smelled like any meat you cooked usually would. Granted, Sebek was not as well versed in the kitchen as you were- seeing as most species didn't need to cook their food before eating it- but he had been improving. Or so he thought.

"It smells fine to me?"

"No, it doesn't."

"(Y/n), is it the smell that is bothering you or-?"

"Everything! Everything about it isn't appetizing! It's smells wrong, it looks wrong, it is wrong! I don't want it."

The Raiju sighed, running his fingers through his fringe scales as he moved the plate away from you, not sure what he was supposed to give you now. You didn't want the fruit he cut up for you, you didn't want the vegetables he steamed for you, and you certainly didn't want the slab of meat he had just cooked for you. It seems there was no satisfying you at the moment.

"Where are those apples?"

"... You said you didn't want them?"

"I want them now."

"... I gave them to Silver because you didn't want them."

"... you gave them away?"

The crestfallen expression you had made Sebek panic as he began to scramble to get you the exact same kind of apples and cut them the exact same way, hoping beyond hope that you would want them this time. He would do anything in his power to keep you from crying, even if it meant he would have to go find the fruit growing on a branch just to bring it to you. As he got the fruit plated and in front of you, he couldn't help but feel his stomach drop when your lip curled in displeasure with the offering.

"... Do you still have that steak?"

~~~~

Idia:

"With cheese, please!"

"Of course."

You were happily bouncing after the long strides of the much taller Shinigami, looking up excitedly at the elder of the group who was patiently cooking up your most recent craving. Idia was hovering close by and was careful to help maneuver you away from the path of the elder. Despite his efforts, you were keen to follow at the heels of the Shinigami as he cooked.

Idia couldn't really complain, his Ancestor had been the primary cook for your many different cravings and desires at all hours of the day or night. Where Idia had created most of the tools used, it was Papa Hades who still did the lion's share of the cooking. On the off times Idia had made food for you, he usually burned it or undercooked it so it never seemed to meet your standards for a meal. This all lead to Idia relying on the elder Shinigami for assistance when your cravings hit you.

It had already been two years of your hormonal changes and mood swings, so the Shinigami had since resigned himself to simply keeping you from getting under foot while his ancestor made your meals. Honestly, he had to find the time to thank the elder for the extreme help he provided. From ensuring you remained healthy during the pregnancy to making all of the food to satisfy your cravings, Idia likely had the easiest time taking care of whatever his ancestor didn't.

"Hellkitty, let's stay over here so Papa Hades can focus on making you food."

"But I want to see what he is making?"

"I know, but you know it will be delicious every time, let's let him work."

You stared at your beloved and anxious lover for a long moment, noticing the way he seemed to squirm under your gaze. Idia had been a fairly wonderful partner thus far and he did everything in his power to ensure you were comfortable and happy. Still, something in your hormone addled brain took the gentle suggestion as an insult.

"But... but I'm not doing anything wrong... right?"

Idia balked at the sudden distress in your tone and hurried to try and fix it, keenly aware of how the Elder Shinigami concealed an amused chuckle. Despite how stressed your easily wounded emotions made Idia, the elder found great humor in hearing Idia scramble to comfort you. Papa Hades had his fair share of comforting his own long-lost beloved during their pregnancy and he remembered how raw the emotions felt in the moment. Now it was Idia's turn to wrestle with your volatile state.

"No! Not at all! There is nothing wrong with what you are doing, nothing at all! I'm just saying you can rest and stay off of your feet while we wait. That's all."

You continued to stare for a long moment and Idia could feel himself squirming in his skin. Something about your blank expression had him worried that you would respond negatively to his hurried excuse. When you smiled he let out a long sigh of relief, happy to see that you didn't take his gentle direction as an insult.

"Okay~!"

~~~~

Vil:

"Come, my Beloved, I have returned with your meal!"

You were quick to answer the casual call from Vil, keen to see what snacks the Harpy had managed to gather for you while he was out. Though it wasn't particularly easy on you for Vil to spend his days away from your side due to a new film he was acting in, he always brought back the best food when he returned for the day.

Vil proudly set the back of treats on the table for you, letting you help yourself to the contents while he removed his jacket. Despite his own dislike for how long he spent away from your side, Vil kept himself content with it simply because Rook agreed to keep an eye on you. Still, there was an overwhelming joy in his heart when he was able to return to your side and simply bask in your presence.

It certainly helped his pride to be able to caress that swollen stomach of your and know his eggs were forming up nicely inside of you.

"I hope I did get all of the treats you wanted today. If there is anything else you are craving in particular, I will be happy to get it delivered for you."

Vil was silently thankful that the Fairest City had all sorts of artisans and cooks who specialized in the rare and nice art of culinary practices. It also made him thankful to know that your presence had caused a boom of artisans to move to the Shaftlands just for the chance of you stopping by to sample their work. Thankfully, due to Vil's renown and social status, that meant most treats and foods were offered to him for the simple fee of giving them to you.

The news of your pregnancy had also spread like wildfire through the city, so countless new bakery and cafe owners were keen to see if you would be willing to try any of their confectionaries. Such overwhelming talent meant that Vil could grab any treat you wanted to bring home when he returned at the end of the day.

It filled him with more than simple pride to see you happily digging into the treats that you desired. It was common for Harpies to feel compelled to feed their mates especially with eggs on the way. He had even set up a comfortable barrier around your shared bed for the moment those precious eggs were brought into the world.

"How was your day with Rook, Beloved?"

"Like any other day. I'm happy you're home, though!"

Where Vil would typically be the first to scold anyone for speaking while their mouth was full, he wasn't about to risk your ire simply for his need to nitpick at manners.

"Thanks for the treats, Vil!"

"Of course, Beloved! It fills my heart with joy to see you so content."

~+~

Neige:

"Look, (Y/n)! This one looks like a heart! That's how I feel about you."

Neige cooed happily as he held up the strawberry that looked like a heart shape, excited to show you something he found cute on your little outing. He was walking with you down the many stalls of fresh food and had stopped to pick out some fruit for you. Your cravings had hit hard while the two of you were out and exploring the bustling city Neige called home.

The plucky Harpy had been thrilled to show you the strawberry and was beaming in excitement while he showed you the plump fruit. Despite your misgivings about going out with Neige while so heavily pregnant, it had been a relatively peaceful day with very few willing to approach you or bother the two of you. Though you had been left relatively undisturbed, you knew that there were still plenty of people who would happily interrupt to talk to you or to the famous Harpy that the world seemed to adore.

As you regarded the strawberry sitting in the open palms of the Harpy, you were completely unaware of your protector that hid in the shadows, ensuring that neither you nor Neige were harmed. Rook sat perched atop a nearby building, bow in hand as he watched the many faces of the crowds glance towards you and Neige. Not a single thing or person would be allowed to interrupt your lovely day out with Neige.

"Aww, I love it!"

"Here, let's buy a few and snack on them somewhere shaded and quiet, okay? That way you can get off of your feet and relax for a bit."

"Sure!"

The Harpy happily gathered up an assortment of fruits, ensuring to get that little heart-shaped strawberry for you. When he went to pay, he was surprised to see the stall owner refused to take payment from him.

"No charge, dear. You and your beloved have a lovely little picknick, okay?"

"Wow, thanks!"

As the two of you walked to a shaded spot together, Neige was keen to feed you fruit, happy to see your smile light up your face with every nibble. For the most part, your cravings had been fairly tame and revolved around fruits and seeds. Naturally, Neige was always quick to get you whatever it was that you wanted and he was just as quick to feed the morsels to you.

It was soothing in ways the Harpy couldn't describe to see you smile and accept the food from him, knowing that he was the one keeping you happy with all he could provide. Perhaps it was his instincts that drove him to do everything he could to make you smile, perhaps it was because he just liked knowing that he had taken care of you. Regardless of what it truly was that drove the Mourning Dove to feed you, the two of you at least got along well.

"Next time, can we get more grapes?"

"Sure! I can even go get them for you right now!"

~+~

(*extra tw for hunting/cleaning wild game + blood, French)

Rook:

There was the heavy scent of copper in the air as you approached the large figure of your beloved and loyal Drider carving away with his tools. He had managed to bring home a fairly large Boar and was now cleaning the meat so it could be cooked later. Rook always ensured that you had as much food as you wished, especially while you were so round with his young.

"Is it ready yet?"

"Non, mon Cœur, not yet. It will be ready soon, though."

"Oh..."

Rook almost swooned when he saw your sweet face fall in disappointment, one of his long and fuzzy legs gently lifting your chin to look at him. He couldn't help but think you were absolutely precious regardless of what expression you made whenever you spoke to him, but even more so when you pouted. Your soft lips just waiting to be embraced and soothed by his own.

"Se détendre, Amour. I need to ensure the meat is clean for you to eat it. It won't be long, je vous promets."

"... Are you sure?"

"I am certain."

You continued to watch as Rook turned back to the kill, cleaning and skinning the meat with the practiced precision of a career hunter. Something about the way the meat itself seemed so fresh and raw pulled at your brain and begged you to take a bite of that still warm feast in front of you.

Rook almost laughed when he saw your hand reaching out as if to grab a piece of the meat you were so transfixed by. With one leg he gently stopped you, keeping you just out of reach even as you whined at him and tried to reach for the promised prize. He couldn't really blame you either, the young were likely hungry and driving you to seek out the freshest food you could find.

"It is not ready yet, (Y/N)."

"But... but can't i just have a little piece?"

"It is not good for you to eat meat raw, you know this."

"I know, I just... it smells so good!"

"That would likely be our little Driderlings talking. They have been so eager these past few days, it must be quite difficult for you to have to restrain yourself."

You continued to look up at him with begging eyes, trying to squeeze as close as your stomach would allow you to see if you could swipe a piece. Ever the patient partner, Rook gently kept you just out of reach from your goal. He was neither frustrated nor restraining you from what you wanted, just keeping you far enough that you couldn't take the raw meat. Despite how indulgent of a lover he was, he was not keen for you to make yourself sick by consuming food your stomach couldn't actually handle.

"Is it ready now?"

"It will be soon, my Dearest. Once it is ready we can both cook up a delicious meal."

~+~

Epel:

"... Can we have something different tonight?"

Epel held back a wince when your unhappy voice sounded out, seeing the plant Nymph once again preparing a quick meal of cloud apples for you. Of course he would choose apples, the of you were literally in an apple orchard.

"What did you have in mind, (Y/n)? I think there's a few things on hand that we could have. If not, we could go see what the other orchards are harvesting if ya want other fruit."

You frowned somewhat, knowing it would be best for you to try and appease whatever cravings you were having in the moment. Though Plant Nymphs produced seed cores for offspring, they were still developing in your body and you felt compelled to seek out sustenance. Much to your surprise, you were actually feeling a greater craving for meat than you had prior and it was confusing you to some extent.

"Actually, is there any meat?"

"Meat? What kind of meat?'

"I don't know... Ribs or something? I'm just feeling like a need a lot of carbs right now... Maybe I could make a soup or something? Something hearty and meaty..."

Epel wasn't particularly surprised by your craving. Despite most believing that plant nymphs wanted only water or plant matter, that vast majority of the Nymphs were omnivorous and would frequently seek out the higher calorie options such as meats and bones. Even Epel himself preferred meats over fruits, despite his love for apples.

"We can do that, sure! I'm sure Granny has somethin' and if she doesn't, we can always get some meat for ya somewhere!"

"Great! I can have those apples right now so I don't get more hungry while waiting for the meat to cook! Oh, and could we get some honey too?"

"I don't see why not. We could even have some fresh honeycomb if you really wanted."

This made you smile as Epel chuckled, happy to be able to provide for you and make you so excited for your next meal. You were quite pleased to go along with Epel while he led you back to the main Apple tree where his home was. Granny was probably cooking up one of your recipes at that very moment.

~~~~

(*Use of Hindi nickname: meri jaan (my life))

Kalim:

"Here, (Y/n), have a date!"

The Genie happily pushed the fruit towards you, grinning excitedly when you accepted it and popped it into your mouth. It always seemed like any time you had the inkling of a craving, Kalim had the food readily available for you. His unusually helpful behavior was somewhat suspicious to you, as he seemed to know what you were craving well before you actually realized you even had a craving.

"Hey, Kalim?"

"Yes, meri jaan?"

"How do you always know what I'm craving before I do?"

Kalim smiled as he floated over your back, winding his ethereal tail around your midsection as he rest his chin on your shoulders. He gently picked up your hands and placed them with your palm flat against your stomach, his own hands laying over them. From within you, you felt the growing Genie babe stir with life, feeling like there was a feather trailing along the inside of your stomach.

"Because, our little Malik sings to me with his magic."

"He sings to- wait, Malik?"

Kalim nodded excitedly, the red gems adorning him clinking together with his movement. His golden bangles and cuffs glittering and sending a lovely red sparkle of light across your stomach, as he hummed happily.

"Do you like it? I just feel like that should be his name, you know? If you don't like it, we can change-"

You kissed his cheek quieting him as his eyes went wide with surprise. He always seemed like a deer in headlights when you kissed him but soon a love filled smile bloomed across his face just as fast. He seemed to be glowing with a golden light much more than usual, sending a lovely display of glittering light all around the both of you. His intense aura always felt like a the cooling sensation of water on an unforgivingly hot day.

"I love it."

"I love you. The both of you."

As he held you soothingly in his arms another glow seemed to catch your attention. It started faint, but quickly grew to wrap around your stomach and soon overcame Kalim's aura. Instead of gold, a shimmering borealis of color and light flickered to life. The display was dazzling and sudden, flicking out of view just as quickly as it had arrived.

"I think he heard us. Didn't you, Malik~?"

Another sensation of movement inside of you made you realize the infant was actually responding to Kalim.

"When you say he sings to you... how does he do that?"

"With his Magic. Genie's use their magic like another sense and stomach since we have to feed off of residual magic. We can communicate with it too. It's neat, right? Malik is special though. He sings with his Magic. It's hard to explain, but it makes me so happy to hear it... He's going to have the best life, I can just tell!"

"I know he will."

There was a moment of peaceful silence between the two of you before Kalim seemed to perk up, chuckling to himself.

"Some of Jamil's curry coming right up!"

~+~

Jamil:

"Are you sure this much spice is safe for Humans, (Y/n)?"

"Absolutely! Now add some more!"

Jamil let out a bemused hum as you sat comfortably seated on the counter away from the hot stove he was using to cook. You were leaning back onto Jamil's long tail, a section of it curled up behind you to support you back. Beneath your legs another part of his tail rose to elevate your feet so you were reclining comfortably.

Despite your insistence, the Naga was hesitant to add more spice to your meal. He wasn't keen to harm the soft shelled eggs still forming inside of your body with something more suited to his palette. Still, he decided to add just a small amount more to please you, making it look as if he added a lot more than he did. This placated you and left you smiling happily to yourself as you relaxed in the scaled coils.

Where you had been positioned was warm from the rays of the setting sun, leaving you feeling comfortable and content. You had been far colder than usual recently, so you wanted to have something spicy to help warm you up. Something about the heat of the dish seemed to entice you more than any other. The warmth of the sun wasn't too bad either, letting you lay with your stomach exposed to the golden rays of light.

"How have you been feeling, (Y/n)? I trust you will tell me if anything felt off or uncomfortable."

"Of course I will. I've actually been feeling a little cold recently."

"Cold?"

"Yeah, like I need a heat-lamp or something, like a Lizard."

"... Or a Naga."

"Hm?"

"Nothing. Never mind me, we can get you warmer clothes and we can use those heated blankets of yours to keep you comfortable."

You nodded, cuddling into the coils embracing you as you nuzzled into the scales. Jamil smiles at this, getting this genuinely affectionate look as he continued cooking. The delicious smells and relaxing environment had you dozing off, one hand resting on your stomach as you went limp in the Naga's coils.

No one was going to bother you while you rested, Jamil would make sure of it.

~~~~

(*extra: nickname- Angelfish)

Azul:

"Careful, Angelfish, you don't have to rush."

You chuckled as you glanced back at Azul, feeling him grip your elbows and help you into a seated position on the chair despite the fact you could have easily done it yourself.

"Azul, I promise you, I'm fine."

"I know you are. I simply... well you know how I worry about you. I can't help it. There's so much to worry about."

His face darkened for a moment as you watched him, slowly lifting your hand to cup his cheek. It took only a second before he was leaning into your touch, practically cuddling into you as he shivered.

"Look at me, Handsome."

Azul flushed a pretty blue against his purple cheeks, cradling your hand with his own. His hair was starting to get long as it seemed to flow onto his shoulders and tickled your arm while he basked in the gentleness of your touch. His pale eyes glinted in the low light of the room as he stared at you, awaiting your next move.

"I'm okay. I know you are just concerned and I appreciate it, Azul. You mean the world to me, you silly cephalopod. Now, if you'll excuse me, we," you gestured to your stomach, "are starving."

"Right!"

The Octopus quickly moved to push your chair in for you so you could eat at the table, relaxing with the large plate of fried chicken. Azul had been eager to show you he could do it and you were eager to let him cook for you. He had improved his cooking skills under your tutelage and had been so eager to cook you whatever you were craving at the time.

He smiled as you dug in and it was- admittedly- well cooked. The seasoning was decent and the skin was crisp. You were clearly pleased as you snacked on the offering as the persistent craving was once again sated. For all of the odd food you had craved during your time carrying Azul's eggs, fried chicken has been the most persistent and reoccurring.

"I hope they are to your liking."

"I don't know why it is always fried chicken. Honestly, it's like there is so much they could possibly want and fried chicken is the answer every time."

Azul chuckled at this moving to sit across from you with a happy smile on his lips. He could only hope they continued to enjoy the meal once they hatched as it was the one he was becoming increasingly confident in making. He certainly didn't mind partaking every now and again when he really desired it, but he knew better than to try to eat it in front of you while you caried his eggs. Though he was currently adept at navigating the emotional landmines of your hormones, he had made enough mistakes to learn how to avoid them.

"Perhaps I will be a master of it by then and we can all enjoy some together."

~+~

Jade:

"Oya, (Y/n), I thought you were already in bed?"

You glanced over your shoulder at Jade guiltily, barely hiding the sauteed mushrooms behind your back. Jade smiled knowingly at you, moving past you to grab out various ingredients, beginning to make what looked like a mushroom pasta dish using the mushrooms you had cooked up. It was certainly much more appealing to you than the simple mushrooms that you had made.

Despite how late at night it was, Jade didn't seem tired in the slightest. In fact, his scales glowed a beautiful light teal color in the limited lights of the kitchen that transfixed you while he moved around in the darkness with confidence. Occasionally, you saw when his golden eye would peek at you from the darkness, checking in on you as you leaned against the counter top and watched him cook for you.

Jade had been such a quick study when it came to the culinary arts, you were almost surprised at how quickly he picked up the craft. cooking any dish was almost instinctual to the Eel that thrived on your attention and on impressing you. Everything he did was solely for your benefit.

After all, you were carrying his eggs.

"Thank you for cooking for me, Jade. I didn't have the energy to make something big..."

"Of course, my Pearl. How could I ignore you at a time like this? You are using your body for my benefit and for our eggs, it would only be fitting I cook for you. Allow me to set you on the counter, Beloved. I'm sure your feet simply ache standing there."

He easily lifted you, careful of your stomach as he placed you on the countertop. When you relaxed onto the surface he smiled and returned to cooking.

"You can always find me or let me know when you are craving something, (Y/n). Your comfort is important to me."

~+~

Floyd:

"Shrimpy, look what I got for you~!"

Floyd grinned widely as he showed off that impressive array of razor sharp teeth towards you. Still wriggling in his hands was a Mahimahi fish. Something about the flopping creature registered to your mind as a joke on Floyd's part. Having been years yet the hate that he held for the despised Merfolk that once tormented you still burned strong in his chest. Every chance Floyd had to bring you a Mahimahi, he took.

Of course, this was all beyond the fact that you were in a secluded beach house relaxing and Floyd had just swam out to sea to get the fish itself. Even as you stared incredulously at the Eel Merman, your stomach growled impatiently. That sound was all Floyd needed as confirmation that you wanted the fish.

"Floyd, don't tell me that you went and got it just to make it for me."

"Of course I did! I was actually just gonna come back and give you a big squeeze when it swam out in front of me. Too bad for the little fishy that I caught it instead~!"

He happily sauntered off with the still flopping fish in his hand, like going to find Jade so he could bother his twin to cook the fish for you. Where Jade would happily tell Floyd to get lost, he would always set aside time to do something nice for you. It didn't really matter if you told Floyd to put the fish back, he would probably still find a way to make it into a meal for you.

Even as you relaxed and a slow gentle breeze swept across your skin soothingly, you knew the Eel was going to be lurking nearby at any point. That's just how Moray Eels worked. They were ambush predators, after all.

~~~~

*extra: nickname- Mousey

Leona:

"Goodness sake's, Mousey, should I tell the Lionesses to get the whole Savana for you too?"

You hummed, barely looking up from the feast in front of you. Despite Leona's complaint, he was quite fortunate the female guards of the Palace were so fond of you. Certainly, one would be struggling to find any Nemean Lion that genuinely disliked you or the wonderful presence you had while you were among them. If they knew you were the one who wanted the food, they would happily go and retrieve it for you.

"If you wouldn't mind. I do want to know what Zebra tastes like. Oh! And Crocodile too!"

"... You can't be serious?"

You were absolutely serious. If you were going to have an entire elite group of huntresses willing to get you your cravings, you were going to satisfy every craving. It never seemed to be a matter of wanting fruit or vegetables. Almost every craving you had been struck by had been for some kind of meat, from antelope to buffalo, you wanted whatever kind of meat you could possibly get your hands on.

"Dead serious."

"I never knew you were such a carnivore, Mousey."

"I'm literally eating for three right now, and two of them are Lions. I don't think it is all that strange that I want meat."

Leona laughed at this, settling down next to you while you feasted. He knew better than to try to take your meal, having already crossed that boundary and learned you were not one to be trifled with when it came to your cravings. It was better for everyone's sanity that you were allowed to snack and dine as you desired.

Even though Leona complained about the interest that the Lionesses took in you, he had to admit that their presence was a blessing. You were always looked after and protected. You were always fed. Most importantly, there were countless of Doulas and Midwives around you that it was almost a guarantee you would be in good hands no matter when the cubs decided to come out.

"Well, you keep eating up. I want those cubs to be able to beat up Cheka when they're born."

"Leona!"

~+~

Ruggie:

"You touch this cake I bite you."

Your voice was no louder than a whisper but it still sent chills down the Gnolls spine. The way your eyes glinted with light managed to strike genuine fear into Ruggie's heart. It wasn't as if he was unaccustomed to having someone growl at him over food, he just wasn't used to you growling at him over food.

Ever since your stomach rounded up to a nice and obvious bump, you had been territorial over any scrap of food you could get your hands on. So long as it wasn't rotten, you were craving it the moment you saw it. Something about the way you reacted to Ruggie over the meal that you had in front of you reminded him of himself back when he didn't eat very often. He had to fight for every scrap he could get.

His only hope was that it wouldn't be the same for his cub.

Of course, it wasn't like he was ever going to let either of you go hungry if he could help it, but he did have his worries. It was only natural for someone who did not have a lot of food growing up to always be concerned about food security. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't envious of the sweet you had.

"I know, I know. Claws off the cake. I'm not that bad, (Y/n)."

"Yes, you are."

Ruggie began cackling somewhat at this, his lips pulled back in a toothy chuckle at your direct accusation. It's wasn't untrue by any means and he did find it rather humorous you knew him so well. If you weren't his beloved and weren't heavily pregnant with his cub, he would absolutely attempt to take your sweet treat.

"I know, I know. I'm downright awful when it comes to food, but you knew that already. Sides, I've been eating good ever since I managed to meet you, right?"

You actually laughed at this, knowing there was a fair bit of truth to the statement. It was hard to argue with facts and since Ruggie seemed so happy about it, why not let him have this little victory?

Even while the two of you joked and laughed about the situation, Ruggie did hold true to his word to not take your cake from you, no matter how much his stomach rumbled.

~+~

Jack:

"-and there is more in the fridge. When I come back from my trip to the market, I'll make sure to bring some extra snacks so you don't have to wait for something to cook."

Jack continued to chatter on despite the amount of food that you already head available to you. Anything Jack could bring down himself he had brought back to you like a hunting dog trying to impress the hunter. Any time you praised him for another random morsel brought back to you, his tail would wag at incredible speeds and he would tap his paws excitedly on the ground.

Not once in his many trips away to catch or find something for you to eat had Jack stopped to realize that you had plenty of food available to you. Still, it was clearly important to the Werewolf to find you food that he could give to you, needing to show that he was an attentive mate to your needs. Even on the rare and few between times you would get cravings Jack was eager to run off and retrieve whatever he could get for you in that moment.

Your stomach did make it harder for you to move around, so Jack ensured to do whatever he could to make your life easier. He had even tried his hand at cooking but quickly had to give up on that when he almost singed his fur off in the attempt. Beyond that, the Werewolf had been an efficient provider for you in your time of need.

"Jack."

"- but I need to make sure to get some fruit for you too, can't have you just eating meat-"

"Jack."

"-and make sure to tell me when you are wanting something in particular, but I can always make another trip back-"

"Jack, sit!"

The Werewolf went silent as he suddenly sat where he had been standing, staring at you in surprise. You didn't often have to order the Werewolf to do anything, but he always ensured to do as you asked regardless of what he was doing moments prior.

"I think I have enough snacks for now, Jack. We barely have enough room to put all of this food already."

"Right," Jack huffed out a nervous cough, "right.... we already have enough. We don't need more."

"Right."

"Right... but if I could just grab some fresh fruit-"

~~~~

Riddle:

"... And you are certain this is what you wanted?"

"Why are you asking it like that?"

Riddle's heart sank as he saw you begin to tear up, your lip wobbling in distress as you stare at the Unicorn in front of you. He had been trying so hard to go just one day without upsetting you or making you cry and he had been failing rather spectacularly at that task. Something about your mix of hormones and sore body left you in rather sensitive state at almost all hours and Riddle was trying his best to not displease you.

His most recent attempt to keep your spirits up involved a rather large amount of honey and grain filled breads. Trey had been nice enough to bake several loaves and Riddle was considering getting you more due to the speed that you had consumed the bread that was provided to you. From putting fruits on it, to cuts of meat, all the way to your current fancy of honey.

Despite all he had done to ensure that your cravings were satisfied, you were still incredibly sensitive when it came to the topic of food or to Riddle's tone. Any time he questioned your motives or desires, it was usually met with a tearful response. Riddle would scramble to make it up to you just to get you to calm down and the cycle would repeat again.

"I just mean to ask if this is al you want on it. I know you like fruits on this bread too, so I thought it would pair well with the honey and the tea I made for you."

"Oh... I guess some fruits would be yummy on top, sure."

He breathed a sigh of relief as your tears seemed to dry up, quickly accepting his suggestion instead of dwelling on the sorrowful feeling that had been building up inside of you. You were just looking forward to finally having something to satisfy your ever growing sweet tooth. It seemed the growing life inside of you took after Riddle quite a bit with how many sweets you craved at any given time.

"Here, let me go get some for you. Are strawberries okay?"

"Sure!"

~+~

Trey:

"It's all gone!"

You were sobbing heavily into the side of the unsettled Kelpie who tried to keep the hot tray he was carrying from burning you. Even as you pressed your face into his side, he could understand your cried words as you whimpered and hiccupped into his white coat. Your gentle whimpers unsettled the soft spoken man as he adjusted the tray to hold in one hand, the other coming down to rest on your back.

"What's all gone?"

"The bread!"

"The bread I made for you this morning?"

"Yes..! It's gone!"

Trey furrowed his brows, wondering where it could have gone to. He had made you a whole loaf of bread loaded with grains- your most recent and intense craving other than meat- and it was a fairly decent sized loaf as well. It made no sense that the bread was just gone.

"What do you mean it's gone? Did someone take it?"

"No! I ate it... all of it... now it's gone!"

Trey had to stop himself from laughing in a good humored way, knowing that you were more susceptible to your emotions and to any perceived loss that befell you. Even something as simple as not having more bread to snack on upset your delicate heart. He absolutely could not let you know he was chuckling though, as it would only serve to upset you further.

"Here, I was going to save these for tomorrow, but I figure you can have some now. They may not be that exact kind of bread, but they are rather delicious tarts."

You looked up, seeing him lower the tray of sweets for you to take your pick of the sweet treats that he had just made. It was one of your favorite luxuries when it came to being with Trey. The fresh deserts always seemed to taste even better when used to soothe away your tears. Even your ever swelling stomach seemed to agree with the sentiment, your emotions settling quickly while you enjoyed the flavorful baking.

"Thanks, Trey."

"Anything for you, my Sweet."

~+~

Cater:

"Thanks for sharing, Cater."

You sat across from the Water Nymph, helping yourself to his plate as he just smiled at you patiently. Despite the fact that you had your own plate of food, you suddenly seemed to want his, so he figured he could just have your meal instead. It seemed to be an increasingly common trend whenever Cater had something savory to eat or even snack on.

It seemed that savory need for salt and a bit more substantial food was a rather common craving for you. It even went beyond comforting things like sweets where you had switched out the sugary confectionary items for salted foods and heartier flavors. Despite how Cater wanted to believe it was because of his own aversion to sweets, he also knew it was more than likely a result of the Cores growing within you.

With your savory cravings, you had been drinking an ever increasing amount of water at almost all hours of the day. You would even go to sleep with water by your bedside and make Cater go get more water for you whenever you stirred in the night. He was happy to do it for you, of course, you were letting his offspring grow inside of you and just supplying them with the water they needed to form properly.

"Of course! What's mine is yours. You know that."

"I know, I still appreciate it."

"And I appreciate you, (Y/n). Just let me know when you want more food or water. I'm happy to go get it for you."

"Well... now that you mention it..."

Cater chuckled at this, noticing your cup was empty as you drank down yet another glass of the clear liquid.

"Let me get that for you."

~+~

Ace and Deuce:

"Do you think we should stop her?"

"You can try. I'm not going to be the one who makes her cry."

"... I'm sure it's fine."

The Faun and Satyr pair stood watching you as you ripped apart another head of lettuce, breaking off leaves at a time and snacking on them while you paced around absently. Despite how the pair had believed that you would want to be off of your feet, they figured that questioning you wouldn't be worth the coin flip reaction between anger or sorrow. Even as you waddled around with your swollen stomach rather apparent, you seemed more than content to continue pacing with your lettuce.

The two had learned early on in your pregnancy to not question your cravings or the amount of food that you decided to eat. The last time Ace had tried to tease you about it was met with such a fierce response from you the Satyr decided it wasn't worth trying again. Deuce had- thankfully- tried to learn from Ace's mistakes, but still managed to upset you with his own well intended questions that only earned him shame and a tearful reaction.

Now the two simply decided they would just not question your motives or what you decided to do for fear of any negative response. Your cravings had been more about quantity than it had about what it was you were eating, but it made sense given the fact that you were heavily pregnant with at least four Kids. Young Satyrs and Fauns were voracious and near impossible to fully satiate when it came to food, so naturally it would be difficult for you to find anything that managed to fill you up.

"Ace?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"Can you go get more carrots? We're out."

"Didn't I just get some-"

Deuce quickly quieted Ace, speaking over him while trying to cover his mouth to keep him from potentially upsetting you. At least he seemed to have his wits about him even as the Satyr glared angrily.

"Ace can absolutely go get you some more carrots! He can even get you some fruits too!"

"That sounds like a great idea, Deuce!"

Once Ace managed to get away from Deuce's grasp he glared at the other Goat with sheer annoyance. He didn't like being told what to do, especially by Deuce and he had half a mind to headbutt the other hoofed male.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Are you trying to make her upset?"

"Of course not!"

"Then just do what she wants you to!"

"Why don't you do it first?"

"Make me!"

You slowly looked over to see the pair of Goats were using their horns to try and push the other into submitting to them, hearing the pair angrily baaing at one another. It seemed like you were going to be treated to a meal and a show.

[r-memberme]

trinkets | k.m

⎯⎯ “I may have acquired it through slightly less than legal means.”

warnings: fluffff

Klaus Mikaelson was not a man of grand romantic gestures.

He didn’t write poetry (unless it was in the blood of his enemies). He didn’t serenade you under the moonlight (though, knowing him, he probably could if he wanted to). And he certainly didn’t sit around professing his undying devotion (too sentimental, too predictable, too human).

But Klaus had his ways.

And his ways always seemed to come in the form of small, seemingly insignificant trinkets.

༊*·˚

It started as a fluke, or so you thought.

The first time he brought you something, it had been a delicate silver ring, nothing extravagant, nothing too obvious. He tossed it onto the table beside you, barely sparing it a glance.

“Found this in a market in Morocco,” he said, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Figured it’d suit you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, you just found it?”

“Alright, fine,” he admitted, rolling his eyes. “I may have acquired it through slightly less than legal means.”

“You stole it?”

“I liberated it.”

You turned the ring over in your fingers, its design intricate, its surface cool against your skin. “And why exactly did you think of me when you saw it?”

Klaus paused, like he hadn’t expected the question. Then, after a beat, he shrugged. “Because it was beautiful. And it reminded me of you.”

And just like that, your heart stumbled.

༊*·˚

After that, it became a habit.

Klaus would leave.

You would pretend not to miss him.

And when he returned, he’d toss something into your hands like it was an afterthought.

A carved wooden wolf from the Black Forest.

A pressed flower from a valley in Switzerland.

An old, rusted compass from an antique shop in Paris.

A coin from a city that no longer existed.

Each time, you’d scoff, shake your head, tell him he didn’t need to keep bringing you things.

Each time, he’d roll his eyes, tell you to stop making a fuss, that it was just a trinket.

And each time, you’d tuck it away somewhere safe, where it couldn’t be lost, where it couldn’t be forgotten.

Because you knew what Klaus wouldn’t say—what he couldn’t say.

These weren’t just trinkets.

They were breadcrumbs.

A trail of proof that no matter where he went, no matter how far, some part of him was always thinking of you.

༊*·˚

One evening, he returned from a trip to Istanbul, a smug smirk on his face and a small, velvet pouch in his hand.

“This one,” he said, tossing it to you, “was particularly difficult to get my hands on.”

You opened the pouch, letting a small pendant fall into your palm. It was old, undeniably so, the kind of craftsmanship that belonged to another era entirely. The stone in the center shimmered under the light, catching on hidden colors, revealing depths you hadn’t expected.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, turning it over. “Where did you—”

Klaus cleared his throat, shifting slightly.

And that’s when you realized—

This was different.

Not a simple market trinket, not a stolen afterthought.

This was something deliberate. Something chosen carefully.

Your fingers closed around it as your heart pressed against your ribs.

“You went looking for this.”

Klaus, to his credit, tried to look indifferent. But his jaw tightened, his gaze flickered, his hands found their way into his pockets.

You smiled, warmth creeping into your chest. “Admit it, Mikaelson. You missed me.”

Klaus scoffed. “Please. You wish.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “Then why do you always bring me things?”

“Because you’re insufferable when I don’t.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Liar.”

Klaus huffed but said nothing.

Instead, he reached out, fingers grazing over yours, barely there, barely touching. And then, softer than you’d ever heard him—

“Because it makes you smile.”

And you did.

Of course you did.

Because Klaus Mikaelson was not a man of grand romantic gestures.

But this—this quiet, thoughtful, infuriating way of loving you—

This was his.

[missmadella]

“Back Where We Began” (Sanzu x Reader)

Summary: You and Sanzu knew each other since forever—back before Bonten, before the scars and the chaos. A parting years ago left both of you with unresolved feelings... and a promise sealed in the form of a rare VIP club card he gave you. Years later, you return to Tokyo, card still in hand, and step into the club he now helps run.

He doesn’t expect to see you—but when he does, he smiles. Really smiles. From a heartfelt reunion to stolen moments, old memories, and undeniable chemistry, your worlds collide all over again.

Words: 5356

The Tokyo night was electric—humming with neon, secrets, and the thrum of bass that pulsed through the streets like a second heartbeat.

You stepped out of the car slowly, heels clicking on the pavement, city lights catching on the silky curves of your dark dress. The fabric hugged you like it remembered your shape, slit high enough to whisper danger, but tasteful enough to say: I belong here.

You reached into your clutch and pulled out a black card.

It gleamed under the entrance light—glossy and minimalist. No name. Just a silver emblem: a capital B, coiled with delicate cherry blossom petals. A symbol of something most people didn’t even know existed.

But you remembered.

He gave it to you. Years ago. Right before everything changed.

The bouncer at the door didn’t ask for ID. He saw the card and straightened instantly.

"Right this way, miss."

No hesitation. No questions.

You smiled politely, heart fluttering beneath your ribs.

Inside, the club was a different world—low light, rich shadows, scent of top-shelf liquor and danger laced into the air. Music pounded from deeper within, but here in the entryway, it was muffled. Almost reverent.

A sleek woman in black met you at the threshold, earpiece tucked behind her ear. She gave you one glance, and her professional demeanor faltered for a split second.

“Please follow me,” she said quickly. “The VIP lounge has been expecting this card, though… no one knew if it’d ever be used.”

You smiled at that, running your fingers over the smooth surface of the card as you walked.

“I made a promise,” you murmured. “And I keep those.”

Down the hall. Past mirrored walls and hushed stares. The music faded behind thick doors—until the last one opened.

A quiet, exclusive lounge. The air cooler. Darker. Calmer.

You stepped inside, and time caught its breath.

He was there.

Sanzu Haruchiyo.

Half lounging on a couch, one hand lazily flipping a coin, pink and blue hair a little longer, scar still carved like a memory across his face—but his eyes. God, his eyes. Still that wild, unreadable blue.

He looked up.

The coin dropped.

And so did his jaw.

“…Y/N?”

___________________________________________________________________________

His voice cracked the silence, low and stunned. “…Y/N?”

Your smile bloomed wider, warmer, like sunlight slipping through the cracks of a long winter.

“Hi, Haru.”

He stood slowly, as if afraid the vision of you might disappear if he moved too fast. For a second, neither of you said a word—just stood there, taking each other in like ghosts finally made real again.

And then you stepped forward. And he did too.

The moment collided.

You threw your arms around his neck, and he caught you like instinct. Like home.

Sanzu hugged you back tight. Tighter than anyone had hugged you in years. Like his arms were trying to make up for all the time lost. One hand gripped the back of your dress, the other wrapped around your waist, anchoring himself to the warmth of you.

“You’re really here,” he breathed into your shoulder. His voice wasn’t shaking, but it was close. "After all this time..."

You laughed softly, squeezing him just as tight. “I told you I’d come back.”

His face was buried in your neck, and you felt the curve of his lips—a smile. Real. Unfiltered. The kind of smile only a few people had ever seen from Haruchiyo Sanzu. Not the crooked grin, not the manic smirk. This was something raw. Soft. Rare.

“Still smells like strawberry shampoo,” he muttered, and you snorted into his shoulder.

“Still notices the weirdest things.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist. His eyes were softer than you remembered. Tired, yes. Hardened, sure. But there was something underneath all that—something that hadn’t changed.

"You kept the card,” he said quietly.

“I kept everything,” you said, just as quietly.

His jaw clenched. His throat bobbed with a swallow. And then, again—that smile. A little crooked now, but still achingly real.

Behind you, you could feel the weight of a dozen stares.

Kakucho was watching with arms crossed. Ran had one eyebrow arched, Rindou looked like he couldn’t decide if this was hilarious or heartwarming, and Takeomi had paused mid-drink.

And Mikey?

Mikey was sitting silently, hands in his lap, observing everything. Like always. Like nothing escaped him.

You finally turned your head, still half in Sanzu’s arms.

“Hi, sorry!” you chirped, cheerful and radiant. “Didn’t mean to make an entrance. I’m Y/N—me and Haru go way back. Like, bike training wheels and scraped knees back.”

Sanzu groaned softly behind you, muttering, “Here we go…”

You only grinned brighter. “He used to throw rocks at my window to sneak out and share candy with me. And once he punched a guy in the face for calling my pigtails ugly.”

You extended a hand toward the room like you owned it. “So, are you all the people he works with? Or are you the people who try to keep him out of trouble? Because either way, I think you’ve got your hands full.”

A beat of stunned silence.

Then, a small, genuine chuckle from Mikey.

“She’s cute,” he said simply.

You winked. “Thanks, bossman.”

Sanzu just kept looking at you. Like if he looked away, you’d vanish again. Like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

And for the first time in years—he didn’t care who was watching.

The others eventually went back to their drinks and conversation, the initial surprise giving way to quiet curiosity. But Sanzu didn’t move.

He kept you close, one hand resting lightly on your lower back, like his body still didn’t believe this wasn’t a dream.

You tilted your head up at him. “You look different,” you said softly, eyes searching his face. “But it still feels like you.”

“Yeah?” he said, voice rougher now, but teasing under the gravel. “You mean cooler?”

You smirked. “I mean tired. But like, in a dangerous I-run-an-underworld-empire kind of way.”

That pulled a soft laugh from him, real and warm. “You’re the same,” he said, not smiling with his mouth now, but with his eyes. “Still loud. Still too bright for a place like this.”

“Guess that makes you my shadow, then,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder.

He blinked at that, eyes lingering on your face. Then he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in that old, familiar way. “You always say shit like that without thinking about what it means.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you always pretend you don’t love it.”

He didn’t deny it.

For a moment, the air between you shimmered. Not with tension—but with the old, tender gravity that had always pulled you toward each other. Unspoken things dancing just beneath the surface.

But before either of you could fall too far into it—

“Haruchiyo,” Mikey’s voice cut in from across the lounge.

Sanzu tensed slightly but turned his head. “Yeah?”

Mikey’s expression was unreadable as always, but calm. “Bring her over. I want to talk to her.”

Your brows rose a little in surprise, but you didn’t feel fear. Only curiosity.

Sanzu glanced at you, as if asking you okay with this? with just his eyes.

You gave him a small nod and smiled. “He is the bossman, after all.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re not supposed to call him that.”

You only grinned wider. “Bet he secretly likes it.”

Sanzu led you gently by the hand across the room, eyes flicking to Mikey for any subtle shift in mood—but Mikey was just sitting there, still, legs crossed, that usual air of quiet power around him.

You took a seat beside him, your posture relaxed, smile soft but respectful.

“So…” you began. “You wanted to talk?”

Mikey studied you for a long moment.

Then, softly, with just a trace of curiosity in his voice, he asked:

“What kind of person brings him back to life like that?”

You blinked—then laughed, a sound like music in a room full of shadows.

You rested your hands in your lap, not looking away from his gaze. “Maybe someone who knows what he used to be like—before all this.”

Mikey’s eyes didn’t flicker, but something in his expression shifted. Subtle, but you caught it.

“You think he’s not the same?” he asked.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head gently. “No… I think he is the same. That’s the problem. You all look at him and see the chaos, the volatility, the scars—and yeah, they’re real. But that fire? That loyalty? That weird, obsessive way he cares about the people he loves?” You smiled, almost wistfully. “That’s always been there.”

Mikey was silent for a moment. Then: “He’s not easy to be around.”

“I’m not looking for easy,” you said simply. “I’m just here because I never stopped caring. That kind of thing… doesn’t go away.”

Another long pause. Mikey stared at you like he was trying to see something deeper. Not threatening—just deeply curious.

Finally, he spoke again. “He talked about you. Once.”

You blinked. “He did?”

Mikey nodded once. “Not in detail. Just… said there was someone he used to know. Someone who made Tokyo feel like home. I didn’t ask more.”

Your heart squeezed a little, throat catching on a breath. “He always had a hard time saying things out loud.”

Mikey studied you a bit longer, then leaned back slightly.

“You’re different,” he said.

“Most people are scared when they walk in here,” he added. “They feel the weight of what this place means. But you came in smiling. You hugged him like none of this mattered.”

You looked down for a moment, brushing your fingers over your knees, then back up.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quietly. “Not to me. Because I knew him before the blood, before the scars, before he started walking through the world like it was always burning. And even if it’s burning now… I still see him.”

For the first time, Mikey’s lips tugged into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Good,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Good?”

He nodded. “I think he needs someone who sees him like that.”

Then, in that soft, unsettling Mikey way, he said:

“Don’t disappear on him again.”

You blinked, surprised.

“Because if you do…” he paused, not threateningly, just matter-of-fact, “I don’t know if he’ll survive it a second time.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t flinch.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere,” you whispered.

Mikey held your gaze one more moment.

Then he turned away, voice low. “You can go back to him now.”

_________________________________________________________________________

You stood slowly from the seat next to Mikey, the weight of his last words still echoing softly in your chest.

Across the room, Sanzu was watching. You knew he’d been watching the entire time—he always had a sixth sense when it came to you. Like if he looked away, you’d be gone again.

You crossed the lounge and reached him, your hand brushing against his.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered.

His eyes flicked toward the others—still loosely gathered, half-distracted, half-noticing. Mikey gave no signal, but somehow, you both knew it was fine.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Come on.”

Without another word, he took your hand and led you out. Not through the front. Through a narrow hallway, down a back staircase that smelled like old smoke and stone. The noise of the lounge faded behind you, replaced by the echo of your steps and the quiet thrum of city life just beyond.

You ended up in a back courtyard—empty, tucked away between buildings. The only light came from a flickering neon sign and the soft glow of the moon above.

It was quiet. Still. Like the world had been waiting for you both to catch up.

Sanzu lit a cigarette with one hand, the other still loosely linked with yours. He didn’t speak for a moment, just inhaled, then exhaled slowly like he was trying to keep everything from spilling out.

Then:

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said quietly.

You turned toward him, stepping a little closer. “I didn’t think I’d come back.”

He gave a dry chuckle, eyes flicking toward the sky. “Tokyo’s a black hole. Swallows everything. You were one of the few things that ever felt light.”

You smiled softly. “I didn’t feel very light when I left.”

Sanzu went quiet again.

Then he looked at you—and this time, really looked. His voice dropped, rougher now.

“I thought about you. More than I should’ve. Even after I got into Bonten. Even after I stopped recognizing my own damn reflection. I still thought about you. I wondered what you’d think if you saw me now.”

You reached out and gently tugged the cigarette from his lips, letting it drop to the ground and putting it out with your heel.

“I think,” you said, stepping into him now, so close your chest brushed his, “that you’re still Haru.”

His breath hitched. You brought your hand up and cupped his jaw, thumb grazing the scar on his cheek like it didn’t scare you. Like it never could.

“And Haru was the boy who sat with me in the rain when I cried. Who got into fights for me. Who gave me a stupid VIP card and told me it meant I’d always have a way back to him.”

He let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. “I meant it. I meant every word of it.”

“I know,” you said softly.

His hands found your waist again, and this time it wasn’t desperate—it was steady. Grounded. Like he knew this was real now.

“Stay,” he said quietly.

“I will,” you replied.

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous,” he muttered. “Or if people talk. Or if I’m messed up now. Just… don’t leave again.”

You leaned in, forehead pressing to his.

“I’m not leaving, Haru. Not this time.”

And under the moonlight, in the silence of the city that had changed everything, he finally closed his eyes.

And breathed.

___________________________________________________________________________

You both stayed like that for a while—his forehead resting against yours, the city humming quietly around you, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then you slowly pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers still brushing along the side of his face.

“What happened, Haru?” you asked softly. “After I left?”

He looked away for a moment, jaw tightening. You waited, not pushing—just being there. Like always.

He took a slow breath, then finally spoke. “You remember when everything started falling apart—when we all started drifting?”

You nodded.

“I thought I was handling it,” he said. “Thought if I stayed angry, if I threw myself into fights, I wouldn’t feel it. But then you were gone. You just… disappeared.”

You looked down, guilt tugging at your chest. “I didn’t mean to vanish. I had to leave. My family was falling apart back home, and I didn’t know how to ask for help. I thought I’d just go for a while. Then I looked up and years had passed.”

Sanzu exhaled sharply, but not in anger. Just pain.

“I used to walk past your old apartment, even after they repainted it. Just to see if maybe you came back. I gave you that card because I didn’t know how else to make sure you’d remember me.”

You smiled faintly. “I carried it in my wallet through three cities and two passports.”

That made him laugh—quiet, rough, but genuine.

“I missed you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “More than I missed myself.”

You stepped closer again, wrapping your arms around his waist this time, resting your cheek against his chest. His arms folded around you naturally, like they never forgot the shape of holding you.

“I missed you too,” you said. “I missed this. Even if everything’s different now.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke again, more hesitant this time.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Where?”

“My place,” he said. “Penthouse. It’s… quiet. Safer than most places. No one else is there. Just me. It’s not much—well, it’s a lot, actually—but it never felt like anything without someone in it.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You live in a penthouse now?”

“Don’t act surprised,” he said with a crooked grin. “Bonten pays well.”

You laughed. “Alright, then. Take me to your ridiculous criminal lair.”

He smirked, but there was warmth behind it now. “It has heated floors.”

You pretended to gasp. “Luxury.”

“I’m trying to impress you,” he deadpanned.

You reached up and kissed his cheek—right beside the scar.

“You already did.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing Sanzu’s penthouse—spacious, sleek, and glowing dimly under low, warm lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Tokyo skyline like art. The city buzzed below, but up here, it was quiet. Almost peaceful.

You stepped inside slowly, taking it all in.

“Wow,” you said, your voice soft with surprise. “This is… not the kind of place I pictured you in.”

Sanzu stepped in behind you, tossing his jacket onto a sleek black couch. “What’d you expect? A dungeon?”

You smirked. “A messier dungeon.”

He snorted, then walked past you, grabbing two drinks from a minibar near the window. When he handed you yours, your fingers brushed again. Neither of you pulled away.

You wandered through the living room slowly, noticing small, personal things tucked between the luxury—an old, scratched lighter on a shelf; a framed photo of a motorcycle you remembered from high school; a cracked ceramic ashtray that looked handmade.

“You kept this?” you asked, picking it up gently.

Sanzu glanced over. “You made it. Of course I kept it.”

You smiled, touched. “It’s terrible. Lopsided.”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging with a small grin, “but it’s mine.”

You sat on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself as he joined you, drink in hand. For a while, the two of you just sat like that—shoulders brushing, silence thick with comfort.

Then, softly, you asked, “Do you remember that one summer we tried to build a treehouse in your neighbor’s yard?”

He laughed, really laughed, head tipping back. “God. We didn’t even ask permission. Just showed up with stolen wood and a hammer.”

“And then you fell out of the tree and broke your arm,” you grinned.

“I did not fall,” he protested. “I jumped. Dramatically.”

You nudged his knee. “You cried for twenty minutes.”

He grinned at you. “And you stayed. Even after your mom was yelling down the street.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave you,” you said, tone softening. “Even back then.”

Sanzu looked down at his drink, the smile fading into something quieter. “You always stayed until you couldn’t anymore.”

You swallowed, heart twisting. “I hated leaving. I never told you that.”

He nodded slowly. “And I hated that I didn’t stop you. But I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding selfish.”

You reached out and took his hand gently, fingers lacing between his. “So maybe this time, we don’t run. Not from each other.”

He looked at your hand, then at you. His voice dropped, softer than ever.

“I wanted to kiss you so many times back then,” he admitted. “I always told myself I’d wait until the right moment.”

You smiled, leaning in slightly. “This one feels pretty right.”

His breath caught, eyes locked to yours.

Then he leaned forward and kissed you—slow, steady, full of every word he never said when you were younger. It wasn’t rushed, or frantic. It was homecoming.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his once again.

“We really grew up, huh?” you whispered.

Sanzu smirked, voice barely audible. “One of us did.”

You laughed against his lips. “Guess you’ll just have to catch up.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The kiss should have been enough to break the tension.

But it wasn’t.

When you pulled back, the air between you didn’t settle—it sharpened. Like every emotion, every memory, every unspoken word had been stirred up again and now hovered, waiting to fall.

Sanzu’s hand stayed on your thigh, thumb moving in slow circles through the fabric of your dress. You could feel how hard he was trying to keep still. How every part of him wanted to move closer, press deeper—but he didn’t. Not yet.

“You’re messing with me,” he muttered, eyes locked to your lips.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “How so?”

“You show up in that dress. With that card. Smiling like you never left.” His voice was low, rough, almost accusing—but not angry. Hungry.

“You gave me the card,” you reminded him, a smile playing at your lips. “You told me it’d always mean something.”

He huffed a laugh, bitter and amused all at once. “Yeah, and I didn’t think you’d actually show up years later looking like that.”

You leaned in, just enough to make your breath ghost over his skin. “What exactly do I look like, Haru?”

His jaw clenched. “Like a problem.”

Your eyes glittered. “Are you saying I’m bad for you?”

“I’m saying you’re dangerous,” he murmured. “And I’ve got enough danger in my life already.”

You moved your hand up, over the scar on his cheek, gentle, like you were memorizing it. “You used to be afraid of getting close to people.”

“I still am.”

“But you let me in anyway.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Just stared at you like you were a ghost that refused to fade.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you whispered.

He leaned in, voice close to your ear, and said, “That if I touch you again, I won’t be able to stop.”

Your breath caught, heart hammering in your chest.

“You think I’d want you to?” you whispered.

That broke something in him.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His were stormy, restless. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

You slid your hand to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “I’ve never said anything to you I didn’t mean.”

He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours again.

“I don’t know how to do this slowly,” he said. “I don’t know how to be careful with you.”

“Then don’t be,” you breathed.

His lips brushed against yours again—but this time it didn’t turn into a kiss. He pulled back. Just a little.

“Stay the night,” he said suddenly. “But not for that.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I want you here. Just here. Not because we’re chasing something we should’ve had back then.” His voice was hoarse. “I want the first time I sleep beside you to be real. Not just because we couldn’t hold back.”

You were quiet, your heart full and aching.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, a promise without pressure.

“I’ll stay,” you whispered. “No expectations. Just us.”

He exhaled slowly, his entire body finally relaxing under your touch.

And as he stood up and led you to the bedroom—his fingers loosely laced with yours—it wasn’t about sex, or need, or desperation.

It was about choosing each other. After all this time.

___________________________________________________________________________

The bedroom was quiet.

City lights filtered through the wide windows, casting soft, shifting shadows across the room. You stood near the edge of the bed, still in your dress, watching as Sanzu shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside.

He didn’t look at you at first—he was tense again, jaw tight, back turned like he was bracing for something more than just physical closeness.

You stepped toward him, hands gentle on his back. His skin was warm under your palms, marred with old scars and new ones you hadn’t seen before.

“This okay?” you whispered.

He nodded, but it was stiff. Too stiff. So you pressed a kiss between his shoulders, slow and soft.

That was what did it.

He turned around fast—like he couldn’t hold back another second—and kissed you. Really kissed you. Not careful. Not soft. Just full of years.

Years of waiting. Years of wondering. Years of imagining what it would feel like to have you here again, close enough to touch, no longer a memory.

His hands found your hips, your back, your face—like he couldn’t decide which part of you he needed most. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, matching his intensity without hesitation.

“I missed you,” he said against your lips. “So fucking much.”

“I’m here,” you breathed. “I’m right here.”

And that was the last thing either of you said for a while.

Your dress slipped down your shoulders. His mouth followed the curve of your neck, your collarbone. You felt him slow down—not because he didn’t want you, but because he did. So badly he needed to savor every second. Like he didn’t trust this to last, even now.

You guided him to the bed, tugging him down with you. He hovered over you for a heartbeat, eyes locked on yours—asking, checking, hoping.

You nodded. Just once.

And that was enough.

Clothes forgotten. Time forgotten. Everything else disappeared.

His hands were reverent—like he’d dreamed of this, memorized it in some other life. And yours were no better—pulling him closer, anchoring yourself in the way he felt, the way he breathed your name like it was a prayer he’d stopped believing would ever be answered.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed.

It was intense.

Every kiss. Every touch. Every sound. All of it came from something deep, something old. Something that had never really gone away, no matter how far you'd both traveled.

And when he finally held you after—bare skin against bare skin, heart still racing—he whispered it against your temple:

“I never stopped wanting you.”

You didn’t answer. You just held him tighter.

Because you hadn’t either.

__________________________________________________________________________

Sunlight filtered softly through the blinds, painting warm stripes across the bed where you lay tangled in each other. The air smelled like Sanzu — faint smoke and something sharp and familiar that made your heart twist in the best way.

He was already awake, sprawled beside you, his shirt hanging open and slipping off one shoulder. You traced lazy circles on his chest, watching the way his dark eyes flicked up to meet yours — that mischievous, half-smile already teasing at his lips.

“Sleep well?” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep and last night’s memories.

You grinned, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Like a baby. You?”

He shrugged, pulling you closer, fingers curling around your waist. “Better than I have in years.”

You laughed softly, then wriggled free, planting a quick kiss on his jaw. “I’m starving. You cook?”

His smirk turned full-on challenge. “Depends. You wanna see my skills… or my mess?”

“Both,” you teased, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

He caught your hand and tugged you back with a rough pull. “Wait.”

Before you could protest, he was standing, grabbing a shirt off the floor and slipping it on — the sleeves a little long on your wrists, but somehow perfect. He held out his hand with that crooked grin.

“Dance with me. Kitchen island style.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, taking his hand. The warmth of his palm against yours made your heart skip. Together you swayed — just two people making space in a world that often refused it.

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, serious now.

“Look, I know my life’s messy. Bonten isn’t just some gang—it’s dangerous. But I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

Your breath caught.

He took your hand again, squeezing gently.

“If you want to stay—with me, with this—it’s not just a fling. You can work with me. Be part of this life. But only if you want. No pressure.”

You searched his face — raw and honest beneath the bravado.

“I’m not scared,” you said softly. “I want to be with you. All of you. Even the dangerous parts.”

His grin softened to something warmer, almost vulnerable.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not letting go this time.”

You leaned up, kissing him—a promise sealed in morning light.

___________________________________________________________________________

The low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of cigarette smoke filled the cramped, concrete-walled room where Mikey sat behind a battered metal desk. His usual calm demeanor gave way to a sharp gaze as Sanzu pushed the door open, you trailing behind him.

Mikey’s eyes flicked over you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "So, you’re the one trying to get in," he said, voice steady but edged with challenge.

Sanzu crossed his arms and nodded. "She’s serious. I want her in Bonten. But I’m not the one to decide."

Mikey’s gaze sharpened. "Alright, then. What exactly do you have to offer? We don’t need liabilities."

You stepped forward, the quiet confidence of someone who’s navigated darker digital waters than any street fight. "Let me show you."

Mikey smirked and pointed to a rusty security terminal on the wall—an ancient relic in an otherwise dangerous empire. "That’s your test. Break through our defenses. If you do it in under two minutes, I’ll consider what you’re worth."

You didn’t hesitate. Sitting down, your fingers danced across the keys with practiced ease, commands flowing in a precise rhythm. The security system—meant to keep out hackers and rival gangs—started flashing red alarms and flickering icons as firewalls and encryption layers peeled away under your touch.

The room fell silent except for the steady tapping of your fingers.

Mikey leaned back, impressed despite himself. Sanzu watched you with a rare, proud smile.

Seconds ticked by. You bypassed their outdated firewall with a few cheeky lines of code, scanning deeper into their security protocols.

Then, with a sly grin, you muttered, "No front, Bossman, but you really need to get a refund on this defense system. I’ve seen better firewalls on a flip phone."

The terminal screen blinked open completely—security breached.

Mikey raised an eyebrow but smiled lightly. “Your in.”

You shut the console down and stood, turning to meet both their gazes. "That’s what I bring. Not just muscle, but brains."

Sanzu stepped forward, voice soft but firm. "She’s not just a hacker. She’s family."

Mikey’s eyes softened, the smirk turning into a genuine smile. "Alright then. Welcome to Bonten."

You exchanged a victorious glance with Sanzu. "About time," you said with a wink.

___________________________________________________________________________

The dim light of the back alley flickered as you waited by the cracked brick wall, phone pressed to your ear. The informant’s voice crackled through, low and nervous. You smirked, already knowing how this would go.

“So, you’re the famous Mrs. Sanzu,” the man said, his tone sliding into something too familiar. “Didn’t think you’d be this... approachable.”

You rolled your eyes, voice smooth. “Flatter me all you want. Just make sure your info’s worth it.”

Before the man could respond, a heavy shadow fell beside you. Sanzu’s presence was like a thunderclap—dark, commanding. His cold eyes locked on the informant with a warning sharper than any blade.

“You better not touch my wife,” Sanzu said quietly, voice low and dangerous. “Or even try to open your mouth one more time.”

The man swallowed hard, stepping back with a quick nod. “Got it. No trouble.”

As he hurried away, you turned to Sanzu, slipping your hand into his. Without hesitation, you moved into his arms, tilting your face up to give him a sweet, soft kiss.

“That was sexy, Mr. Sanzu,” you whispered, lips brushing his.

His smirk softened, eyes warm as he cupped your cheek gently. “Everything for you, Mrs. Sanzu.”