#{ She's so old but I'm so scared to find her dead one day. } | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slu7formen · 2 months

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I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her likes this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

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toodelusionalforreality · 15 days

Text

Sanctuary

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: The mysterious bar becomes Azriel's hideaway over time. Despite his intentions, he finds himself drawn to its owner as much as the place itself.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's 5 in the morning and I'm sleep deprived. I've tried my best to edit it.

Word count: ~5.2k

Warning: None [minimal editing/proofreading/formatting]

Previous Chapter: Rare

Three weeks later, Azriel stood in front of the red-bricked building again. Alone. He returned home from his latest mission, bruised and battered, and patched to perfection only a few hours ago. Madja had seen him off with an instruction—a thinly veiled order, to be precise—to take two days’ complete rest. Despite the vial of sleeping tonic he emptied in front of her strict eyes, Azriel was restless in his bed. And for some unearthly reason, he went to the one place he never thought of after that night.

The hag looked up at him with eyes so sullen and dead that for a moment, Azriel believed she had forgotten him. Then her lips stretched thinly and her eyes turned bright with excitement. Without a falter in his steps, he took a gold out of his pocket, dropped it on her desk, and reached for the doorknob. He ignored her smug gratitude as he pushed the door open.

The room looked exactly as he remembered. With its dim lighting and almost empty tables, it appeared bigger, darker, and hauntingly beautiful. Azriel went to the same corner he and his family occupied only days ago. A familiar blend of metal and spices welcomed him.

The sequence of events was reminiscent of that night. The same server tended to him with a more relaxed smile. Quiet chatter and waves of laughter filled the room. The band played music, calm and lulling, unlike the upbeat one they played that first night. For each of his emptied glasses, a filled one took its stead.

He felt filthy to have sneaked in alone in secrecy. He was exhausted. He needed a drink. It was a bar. All perfect reasons for someone visiting that place late into the night.

And yet, something felt wrong about his logic. By the time he was done, the soothing effect of the tonic and countless drinks had settled in.

The week Rita’s opened its doors again, even with its eerie elegance and overflowing liquor, Pharus couldn’t keep the crowds returning. Even his friends would never set foot in a place like this now that they had their favourite pub again, where the lights were too bright and the music was too loud. Leaving it all the more enticing to Azriel.

Time slowed down within those dark red-stoned walls. Hush fell over the room whenever the band paused between their ballads. Wines were more generous and sweeter each time he visited. Night after night, only regulars remained bearing their loyalty. The servers and bartender greeted them like an old friend with light banters.

Azriel frequented the bar in between his missions—more often than he dared to admit. Every time, he walked into the hall before he had the chance to doubt himself, went to the same table which by now had his claim on it, and Uri, his usual server, kept his glasses full while making polite conversations.

Pharus offered him refuge from his family, from his job, and from the world. Whenever he needed to recuperate in the quiet, he chose the hidden bar over the comfort of his warm bed.

His shadows embraced his new ritual with much ease. During his early visits, they ventured out to study the layout of the building, learning the nooks and crannies like they always did with every new territory. They familiarised and warmed up to the place sooner than he had expected.

They gave him company and scared away anyone who approached him, except Uri, who had grown immune to seeing them since the first night. Most days they stayed close to him, shifting on his shoulders like a cool wrap of darkness. And when eyes caught his presence, they curled around him until he became one with the dark corner.

Once in a while, they swarmed his shoulders, whispering nothing coherent, and wove around his hands until they drew his attention. But they had nothing to say or sensed no threat. Azriel believed it to be the effects of the drinks he had and noted which ones to steer away from.

His missions kept him away from Velaris often. He was even glad of this little hindrance, for he wouldn’t want his family to find out about his trysts. Over months, the routine only forged deeper into his muscles, becoming one with his mind. After every mission, before every mission, and sometimes in between, he found a reason to return to the bar.

He was stealthy about it, sneaking out only after his family retired for the night. If they knew their shadowsinger, quiet and reserved, visited a bar often, he would lose the one place he enjoyed other than his home sooner than he blinked.

Pharus was his dirty, heavenly secret.

Uri gravitated towards Azriel more than to his other customers. But he also always had stories to tell. And Azriel’s innate curiosity allowed the server to dish out gossip after gossip. The most interesting ones were of their owner. Nothing made sense about her, and yet Uri spoke of her life like it was a finished book—all chapters done and closed, with loose ends tied, pieced in perfect order.

Azriel never voiced it though, he rarely said a word. He preferred observing from the shadows, and so he did. Listened to every story Uri gave him, noticed the way the patrons perked up when N worked at the bar, and counted her footsteps on the other side of the door.

‘She is not here tonight,’ said Uri as he poured him another drink. Azriel looked up from surveying the room. ‘That’s why it’s packed.’ The server set the bottle down and slumped in one of the chairs at the table, clearly meant for more than one. ‘The moment she is out of Velaris, they come flocking in until she’s back.’

Azriel lifted a brow. How much did these people hate her or fear her if they went to such great lengths?

‘They feel powerful. It’s their version of rebellion,’ Uri continued, not realising the spymaster had gleaned that much already. He glared at the man who threatened Raya, the bartender, with a creepy smile. ‘To step in here after she humiliated them. But they don’t have the balls to do much else.’

‘Aren’t you afraid they might hurt you?’ Azriel usually limited his questions to one or none. But sometimes, his curiosity was a wretched curse.

Uri shrugged, and his lips pulled into a smirk. ‘They know she’ll hunt them down.’

Like he promised, the crowd thinned to the regulars again, the peaceful ones. After each of her trips, N tended to the bar—a sign of her return, a warning to the lurkers to crawl back to their pits.

‘Where’s she?’ Azriel had asked the server once when she didn’t show up for weeks. Even his shadows were alert to know the answer.

‘To get supplies, I guess,’ frowned Uri. For the first time, he hesitated to discuss N's errands. ‘We get tired of asking and keeping up with it. One time it’s for the bar, the other it’s for the shop, and then, there are personal reasons. And those are even harder to pry from her.’

’Shop?’

Uri toyed with the cork of a wine bottle between his fingers, eyes scanning for signs of a call from other patrons, out of habit rather than necessity. ‘Yeah, one along the banks. She has this blade business. Better than this one, really.’ Sensing Azriel's blank stare, he continued with a breathy laugh, ‘You don’t really think we get any money from this place, do you?’

‘I don’t know. Seems like a good place.’

Azriel swept a glance across the room—the elegant fissures, ambient lighting, plush seats and chairs, and beautiful shelves filled with bottles and bottles of liquor. Some would agree it had a certain charm to it.

But according to Uri, they lost a lot of their customers because of N’s rules. Many were kicked out, some with warnings, some with broken bones until the ones looking for trouble weeded out—the reason Rita’s still thrived a decade after Pharus opened, which was an ideal choice for the vain faerie folk.

What Uri called a misfortune was a blessing for Azriel, for he wouldn’t be visiting if not for the dwindling clientele.

Uri laughed. ‘You are the only good tipper we have. We barely make anything to keep the bar afloat. N pays us with her own money. From that shop. She wanted to have something simple, but Raya,’ he waved his hand in the general vicinity, ‘wanted all this, convinced her it would be good for business. N didn’t even complain. She put everything together and made a deal with Raya. She runs the place while N takes care of the expenses.’

He grew quiet with his words, his thoughts distant and his voice troubled. ‘Sometimes I don’t think she even likes it here. She prefers the quiet, you know. A bar is the last place someone like that will go looking, forget running. And here she is, taking care of one.’ After a brief breath, he added with a smile, ‘And us, too.’

Azriel had questions, but he kept them to himself. He always had other means to find out. If he wanted to.

Though sprinkled over months, others had grown accustomed to his visits. The hag stopped trying to sneak a word in as she only glanced at him, the small act still beheld a hint of eagerness. People shuffled to a different table when they spotted him at the door. Raya and Uri knew his preferences well.

Even when his missions weren’t as gruesome as the one that tempted him to find a sanctuary for himself, even when they were as mundane as a daily chore, Azriel returned. His own paradise to soothe his soul whenever the darkness began to slick in his veins.

Centuries later, longing still lingered in his chest—unknown and melancholic—a sort of emptiness that never truly faded away. A desperate call to be heard and acknowledged in the lonesome of the night.

Ripping the cool sheets off his body, Azriel got out of his bed again. He worried his visits had developed into an obsession of sorts, an addiction, as he readied himself for flight on a stormy night.

Cold seeped into the walls as he tucked himself away into the familiar corner. The golden lights from the overhead lanterns glowed warmer, but dimmer. The same scent of spices suffocated the room, sharp and intense in the thick, humid air, and yet it felt right. The patter of rain against the windows muted other sounds in the room, cocooned him in his own world, shielding him away in the solitude he had known all his life.

Loners, much like him, scattered across the space, keeping a distance from one another—the storm outside rousing a storm within their hearts and souls.

Uri sat on a stool at the bar, talking with Raya and the other server whose name Azriel never learnt. Their laughter was the only merry sound in the room. Uri split away long enough to offer Azriel his drink and returned to his friends. They seemed happy and content in their own world too.

Slowly, some made their exit after a few drinks, none too keen to linger for long. The way Raya eyed the ones still at the tables, she wanted to close soon. Azriel didn’t intend to stay either.

His shadows flitted along the edges of his wings, around his talons. They descended from his shoulders down his arms caressing, their coldness more acute than that of the weather.

Azriel opened his hands and set them on the table. The darkness wreathed around his wrists, slithered to his palms, and danced at his fingertips. They were starker and colder against the warmth of the lanterns. His eyes drifted up, just a glance, and found the door locked.

The liquor burned his throat, and Azriel closed his eyes. A fresh wave of scent hit his face—something he quite couldn’t figure out and spices. He drained the last of his drink.

The band fiddled for a moment before they began their next song, quiet and low. A voice, sweet and silky, sang along to the music. The one he had heard only once, and yet weaved into his dreams on some nights. He took a long breath and let the voice lure him—his eyes, his senses, his being.

She stood on the small dias, in the middle, among the musicians. The overhead lantern seemed to move with her voice, light shifting around her. An aura enveloped her lithe body with a golden radiance, turning her into a being of light and amber. With her eyes closed, she didn’t care if anyone listened to her song. Her weight swayed between her feet with the rhythm. Wisps of hair stuck to her wet lips that moved deliciously as she sang.

Everything faded away—the band, the patrons, the bar—except for her croon, gentler than midnight’s whispers. Even the rains lowered their cries to a murmur, letting her melody echo in the bliss of the night.

Her song told a story of love and yearning—a proclamation to her lover. Her voice held an emotion so pure and true that if he closed his eyes, if he let himself, Azriel could believe he was the one she sang to. He mused if others heard her the way he did. If they noticed the nuances of her breaths, the slight hum in between verses, the lilt at the words whenever a smile tugged at her lips.

Emotions stirred in his chest, ones he hadn’t felt in his long immortal life, ones he hadn’t known existed. Ache crept away as an ease settled in his heart, a comfort carried to him by her song. When a soft tremor shook through her voice, Azriel wondered how her throat would throb under his marred skin.

His eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a breath. He brought the glass to his lips, his hand trembling. Completely empty. He needed a drink. But he didn’t dare look up.

His shadows swayed, their movements as light as hers. They whispered in his ears as they sang with her, weaving themselves through the silences left by her breaths.

When the music ended, a quiet fell over. The sound of rain hitting the windows thrummed through the room. Slowly, with each step she took towards her office, the world emerged out of her trance.

A piece of him craved her attention. Look at me, it said, demanded, pleaded. His shadows stilled as they watched. She offered a smile to her friends at the bar before she disappeared behind that damned door.

Azriel sat there long after N was gone. Long after her voice was nothing but a phantom ringing in his ears. Listening to her footfalls above, as quiet as her breathing. Knowing he was closer to her than he had ever been watching her behind her desk or the bar.

Every secret revealed itself one way or another. In Azriel’s case, it was because of his wretched luck as a person or dumb arrogance as a spymaster.

As his family voiced their plans for the night at Rita’s, he shot down their pleas and left for Pharus after dinner, earlier than usual. Instead of finding his table empty and reserved, he was thrust back in time to that first night.

Mor’s bold red dress, Cass already with a filled glass in his hand, Feyre and Rhys in each other’s arms, Elaine’s open smile, and Nesta’s piercing gaze on her mate. Except for minor seating arrangements, the scene was uncannily the same.

Every pair of eyes at the table stared at him, expecting sudden news. Finally, realisation morphed into shock before Azriel could walk back out. He gave up hiding then.

Strolling to the table, he took the one seat his family left unoccupied. Uri immediately came to his side with his favoured drink, greeting him with a cheery, ‘Hey, you’re back!’ And explained in excruciating detail how long and often he visited.

Azriel could take the teasing and taunting of his brothers. But what he couldn’t tolerate was their plans to frequent and vet out the bar—his secret haven, to find the source that prompted the infamous shadowsinger to break out of his habits.

As each of them came up with one ridiculous reason after the other, Azriel sipped on his drink. He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. He settled in for a long night of interrogation. But he was a spymaster after all and had five centuries' worth of experience with those he called his family.

‘So you lied to us all those nights?’ Disappointment shone in Mor’s eyes as she asked, ‘When I begged you to go to Rita’s with me, you instead came here alone?’

Azriel didn’t answer. His finger trailed along the side of his glass, his eyes on the dewdrops breaking under his skin. He had grown used to the taste, the smell, and the air of the place like it was a second home already. He was acutely aware of every entry and exit point in the building, including the door in front of him. One which was perched open that night.

His shadows crawled up his shoulders, settling higher than usual, almost licking his ear. Their whispering turned incoherent again and with his family’s eyes on him, he didn’t particularly feel understanding of them. Yet they continued, growing impatient.

He felt a nip on the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and looked up at Mor’s expectant eyes and then beyond her perfect blonde hair. N walked out of the office, ready to take Raya’s place at the bar. She had returned from yet another trip.

A smirk found its way onto Azriel’s lips for the knowledge he possessed, for the ins and outs he knew of her life while she had no idea of his existence. The power he held over her.

‘Now, now,’ Rhys said, his eyes sparkling. ‘Let him have a moment.’ When Azriel turned to him sharply, he glanced at N.

But not too subtle to go unnoticed. Every one of them turned to the bar, sizing up the supposed reason for his escapades. If N felt their gazes on her, she moved unbothered, as feline as ever.

And each of his friends had the same idea. Mor was the first to act on it. She headed to the counter and perched herself on a stool right in front of N.

By denying it, Azriel would dig his grave deep, and even deeper by defending N. He kept his lips sealed and eyes on the band while his shadows curled around his ears, narrating the scene.

Mor returned with a drink in her hand, spoke into Feyre’s ear, and turned to her other side, sharing her learnings with Cass. Feyre left her chair a short while after. N smiled at her the whole time she answered Feyre’s questions and made her a drink. Feyre returned. Cass shifted in his seat, ready for his turn, yet waiting to leave an ample gap in time.

Azriel stood up as Cass’s chair grated against the floor. He made a quick line to the bar and took a seat next to the one Mor and Feyre had chosen, a bit of distance between them to make it inconspicuous.

He mumbled his order under his breath, completely aware of his family’s stares on his back and the teasing laughs they didn’t bother to conceal. Soon, a drink appeared before him. Azriel didn’t look up, but he nodded. He waited long minutes for his family’s excitement to die.

‘You don’t like it?’ The question was as soft as the voice that spoke it, the words laced with tentative curiosity. Azriel lifted his eyes.

She had moved to stand in front of him. Her gaze was sharp like that first night when she studied him and his wings. Her eyes held a calmness that would terrify anyone who got too close to notice. Little specks of light reflected in them, flickering. Her hair flowed in soft waves over her shoulder, damp at the bottom from a recent shower, and yet it glowed under the golden light. Her smile was polite and a bit tight, born out of necessity. Her scent wafted to him, fresh and earthy. He wondered if she remembered him, and most did because of his shadows.

When he didn’t respond, she nodded at his drink left untouched. He lifted the glass and drank the whole thing in a gulp. A real smile appeared on her face.

‘You can tell me if you don’t like it.’ She sounded tender, like her song, unlike with that male all those nights ago. She reached for another glass and asked, ‘Want to try something else?’

Azriel nodded once. He didn’t utter a word, but didn’t take his eyes off her, either. He didn’t need his shadows to know of his family’s prying eyes and ears. A wave of darkness eased behind his back, hiding them. She placed a glass half-filled with a honey-coloured liquor. When she reached for his empty one, Azriel fisted his hands and tucked them closer to his chest.

‘Don’t worry.’ Her voice turned comforting, softer. ‘Your face is too distracting for anyone to notice that.’ Her hands returned the bottles she had taken out to prepare the orders as her eyes scanned the other patrons sitting at the far end of the counter.

Such words from a woman who only smiled at her customers like a chore. His nerves tingled from head to toe. He was glad for the drink in his hand to blame. When he looked at her, she had only a ghost of a smile, a remnant of the one she wore seconds ago.

He let out a low chuckle. He asked carefully, ‘Is that your attempt at flirting with me?’

She fixed him with a steady stare, a slight tilt to her head. ‘I’m guessing no one tells you the truth unless they get something in return.’

His breath stuck in his throat. While he spent months learning about her, however unintentionally, she unravelled him with a mere look.

With a shrug of his shoulder, he brought the glass to his lips. The drink was much sweeter than the ones he had before. When it reached his throat, the bitterness hit him, and then, the burn. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips into a straight line.

Azriel wanted her to do anything but assess him. ‘Are you singing tonight?’ He gambled with the harmless one of his secrets to keep her from stumbling upon the deeper ones.

She stayed silent for a moment. Then she smiled again. ‘Are you asking me to?’

Azriel watched the lights scatter on the surface of his liquor as he toyed with the glass. He lowered his voice, wary of his family behind him, ‘I wouldn’t mind if you did.’

‘I only fill in when they need me. I’m usually in the office.’

Anyone who talked to him for the first time always caught themselves staring at his shadows. Always. But her eyes remained on his face. She only saw him, not the darkness shrouding him, not the shadowsinger. His shadows darted back and forth, wanting to reach for her and backing away. They listened when she talked and garbled words when she fell quiet.

I know, Azriel wanted to say.

A hush fell over. A few murmured before a soft cheer rippled through the air. Azriel glanced at the band as they prepared for their next number. When he turned back to her, she was looking at them. He lifted a brow. A silent question. She stared at him for a minute, a long minute. Azriel willed himself to hold her gaze. She stepped away from the bar.

He bowed his head. The last thing he wanted his family to see was the smile on his lips. After a few minutes of shuffling and trial chords, the music began. He refrained from looking over his shoulder. At his family, at her. He took a sip when her voice reverberated through the brick walls, soothing and sensual.

His heart tightened in his chest. She sang of love again. He asked her to sing, and she sang of love—naughty, brazen love. Azriel chuckled at the not-so-subtle innuendo in the lyrics. Her voice mellowed at the end of every verse, softer than a purr. He closed his eyes.

This time he didn’t stop himself from imagining how she would feel under him, if she’d sound as sweet or sweeter when she moaned for him. His shadows peeped over his shoulders. Her eyes were only on him. That damned minx knew what he was up to.

He dared to give her his attention. She smiled at him before she closed her eyes. She swayed to the music, almost imperceptible, but not to his eyes. He had watched her sing before. He knew how she moved.

Her every word was a caress to him. Her voice reached out, striking a chord in his heart that never existed until that moment. If she held his hand and led him to her home upstairs, he would follow, if only to trap himself with her in the quiet, away from the world.

She stood still for a moment with her eyes closed even after the music ended, just the way she always did. She didn’t return to him. Instead, she walked into her office and gave him a smile as she closed the door behind her.

Another few months of missions further limited Azriel from going back to Pharus. A part of him believed his brothers did it on purpose to test him. Between her strange business trips and his necessary missions, Azriel had the chance to avoid her. He embarrassed himself in front of his family to last a few centuries.

Cass and Nesta still teased him by singing her song whenever they received snark from him and didn’t have a retort. Impromptu vocalising, holding each other in their arms, eyes bulging out of their sockets as they pranced around him.

Fortunately, it was the worst they could do to him. Once he refused a healing potion and Madja muttered under her breath, ‘I bet he’d be downing it if she gave him.’ And he wondered how far the news of his non-existent affair with N spread in the court.

‘Where are you off to, brother?’ Cass would yell at his back each night he left the dinner table.

‘Far away from you,’ Azriel would mumble, ‘From all of you.’ And if he felt cheeky enough, he teased back, ‘To look at someone prettier than you.’

‘All I heard is that I'm pretty!’ Cass would shout back.

Echoes of her name rang off the walls interlaced with his family’s laughter some days and nights as he left the room with a smile on his lips.

The times he went to the bar, his brothers appeared by his side miraculously. On rare nights, they left him alone. But those nights weren’t rare enough. They sat beside him and spied the door, waiting for her to grace them with her presence.

For he was the one taunted, his family sure seemed to be more obsessed with her than he was. They invited Uri sometimes to gather ammunition against Azriel in his slow torture. If the server had shown no suspicion until then, he sure would soon.

Except for Mor, Nesta and Feyre, none of the others had talked to N. And Azriel was grateful for it. The catastrophe his brothers alone would cause if they ever met her was something Azriel tried not to imagine. The looks they shared that night still lingered in his mind.

A sigh left his lips unwarranted. Both his brothers turned to him with a look on their faces he didn’t bother to decode. The place offered Azriel peace once. And now, it was only a haunting place with a ghost, N.

The reveal of his secrets had tainted the peace of the bar, for it was crowded more and more on each visit. He could find a different hiding spot. He could go home and lie in his bed again. He wouldn’t need the scent of spices and metal of the place to lull him enough to rest peacefully later.

Uri filled his glass with a drink that looked like the one N had made for him. Even the server was glad to be anywhere but around his brothers.

One last drink.

Azriel took a long sip—not even close to how it had tasted. His shadows swarmed his shoulders, their weight pressing, as if they sensed his intentions. They did, they always did. The only ones who truly understood why he did or said anything. Maybe they had come to mourn the loss of their safe space too.

The door slid open by mere inches. Raya nudged it further with her foot as she walked in. N stepped aside. Her eyes went to someone in front of her, away from the door. Raya shimmied out with bottles in both her hands, a few tucked between her arms and chest, leaving the door open and wide behind her. Never once had she needed that much alcohol in one night before.

N leaned against the table and crossed her arms over her chest. Clad in only a simple white shirt, long and loose, and her legs bare past mid-thighs, she hadn’t planned to make an appearance that night. Her tousled hair was a graceful mess, as if she had been in bed for a while, or someone’s fingers had the pleasure of threading through them, over and over again. A darkening red scratch—thin and sharp—ran along her leg from thigh to ankle. It was fresh but healing, slowly.

Azriel didn’t blink. His brothers’ words faded as much as the rest of his surroundings. His shadows froze over his shoulders, deadly quiet unlike themselves.

Raya went back in. Then there he stood, the man N was smiling at. He leaned down and whispered in her ear before pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek. Close to her mouth. N shook her head and made for the stairs. She still smiled. The man trailed her, a hand on her hip and a smirk on his face. Raya walked out for the last time and closed the door behind her.

The glass in his hand dropped to the wood with a soft thud. The cool liquid sloshed inside and spilt over his fingers.

As if invisible claws clutched his heart and plunged him into icy waters, the haze deluding his senses and thoughts faded away in a blink. Every nerve in his body honed to one thought. Finally, the vision became clearer.

Azriel bared his teeth. A low growl rumbled in his chest. The incoherent whispers of his shadows finally took shape.

Mate.

taglist: @mybestfriendmademe

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar series

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littlemarianah · 2 months

Text

Okay, just a crazy headcannon about death

Peeta dies very young. At 67 years old.

In the early 60s he began to occasionally leave the door open. Forgetting bread in the oven until it turns to ash. Forgetting Katniss's birthday. He even forgot to take his medicine, which he was always so precise about.

Katniss always denied it. "He's just old... He's just tired..." she used to say. Until in a hot summer, Peeta asked her if the reaping was coming. She didn't believe it, She thought he was just playing with her.

Then Peeta started complaining that the kitchen table couldn't get dirty. "You know my mom doesn't like that." he said. But his mother had been dead for 40 years. Every time they walked down the street he asked Katniss where the old Mellark's bakery was.

"The bombs, dear. Do you remember?” Katniss said.

"Oh, of course, the bombs..." Peeta murmured, pretending to remember.

Katniss wished every day that he would only forget the bad things, but he was slowly forgetting only what she wanted him to remember. He forgot how Willow liked to sleep on his chest when she was a baby and how Rye liked to eat bread dough.

Sometimes he just had a scared, confused look. He whispered in one of his children's ears: "Don't trust Katniss, she's trying to kill me." Other times he would cling to Katnis and beg her not to leave him. And he asked a million times if she really loved him. He asked if she was hungry, he asked if Willow was already sleeping in her crib, he asked if Katniss wanted to leave the bakery closed tomorrow because he was feeling so tired.

"Of course my love. Let's keep the bakery closed tomorrow." she responded with tears in her eyes, knowing that they hadn't opened a bakery in at least 10 years.

At least at night, Katniss was still able to sleep on Peeta's chest, and if she had nightmares, he would squeeze it and say. "I'm here, Katniss. It's jsut a dream." He continued to care for her until the end. He kept asking her to stop crying, that he was okay.

When they were young he had promised her that he would only die when she was already dead, not to make her suffer. But it was not the case. In the end, he seemed to realize he was about to go. There were some lucid moments. He pulled Katniss close and begged her, whimpering.

"Promise me that you will live for more many many years..."

"I promise." she said.

Then Peeta is gone, but his clothes are still in the closet, his cane in place in case he wants to come back. Katniss wishes she had gone crazy, but she remains completely sane. Every day, she wake up and knew exactly where she was and what had happened. Her only moments of madness were when her youngest son entered the room, tall and with blond hair. She almost exploded with happiness until realized that it was Rye and not Peeta.

She lived many years as he wanted, but she did not live the way he would have liked. It was a good thing their children were already grown up because she didn't have the strength to do anything other than eat and sleep.

After Peeta died she stopped having nightmares and started having dreams. A warm house, smelling like bread, with a Peeta who never went to games waiting for her. She began to find comfort in the fact that he didn't had to see her die. Being happy that at least it was his body that decided to get sick and die, not being forced to go. She found comfort in what she could until death took her to him again.

Many years later, when her grandchildren are reunited, she tells him an old story. About a hungry orphan girl and a baker boy with a loaf of bread in his hands.

#the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #sad ending

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scenteddelusion5 · 3 months

Note

Yay requests open? If you don't wanna do this it's perfectly fine I understand!

It's an alastor x Fem reader who was his co-host in life

A Single Radio Wave

Alastor x fem co-host reader

Note: I love this idea!!!

Word count: 1977

The Radio Demon's reputation had spread far and wide in hell, yet it never spread beyond this retched place. Everyone in hell knew of the radio host, knew of his broadcasts and they were scared of him. Demons were intrigued and scared by radio's, they were the cursed items of that demon after all.

But up in heaven everyone looked forward to relaxing at home and listening to the old-timey device. After all, the Radio Angel's broadcasts were the hight of most people's already fantastical days. Everyone adored her, she was without a doubt the most loved angel in heaven; kind, sweet, intelligent, funny, witty, looks. She had it all. And yet, her amazing reputation never spread beyond the golden gates. This divide meant that neither one knew what their love was up to in dead. Still, they both looked back on their days together fondly.

It happened when Alastor's last co-host had been in an accident and they were looking for a new hire, that a knock came from the door. William, his intern opened it to reveal a charming young woman.

"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you but do you mind if I wait out the storm inside?" She asked and as if to help her cause, a thunder bolt struck at the top of his tower.

"Come in." Alastor walked up behind William and let the girl in. " We can't let a lovely young woman like you stand outside in the rain. Would you like a cup of joe? William was just making some."

"If I'm not intruding." She took of her drenched coat and sat down in a chair.

"Of course not." William ran off into the small kitchen while the radio host talked to her. "The name is Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand.

She shook it. "Y/n, Y/n L/n. And it's a pleasure to meet you too."

After William had left, the two were still talking at the table.

Y/n's eyes looked around the room. "So you're a radio host. How do you find it? Do you like it?"

"It's amazing, my dear. We have a few odd hours and I had to train my voice, but I quite like it." Alastor had been looking the girl up and down. She was very beautiful, had a good voice and they had an entertaining conversation. This Y/n had the potential to become his new co-host. "And what about you?"

"I... Was just fired today. My boss decided that a 'sweeter' face would pull more clients in. It's a dinner, what do my looks matter?!"

"The man sounds like a handful."

"Oh believe me, he is," she sighed.

"Hey," Alastor started, "how would you feel like starting a career as my co-host, the position just opened."

This surprised the woman. Female radio hosts weren't unheard of, however, they weren't at all common. There were also a lot of limitations put on them.

"I would love too but I don't think I would be any hood at it." She took a sip of her cup.

"I'm sure you'll be great." Alastor hyped her up. " How about you come in tomorrow for a practice round and if it suits you, you'll become a permanent employee?"

"You know what? Why not? I'll be here tomorrow." Y/n agreed.

" 7 am sharp starts the broadcast, be here at least half an hour before that. I'll see you tomorrow then, dear?"

"Yes, see you tomorrow."

And that's how Alastor had found his new co-host and future wife.

Not everyone was happy with Alastor's new coworker. Either people disagreed with having a female host all together or they were jealous that SHE was his new 'radio partner' as Alastor calls it. The man was considered a fine bachelor after all and girls all across New Orleans fawned over him.

During the first year of her employment, Y/n and Alastor grew closer and closer. Until one day, he popped the question.

"Y/n, I've known you for a year now and you are by far the most dazzling woman on earth. It would be an honour if you would give me the chance to court you." Alastor stared lovingly into her eyes as they lid up.

"Of course I want you to court me! You really know how to keep a lady waiting." She pulled him by the arm into a big hug.

His face adorned a bashful red hue while he brought his hand to pat her head. He truly was in love and it couldn’t feel better.

It didn't take long for him to pop the question after that and the two shared the news of their engagement to the whole city. Walking through the street, Y/n got a few jealous glares while on her way to her newly shared home.

Alastor was waiting on her in the kitchen making his mother's jambalaya. "And what was my favourite radio host up to?" He asked.

His fiancé, god he loved thinking about how she was HIS now, put a bag on the kitchen table and started rummaging through it. "You know that new shop that opened up down the street? I found this." She held up a little yellow romper.

"Dear, isn't it way too early to shop for baby clothes?" He chuckled picking up the small clothing article. "We aren't even married yet."

"I know Ally." She smiled at the very feminine and cutesy nickname she once called him and then just stuck. "But I'm ready, ready for our own perfect little family."

'Perfect'. Oh if only she knew, she knew what Alastor was up to while he was 'hunting'. But no, he will never show that side to her. He couldn’t imagine the look on her face, the heartbreak... No she was perfect and deserved only happiness and he would give her the world if she asked.

Their wedding was beautiful. Alastor cried seeing his wife in her wedding dress. They celebrated into the night and again when they got home. Alas, their marriage didn’t last for long.

During one of Alastor's 'hunt' in the woods he heard a bunch of dogs approaching. He ran and ran, and then, there was a gunshot.

Everything went white, then black and lastly red. Red? It was a sky. Looking around he saw a city filled with demons, he was in hell. Alastor saw his own reflection in a puddle, he looked different. His pretty dark hair and brown skin was replaced with red and grey, on top of his head stood fuzzy ears and antlers? Looking at his new appearance he wondered if Y/n would like it....

Y/n... Would he ever see her again? Probably not, she was perfect, his love would get into heaven while he was doomed to be away in this hellfire pit. But maybe, just maybe there was a chance she would be cast down too and if that were to happen, he had to made sure he was able to protect her. So, the Radio Demon was born. A demon willing to do anything to gain more power.

Years went by and Alastor thought about his wife every single day. Did she find out about his murders? Did she hate him for it? Did she become a cast out because of it?

After decennia of not getting a single sign of ever being reunited with Y/n, he gave up. That was, until the princess of hell got on television and told all of hell about her 'Happy Hotel' and her idea of rehabilitating sinners. It was impossible, still, his got told him to go there. Just in case. To prove to himself that he will NEVER see Y/n again.

Y/n was on her way back home. She was in a hurry knowing that her new husband would be home soon from his hunt. She was planning a surprise, having made custom baby shoes that had their names engraved but she hadn't been able to pack the gift. As she was running through the street, a car swirled. The last thing she remembered was the front of a Ford and screams.

Everything went white, then black and then blue. Looking around, she was on a golden pat that led to a golden gate. Was this heaven? Saint Peter was waiting by the gate and happily led Y/n in.

She had quickly found a new home in heaven; she started up her own radio show, decorated her house and made a few friends. Everything was ready for when her husband would join her but that day never came. Every day she laughed and joked around on the most beloved and popular radio broadcast in heaven and then went home crying about her husband and grieved the small and sweet family she would never have.

One day she was bold enough to visit the seraphim and ask about her Alastor. The answer that was given to her was devastating.

"I'm sorry but he doesn't belong in heaven."

That night, Y/n couldn't sleep, all she could do was cry.

Decennia went by and she had made peace with the fact that she would never see her husband again. That was until the princess of hell came up to heaven with the idea to rehabilitate sinners and the news came out about the yearly exterminations. Winners started to protest, most of them had family down there. What if they died because of heaven's heartless decision?

Y/n was haunted by the same fear. One night, she tried to sneak out to the golden gate and jump down but was promptly stopped by peter.

"Hell isn't a place for a lovely woman like you." He had said.

Y/n wasn't hearing any of it thought. She was determined to find her husband again. So instead, she started messing with her radio station.

"ALLY!!! PLEASE ANSWER ME!!! Please." She sobbed. "Please be, alive! Alastor I love YOU!!!"

That night, Alastor sat on the hotel's balcony reading a book when his microphone started acting up.

"A-..... M.... ase... v.. O!!!"

Strange. If it hadn't been decennia since he last heard her, he had recognized his wife's voice in the glitchy fragment, he, however, didn't. As he was checking his microphone, he got called over by Rosie and the other cannibals that were training for the battle.

It was the next day, Y/n pulled herself out of bed, changed and made her way to her radio tower. She had to use this broadcast to spread more awareness about the exterminations.

Alastor woke up that faithful morning from her microphone. A broadcast came from it, but he wasn't in his radio tower? And it was a female voice? His eyes fluttered open and really started listening to what was being said.

"It's a sunny day as usual here in heaven. A small chance of clouds in the late afternoon but those will be swept away fast."

Alastor knew that voice, he was sure of it. It was his wife, his beloved wife, broadcasting from heaven. He could finally hear his love again.

"On to the news! I think we all heard about it around now, but during the trail with Charlie Morningstar about the Hazbin Hotel, it came out that heaven has been exterminating the human souls down in hell. Your loved ones could be gone... Forever... Winners are demonstrating around the holy palace, come with us! Come down and stand help us stand against this injustice! I'm going and so should you!"

And she was fighting for him. She was probably so scared that he would be dead. He would do anything to find her again and if he had to fight heaven, he would do it.

The Radio Demon gained a new confidence that day from a single radio wave that made it through to hell.

The end

Note: I know that the fragment would be more than a single radio wave, it just sounds cool.

Masterlist/request guidelines

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel requests #reader requests #x reader #reader insert #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel radio demon #radio demon #alastor the radio demon

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acourtofmarvels · 1 year

Text

Patience - Cassian

No OC this time, just your average Cassian x Reader (I used she/her pronouns but please use any you would like to.)

Summary: Y/N has been apart of the IC for 100 years after they saved her from a horrible incident that left her broken and traumatized. Cassian knew she was his mate from the second he saw her. Though he never could tell her, not after everything she endured. They put her back together. She loved them and they loved her. Her family. Though, in the recent couple years she developed feelings a little stronger toward the male who she would soon find out to be her mate.

Warnings: hints of abuse and assault. fluff

Word count: 3369

Cassian

"Why haven't you told her?" Rhysand asked me. I looked at him like he was crazy. He must be. Thinking I could ever tell her.

"How could I put that on her? After all she's been through. She's open to us now. She's stronger, braver. She's finally starting to learn to cope with her trauma. I don't want to scare her with something so... intimate."

I saved her. I have kept her safe. I helped her, trained her. Held her when she needed it, gave her space when she needed it. Those 50 years when Rhys was under the mountain she never left the House of Wind once. She didn't feel safe without her High Lord here. Even though Az and I were always with her.

"Cassian..." Rhys started.

"You kept it from Feyre, why? Cause you wanted to keep her safe, you didn't want to scare her. You wanted her to be ready for it. Thats exactly what I'm doing." He's being so hypocritical. How could he think I could just spring this on her?

"You've know for 100 years-"

"I knew the moment I saw her. She was covered in her own blood and vomit, bruised, broken and bare. You didn't see her, Rhys. You didn't feel-" I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I was the one who covered her, brought her to Valaris to be healed and saved."What those monsters did to her..."

"They're dead now. They'll never hurt her again." Yeah. I killed them all. Made them suffer. Had them begging and pleading for their lives.

"She's still healing. I'd wait another 100 years if had to."

Her POV

"We can go back if you want," Mor said quietly to me. We walked down the cobblestone sidewalk through the markets in the town square. Her arm linked in mine, her way of letting me know she wasn't leaving my side.

"No, I feel... good. It's a beautiful day. Everything feels like it's fitting into place. I've noticed these past few months that I finally feel like my old self again. But.. better."

It felt so good getting out of the house. Walking down the streets of my home. Home. I'd been here for a century. I've found my family here. People who love me, scars and all. And I love them. They're my rock. I wish I could say that I put myself back together after being broke for so long but it was them. They hold me together.

"Have you gotten all your gifts yet?" It was solstice this week. Everyone's favorite time of year.

"I have." I smiled at her. "And I'm not telling you what I got you." I knew by the tone in her question that's exactly what would lead next.

"Come on! Did you get it when we were together? I always take you shopping. How could you have possibly gotten my gift?"

"Cassian took me yesterday." I didn't like going out by myself. Too much anxiety. Mor or Feyre always go shopping with me in the markets. The boys take me other places, exploring Prythian if I please.

"Cassian never goes shopping with me! Gods, how did you convince him to do that?"

"I just asked him and he said yes." I shrugged. Cassian has always been sweet. He never tells me no. I feel guilty about it sometimes. I don't want to bother him.

"You have him wrapped around your finger, I swear." Mor groaned and I laughed.

"I do not." My face felt warm as a blush crept up upon my cheeks. Me blushing for a male? That hasn't happened since before... "Cassian just worries about me."

"Yeah worries a little too much." She rolled her eyes playfully. "You're staying at the town house with all of us this week right?" Rhys and Feyre mentioned they wanted everyone there this week. It was kind of tradition but this was the first solstice since the war and it just felt a little extra special.

"Of course. And I will also be drinking my weight in wine."

"Oh gods, a drunk you is never good." Mor and I both laughed loudly. I didn't drink much. Only with them. And usually on special occasions.

***

"Leave! You'll see us when we are ready!" Feyre yelled through the door. Rhysand wanted to see which dress she picked. He was being very persistent. It was so cute.

"Just a peak, my love," he said. I could practically hear the smile in his voice. I felt a weird pang in my chest. That was weird.

There was some more playful arguing between them before Feyre finally came back over to the vanity where I was sitting as Mor was doing my hair and makeup.

"He's acting like a child and I just took away his toy," Feyre mumbled, "Illyrian baby."

Mor was the first one of us who was ready. She was wearing a long black silk dress with her signature red lips. Feyre was wearing a dark blue sparkly dress. It took me a while to pick which dress to wear. Feyre insisted on the maroon one, while Mor wanted me to wear the emerald green. I am bad at making decisions so I let Elain pick and she favored the maroon one more like her sister.

"Mother above we look hot," Mor whistled as the three of us stood in front of the giant mirror in Feyre and Rhys room.

The door squeaked as it opened, Elain slipping through. "Stop being annoying, you swear you've never seen her dolled up before." She mumbled to whom I could only assume was Rhysand. She closed it behind her, pressing her back to it. Elain was in a pale pink dress. She favored the lighter colors. "The boys are getting rowdy and insist we go down to eat dinner."

"They're children, I swear." Feyre rolled her eyes but she was smiling, as was I. Feyre followed Elain out the door. I briefly heard Rhys say some curse words at the sight of his mate before Feyre shut the door behind her.

Mor reached for the handle of the door but paused when she noticed I was hesitant to follow her. I could tell she was immediately worried for me. "What's wrong?" Was I really that transparent?

I couldn't lie to her. She can always tell when I'm lying or hiding something. "I am nervous." I admitted, my hands gripped the fabric of my dress nervously.

"Why? Has something happened?" I think I was the closet with Mor. She was there since the beginning. For the first few months after the incident I was to afraid to be around males. Mor never left my side. She didn't even know me yet she cared so much.

"Nothing has happened. Just, something feels different." I could feel the aching in my chest. I had noticed it every time I was around Rhys and Feyre, I didn't understand.

"A good different or a bad different?" She took ahold of my hand, a comforting gesture she did to know that she was there for me and she wasn't leaving.

"I'm not sure. I think what I'm feeling is good but it hurts sometimes." She gave my hand a small squeeze.

"Do you want to leave? I can winnow us out right now. No questions asked. You say the words and we're gone." I smiled at her.

"No I don't want to leave. I just... I had that on my chest." I took a deep breath. She continued to rub her hand over mine. She always held my hand when I was anxious or feeling emotional. It was comforting, to know she was always by my side when I needed her.

The door burst open, in came an angry looking Amren. Her hand was gripping the doorknob so hard I thought she might pull it off. "If you don't get downstairs in the next two seconds I'm killing them all." She glanced down at Mor holding my hand and Amren's face actually softened. It wasn't often I saw any other sign of emotion on her face that wasn't anger or annoyance. "What's going on? Are you alright, Y/N?"

I let out a small laugh. I love that they all worry for me. But it does get annoying the amount of times a day I hear Are you okay? "I'm quite alright, thank you. Let's eat, I'm starving."

Amren went first, Mor following and myself close behind. The biggest smile formed on my face the second I heard the low, loud, voices of the rest of my family downstairs. I don't even know what they were saying but Cassian's voice stood out to me. My heart sped up and I ignored it like I always did. It was a weird feeling I didn't understand. It always happened around him or even to the thought of him.

"The night has barely begun and you're already giving me a headache," Amren grumbled as she hopped off the last step. The room grew quiet as Mor and I came into view. My eyes locked onto Cassian's first. There went that feeling again. He pushed his chair back, standing up straight. I noticed Rhysand and Azriel were standing up to.

"Now don't stop the party on our account," Mor said.

Rhysand was the first to speak out of the males. "You both look marvelous." He then looked at down at his mate who was sitting in the chair beside him. He must have said something to her for only her to hear because a slight blush freckled upon her cheeks.

Azriel approached both of us, complimenting us. He hugged Mor, then looked at me for permission. I smiled at him and opened my arms to give him a hug. "Thank you, Az." The males were always hesitant to show any type of affection toward me. I understood why and I was grateful for it.

As Azriel walked back over to where he was sitting previously at the dinner my eyes locked once more on the Illyrian general.

"Y/N you look-" Cassian choked on his words. "I mean y-you both look, um, wow." He motioned to Mor and I. I'd never seen him so nervous.

"Settle down Cass, you might just woo them away." Rhys said making Az laugh. Cassian's face turned red as he sat back down in his seat. Feyre swatted his arm and scolded him silently.

The night continued on as we ate and drank. I sat at the end of the table with Elain on my right and Mor on my left. The smile on my face only grew bigger as the night went on.

I kept the smile on my face as I glanced at Rhys and Feyre, who were talking quietly to each other, stealing kisses back and forth. I wanted that. That love that they share. That was the first time I was admitting it. I think I just realized why I felt that pang in my chest every time I looked at them together. That connection was what everyone craved. That unrelentless love. I didn't even know I was ready for that but I now realize that I do.

I looked away from them. I couldn't watch anymore. I needed to focus on something else before they noticed my change in demeanor.

I couldn't help but look at Cassian. He could always calm me down in the worst of times. It was like he knew I was watching him cause the second he looked at me every thing changed. It felt like the world stopped and something shifted. It started in my chest, a glowing warmth that began to sooth my aching heart, like a bandage to a wound. The warmth spread outwards, moving to my limbs and beyond my body, forming a bridge between us.

The second that connection snapped I stood up abruptly, the chair beneath me almost falling back I pushed it back so quickly. The tears were already falling down my face. "You-" I couldn't even form a sentence. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to prevent myself from sobbing then and there. Cassian was standing too, worry all over his face. But he knew. I knew he knew.

I couldn't breath. I knew people were calling my name. I knew Mor was by my side but everything felt numb. I needed to get out of here.

I didn't look out as I ran out of the townhouse. Into the cold air, through the falling snow. He's my mate. Cassian is my mate.

"Gods, Y/N, you're gonna catch a cold out here." His voice alone soothed me. He appeared in front of me, wrapping a cloak around my shoulders to keep me warm.

"How long?" I looked up at him, his face blurry through my tears.

"Let's go back inside, I don't want you to get sick out here," he avoided the question, which only made me angry.

"How long have you known, Cassian?" I raised my voice. I wiped my tears away so I could see him better. The sun was beginning to set but the faelights outside were shining on his face.

"I knew the moment I saw you. It snapped immediately." He said quietly. He looked down at his feet, not daring to look at me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice was barely above a whisper. I was trying to hold it together now but my voice was failing me.

"How could I?" Cassian looked up and it was then that I noticed the tears in his eyes also. "After what they did to you. After everything you've been through... I couldn't put that burden on you."

"A burden? You feel being my mate is a burden?"

"No, never." He reached his hands out like he wanted to hold me, but he lowered them and took a step away from me. "I didn't want to scare you. I wanted the bond to click into place for you. I wanted you to be ready. But I will never force anything upon you. If you want to reject it, I will be okay." It was hard for him to say that. I know he didn't mean to but I could feel him send his sadness through the bond.

I stepped directly up to him, he straighten up but didn't move away this time. He was watching me nervously. I wanted him to hold me. I needed him to make the first move. I don't want him to be scared either.

Warmth spread through my body as he gently placed his hand on the side of my face. I let out a small cry as I placed my hand on top of his, wanting him closer. I looked up at him. "You do not scare me, Cassian. There is no one in this world that makes me feel safer than when I'm with you. And I am honored to be your mate."

Cassian let out a cry of relief as he pulled me into his embrace. We both stood there in the snow, holding each other so tightly, crying with one another. After a few minutes he pulled away first, both his hands cupping the sides of my face now. His thumbs wiping away the few tears on my cheeks. "The honor is mine. And I will give you the everlasting love you deserve, for eternity."

"As will I," I reached up and wiped his tears also. "I will need your patience. I would like to go slow."

Cassian's eyes went wide and he took a step back from me. "Of course."

I laughed a little and grabbed his hand pulling him back to me. "This is just fine." He smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist. "And I would like you to kiss me." A blush formed on my cheeks as I said that. I hadn't kissed a male in over a century.

"You sure?" He asked. I nodded slowly, he leaned in closer and when he was just mere inches away from my face I closed my eyes. Finally his lips found mine in an achingly slow, gentle kiss. He was holding me so softly, as if afraid he would hurt me. "You're it for me. I'm never letting you go." I leaned into his touch, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

"Should we go back inside with the others?" I asked, nuzzling my face into his chest.

"Yeah, we should." He replied but neither of us made an effort to move. "They're watching us from the window."

I whipped my head around to look at the house behind me, multiple heads jumped away from the window. I laughed and shook my head. "They're always so nosey."

"Let's go. It's getting cold." Cassian and I held hands as we walked back inside. He took my cloak off for me and hung it up. Everyone was sitting at the table acting totally normal.

I noticed Mor has taken my seat, pretending to be in a serious conversation with Elain. Rhys was trying to hide his smile behind his drink. Cassian pulled out the empty seat from beside him, allowing me to sit down before he took his seat. My face was red as a tomato but Cassian had a smug grin on his. They were all pretending like nothing happened, that this was all totally normal.

"Did you guys know it started snowing outside again?" I spoke up finally, a smirk on my face.

"What?" "No way." "I had no idea." They all said as a chorus. Then we all started laughing. Thank the mother for that.

Cassian grabbed the edge of my seat and pulled me closer to him, wrapping an arm around the back of my chair. I grabbed his other hand and held it in my lap with both of mine. I need the connection.

"So did you all know?" I had to ask. I wasn't mad. I found it funny actually.

"Know what?" Rhys asked, playing dumb. Then a devilish grin formed on his face.

"I told Rhys the moment I knew, Az suspected the same day." Cassian told me.

"I figured it out easily," Amren said, her arms crossed over her chest and a bored look on her face. "He stares at you constantly."

"I do not!" Cassian said loudly and everyone laughed again.

"She does the same, don't worry." Mor smirked at me and my eyes went wide.

"I do?!" I didn't even realize. My face was so red right now.

"Oh, all the time," Feyre spoke up. Cassian squeezed my hand, begging me to look up at him. When I did his face was so full of happiness, my heart felt like it was melting.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Do I have permission to kiss your cheek?" I giggled, literally giggled. Who am I? Where did this side of me come from?

"You have my permission and may do so anytime you want," I whispered back. He kissed my cheek with glee. I was so happy. I loved the affection he was giving me. He was respecting my boundaries and accepting that I wanted to go slow. But I now understood that with me wanting to accept the bond he was gonna take any affection he could get from me. I wanted to give him everything but I need time.

"I think we can all agree, Cass and Y/N, we are very happy for you both." Rhysand raised his glass to us. Everyone copied, raising their glasses as well.

Acotar Masterlist

#cassian x reader #cassian #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #cassian fanfiction #cassian acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #cassian x y/n

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milknhonies · 4 months

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 4 || Masterlist || Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: After defending your housekeeper, Sherlock takes a rough hand to your backside....

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Spanking, Domestic Abuse, rough kissing.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: I am sorry this took forever to post but I'm lucky and glad to say I should be moving to a new rental home in a month. Yayyy!!!

Inspiring Song: Partita for violin n°2 by Bach.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

With baited breath you hurriedly rushed to push your husband out of the line of the door way. You shoved Sherlock and with some surprise, he moved. He rolled his eyes and pressed his back to the wall beside the door.

You feared an inevitable future. Mrs Hudson would enter your dwellings. And see your husband...how ironic for you to be scared of something meant to be.

Mrs Hudson knocked again and you heard the handle of your door twist.

A strike of horror whipped you into action. You fluttered to the cracking door as the old woman announced in a hushed whisper.

“Y/N dear, are you awake? Your mongrel of a groom is gone if you would like to come out now!”

Your fingers clenched into fists behind you and the offended snicker from Sherlock from next to you beside the opening door didn’t help your embarrassment. He knew you didn’t approve of his past behaviours but to be made apparent how much you deplored him was humiliating.

You forced a tight smile for your landlady as she took a step closer into the doorway. How you wished you could’ve asked her to leave, but how could you, it would seem rude after all her kind hospitality and assistance.

She greeted you with a happy wink while still under the belief her original tenant was no longer in the house. But her eyes did flutter after she glanced you up and down, surprised by your prepared dressed state.

It was a unspoken question, ‘Who helped dress you?’

You gently interpreted aloud, “Oh...he is still here...and...” your lips became dry. Why did Mrs Hudson have to be so invasive as landlady even if under pure intentions?

The old woman grew pale with her wide grey gaze. Her lips smacked open. You looked over your shoulder and gasped with a jump at the ridiculous state of your husband standing directly behind you, with a naked torso.

“Mrs Hudson,” he smirked, “Good Morning,” he said rather proudly with his hands settle on his finely shaped hips. His tongue lazily licked his bottom tongue with his eyebrows raised.

He found the lewdness incredibly hilarious. ‘Great, my husband is not only arrogant, rude and mean- he is also childish one would gather.’

“Quite...” she said as colour grew quick to her face in the shade of a wet red rose. Her wrinkled throat tightened. Her fingers gripped at her apron while her lips pursed disapprovingly.

Your husband briskly moved you aside by holding your hips and directing you out of his path before he strutted out from your door frame entrance.

You and the elder woman did perhaps inspect the curve of his bottom in his trousers for too long as he swaggered back to his bedroom. A plump arse in a husband has never been known as a requirement, but for the advice of a future generation you were sure to note it.

Mrs Hudson somewhat breathless and at a disadvantage twisted her head back and leant to your ear inquisitively, “What happened?” her eyes darted back and forth.

It was then as you saw her forehead shrink, you realised, she was concerned for your safety, for your health and wellbeing.

You could only imagine the distress the dear Mrs Hudson experienced when she found you in a puddle of blood on your bed only two days prior.

Your own lips parted and you raced to find the words. You struggled and stuttered to explain how on earth you came to lay in your bed with your own husband. It felt challenging and at half your conscience considered lying for the sake of modesty and privacy. It shouldn’t have been so difficult to say; you and Sherlock were bloody husband and wife. A small laugh in the back of your head jingled.

“Well...ugh...as husband and wife we...came to an agreement.”

Your fingers came up to touch your lips. A small smile was upon them. How else could you say your husband showed you terror and bliss all in one night. You knew it was not custom for a groom to tie up his bride and ravage her to a mindless state of ecstasy.

It had been so terrifying and exciting. The debate crossed your mind, ‘should I fear him, or submit with praise?’

He had treated you so awfully until this morning. You raced to wonder what had changed his mood so speedily in your favour...’Was it the deal? The debasing?’ In which you relinquished your pride and dignity to him that you already had so little of.

Her eyes narrowed at your wording, “An agreement?”

Those shrivelled pink lips settled in the shape of a pondering ‘o’ for sometime until Sherlock stuck his head back out from his rooms while buttoning a white shirt.

“We fucked Mrs Hudson,” he bluntly muttered startling you both in the midst of shock. It was uncouth to swear as he did, especially as a gentleman, especially in front of women. He was so unlike his high browed brother.

The older woman clicked her heels together and sputtered, “Sherlock!”

“-now if you aren’t too busy gossiping with my wife,” he sneered, cutting Mrs Hudson off, “I would very much like a cup of tea!”

“Well I never-!” the elder woman crossly huffed with her blushed face still blooming.

Your girlish grin disappeared. There he was. The rude and demeaning man.

Your fingers clenched to fists. The disrespect to Mrs Hudson was an insult to you. After all these hours in this new home, this woman sacrificed her time to help you. She did not deserve foul treatment from your husband even if he had always behaved that way to her in the past. You were now living here and wouldn’t stand for it.

You couldn’t allow this treatment to continue, “Sherlock!” both of their heads snapped at your raised tone, “Do not address Mrs Hudson in such a manner again!”

The man deemed London’s greatest detective looked bewildered, as if you slapped the man himself in the face. That masculine confidence fleeted from his face. Your landlady fluttered her eyes at your outburst. Perhaps you appeared aggressive, your knuckle pressed to your lips.

Your chest felt tight. You were panting. Yes, you had yelled so loudly it would be no question if those on the sidewalk below in Baker Street heard your bellowing.

You were angry. Resentful. The spell of his magical touch and charm had worn quickly off. Back you were to being a forthright wife.

His tongue stabbed the inside of his cheek. His eyes narrowed. Whatever was he thinking?

“Very well,” he said and he nodded once, “Mrs Holmes.”

He began fiddling with the buttons of his trousers, tucking his shirt in.

You lowered your hand and placed them on your exaggerated hips.

You gave a little huff to add on, “And say please to Mrs Hudson when asking for tea.”

Mrs Hudson glanced between you both before scurrying back to the dining table where breakfast had been so generously laid out. She clearly was smart enough to know not to intervene in this rising argument.

The smell of cinnamon and porridge filled your nose. Mrs Hudson quietly poured you a cup of tea. From the corner of your eye you watched the steam rise.

“For god sake woman,” Sherlock grumbled with exasperation and waved his hand in front of himself, “She is merely the housekeeper.”

You stood between them and wagged a finger at him, “And landlady.”

He sighed with annoyance and rolled his eyes. His lips pinched. Accepting his defeat in his stubbornness he spun on his heels and re-entered your room. He left his door open.

You took a step forward and remembered yesterday how cross he had been when you entered his space without permission...’permission be damned.’

You swallowed down that cold prickling fear and followed him in and took note on how he sat on the trunk with deviant tools within. He hiked up his trouser legs up. He sighed at your presence- not fully annoyed but not fully relieved either.

You knew where he kept his shoes and what type after your savage pilfering clean the day before. You selected for him a dark navy cravat to match his chosen blazer he pointed out to you. You selected a golden pin and black dress boots for him.

He cleared his throat and muttered a soft “Thankyou,” as you handed him the cravat and pin while you silently knelt to the floor and began slipping on his garters, socks and shoes onto his feet.

He looked like stone. His face unreadable. You could not tell if he was annoyed, amused or just plain bored by his lack of emotion.

Maybe you had shut him up and taken him down a peg. Indeed, perhaps you had really humiliated him in front of Mrs Hudson to the point of expressionless silence.

6:40am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or if he was to be frightened by it. Your quick submission, your gentleness after such a loud scolding. You had such a voice. You had a fearsome outburst that you used said voice with.

So seeing you play demure wife with the snap of second put him on a strange edge...what game were you playing at?

He sat back on his hands and stared at you struggling to button up his buttons he did the only thing he knew how in regards to people. He analysed you.

Your hands were clammy...sweaty and warm indicating either your heighten blood from your outburst or the after affects of your embarrassment when Mrs Hudson discovered his existence in your bedroom.

Your breath was slightly ragged. You were nervous he decided.

He glanced at how every few moments you wriggled your hips. Very faintly. Disguised as an attempt to readjust your sitting position, whereas in fact...you appeared to make soft rocking motions...

Oh, he smiled internally...you were aroused and embarrassed. You were helpless and desperate. Poor little lamb.

He looked around his room and back to you on the floor. You both were in rather a similar pose last night before he blackmailed you into sucking his cock. He twitched his head to the side and wondered how scandalous and quick he could pull out his cock and shove it past your teeth; all the while Mrs Hudson stood only a few feet away past the door with her back turned to you both.

How naughty...

And your sweet eyes looked up from his shoes...if only you weren’t sitting on your skirts. He mourned for all he waited more than ever was sneak it beneath your shift and between your thighs.

‘How charming,’ he larked in his mind, ‘Polishing my shoe with her pussy.’ Your hairless pussy in fact.

Sherlock didn’t not hate body hair. But rather he liked the satisfaction of making pain in doing something as torturous as ripping hair from a sobbing woman. And the softness was something that never ceased amazement.

He did once mention to John before his comrade met Mary how on occasion, cunnilingus on a hairy woman was comparable to kissing a man on the face. John, he recalled, laughed at Sherlock and announced he had never eaten a cunt, so why bother eating one covered in hair... now it was all the man could ever speak of when it came to his wife that he worshipped.

When you finished folding his trouser paints so that mud would not soak the hem, he leant forward and place a finger under your chin.

Your pupils flickered. Oh yes. You were definitely aroused, he concluded.

And he felt somewhat generous. He cupped your cheek and lifted you higher to your feet.

“Come here,” he whispered.

He almost burst out laughing watching how your eyes fluttered. His thumb scraped over your lip. He pinched your cheeks and pulled you into his face before he slowly stood off his bed.

He pushed his tongue inside and moaned. With how you tried to return the movement he smirked. You were desperate and he knew you wanted to please him. He flicked around and sucked your bottom lip.

Pulling back you were panting loud and your eyes wide.

He gave you passion, so what were you to do with that?

“Now Mrs Holmes, go sit down for breakfast,” he purred, “I will be out shortly.”

His cock was getting hard and he needed to give himself a moment or else he felt compelled to fuck you right there, Mrs Hudson could rightfully fuck off down stairs if she didn’t want to see the show....

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:46am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

On weak, shaky legs you turned away from him. Your hand stumbled along his door frame. You could feel the hot buzz still on your lips. You felt hot all over. Behind you, he softly shut his door. You needed to sit down and so you reached out to your side of the dining room. You hobbled into your chair and reached for your warm tea.

“Well you must’ve done something right,” the landlady chuckled under her breath, wiping her hands lazily on her apron, “I haven’t seen him so caught off guard since his mother last visited. Put him in his please, she did.”

You nodded slowly. Sherlock Holmes would always be a true enigma. You sipped carefully. He kissed you with great heat, after you had scolded him? It made no sense.

“Is it within the best interest that I remain rather than leave you alone with him?” Mrs Hudson whispered as she saw your gaze staring off at the nothingness of the room.

Your eyes fluttered to focus and you smiled up at the kind woman. You squeezed her hand and shook your head.

“No, I am sure I can manage my husband Mrs Hudson,” you rose and carefully took the tea pot from her hands, “I think I shall pour his tea.”

Your land lady peered at you suspiciously as she relinquished the china. She smiled grimly and nodded before walking off and departing the apartment.

Sherlock wasn’t so scary now that you knew he wasn’t cross. And surely...if anything occurred, Mrs Hudson might intervene? Yes?

So where the hell was she last night? The thought wasn’t really your own, it just came up in the back of your mind watching as she left the apartment.

Your husband didn’t take long to come out, fully dressed. He sat down and searched over the table.

Mrs Hudson had brought up warm croissants, fresh butter and a scrumptious jam to lay on top.

You stood over him and poured tea into his cup. You felt his eyes rolling up and down your body. When you stood away, he poured in his own cream.

You placed the pot down gently and returned to your seat.

In those few seconds there was peace and power, submission and dominance. And you didnt even know it...

You folded the napkin over your lap and spread a fine line of jam over the bread like treat.

Sherlock? He sipped his tea and wouldn’t stop staring, to the point where it made you feel intimidated. What was he looking at? Was there jam on your face?

He clear his throat again and shook his head. He tore a piece of a croissants with his fingers and stuffed it into his mouth. It was something you disapproved of. But you didn’t have the patience to teach a man almost twice your age on the art of table manner etiquette.

And after an eternity of silent air filled with chewing and sipping...

“Finished your breakfast?” Sherlock smiled, rising from his chair, you nodded and patted your lips. You needed to return to your room and find some hair pins along with a hat if he expected you to join him.

“Good...” Sherlock said coming around to your side and helping you out of your chair with a single lending hand...and he led you to the main sitting room.

You tried to turn around go back to your room, maybe he forget the negative propriety of a woman wearing her hair unfixed in public.

He caught your wrist and tugged you to the side of the chaise.

“Bend over,” he purred into your ear. You blinked.

“What ever for?” you audibly pondered before hearing him sigh frustrated.

You looked between him and the lounge.

His voice was coated in a acidic hiss, “Bend over or I’ll make you.”

You didn’t understand. Naively you bent over the arm. Had he lost something between the soft mattressing? Your fingers reached for the small cushion to look under when you felt him start to lift your skirts. Your eyes widened. What the hell was he doing!?

You went to stand up straight before he pushed his hand on your upper back and pushed you down again. You grunted and grizzled.

He tossed your skirts up over your backside to your waist. His hand softly rubbed across your drawers. The weight of his palm made you jump in surprise. His finger traced the splitting fabric. He pushed the pieces aside.

You held your breath. Your fingers clenched the chaise as you tried looking over your shoulder.

He couldn’t have been suggesting that he would mount you like this...here.. out in the open of your home...surely not...

He smirked at the alarm written all over your face. He bent his head down to you...he kissed your cheek and peppered small pecks to your ear.

“I’m going to strike you ten times,” his hot breath came.

Your eyes widened and your nose curdled.

“What ever for!?” you repeated with a sneer while you tried rising up again. This time, he shoved you down harder.

Sherlock smiled mockingly, his voice was sweet and high but beneath it was hate and sadism, “For speaking against my authority in front of Mrs Hudson.”

He cupped your backside and you swallowed hard.

It wasn’t right! He didn’t need to be so rude to the house keeper. You felt the coming punishment to be unwarranted.

“Such a pretty bum...” he sighed pawing at each unmarred cheek, “Such a disobedient wife...” He awed slightly...you were trembling. You shut your eyes and prayed to turn back time.

The first slap took you entirely by surprise, a sob tore itself from your lips instantly as his hand made contact with your backside.

You stomped your foot and tried twisting around to stop him but he flung you back over the chaise. And then the woosh of a flying hand swatted you. The burning crack of his palm left you feeling choked and brought to tears faster than ever before.

You cried immediately. And do you know what your torturous husband did? He let you cry...he let you catch your breath. He waited until you quieted...and then he hit you again. The third time hurt as well yet, felt stronger. It was the force of the hit that was more like a punch then a slap to your rear end bringing you into a shocked gasp.

You stomped your foot and whimpered, “Unhand me! You brute!”

He chuckled and smacked his palm fast against your bottom, the rising flame of nerves made you whine pitifully.

“Stop!” you pleaded, “Sherlock please!”

The soft touch on your abused arse cheek did little to soothe the stinging pain and the third slap made it far worse. Your skin was turning a shade and felt indescribably hot.

“We are almost finished Mrs Holmes, take a deep breath for me,” he asked.

You sniffled terribly trying to clean your sobs. Your eyes were watering while Sherlock’s pale hand rubbed up and down your sensitive thighs. Your belly jumped and butterflies fluttered. You felt tingly and in need of a cold cloth. You attempted to wriggle away once more but that only made Sherlock grasp on you tighter.

By the sixth slap your whimpers evolved into breathy pants. You felt his run his fingers soft and slow on your hot skin. They were cold and like a balm to the suffering he inflicted. You felt the swirls and managed to feel him draw an S and a H.

It became a vile pattern where he allowed you to compose your crying and fall quiet before delivering hell by his palm.

You could only recall the last spanking you received was from a school teacher when you were nine years old because you spilled ink down the dress of a girl bullying you.

The next whip made you gasp and continued to lessen the soreness you tried breathing through your lips shaped in a ‘o’ which made a most heinous noise...a moan.

“You are taking this very well my pretty Baker Street whore.”

You knew it had to be Sherlock’s voice but it felt so far away now. Your lower body felt incredibly warm and light.

“Never again will you humiliate me In the presence of our housekeeper, do I make myself clear?” his voice became a lifeline.

You were trembling beneath him. You felt him step closer and the side of your neck.

You didn’t agree with him, you didn’t humiliate him, he humiliated himself with his lack of manners. You were tired, relaxed, starting to accept the burning heat of his hand. You heard him chuckling in your ear. Your mind was falling to pieces.

“Yes s-sir,” Your voice shook which fell into a voice a new moan as the next strike connected to your bottom.

“Very good little lamb,” he said pleasingly. He slowly released his grip on your back and ran his hand lightly over your displayed flesh.

He rubbed his thumb into your muscle and took glee in your snarling hiss. He tapped your exposed hip softly.

“There,” he said slowly lifting you from the lounge and letting your skirts fall back to your ankles. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs, kissing each cheek as he went.

When reality crashes hard like a stormy wave, you flinched and moved away from him. You cupped your mouth and tried not to cry but the tears fluttered fast.

You felt him stand behind you and you wished you could’ve run away. You felt so embarrassed and ashamed you made such lusty tones. He wrapped his hands around your waist and towered above you.

He asked quietly, “Are you sure you want my fidelity now?”

It felt like a open wound that he was digging inside further. It was cruel, his smugness.

And this was a really trap. You could swear it. He wanted a reason to be allowed to return to Mayfair Row.

He wanted you to waver, to give in, to let him betray the wedding bed. It was like a candle filling the room with light. He didn’t spank you because he was embarrassed that you scolded him in front of the housekeeper, oh no, no, ‘twas a beneath the layers. Sherlock was trying to break you into letting him do as he desired, to continue his habits before your marriage.

You gulped and squeezed his hands; the tools he just beat you with. You felt sick. You felt angry. You felt like you had successfully figured out the solution to an ancient problem...

You could’ve caved in...you could’ve let him ruin the marriage entirely...the shame...you were fragile and almost let him.

You almost, but you didn’t.

You swallowed hard and fluttered your eyes and stated tightly, “It will take more than a whipping by your hands to make me let you go back to whoring, Mr Holmes.”

You turned your neck to glare at him. And instead of a snarl or a frown or disapproving look, he was smirking. His brows were raised in pleasant surprise.

“Marvellous,” he whispered, “an utter spectacle, you are.”

You scoffed and wiped your eyes again of a burning tear and shoved to move past him to go retrieve your hair pins and hat.

He followed on your tail and cackled, “Oh don’t be so prudish...I too heard that little moan.”

Your throat tightened as you tried ignoring his relaying fact.

You came to your room and saw him through your mirror leaning on the door frame, watching you. You perfected your usual modest style while you snapped, “If you honestly believe I under any circumstances enjoyed that, you are truly- terribly mistaken.”

He was chewing his bottom lip and racing his eyes over your entire body. He was comically a wolf starved for his lamb.

You couldn’t even sit down at your vanity with the heat radiating on your backside under all your skirts. You didn’t even want to come out with him today, you almost dared state you would stay home after his assault.

However, lord only knows where Sherlock would really gallivant off to if you didn’t chaperone him today. Any man can break a promise.

He came into your room slowly and went to your hat box. He handed you the straw brim and cleared his throat, “Get your gloves, we must make haste.”

You rolled your eyes at him and snatched your hat from his hands, “If we were in such a hurry it might’ve deterred you from your unnecessary beating.”

He was fast as lightning and holding your jaw tearing out a gasp from you as he huffed, “Indeed, If we weren’t in such a hurry, I would have my cock down your throat for that comment Mrs Holmes.” His eyes turned a shade darker that dragged a bolt of fear back down your spine.

His smile was not as cheery, it had transformed into a sneer in lilt, “Gloves. Now.”

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

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hier--soir · 1 month

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feb + mar + apr reads

norma jean baker of troy by anne carson [★★★★★]

"Sometimes I think language should cover its own eyes when it speaks."

"Is she human? Are you? Is she a beast out of control? There's so much danger. No human can become just a beast, you plunge beyond - beyond what? Remember Jack the Ripper? 'I'm down on whores and I shan't quit ripping them till I get buckled,' Jack wrote in a letter to the newspaper, September 18, 1888. He never did get buckled. Of course insane, his mind blooming with it, who could go down that rabbit-hole or unlock such a puzzle as Jack? - but still, the woman! the thing is! the woman has everything and you smile and you take some."

: ̗̀➛ an exploration of the lives and myths of marilyn monroe and helen of troy.

: ̗̀➛ anne carson is there anything you can't do? please email me back. please.

piglet by lottie hazell [★★★★]

"'I want to make some food,' she said. 'For both of us?' he asked. 'No, just for me.'"

: ̗̀➛ one woman, piglet, and the lead up to her wedding in the face of a big confession from her fiancé.

: ̗̀➛ this one slipped beneath my skin and writhed around the spot inside me where i've tucked away all of my food issues.

merciless gods by christos tsiolkas [★★]

"I'm scared that if I let go, not only the room, not only this city, but the whole world will go cold forever."

"Your false gods cannot save you. There is only one God, my God."

: ̗̀➛ short stories that bash you over the head with how awful things and people and places can be. i did not live for this one... particularly wasn't into the one where a guy jerked his dad who has alzheimers off.

foe by iain reid [★★]

"All day. Time keeps moving. I've always thought that was a good thing. Until recently. I'm not so sure now. Is it good? For time to go by fast?"

: ̗̀➛ they want to send junior to space and replace him with a robot that looks and acts and talks exactly like him so his wife has company in his absence.

: ̗̀➛ marriage and trust and complacency, and a guy called terrence who we get reminded over and over has long gorgeous hair.

: ̗̀➛ a little boring for my taste. i had an idea of where it was going pretty early on, and it took a while for me to be proven right. pretty disconcerting!

acts of desperation by megan nolan [★★★★]

"The need was a true and human part of me, but I could feel nothing else of myself to be true or human, and so the need seemed ungodly, an aberration."

: ̗̀➛ a book full of confession, desire, jealousy, violence, and power. messy messy messy!!!! readers procceed with caution.

: ̗̀➛ shout out to everyone who said i should read this - you were right, it is up my alley.

gone girl by gillian flynn [★★★★]

"My wife was no longer my wife but a razor-wire knot daring me to unloop her, and I was not up to the job with my thick, numb, nervous fingers. Country fingers. Flyover fingers untrained in the intricate, dangerous work of solving Amy. When I'd hold up the bloody stumps, she'd sigh and turn to her secret mental notebook on which she tallied all my deficiencies, forever noting disappointments, frailties, shortcomings."

: ̗̀➛ i have become a gillian flynn STAN this year, it's true. despite having seen the movie multiple times, i enjoyed reading this, and was delighted to find some differences in the texts [for better and for worse].

: ̗̀➛ nick dunne, big fan of the lie of omission, mama's boy whose mama is dead, i'd like to introduce you to couples therapy.

dead beautiful and life eternal by yvonne woon [reread] [★★★]

: ̗̀➛ the first two books in a paranormal romance trilogy. these kinda bang guys, i can't lie. 15-year-old me was onto something when she decided to keep these instead of donating them. however, they DO have some of the worst book covers i've ever seen, sorry yvonne.

fourth wing by rebecca yarros [★★★]

: ̗̀➛ a romantasy book that has dragons, smut, and twists that you'll see coming from a mile away. pretty fun. recced to me by one man in person and a thousand women on tik tok.

: ̗̀➛ no one who has the thought 'double standards for the win' is using 'whomever' in a casual sentence with the guy she's having sex with.

: ̗̀➛ good enemies to lovers should have actual murder attempts. but maybe that's jusT MY OPINION.

my book rating system is as follows:

★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time

★★ = yeah it's a book

★★★ = i liked it!

★★★★ = good fucking book, damn

★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it

#what i've been up to!#if you've read any of these lets talk #books #jessie reads

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dianawinchester03 · 3 months

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Supernatural Series Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader) by @dianawinchester03

Prologue - Enter Y/N

Series Masterlist

Y/N's POV

I straighten out my shirt,sighing as I watch the corpse ignite into flames in-front of my eyes.

Salt and Burn. Check. The chilly air in the cemetery engulfs my body, I warm my hands over the burning corpse, rubbing my hands together to gather the heat.

Internally rolling my eyes, I pick up my duffle bag and make my way towards my bike. My pride and joy. Quinn's a Harley-Davidson VRSC. I named her after my favorite DC Comic book character, Harley Quinn. Original huh?

Breaking me out of my thoughts I hear my phone ring. Fishing my phone out of my pocket as I lean against Quinn. Rolling my eyes, I answer roughly after seeing the contact.

"I'm alive, f/n" I say hastily. I could practically hear the frown crease on my fathers face with the way I answer. Don't get me wrong, I love the man but boy can he be a pain. "I'm glad to hear you're okay baby....how're things" He asks.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth answering "Everything is fine, I just finished a quick salt and burn of an old pastor who had been terrorizing atheists" I chuckle ironically at the fact. Like father like daughter, my dad chuckles over the phone. "Wonderful, I knew you'd do well on your own" He says lightly.

"Is that so?" I say sarcastically. "Aren't you the same one who said, and I quote, 'Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead' " I mock his rugged voice as I quote his words to me two years ago bitterly. Granted he's called me every so often since our falling out but I haven't dared called him.

Flashback

September 2003

"Daddy I'm 20 years old! I can hunt in my own. I've been doing it since I've been in diapers!" I yell frustrated at my father. "You better watch your tone with me! Who the fuck do you think you're yelling at!?" He screams back at me causing me to flinch.

"You're not ready! I know the shit that's out there in the world and I'd prefer if you and I do it together. There is no reason we can't hunt together!" He yells in my face, causing me to flinch in habit.

"Your obsession with finding the thing that killed mom is the reason I can't work with you" I say harshly. The look on his face alone, scared the crap outta me. When I was younger, anything he said would scare me. I'd listen to him and follow his orders like a good little soldier but I'm sick of it.

Two decades of this crap, it was bound to happen. My mother died in my nursery when I was six months old. Pinned to the ceiling just like Sam's mom, only a couple months after Mary died, my mom died.

Mom and Dad were childhood friends with Sam and Dean's mom. They bonded through all of them coming from families of hunters. Basically my parents were childhood sweethearts which honestly touches my heart.

After knocking back a few, dad could tell the story of when he fell in love with mom a million times. He loved her with everything. I always wondered if I'd have something like that. Frankly, I don't believe love like that exists anymore.

My mother was also a psychic, a powerful one too. She basically had these abilities like seeing into the past/present/future, moving objects with her mind, summoning/binding ghosts and reading minds. Psychics develop their abilities by 18. She could even communicate with the dead.

She and my dad hunted together after meeting and settled down in Lawrence, deciding to have a family. Giving it up for the apple pie life. Honestly sometimes I think my dad's disappointed at the fact that I'm not like my mother.

"So you don't care about your mother then?" He says back to me coldly, rage dripping from his voice. "I never said that dad! I just can't deal with you every single goddamn day breathing down my neck. I love you so much daddy but shit! I can't take this anymore" Tears prick at my eyes as I pick up my helmet and army green duffel bag. I throw on my leather jacket and head for the front door.

Jumping on my bike, before I could put on my helmet I hear his yell from the safehouse. "Listen to me and listen to me good Y/N L/N. Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead". My heart jumped out of my chest, my helmet clutched to my side. Angrily I wipe my tears away from my cheeks "Fine". With that I snap my helmet on and make my way out of the driveway and into the night.

Present Time

September 2005

My father sighs heavily over the phone because of my habit to hold a grudge. I was surprised last year when he called me for my birthday to say the least. Since then, he's called me every so often. "Listen baby, I didn't call to argue. I just wanted to make sure you're okay"

"I'm fine dad, look I've gotta go. I'm hungry and tired. Okay? We'll talk whenever" Without letting him say another word, I hang up. You might think I'm being harsh but if you've lived a day in the life of my childhood, you'd be just as angry as me right now.

I straddle my bike, placing my helmet on my head. The roar of the engine fills the quiet cemetery, revving the engine I make my way towards a local dive bar to pick up some grub and hit the hay.

________________________________

"Say your prayers little one,

Don't forget my son,

To include everyoneeee"

I jump awake hearing the beginning guitar riff and first couple lyrics of "Enter Sandman" by Metallica from my phone. Without looking at the contact I click decline, turning over to see the handsome naked man next to me. I slightly jump before realizing he's the guy I met at the bar. I'm not one for constant one night stands but sometimes I need a release. Especially after that call with my dad. I groan from the pounding pain in my head. Great, I'm gonna get a bitch of a hangover.

Sighing I check the time. 3:33 am. Who the fuck would call me at this hour? It's a bit creepy no? I put my phone back onto the nightstand and wrap my arms around my mystery man, resting my head on his chest. Mark? Mike? Im not sure. He stirs a bit but eventually falls back asleep. As if on cue my phone rings again.

I let out an exhaustrated groan before turning over and answering my phone. "Whoever the fuck this is. you better have a damn good reason to be calling me at this ungodly hour because I am *this* close to reaching into this phone and going all terminator on your ass!" I whisper yell angrily into my phone while I hastily put on my flannel, buttoning it up and slipping on my panties as I was still naked.

The deep humorous chuckle that I, all too well recognize echo in my ear. "Sorry princess, didn't mean to interrupt your night. I've been trying to call you for weeks and couldn't get a hold onto ya" My heart flutters at the sound of Dean's voice, he's one of my best friends. He's always called me "princess" and I've always called him "charming". His brother Sam and me have always been closer, being the same age and all. Me and Sam shared a stronger bond.

Where as Dean and me....there was never a Dean and me I guess. He's sees me as a little sister but while growing up I had a slight crush on him. I always reminded myself that he'd never see me like that so I just discarded it. One thing for sure, he's always protected me when necessary. Same with Sam, he's like a brother to me.

Growing up Dean teased me and Sam all the time, joking calling me his little girlfriend. Saying we'll get married and all that crap. But me and Sam came to the conclusion that we are just friends. Hell. We're basically siblings.

It's kinda bothered me knowing I had a crush on Dean but that died down when I hit my teens and puberty. We all grew up together going from motel to motel to Bobby's house to motel over and over. Our dads were hunting partners, my dad would leave me with Sam and Dean.

Dean always in charge of course, John made sure to enforce that. I tried my best to help Dean out because no kid should have that much responsibility but he'd always say "I've got it" or "It's okay y/n/n, just go play with Sammy". I love those boys with all my heart.

Last I'd seen Dean for my 21st last year, he took me out and I quote he wanted to be "the first person to see me take my first legal drink".

I turn around to see Mark/Mike stirring in his sleep again, grabbing pack of cigarettes and lighter I walk towards the door and unlock it, stepping outside the sleazy motel room. I respond to Dean "Jesus Christ Dean, it's 3 am" I roll my eyes as I flick my lighter, putting one of the cigarettes to my lips, lighting it and taking a puff.

"Like I said, been trying to reach ya but you're basically a ghost" He says ironically. "Sorry man, I've been trying to avoid pops" I say, taking another drag. "Yeah I actually called him to get a hold onto you, told me you hung up on him. Kinda cold not gonna lie" Dean says lightly chuckling and it all clicks into place, that's why my dad called me.

"Shit, my bad. How have you been? You alright?" I ask worried, leaning against the door of my room. I just know he has that shit eating signature grin on his face when he hears my tone. "Awww is the Princess worried about me" He teases. "You better watch that tone before I hang up on you too" I mock threaten, teasing him back, trying to fight the smile on my face.

I take a drag from my cigarette that's nearly done as he dramatically gasps "You wouldn't dare" He say's melodramatically like an old lady in a soap opera and I laugh "Try me, Winchester" I chuckle as we share a laugh. "It's good to hear from you, Charming. What's the problem though? I know it has to be serious for you to call me at this hour" I queried, waiting for an answer.

"It's Dad, Y/N. He's gone on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days" He says, his voice somber. "He went on a case and hasn't updated you? That's strange" I say as I out my cigarette on the door still, now leaning against the railings over the ground floor of the motel.

"I'm on my way to California. I'm gonna grab Sammy from Stanford and head over to Jericho. That's where dad was working his case. You wanna tag along?" He asks hopefully. Without hesitation I say "I'm in Phoenix, just finished a milk run. If I leave as soon as sunrise I can make it for probably the next morning with a few pit stops"

"Great! I'll see you soon princess" He says flirtatiously. "Yeah yeah whatever Charming" I say chuckling "Wait did you say you're gonna grab Sammy? Have you guys talked since...." I ask cautiously. "Nah we haven't, but I'm hoping to change that. Have you?" He asks now sounding a little down. Truth is, I've talked to Sam a couple well times since he left for Stanford a couple years ago. I supported his decision to leave hunting and live a normal life. It's all we've ever talked about as kids.

He's updated me on his life at Stanford, he's got a girlfriend now. Jessica Moore, boy is she gorgeous. My little Sammy is all grown up. Ignoring the fact he's a couple months older than me and never lets me live it down but that's besides the point. He's happy and I feel bad that Dean has to go get him, but his dad is missing. They always butted heads but if it were me I'd wanna know. He needs to know.

"Yeah a couple times..." I say softly. "He misses you Dean" I add, trying to reassure Dean, knowing him he's probably overthinking going to see Sam. Dean sighs heavily before saying "I do too. I miss you as well you nutcase" I smile at this before replying "I miss you too you asshat. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow" He says and with that I hang up. I walk back into my motel room to see Mark/Mike still asleep on the bed. I gather my things, tossing them into my duffel bag. After taking a shower I wait a couple hours for sunrise so I can leave.

Right as I'm about to pick up my helmet Mark/Mike wakes up, causing me to freeze. "Didn't take you for a dine and dash type" he says chuckling. I laugh as well "I'll take that as a compliment, I'm actually on my way out to meet a friend. It's important"

"That's cool, it was nice meeting you Y/N" he says nicely before laying back on the bed "You too Mark" I say back smiling, his face drops "It's Max". Crap.

Authors Note

HOLY SHIT! I'm so excited I can't. If you haven't noticed this is my first fanfiction, not my first book. The others I've deleted because they were embarrassing and I wrote them when I was 12 lol.

This book however, I plan on sticking to it. I've been contemplating doing a series rewrite on Supernatural for monthssss. Honestly I've read so much and there are plots I loved but also hated in some. So I decided to add a bit of a twist on mine.

I really hope whoever decided to read this that you like the plot I'm going with and I'm sure you've noticed that y/n is a little cold towards her father. I'm gonna be honest, I'm writing based off my my experience with my dad.

I do plan on developing their relationship but in the later episodes/chapters. Whoever is reading I just want to say thank you for giving my book a chance and I do hope you like the plot I am going to use for y/n's story.

As I am bisexual, I've been thinking about making y/n bisexual also but I know there's a lot of straight girlies on Wattpad. So I'd like to know your opinion if I should add that fact. Also I know Harley-Davidson VRSC came out in 2006 but this is a fictional book so let's just pretend it came out in the 90s or something lol.

Side note.

Y/N- Your name

Y/N/N- your nickname

F/N - your father's name

M/N- your mother's name

Xoxo

#spn #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #sam and dean

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kitmoas · 8 months

Text

in which prey becomes muse

Kate Bishop x Reader

Warnings: **18+** **Minors DNI** **SMUT** dark and demonic themes, death, possession, knife, stomach bulge, stalker stuff, slight "magic" things

If I missed anything let me know

Author's Note: I once am again sorry this is late, life man. BUT it is here and part of a nice little trick r treat vibe. so here's part 1 of the double feature for good ole Friday the 13th. Once again I apologize if it's rough. I am still MONTHS out of practice when it comes to writing, so I'm trying my hardest to get back into the swing of things and remember how to put my thoughts into good words. So bare with me.

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

Even now, up against the wall with her knife pressed against the thin stretch of skin above your rapidly beating heart, you can’t help but admire the way that the sunlight bounces off the golden handle or how the intensity in her dark blue eyes swirls in storms. The way she stands, the soft smirk pulling at her lips and the slight slouch of her shoulders, almost makes you feel relaxed. The warmth of her body is intoxicating as it shields you from the wind soaring through the air.

You had seen her so many times in your travels around the small town, across the road or in the diner. She was pretty much the talk of the town since she got here, everyone gossiping about the city girl who escaped to an old town. Something about her was so enticing, so enthralling; and though you knew you wouldn’t survive the encounter, you just had to take the chance as it was given to you. She was the definition of a heartbreaker, even from the way she carried herself on a day to day basis.

Falling into the trap that she set was easy. It was almost foolproof even before you realized what was happening. You wanted to be seen by her so badly that you didn’t realize that you were the reason that she even ended up in the dead-end broken down area. The young girl already had a bit of a history, and though you didn’t know what this meant you could tell she had traveled to many places and seen the world more than anyone you grew up with.

Despite your predicament, you wanted to know more—the mystery of the girl who not only knew who you were but was risking arrest to be near you. This should have scared you, and maybe deep down it did, but on the surface it just excited you. Your mouth had opened many times, jaw dropping and lips moving silently, as you tried to say something or ask any of your gnawing questions but you were stopped each and every single time.

There’s something in her eyes as you stare up at her, an almost unnatural glimmer. “Can your little mind not make up any words?” she husked, her voice raspy and deep as if she hadn’t spoken in months.

It's a simple first sentence, and you can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or taunting you, but you can’t help the blush that rises up your neck. Scrambling to find an answer in your mind, you just shake your head pathetically. Heart dropping as you see her smirk fall from her face, her lips falling into an annoyed straight line. The disappointment radiates in the cold air, chilling you to the bone and making you crave the heat that once emitted from the brunette.

“I suppose this isn’t much of a setback. I didn’t track you for this long just to hear you speak. I heard you’re quite the annoying one.” She watches you blink slowly, a squeak tumbling from your lips when she pushes your body back against the wall with the tip of her blade. “Isn’t that what Ms. Adovyn said? It was quite difficult to tell through all the screaming, but she had a lot to say about you and that was years ago.” The smug look twitches back across her face, stretching it entirely too far as she watches realization settle into your eyes.

Ms. Adovyn was your high school teacher, some arts class you took freshman year, who passed away just a year ago. It had shook the entire town after they found her body mutilated in her own secure home and not a single suspect to be named. Slowly you try to pull yourself from this haze of infatuation that you have found yourself in to try to put things together. There was no way that all the random unsolved murders and disappearances in the town were all linked to this girl. She was barely older than you and some of them went as far back as your childhood. The neighbor who used to babysit you was found skinned when you were just seven years old, but it was left an unsolved crime with zero traces of fingerprints or struggle.

A soft giggle from the girl looming over you snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gasp as you look into her eyes. Pure black with a pulsing cobalt light within, almost hypnotizing you as you struggle to pull your focus from her. “What? Don’t tell me my secret is already out?” Her hand moves, dragging the knife down your chest towards the neckline of your shirt. It leaves a thin, stinging red line, a few small crimson bubbles forming.

You shake your head slowly, confusion flooding your system as you try to fight whatever you can feel brewing in your stomach. Unsure of what she means by secret, you start to become hyper aware of where every single part of the girl is. Her hand is firm against your hip, thumb softly rubbing at the bone she finds there—too softly for how hard her nails dig into you. Her thigh rubs harshly against you so that she keeps you almost glued to the dingy brick wall. The fingers that have a claw grip on the glimmering handle dangle carelessly down your shirt.

Her face slowly turns up from where she was watching your body squirm to pout up at you. “Aww c’mon. I thought you would fight me more than this. Or are you so stupid to even realize what is happening?” The soft hair on the top of her head falls down in front of her eyes, making her look like an innocent puppy as she tilts it in questioning. “I thought after I waited for you for so long you would at least make this fun.” Growling under her breath as she leans in to nip at your collar, she bares her teeth at you as she pulls away. “Maybe you would come with a bit of a bite?”

When her thigh forces its way in between your own, her muscle pressing upwards, it starts to make sense. The warmth bubbling in your stomach is starting to almost feel painful, and the longer you feel her calloused hand on you, the more it confuses you. Trying to understand your own bodily reactions, you allow that heat to start manifesting in a thing you can control—anger. You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence in your vocal cords came from, nor the grit in your normally soft respectful voice. “What? Can’t get laid? You have to commit crimes for someone to fuck you?”

The girl’s eyes almost become a beacon of light, the cobalt flashing brilliantly as she lets her head fall back shrieking in laughter—a loud, rambunctious sound that blends in with the howling wind. “Well there’s your personality. You just needed to get touched a bit? Is your poor pussy being neglected?” Sneering at you, she lets her head roll back to look at you again. Licking at her lips, she sharply grinds her thigh up into you as she raises her eyebrow in questioning. “Do you need someone to make you feel all warm and wet? Someone to make you understand just how your cunt should be handled?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you stumble over your words, feeling someone’s hand touch between your legs for the first time with purpose. It wasn’t a surprise as to what she wanted, but you weren’t sure she would actually go through with it. She had kept you in the same spot for so long that your legs were tingling with exhaustion and your back was starting to ache.

Craning your neck, you try to look down at where the shiny blade pressed into your lower torso. The need to deny her was strong, and the urge to grapple for the control you were so used to ran deep in your veins, but something stopped you. A warmth that was building slowly, the center of it was rooted in your stomach. You wanted to ignore it, but it was there from the beginning and it only burned faster the more she touched you.

“Tell me, everytime I waited for you to see me, did you think of me that night? Every single time I made sure that you noticed me trailing you, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” Her hand moved softly along your thighs, nails scratching at the tender skin she finds as she speaks through gritted teeth. It’s almost like she’s forcing herself to take it slow.

Shaking your head, you’re honest but you wanted to lie. How do you tell a beautiful girl that you just wanted the chance to speak to her, that you never once thought of her in a sexual way? There was no way that she would want someone so innocent that you had barely even touched yourself, right? Will she think you’re too much of a prude? Will she mock you for never allowing someone else to touch you?

The girl snorts, pulling away slightly to stare you down. Her eyes watch you carefully, hand placement a bit lighter than before as if she is almost testing to see if you’ll move. “Oh, oh! I get it. The pretty girl is a virgin, aren’t you?” Nose wrinkling as the devious smirk stretches her mouth unnaturally. Her gaze turns predatory, darkening as her nails dig aggressively into your thigh. “You don’t even know how to say no, do you? The perfect little thing for me to completely corrupt and ruin.” Her voice echoes the longer she speaks, raising as she gets more and more excited. Almost like a little puppy, hearing all their favorite words, she even begins to bounce on her toes slightly. “They told me you were the ideal person, absolutely exquisite, and they were utterly correct. You had to have been sent to me from some higher power, and all I had to do was listen to them.”

Blinking slowly, you weren’t even aware that you were being moved from the wall. The way she spoke was confusing, what did she mean by that? You were so lost in thought that you didn’t see the other girl’s change in demeanor. Twitching slightly, even letting the blade clatter to the dirty wet pavement below you, her body starts to contort. Muscles and bones stretching and cracking as she twists around.

It’s her hand gripping your throat, clawing as she lets her nails dangerously dig into the veins she finds there. Cutting off your oxygen immediately when she somehow body slams you to the ground, pressing her entire weight on your neck. Her knee digs into your thigh and forces her way in between your legs. **Popping her head directly in front of your face, and though you already couldn’t breath the way her appearance changed, causes an unsettling chill to overwhelm your body.** Eyes sunken in, completely glowing cobalt, and every ounce of color drained from her skin leaving her gray and her veins almost filled with ink.

Her hips grind down into yours, and her free hand gropes viciously at your breast. Stings of pain pulse through your body, and settle in your stomach as a low burn. Shame fills your brain as you realize what’s happening and how your body was reacting. “It’s okay, little girl, you were made for them and it’ll be me who gets to take you for them.”

Slipping her hand down your body, her nails somehow scratch into your side harsh enough to cut the skin it finds. Fumbling around for a minute, her hand finally catches on the hem of your pants. Ripping the fabric almost completely her smile turns feral at the sight of your lacy underwear. Her thumb clumsily rubs against the thinnest of the fabric that covers your cunt before her head pops back up, eyes almost glowing. “Oh, how silly of me. Why would I not tell you my name? My name came from the person who gave me my blessing, Keket, but you can just call me Kate.”

Your vision is blurry, twitching as you stare up at her. Back pulsing slightly from where the pebbles and dirt dig into, but it’s the way her fingers slip your panties to the side and swipe through your folds that makes focus difficult. The tip of her pointer pokes at your clit and it ignites something that you weren’t expecting. Arousal wasn’t something you felt often, and you didn’t even think that the warmth brewing in your body was that, but there was no denying the gush of wetness from her direct touch.

Cackling the young girl’s face almost morphs as she notices the change, allowing her finger to rub small tight circles on your rapidly hardening clit. “Such an innocent little virgin, who’s cum and blood is worth so much to the الألوهية.” Her voice deepens as she speaks, leaning more heavily against your throat. “Your body is theirs to own but for now this pure tight pussy is mine to stretch.”

Even though you wanted to ask what she was talking about, wanted to figure out who this girl was, you didn’t have the opportunity as she shoved two fingers into you in one go. The scream that tears through your teeth is muffled, barely there from the weight of her body against your neck. You can feel the pain throbbing from between your thighs and you’re pretty sure she tore something, but the moment her thumb comes up to caress your clit it’s almost like none of the pain matters. The warm arousal floods your system and begins to push out the pain.

Her hand thrusts, vigorously, and it causes your body to move along the ground. You can feel the pavement and all the random things beneath you scratching at you, leaving bright searing burns. “God, you were born to take this and you’ll take more. Won’t you?” She’s leaning up over you now, a brief relief as she allows you to take gasping breaths.

It takes a minute for the oxygen to spread throughout your body, and it does nothing but fan the flames within your tummy. Rough and tender, you take your time to inhale as you try to calm down. You wanted to gain control over the situation, but you knew that you were even rapidly losing authority over your own bodily functions. When her calloused fingers rub against a spot inside you, you can’t help your hips rutting up into her thrusts. It indirectly motivates her and she leans down some so that she spit on your clit. Playing for a moment, and stuffing the spit inside you, she practically growls as her body flops onto you.

“You feel so tight around me, so fucking wet. I bet you’ll feel even better around my cock. Tight little slutty cunt letting just anyone take her virginity.” Her fingers move faster inside of you as she bites into your neck. The sharp nips dig into where your sensitive skin is already bruising from her hand, as her hips push her fingers even deeper into you. You can’t help the moan that slips through your lips, and the way you start grinding down into her.

Letting your eyes slip closed, you finally allow yourself to try and enjoy what was happening. This was your first time and while it wasn’t how you envisioned it, Kate is a gorgeous woman and you were surprised she even wanted you. You’re still a bit confused by how she was talking but you knew that many people were into roleplay so maybe that’s what was happening. Her strength came as a shock and even her appearance seemed weird, but everyone wanted her and you got her.

“If I was you, I would focus whore.” A harsh slap lands on your cheek, slamming the side of your face into the ground as she demands your attention. Her fingers had abandoned their post in between your legs and instead she was grinding her own hips there, a bulge prominent. It felt nice but you were confused as you tried to blink the stars from your vision. “Ready or not princess, I’m about to own you.”

She barely finishes her sentence when she snaps her hips, and something is forced into you. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it filled you overwhelmingly. It rubbed against that spot inside of you that forces a whine from your throat, and for the first time you cling to her. Arms swing instantly so that your nails dig into her biceps. It was too much and not enough all at once, and you weren’t sure how to feel. You wanted her to do whatever she wanted, but you knew that was exactly what she wanted.

Hips rutting into you, she lets her hands fall to your stomach to allow her thumbs to press into the bulge she finds there. “Do you see that little girl? You see my cock so deep inside your stupid little cunt? It’s leaking all over the place, even if most of it is blood.” She shrugs as she moves her hips, staring down at the way you stretch around her almost obsidian fog appendage. The bright red blood coats it and makes it seem as though it isn’t practically nothing, just a temporary blessing from the higher power to give an advantage to it’s chosen vessel.

Her voice shoves you closer to the edge, rough and rumbly as she humps you like a dog. You wanted her to touch you more, something triggering in your brain to miss her touch. She leaves her hands where they are though, a knowing smirk spreading on your face when she sees you desperately starting to plead up at her. She knows the signs even if you don’t.

You have already started to tighten around her cock, easy to push towards an orgasm as she manipulates your body however she wants. She knew that you would be simple, even wet while she was roughing you up with a knife against your throat. It never took much for someone so pure, and she knew that she had to act fast as well. Letting her hips rut into you at a speed that shouldn’t be able, but the spirits helped her along.

“Do you want me to touch you? You want your stalker to touch you?” She hums, tilting her head as if she wasn’t even physically exerted. Her hair messy and moving all over the place as she forces herself into you more. “Does your little cunt need my touch to cum?”

Nodding you let yourself succumb to her actions, the want to fall over the edge becoming too great now. The coil inside your stomach is almost searing hot and cracking. You didn’t want to give in, but you knew that she would never let you cum if you didn’t and for some reason you didn’t care. The more she shoved her cock into you the more delirious you got, your brain fuzzy and unfocused.

“Beg. Babble like the little slut you are and beg your stalker to take your body. They want to hear you beg like the bitch you are.” Her words are punctuated with a sharp snap of her hips, forcing you unwillingly over the edge.

Your vision completely fills with stars, blinding you as you scream. Kate hurriedly slams down into you, her body leaning fully on her arm that lays across her throat, to cover your mouth with her hand. She may be protected by the divine power, but she knew that suspicion could arise if people heard your screams and they were not one for attention. Pinching your nose closed she allows you to ride out your orgasm, body convulsing underneath her.

Entirely surrounded by not only her warmth, but the boiling heat within your own stomach, you try to push as much oxygen out through the small cracks in her hold on you. It was painful but she’s still rutting into you and pushing the cum to start leaking out of you. A small puddle forming below you the longer that she thrusts into you, and your eyes roll back completely until they slip shut.

Slowly Kate starts to pull out, leaning against your throat as she stares down at your red puffy cunt. It leaks cum and her own black almost molten cum. She hadn’t even realized that she was able to cum in you, solely focused on pushing you over the edge and keeping the blanket of security over the two of you. Blinking slowly she feels her body start to lighten, a sure sign that she did well and the authority was pleased. It all seemed to be going fine, her hand reaching down between your thighs to shove the wetness back into you, until a small crack echoed through the alley and her arm shifted downwards.

Cautiously the young girl looks up at you, your lips blue and parted. “Fuck, I’m so sorry محبوب الجماهير! It wasn’t supposed to go like this! I promise, I thought I did good.” Despite her panic, her body’s color drained and her eyes sunk into her head, the fog leaking out briskly as her jaw dropped open.

The next day not a single piece of evidence was found, just chunks of your skin stuck to a completely clean knife in a small cloud of dense fog.

The translates are roughly

--محبوب الجماهير! -- idol

--الألوهية--divine/divinity

(Shoutout to my girlfriend @themidnightcrimson--she edited the beginning part of this so if it got terrible at the end you now know why.)

#kitmoas | Necrosis #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #dark kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop fic #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop smut #marvel fanfic

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thequietkid-moonie · 2 years

Note

Buddha, Tesla, Jack and Qin(separately) with a reader who has a little shop or works in a bookstore and is very sweet and innocent and has a 4 year old daughter. The reader is a very peaceful and shy person (this is They think) one day the characters are going to pay a visit and find her the house all messed up and she in the kitchen with a katana in her hand (and several dead men on the floor) surprise! Reader is a former assassin HireRental(like Beatrix Kiddo from Kill Bill) I love your writing it's so...amazing

Sweet and inocent reader is actually an assassin

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Buddha, Tesla, Jack, Qin ]

[ Records of Ragnarok / Shuumatsu no Valkyrie ]

YES YES YES!! I LOVE your idea anon, it's so exciting!! I ended up getting a little dramatic, I'm sorry if thats not what you wanted!

Although, I don't know anything about Kill Bill so i just go by what you said, I hope its okay. And, I'm sorry but a cannot stop thinking in Yor, I've been watching too much sxf

Buddha

He probably ended entering in your bookstore while he was searching something to end with his boredom, and for sure meeting you will be useful

You quickly picked his interest with your shy and sweet personality, and at first he start talking about the books but you two ended up talking about anything else, and he even get the oportunity to meet your daughter

The day didn't end without all of you becoming friends, and Buddha start going to the bookstore frecuently to see you two, he even invite the both to hang out outside

Everytime he goes to see you he always brings some candies for you two, even if you don't want that you daughter eat much he always secretly gives them to her

Buddha doesn't exactly offer his help in your work, and he even sometimes make a mess while playing with the little girl, but at the end the both help you clean

But he likes to spend time with you too, so when he isn't with your daughter he is following you around, unintentionally helping you while chating with you (and, of course, he never miss a chance to tease you and make you blush)

He pass a lot of time telling to both of you a lot of stories about all the places he has been, even of when he was a prince (and probably you didn't believe him at first)

He is always making sure the both of you are fine, making sure you're not overworked, if he have to force you to rest he will, and he even offer to do the work while you rest

The love he feels for both of you is obvious for whoever looks at him, but it isn't like he is hidding it

One day you asked Buddha if he could take care of your daughter while you do an important work and you promised to try to be quick with it, you didn't give much details but Buddha trust you so he acepted

However you were taking a lot of time, that make Buddha start getting worried about you, even your daughter was starting to ask for you

So he decided to search for you, saying to the little girl that they should go back home with a smile, but in their way he start having a very bad feeling, and when they where there Buddha noticed the front door slighly open

He ask the little girl to wait for him before enter in the house carefuly, everything was a mess, he was starting to get worried and angry, but his priority right now was find you

And he did, he find you in one of the rooms, your clothes covered in blood and some bodies in the floor, he was surprised and confused but still carefuly approach you and say your name with a soft voice

You were starting to relax a little since you finally finish with those bastards who tried to attack you from behind when you heard someone calling you softly

Scared you turn around and see Buddha standing in front of you, you stare at him for a moment before panic, you were scare of how he would react about this, throwing your weapon away you tried to come up with an excuse

But, even if he was surprised, he can tell that you still are that sweet person he met and fell in love, there is not any evil intentions in you

With confident steps he approach you, reassuring you that is fine, you have nothing to worry about, he even embrace you to help you calm down

He goes with your daughter again and entertains her until you finish to take care of what happened, and after everything was more calm you two talk about it

He is fully supportive of your work as an assassin, and even if you want to leave it he will support you

He admitted that he is surprise for it, from all people he never expected you to have a work like this! But he doesn't mind, and isn't scare either

He will help you whenever you need it, maybe taking care of your daughter or making excuses for when you have to go

He actually find this side of you rather atractive, and he will say it you without shame, and he even tease you for it!

Nikola Tesla

He had already seen your little bookstore from afar, but today he decided to go hoping to find something that will help him with his work

When enter he was greeted cheerfuly by a little girl that was sitting in your desk, soon you came and greet him too, asking him how could you help him

You two spend a while talking about all kind of book, searching for something that could help him, sometimes getting interrupted by the little girl

After that he start finding problems to concentrate since he can't stop thinking about you, is just that you were so cute and so kind, Tesla ended making an excuse to go to bookstore to see you again

For a while he makes some excuses to go, but soon you two become friends and he didn't have to make excuses anymore

He was constantly helping you in your work, or when you were too busy he spend time with your daughter, teaching her some things or playing with her (is so cute to see)

And every time you shyly thank him with a little blush in your cheeks he feels like his chest is gonna explode for how fast his heartbeat is

You two start spending almost all your time together, whenever he wasn't working in his studies he was with you, and you start taking care of him too since he gets easily invested in his work, you start acting just like a family. You even invite him over your house sometimes, and he invited both to his study

One day he was in his way to your house as usual, you two already made plans to meet but when he gets there he can tell that something was off, all the lights were off and the door was slighly open

He was fearing that something happen to both of you, he was planing to call the police but first he need to find you. Carefuly he enter in the house, everything was a mess and that just scare him most but he quickly calm down and start searching you

Tesla heard soft sobs and he run to where were coming, as silent as he manage, then he find your daughter hidden, gently he gets her attention trying not to scare her more, but the moment she sees Telsa she just cry harder and hide in his arms, he hold her while trying to calm her down, comforting her

Her cries alert you, you were sure that you had already take care of all the bastards, still you follow the sound carefuly, seeing someone with your daughter makes you more angry, sneaking until you were behind his back ready to kill him, until you reconize his voice

You let fall your weapon out of surprise and fear, that alert him, holding the little girl protectivebly he turn around quickly but the only think he sees is you cover in blood with a fearful expresion

He quickly stand up, asking you what happen and look for posible injuries. After noticing the bodies he gets super confused, he doesn't understand whats happening, still he put his hand in your shoulder reassuring you, and with a smile he tell you that you should take care of it, he will wait until you finish for an explanation

While you change your clothes and take care of what happen he stay with your daughter until she falls sleep

After that he is expecting an explanation, but he won't judge, Tesla hears patiently all you have to say and wait until you finish your story to say something

This is something unexpected , but you still the same person he love so much, so he decided to trust you, to believe that you're not doing it for malicious intention, promising you to stay by your side and support you

He is really interested in knowing why you became an assassin and he is really impress with your skills too

You can be the best assassin ever and he still sees you as the sweet inocent person he met in the bookstore

Maybe he won't be able to help you as an assassin, but he could help you with other things, like helping you cover it whenever you have to go out to do your work and taking care of your daughter. He gets really worried about you, but believes in you

Jack the Ripper

Jack is someone who really likes to read, loves enjoying a good book with a cup of tea, so it wasn't strange for him visit a bookstore

Meeting you truly surprised him, it had being so long since he meet someone with such beautiful and bright colors, he gets mesmerize with the sweetness in your voice when greeting him, it actually take him a moment to answer you

He ended up spending all day in your bookstore, talking about everything and anything, he even gets to meet your daughter, and he became friends quickly with the young lady

He start going to the bookstore frecuentrly just to see the both of you, and he's not really shy so he won't have problem admiting that he actually wanted to see you

Jack help you with the work, attending the persons who came searching for a book, helping you keeping the place organizate

He is always giving you compliments rather cheesy and poetic that never fails to makes you blush, and to your daughter too (telling her how cute she is or praising her improvements in school)

Jack could pass hours with the cute young lady and never get bored, playing around, reading a book to her, drawing something or even help her fall sleep, for Jack those moments are like being in heaven

He really crave for your company, for him being with both of you is like a dream come true, he couldn't be happier. People is always praising you for the beautiful family you are (even if you two aren't together yet), and that flattered him, he swears that he is the happiest man alive

One day Jack was having a very bad feeling so he decided to visit you, just to make sure both were fine. Stoping first by the bookstore, it was supposed to be closed by that hour but he finds your daughter there, when he ask her about it she tell him that you asked her to run there and hide until you came for her, the bookstore was pretty secure so he tell her to wait there and he will go to see you, not without first making sure she was alright and safe there

Running to your house Jack was trying to calm himself down, he was fearing the worst! When he finally get to your house seeing the door slighly open just make him feel more uneasy, he was ready to rip apart the idiots who even dare to think to mess with you. Carefuly he sneak inside and toured the house looking for you, just by looking at the mess he could tell that there was been a fight

There was just one room with light and a person standing giving him the back, in the floor was several dead bodies, he decided to approach the person carefuly without even making a sound

There were you, finally relaxing a little since you already take care of everyone, you didn't feel Jack's presence until he was behind you, out of fear and anger you turn around quickly putting your weapon just inches away from his throat

It take a moment for both of you to complently understand the situation, your expression change to one shocked and covered in fear, the last person that you wanted they know about this part of you was standing in front of you

Seeing your expresion makes Jack panic, he feared to see that expresion on you, he never wanted to see you in such color. The tears starting to form in your eyes was what makes him get into his senses and reasure you that is okay, everything was fine now!

After pick your daughter and putting her to sleep Jack help you take care of everything, from fixing the house to taking care of the bastards, he could tell that you still feel really bad from him seeing you like this, so he take a moment to reasure you that you have nothing to fear, this not change anything for him, he still loves you

He is willing to reveal that his is an assassin too (without much details), he still fears of how you will react, but if that helps you feel better he will

He isn't expecting an explication or anything, but he will heard you if you want to talk about it. What he will makes sure to do is tell you that you don't have to worry, he can tell that you're still the person he fell in love with, so he isn't going to leave you, and neither will tell someone about this

He is fully supportive of your work, and will teach one thing or two. Whenever you have work to do he gets worried about you, not becouse he doesn't trust you but becouse he fear losing you, and when you come back he always greet you with a big hug (is comforting for him feeling you in his arms)

And he is ready to help you with everything you need, doesn't matter if is in the bookstore, taking care of your daughter or with your assassin work

Qin Shin Huang

He wasn't exactly interested in the bookstore, sure it was a pretty one, but what actually drag his attention to it it was the little girl that was playing outside, running around while you were cleaning, it remembered him when he was a child, when his teacher was with him

He decided to approach the both of you when the little girl greeted him, that picked your attention and when you realized who she was talking to you get all shy and blushy, that just make him more interested

In reality he was more interested in both of you more than the books, and for a while you two always ended up meeting by casuality, but soon he start looking for you, he even go to the bookstore store, saying that he wanted to see you

Qin is really energetic and carismatic so it didn't take long for him and your daughter become friends (even best friends), even if she was the shy type

And he even start craving your company, you quickly made your way to his heart, he just seems like he can't live without your sweetness and kindness anymore

In no time you get stucked with Qin, he is just really happy with both of you, he is always looking for passing time with the both of you, he even makes you take some free days so the three of you could hang out together, he have a lot of plans! (even before you two become a couple)

Wherever you go you always recive compliments of how you are a really beautiful family, and that makes Qin feel super proud

It was one day that Qin was hanging alone with your daughter since neither of them manage to convince you to go with them, you say that you had a lot of work but next it will be, when the night was starting to fall he decided that it was time to return to home

Getting close to the bookstore he notice how the door was slighly open even if there was no trace of you, getting worried Qin ask the little girl to wait for him, saying that he just need to check something, he promised that it would just take a moment

When he enter in the bookstore everything was a mess, there even was some blood, he start fearing the worst. He start walking around searching for you, he didn't bother for try to be careful or sneaky

You easily hear how someone else was enter in the store, you already took care of the people who tried to attack you, but there was the posibility of them having accomplices. Hidding next to the door and ready to attack was when Qin enter in the room, you reacted so quickly than you didn't even realice that it was actually him

Qin reacted quickly too, blocking your attack and both of you just stare at each other for a moment, he was trying to undestand what was happening, he didn't want to think that you, from all people, could try to attack him from behind

But those concerns were quickly erased as you take some steps back, letting your weapon fall and start apologizing, in your eyes even start forming some tears, your expresion change to one with such saddnes and shame that he even get worried, you didn't want him to see this part of you!

Then Qin take your face between his hands gently, making you look at him in the eyes and reasure you that he wasn't mad, and that everything is fine now

He make one of the servants take care of your daughter while he helped you, and after everything was in their place again you two talk about what happen

He carefuly heards your story, but at the end he reasures you that everything was fine, he still loves you and he wasn't planning to leave you anytime soon

He told you that if you become an assassin becouse you need it then you shouldn't be worried about that anymore, he can provide you with everything you need and want, but will support you if you want to continue with your work

He doesn't really bring the topic again just because he doesn't see a point to do it, everything continue like nothing really had happen, but the truth is that Qin is really interested in your work (he thinks that makes you just even more beautiful)

He even offer you to teach you some things about fighting

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iamknicole · 3 months

Text

Chapter Eleven

A/N: I'm on a roll, yall! Enjoy! Please remember to ⭐Comment, reblog & share⭐

Warnings: Slight mentions of abortion, cursing, physical violence. TYPOS. 18+ MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Ten

Saturday had rolled around quicker than Zilla would have liked. His first go round in therapy was mandated, though he did learn a couple things he didn't take much from it. The therapist they paid him with wasn't a good match and they wouldn't let him swap. But this time his therapist was someone chosen by a loved one. While he trusted Kamille's decision he wondered how this therapist would be. She had told him that he could take Moriah but with everything that's transpired between them, he figured it wouldn't be a good idea to take her.

The suede sofa felt good under him, he rubbed his left hand back and forth on the arm of the sofa. Dr. Barnes sat in the matching chair across from Zilla awaiting the answer to his question.

“If you don't wanna answer, we can circle back to it at the end of the session, Mr. Fatu.”

At the sound of his name, Zilla's eyes moved from the sofa to his new therapist.

“Can you ask it again?”

“Sure,” Dr. Barnes chuckled, “What landed you on my sofa?”

Zilla's eyebrows rose for a second. “You want the long answer or the short answer?”

Again, he chuckled. “For the sake of time, since we have a shorter session today you can go ahead and give me the short version.”

“Short version is Pops died when I was little and I just found out I had a kid, they dead too.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your father and your child. Which one would you like to talk about first, Mr. Fatu?”

Zilla scratched his face, chuckling. “You can call me Zilla, man. You ain’t gotta call me mister. But uuuh I guess Angel.”

Dr. Barnes nodded, giving the younger man his undivided attention. “Zilla it is. Angel is your child, I’m assuming. Boy or girl.”

“Boy.”

“How old?”

He rubbed at his nose, deflating against the suede material. “I guess you could say 12 week or sum’ like that.”

Dr. Barnes studied his reaction with a slight brow raise. “Tell me about the circumstances.”

“Uuh, my girlfriend she found she was pregnant after I got locked up and when she was 12 weeks I think, her mom made her,” he paused rubbing his hands together, “She made her get rid of the baby.”

Dr. Barnes wrote a few things down.

“You said that you are just finding out about his passing so no one told you when it happened. How did that make you feel that no one told you?”

He sat quietly for a few minutes then shrugged. “I mean I was pissed at first that they hid it from me.”

“And now?”

“I get it. They weren’t not tellin’ me at first cause they ain’t know how but they were gonna tell me. Then when that bi–that lady did what she did, they felt like it was Fat place to tell me and she was scared to tell me.”

Dr. Barnes wrote a few things then looked up with a smile on his face. “Fat?”

“Oh, Moriah, that’s my lady.” He informed him with a proud smile on his face. “Wanna see her?”

Dr. Barnes chuckled out his response then sat his notepad aside so he could lean up. He took Zilla’s phone, a smile on his face while he studied it for a moment then gave it back.

“She's beautiful. Who else is in the picture?”

“Thank you. Our niece and my mama,” he said, glancing at the screensaver before putting it away.

“Have you and your mom talked about the circumstances with Angel?”

“Not really no. Like for a second but nothin past that. I wanted Rye to be involved when we talked and she's finally off today.”

Dr. Barnes smiled. “Today is the day then. How does that feel? From the picture it seems you and your mother have a good relationship.”

His smile was back again. “Yeah, we do. It got better when I got out. I feel kinda nervous.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Cause me and Fat talked to each other about it and I talked to one of my brothers but it's different with our parents. Well my mama and her dad.”

“You think you're gonna hear something that might make you emotional or you think she's gonna tell you something that you and Moriah may not already know?”

“Is both a good answer?”

Dr. Barnes leaned up, resting his arms on his thighs. “There's no right or wrong answer. Whatever answer you give is the answer, Zilla.”

He nodded slowly stroking his chin hair. “Then both.”

“It's okay to feel nervous or apprehensive to talk about something as long as you do it. Going through with it is the focus. Make sure you're open to listening to what your mom says and that you get whatever questions out. If you feel like you might forget, type them up on your phone.”

“Yeah … maybe, man.”

Checking his watch, Dr. Barnes steepled his fingers, pointing his index fingers at Zilla. “You almost made it through your first session. How do you feel about making this a regular meet up? I promise if you're not comfortable, I'm okay with that. You can't heal and grow properly if you're not comfortable.”

Zilla thought for a second, making the commitment of talking about his feelings every other week made him nervous. The question echoed in his head a few times then his mind went to his relationship and his family.

“I'm coo’ with that.” He answered with a small smile. “We can do that.”

“Great, great. So I'm going to give you a little homework.” Dr. Barnes chuckled at his frown. “You act like I'm about to assign you geometry homework or something. It's something easy and you don't even have to write anything down.”

Zilla laughed a little sitting back up. “My bad. Homework ain't ever been my thang.”

“Mine either,” he chuckled. “Your homework is for you to plan something for you and Moriah to celebrate Angel. Doesn't have to be extravagant unless you want it to be. Just something. Sound good?”

Zilla scrunched his face a little. “Like something fa kids?”

“Whatever you think is appropriate to celebrate you and Moriah's son. Something that you can look back on and always think of him. Okay?”

“Aight, I can do that.”

“I know you can. I’ll see you in two weeks, can't wait to hear about what you planned.”

After therapy, Zilla stopped by a floral shop and a bakery he passed on the way home. He eased into their apartment, sat her gifts on the coffee table then followed her voice to their bathroom. Moriah rapped along to her music as she finished up her skin care routine, Zilla stood in the doorway watching her with a smile on his face.

“That's yo shit, huh?” He laughed seeing her jump. “How you scary listenin to thug ass music?”

“You're gonna give me a heart attack, Isayah!”

“Naaaah,” he laughed, going to give her a kiss, “You'll be aight.”

Pulling him closer, she kissed him a few more times and hugged him. “Oh whatever. How'd it go?”

“Went good, Auntie picked a good one.”

Moriah clapped excitedly then grabbed one of her moisturizers from the counter. She squeezed a little bit into her hand. “So you're gonna go back then?”

“Yeah, ima go back, Fat.”

“Tell me about it.” She dabbed a bit of the moisturizer onto her fingertips then started to massage it into his face, “Girl or guy? Old or young? Me or them or you?”

He laughed trying to get away from her hands. “Mane, what is you puttin on me?”

“I thought you were losing your thick ass accent but I see it's still there,” she joked. “Moisturizer. Now answer please.”

“I don't need that.” He complained allowing her to continue. “Man, older, you. Aight na, you don't gotta squeeze my cheeks like that.”

She giggled while still doing it. “You squeeze mine and I don't say nothing.”

Grabbing her hips, Zilla pulled her closer to him then slid his hand to her butt and squeezed.

“Cause you like that shit. Duh.”

“Isayah,” she squealed, “Stop that, I'm tryna help you moisturize.”

“I already got my own moisturizer, I don't need that.”

She stared at him. “Boy what moisturizer you got? I have never seen you use moisturizer. I have to put everything on your face.”

“You know what moisturizer I got, Fat.”

“Nope, I don't. Tell me.”

His eyes met hers, glanced down briefly then back up with a smirk on his face. She stared at him for a moment before it hit her.

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Nasty for no reason.”

“It ain't for no reason,” he laughed, “It's all to make you happy so say thank you.”

Laughing, Moriah stepped away from him to the sink to wash her hands. Not one to be away from her, Zilla moved to stand behind her, staring at her through the mirror. Her eyes met his for a brief moment making her smile.

“Zay,” she called out softly.

He hummed out a response.

“I don't know if you know this but,” she paused to turn the water off and dry her hands, “There's no other place I'd rather be than here with you.”

Her heart swelled watching the tint rise to his cheeks as his smile spread across his face. It wasn't often she was able to make him blush so when she did, she enjoyed it. Pulling her closer once again, Zilla put his face in her neck kissing her there then lifted his head to look at her through the mirror.

“You sure?” He asked softly.

“Of course, I am.”

He kissed her face a few times. “I got you something. Come on.”

Moriah allowed him to lead her out to the gifts. Immediately she went to the flowers, inhaling their scent and gently caressing their petals. Zilla quickly snuck a couple of pictures of her.

“They're so pretty, Zay. I love them. You picked them?”

He scrunched his face playfully. “What I get if I say yes?”

She laughed softly looking over at him. “The same thing you'd get if you had help.”

“Mmm then yeah, I did. I did good? I think I remembered all the ones you like.”

She nodded, moving her eyes back to the flowers. “You did. All that time I thought you weren't listening to me but you were.”

“I tell you all the time, even though I wasn't actin like it all the time, you was and is the most important to me, Fat. I listened to everything you said to me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, girl. I mean it.”

She tilted her head back and puckered her lips at him. He put a hand on her throat, pecking her lips a few times. They held each other's stare for a moment until she stuck her tongue out at him making him laugh.

“Silly ass, I got you something else. I'm surprised you ain't see it first.”

She frowned a little, turning to look. “Ooooh that's a bakery box. What you get me?”

“Open it and see.”

She eyed him before turning to the box that sat on their coffee table alongside the vase of flowers. She slowly opened it, excitedly wiggling when her eyes landed on the contents.

“I haven't had good red velvet cake since we left Texas, babe. Wait … is it good?”

He sucked his teeth playfully. “I'm not tryna get cussed out about that damn cake, I wouldn't give it to you if it wasn't, Fat. And I damn sure wouldn't have got you a whole cake if it wasn't.”

She laughed. “I cussed you out one time and you won't let it go.”

He stared at her. “Twice. Both times you went on for a hour and a half.”

“Blah, blah,” she said, picking the box up, carrying it to the kitchen, “You want a piece?”

“No and neither do you.”

“Wait, what?”

He chuckled. “You heard me. You not eatin that right now. Close it up and get back over here.”

She pouted. “But why not?”

“Cause I said so. I know you ain't ate no real food so you not eatin no cake right now.”

The following silence made him chuckle. Quietly, he crossed their apartment to the kitchen. He watched her try to quietly cut a piece.

“Moriah,” he called out sternly.

She jumped and pouted. “Just a little piece.”

“What I say?”

Rolling her eyes, Moriah closed the box lying the knife across the top and slid her feet over to him. He kissed her head ignoring her pouting.

“Think you my Daddy,” she mumbled as she walked past him.

He laughed. “I know I am cause you told me. Get in that room so we can call Mama.”

The couple laid across their bed with Moriah's iPad in front of them waiting for Leata to answer their facetime. Zilla bothered Moriah while they waited.

“If you lick my face again, I'm gonna bite you.” She warned.

Zilla paused for a second then laughed as he leaned in to lick up her jaw to her cheek. Grabbing his face, Moriah pulled him closer and bit his cheek just as Leata answered the call. She sat quietly watching them, glad they were in a good place still. Laughing, Zilla pulled away from her grasp and wiped his cheek.

“Don't lick me again, Fatu.” She laughed.

He leaned forward and licked her lips. “You say I don't listen anyway so.”

“Isayah, stoooop.” She laughed, wiping her lips. “You so annoying.”

“But you love me,” he laughed, leaning over to do it again.

“Zilla, what are you doin to her?”

“Making her laugh, Mama.”

“No, you're annoying me,” Moriah corrected, laughing. “Tell him to leave me alone, Ma.”

She chuckled softly. “Behave, Zilla. How are you two?”

“I'm aight. How you?”

“I'm good, son. Rye, how are you?”

“Well,” she said bumping Zilla, “I was good till your son started bothering me. And he wouldn't let me have any of the cake that he got me. He's being annoying and mean.”

Leata looked between the two of them. “Why can't she have cake?”

“Cause big head ain't ate real food since last night.”

“Rye, its what,” she paused to look at the time, “Almost 2 and you haven't eaten yet? You need to eat before all that sweet stuff.”

Moriah pouted. “Yes ma'am but only cause you said it and not him.”

Zilla mushed her head playfully. “Either way you ain't gettin it right now.”

“Alright, are yall ready to talk?” She asked stopping them before they could start arguing. They nodded putting their attention back on her. “Okay so where are we starting?”

Moriah nodded for Zilla to go.

“Um when yall found out Fat was pregnant, did you and her people talk without her?”

“We did. We actually spoke a few times. Rye, you don't know this but Hassan knew before you told him. You said you wanted to tell the two of them at the same time but you and I were going to need him as an ally while you told Nadine.” She explained. “When he got in town, I had him come to the house first so I could talk to him. He understood my point of view and he was glad that I had told him prior to. His main concern was the two of you and the baby.”

“Wow … thank you. I didn't even think about that.” Moriah admitted.

“Of course, manamea. While Rye were in school, the three of us got together to discuss the whole situation. It was made clear that no one was to say anything to you until I figured out how to tell you. Surprisingly enough, Nadine agreed to that but knowing what she did that's probably why.”

Zilla nodded, rubbing over his chin hairs. “Anything else?”

Leata thought for a few seconds. “Just that even though the timing of the pregnancy wasn't ideal, Hassan and I were never mad at you two. A little disappointed but we were honest with ourselves,” she chuckled, “We saw it coming from a mile away. We thought it'd be a little later but we knew.”

Moriah and Zilla looked at each other then back at the screen.

“Knew what, Ma?” She asked with her brow raised.

“That there was gonna be a pregnancy or a scare at some point in high school. We knew it.”

Zilla scrunched his face up. “We wasn't even datin then.”

Again she chuckled. “You two never put a name to it but yall were. You went on dates, you were always cuddled up on my sofa, in your bedroom with the door closed and locked and sneaking out together.”

The couple laughed softly.

“We wasn't doin nothin that most of that time. Not till later.”

“Oh trust me, son.” She laughed. “I know when yall started. I just didn't say anything. You didn't wonder why all of a sudden your brothers were giving you condoms and talking to you?”

Zilla laughed thinking back about it while Moriah sat mortified with small giggles escaping her.

“I'm embarrassed,” she declared. “I told you, Zay.”

He laughed. “You was always scary anyway so I ain't pay you no attention.”

“Any other questions for me?”

Moriah looked to her boyfriend for his response.

“Uuuh … after Fat told you what happened, what did you do?”

“Well first I went to pray,” she chuckled humorlessly, “Because if I didn't, I knew whatever I would've done would not have been good. I consoled and talked to Rye until she had to go back home afterwards I went to my bedroom and I cried. I called Arthur to tell him, he was livid. I had to keep him from going to see Nadine. And then you ended up calling me, Isayah. You usually never called as late as you did but I remember you saying something was telling you to call me so you did.”

Zilla tried hard to remember that call, he could recall certain parts of the conversation but not all of it.

She continued on.

“It was hard to act like everything was okay but I had to because I knew it wasn't my place to tell you. I could assist Rye with it but that was all. Plus telling you while you were in there would not have been good.”

Moriah reached over to wipe the few stray tears from his face. He sniffed a few times.

“I appreciate y'all for carin enough about me not tell tell me then cause I prolly would've got more time. I woulda caused hell in that place.”

“And that's what we didn't want.” Leata said softly.

Zilla leaned over, kissing Moriah's cheek then whispered for her to go ahead. She nodded, starting to play with her fingernails.

“I gotta tell you something else about this whole thing, Ma.”

“I'm listening, Rye. Whatever it is, it's got you nervous. You only do that with your nails when you're nervous.”

She smiled a little, trying to stop clicking her nails. “After everything, I kept asking my mom for information. I wanted to know if she knew the gender and what they did with my baby afterwards. Then finally she told me that she had the gender and she had them cremate the remains. And she said the only way I was getting any of that and my sonograms was under one condition.”

“Which was what?”

Moriah bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. “I had to get my tubes tied.”

Leata frowned, leaning in a bit closer. “You had to what? Cause I know Nadine did not.”

“I had to get my tubes tied, Ma. I wanted what I had left of my baby so I agreed.”

Leata's face was set in shock on the other side of the facetime. There were so many words that wanted to come out but she was unable to say a thing. Moriah asked Zilla to pass her the baby blue box from his nightstand, when she got it she held it in view for Leata to see. Zilla rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“She just had him in this ugly carton thing so I used the money that my dad had given me for something else to buy him this. He's gone everywhere with me even college,” she chuckled softly.

Trying to process everything, Leata brought her hands to her face for a moment. She allowed her tears to fall freely as she stared at the screen.

“He?”

“Yes ma'am,” Moriah tilted it a bit to show where his name was engraved at the top. “I was having a boy. I named him Angel.”

“Oh, Rye. This just makes what she did that much worse. It wasn't enough that she made you abort Angel but then continued to use him to manipulate you and pretty much take away the chance to have another.”

Zilla and Moriah sat quietly listening to her come to terms with everything.

Leata took slow deep breaths. “That is an evil woman that neither of you need to be around. I know that's your mother, Moriah but you have done all you can do. There is no saving grace for her and you will not give her any. Do you hear me?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“I am so sorry that she did that to you, Rye. If I would've known I would've done something to stop it. Does Hassan know?”

“I know, Ma. No, I never told anyone until now so only you, Zay, my mom and me know.”

She nodded. “Well no one will find out from me, that is your business to tell. I um I need to go. I love the two … the three of you so much. Call me or text me if you need me.”

Zilla noticed the look on his mother's face and got concerned. “You good, Mama? You look pale.”

“I'm okay, I'm okay. Just processing. I'm gonna go.”

Without waiting on them to respond, she disconnected the call. Moriah closed her iPad case then rolled onto her side to look at her boyfriend.

“She is not okay.”

“She ain't,” he agreed. He grabbed his phone sending out a quick text, “I told Arthur to go check on her.”

“She looked pissed. I'm pretty sure if not now, in the next few days she's gonna go see my mom.”

Zilla thought then shrugged. “Nadine need her ass whooped anyway. She get what she get.”

Moriah laughed, “You not wrong but Ma do not need to be doing that. We don't want her to get in any trouble.”

He huffed loudly. “You right but Nadine still need her ass whooped. I guess text Auntie Kami too but that would mean you gotta tell her.”

Moriah tapped on her phone, sighing softly. “The good thing about Auntie Kami is I don't need to tell her right now and even though she'll find out in the midst, I can still talk to her about it later and she'll be okay with it.”

Zilla gently pushed Moriah back, making her lie on her back so he could put his head on her chest. She reached one hand down to rub his head while she continued to text.

“I'm proud of you, Fat.”

“What did I do?”

“Everything. You went through all that plus her basically torturin you till I got out and you stood ya ground. You strong baby.” He praised softly. “You got a good ass heart too. I ain't gon let nobody else play with that shit or you. Zilla got you.”

“And Fat got you. You know I do not play about you.”

He laughed a bit. “Shit, I know. Remember ole girl you beat up at that skate party? Made that girl piss herself.”

Moriah busted out laughing, almost dropping her phone. “I did not.”

“Yeah you did. I remember,” He laughed “I remember cause when you realized it got on your hand, you punched her ass in the mouth.”

“Cause that shit was nasty. If she couldn't hold her bladder she shouldn't have started with you.”

He turned over to look at her, a smile on his face. “I thought you said you ain't do that?”

She stared at him trying not to laugh. “Okay, fine, I did. But in my defense I was only doing what Pops, Ejay, and your cousins taught me to do.”

“They did not tell you to make nobody piss they self, mane. You did that.” He laughed now sitting up.

“They did so. They said make sure whoever I fight is leaking by the end. They never specified what kind of leak.” She shrugged playfully. “Point is, I won, she apologized and never bothered you again.”

He shook his head at her, still laughing. “And that's why I tell people not fuck witchu cause they don't want them problems. And I don't either.”

She swatted at his arm after she put her phone down. “Don't tell people that. They gon think I'm mean.”

He pushed his lips to the side staring at her. “That ain't a secret, Fat. Everybody that know ya ass know you mean as shit. You only nice to your patients, Mama, Hassan, and Toni. And I really don't think you that nice to Toni, I just ain't seen it yet.”

“Aht. I am nice to her. She's not nice to me.”

“Damn,” he called out, “That mean she meaner than you. Yall was meant to be friends.”

Moriah sat up and launched herself at him, he grabbed Angel's box moving it to the nightstand then wrapped his arms around her. He laughed as she landed playful jabs to his torso.

“Since I'm mean, I might as well beat you up then, Fatu.”

“Now you know the only one of us that gets beat up around here is you,” He joked, tickling her sides making her giggle uncontrollably. “Now say sorry.”

“Zay! Zay, stop!” She yelled in between giggles.

He continued his playful assault on her sides through his own laughter. “Say sorry and I stop.”

“Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!” She yelled.

He hummed not stopping. “That ain't enough. Am I your daddy, Fat?”

“Zilla, I gotta pee!” She giggled.

He laughed still tickling her. “Then you better answer me. Am I your daddy?”

She fell over giggling. “Yes! You're my Daddy! Stoooop!”

Laughing, he let her go. He watched her jump off the bed and run into the bathroom closing the door behind her. She yelled from behind the door.

“You get on my nerves, Fatu!”

He grabbed his ringing phone and put it to his ear. “Love you too, Fat! What's up, Jon?”

“The hell is yall doing? Yelling in my ear.” He asked, talking just as loud.

Zilla laughed putting the call on speaker. “Nothin, man. What's up?”

“Checkin to make sure yall still coming this weekend. Trin made me call cause she said if her favorite cousin not here I'm gon be in trouble.”

“Ayyye, I'm the favorite. Tell her we gon be there.”

Jon laughed. “She wasn't talkin about you, man. She was talkin about Moriah.”

He sucked his teeth. “Just for that tell her, I'm comin but Fat stayin home.”

Moriah came out of the bathroom and went back to the bed, leaning against Zilla. “I'm not staying home. If I don't go, you don't go.”

“I can go places without you, big head.”

“You can but you can't go visit them without me.”

He looked down at her. “Why I can't?”

She stared back at him. “Jon gon let you live with him?”

Jon laughed, interrupting them. “Damn, she sound just like Trin. Always tryna put us out over a lil jokey joke.”

“Cause yall not funny.” Moriah fired back playfully. “We'll be there, Jon. And I want the same room, Trin told me it was mine.”

“Lil girl, how you just gon claim stuff in my house?”

“Huh? You said you want me to tell Trin you being mean to me?”

“Maaaan,” he drug out playfully, “Aight fine but you gon tell Sefa why he can't have that room.”

Moriah squealed, “My second favorite Fatu man is gonna be there? Why you didn't tell me before?”

Zilla frowned. “I better be the first favorite.”

She scrunched her face. “Ew, no. Arthur's my first favorite then Sefa.”

“And what number am I?” Jon asked.

“Uuuuh let's see …. There's Arthur, Sefa, Zilla, Jacob, Ejay, you and then Naio.”

“Now wait a damn minute,” Jon called out, “I'm number six! Why am I so low on the list? What I do?”

“And why am I number three?”

“Jon, you're never on my side just like Naio so that's what yall get,” she explained quickly, “And you're number three because Arthur spoils me and Sefa always took my side and the both of them always check on me.”

Both men sucked their teeth.

“Aye, Zay, we gon jump Sefa this weekend. Traitor.”

Zilla laughed. “Hell yeah.”

“But aight then. Text me what snacks and stuff yall want for the weekend so I can add it to the list. Call if yall need anything.”

“Bye number six!” Moriah joked.

Job sucked his teeth. “Just for that, no snacks for you.”

“Bye, man.” Zilla chuckled, ending their call. “Fat?”

“What, big head?”

“I'm really number 3?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yup but you're my number one Fatu in the non platonic way.”

“I'm the only non platonic Fatu you got.”

She huffed playfully. “Boy, just take the number one spot and hush.”

After her shift, Moriah changed out of her work clothes and into her regular clothes then went to the ED to wait on Toni. She watched the older woman check in a second patient in the last ten minutes. Bronco, Zilla and Moriah had finally convinced Toni to come to a show and see him wrestle.

“Nurse Bryant, it's fifteen minutes past your shift.” Moriah called out looking at her watch.

Toni finished up with the patient then turned to her friend. “I couldn't just stop what I was doing, Rye. I'm coming, give me a second.”

“We're gonna be late if you don't come on. We still have to stop by your house to drop off your car and for you to change, go to mine to drop my car off and uber to the show. Bring your butt on.”

The handheld monitor went off again interrupting them. Before Toni could check it, Moriah snatched it and passed it to the nurses relieving her, who had been trying to get it. They had a short conversation then Moriah pulled her friend from behind the nurses station and towards the doors.

“Wait, wait, my purse.” Toni called out trying to go back.

“It's in my bag, let's go. Cause if I miss my man because of you, me and you are gonna need a ref.”

When the friends got to their cars, Thomas was sitting on the hood of Moriah's car. Toni rolled her eyes and Moriah stayed to dig through her purse.

“Why are you sitting on her car? Get off.”

Thomas smiled. “Was just waiting on her. No harm done, Toni.”

“Yet you're still sitting on it,” she clocked with a tilt of her head.

He waved her off putting his focus on Moriah. “Can we talk, Moriah? It won't take but a second.”

“You have until I find what I'm looking for to say whatever it is you wanna say to me and I believe I told you to call me Nurse DeBreaux.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I'll love you and wanna be with you regardless of us being able to have children. We can try and if it doesn't work, we can always adopt. I really want to give us another try, I've matured. I'm not the same person I used to be.”

“Found it,” she announced triumphantly and pulled her pink taser Jacob had given her years ago from her purse. She moved closer to him, putting it near his crutch. “If you ever sit on my car again, call me anything but what I've told you to call me or bring my medical information up again, I won't be the only one who may not have kids. Am I clear?” She pressed the side making it spark for emphasis.

Toni stood back laughing to herself.

He jumped a little. “Whoa, I'm just tryna make amends. It's bad enough you might not have kids, don't want you to be alone on top of it.”

“Why do you assume I'll be alone, Thomas?”

“Look at all the kids in that family. If you can't give him kids, he's not gonna stay when he finds out.”

Moriah chuckled. “Get the hell off my car, Thomas. You got five seconds.”

He jumped off the hood, taking a few steps back. “Just think about it, Mo.”

“You are so lucky I got somewhere to be. Stay away from me and I mean that shit.” After he jogged off, Moriah turned her taser off and threw it back in her purse. She passed Toni her own purse. “I'll follow you to your house. We gotta hurry.”

Forty five minutes later, the friends made it to NXT Arena at Full Sail University. They walked around the backstage area looking for their other halves.

“Haven't you been here before?” Toni asked, looking around.

“Yeah twice but both times he was with me. Let's just ask somebody.” Moriah looked around then spotted what looked like a friendly face. She approached the woman, tapping her shoulder. “Sorry to bother you but we're kinda lost.”

She smiled looking at the two of them. “Well I hope I can help. I'm literally like two almost three weeks in. What are yall looking for?”

“Catering. We're supposed to meet someone there.”

“Now that I can find. Follow me,” she laughed, starting to head in that direction with them. “I'm Gia, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Moriah and this is Toni.” Toni gave a polite smile and wave when Gia looked over at her. “What do you do here, Gia?”

“Journalist but in basic terms, I do backstage interviews.”

“Sounds cool. And you don't have to get all sweaty and thrown around so that's good.” Moriah joked, ignoring Toni’s mimicking.

“That's the best part,” Gia agreed, stopping in front of catering, “Do you see who you're looking for?”

Moriah and Toni looked around for a few seconds. Toni nudged her friend's arm and pointed.

“I see them over there.”

“Where?” Moriah asked, frowning.

Toni pointed, “Right there. Left corner. I know you see Bronco's tall ass and Zilla.”

Gia's ears perked up at the mention. “I see them. Come on, I'll walk yall.”

“Uuh, we got it but thank you, Gia.” Toni frowned.

Gia laughed it off. “No worries plus I hadn't had a chance to speak to them today. They're always on the move.”

Gia walked in front of them, leaving the two friend's to exchange looks before following her. Moriah mumbled under her breath a bit.

“Oh my gosh, Zilla! Look who I found wandering around,” she announced putting a hand on his arm.

Moriah didn't miss the grimace on his face as he looked in Gia's direction. He moved her hand then noticed Moriah and Toni. Bronco rolled his eyes accepting Toni's hug. He whispered to her that Gia got on his nerves. Zilla smiled widely at Moriah going to hug her.

“What's up, Fat? What's up, Toni?”

“You didn't tell me your sister and her friend was coming, Zilla. I could've met them at the gate for you since you and Bronco had them wandering around.”

Toni laughed under her breath looking up at Bronco, who rolled his eyes again.

“Sister? Do me and him look alike to you?” Moriah asked, confused.

Gia laughed, clasping her hands in front of her body. “I'm sorry, I was assuming. Cousin then?”

Zilla pulled Moriah into his side, placing a kiss to her temple. “She not my cousin. This my lady, mane. And we got them. We good, Gia.”

“Oooh this is your girlfriend? He really loves you, girl. Every time I talk to him, he mentions you.”

“I wonder why,” Toni mumbled.

Moriah smiled looking between them. “Good to know, Gia.”

Gia patted his chest a few times then let her hand linger there. “He's a tough cookie to crack but I think I'm wearing him down. We're gonna be friends. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him for you. These girls around here can be a bit much.”

Before Zilla could, Moriah pushed her hand off of him.

“Yeah I can see that about the girls,” Moriah sassed tilting her head. “Just a little thing to keep in mind about him … he doesn't like to be touched by people he don't know like that and I don't either.”

“Noted, girl. I'll make sure they keep their hands off of my friend.” Gia smiled at Zilla and Bronco then moved to hug Moriah and Toni. “Enjoy the show. Ooh come find me afterwards, we can go get drinks.”

Moriah turned to stare at her boyfriend, who held his hands up.

“Fat, I ain't do shit. She can't take a hint.”

Bronco nodded. “He ain't lying. He literally gives her no indication that it's okay for her to even talk to him and she still do it.”

Moriah folded her arms. “She better learn how to take a hint or she gon have a problem that she don't want. Talking about some damn sister or cousin. She knew I wasn't either one of those.”

“She did,” Toni agreed, “She was trying to be messy.”

“And had the nerve to put her hands all on him like I'm not standing here. She lucky I ain't break her damn hand.”

Toni clapped her hands. “Girl, seriously. She was trying you. Being all bold like, I can imagine what she does when you're not here.”

Moriah groaned inwardly. “And she better hope I don't ever find out cause I will beat her ass and then ima beat his ass.”

“And then ima beat Bronco's ass,” Toni added.

“Wait, I moved her hand just like I do any other time and tell her to stop. Why I'm gettin my ass beat?” Zilla asked.

“Ion even like that girl and I tell her to leave him alone. I shouldn't be gettin my ass beat.” Bronco stressed.

“Just so yall know we not nothing to play with,” Toni explained with finality.

Moriah nodded. “That part.”

“Listen, me and Bronco not worried about that girl. We dodge her ass and whenever she do catch us, we keep it short. Right, B?”

Bronco nodded. “Right.”

“It better stay that way too. I don't mind beating her ass, Isayah.”

Zilla nodded her face then her lips, holding her body against his. “I know you don't. Don't worry about her, she ain't important.”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh! Rye almost tased Thomas’s nuts off.” Toni announced with a chuckle.

Zilla looked at Toni then his girlfriend. “Not that it matter but why?”

“He was sitting his ass on my damn car and was tryna talk to me about being together,” she explained, “Then I told him if he ever sat on my car or brought what he brought up again, I wouldn't be the only one with fertility issues.”

“Good job, sis.” Bronco praised excitedly. “But next time do it. Teach his ass.”

Toni hit his arm, chastising him.

“You know when he work next?”

“Why?” She asked, staring at him.

“Do you know, Fat?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, Thursday same time as me.”

“Aight, yall go head to your seats. We'll send somebody to get yall before the show over.” He pulled her closer, kissing her slowly. “I love you, fat head.”

She laughed softly. “Love you more, Fatu. See you later, Bronco.”

Bronco hugged and kissed Toni then smiled at Moriah. “Aight, sis. Yall cheer loud for me and my boy.”

The men watched their girlfriends leave catering before turning to one another. Bronco's smile widened with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What time I need to be ready Thursday?”

Fortunately for Nadine, Kamille was able to detour Leata for a couple of days. Knowing her sister's work schedule, she invited Nadine to her house Wednesday afternoon for a snack and to talk. Kamille left the detail about Leata coming out to ensure her sister came.

Leata and Kamille had been sitting in her living room since Arthur dropped her off thirty minutes prior. The two waited on Nadine's arrival.

“Which one of your babies was that, that dropped you off?”

“Arthur, my oldest. And he was not happy that I wouldn't let him stay.” She chuckled.

Kamille laughed. “Yeah, he didn't look happy. Rye told me that he's the only brother that knows so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that he's on the list of people that aren't happy with my sister.”

“He's definitely on that list. I don't blame him … just thinking about it makes me so angry. She was 15 years old, a baby.”

“I've been giving her shit about the way she's been with Moriah for years and she tells me the same thing every time. That she can do what she wants with her child.”

Leata rolled her eyes. “Same crap she's said to me.”

The door opening and closing momentarily ended their conversation. Nadine called out for her sister then followed her voice to the living room. Her smile slowly dropped into a frown as she went to sit on the love seat.

“You didn't tell me there would be a third wheel, little sister.”

Kamille smiled. “Seems like you were the last one here so you're the third wheel, big sister. How are you?”

“I'm well. How are you? Hello, Leata.”

“Same, Nadine.” Kamille answered, nudging Leata.

“Hi, Nadine.” She greeted stiffly.

Nadine hummed at her. “How is your son treating my baby?”

“You would know if she were still talking to you,” Leata chuckled, “He's treating her the way he's always treated her, like a queen.”

“Queen of what? The hood?”

Kamille jumped in to stop them. “Nadine, cut it out. Don't get sassy because you know she's right.”

“Kami, why am I here? I've been working all day and I am too tired for this.”

Girl,” Kamille scoffed, “You worked two hours today, you not tired. Anyway Leata wanted to talk to you and I am here to facilitate. Don't be your usual asshole self either.”

Nadine rested her elbow on the arm rest, moving her attention from her little sister to Leata. “What would you like to talk about, Leata? What can I do for you?”

Leata counted backwards from ten in her head before responding. “I'm just gonna jump right in, I don't have the patience to beat around the bush. You made Moriah get her tubes tied?”

“Yup.” She answered popping the ‘p’. “Anything else?”

“Anything…. Anything else? Are you kidding me? You don't see anything wrong with making a 15 year old girl get her tubes tied? She was a baby, Nadine.”

She smiled at her former friend. “No, I don't see anything wrong with making hard decisions for my child. She was a baby that didn't need to be having babies so I made sure she wouldn't.”

“Birth control was an option, Nadine.”

“Wasn't gonna do what I needed to be done.”

“What if she never able to have kids again? Does that even make you feel a little bad?”

She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “Knowing that she'll never have a child with that child of yours brings me joy and a sense of accomplishment. And if I'm as lucky as I think I am, he'll break up with her.”

“Nadine, what is your got damn problem with me and my kids? You went from being one of my best friends to my enemy.” Leata yelled while sitting up on the sofa.

“You and your kids are just like that husband of yours.” Nadine yelled standing from the love seat. “I didn't realize it until after his ass killed over.”

Leata stood as well, pointing her finger in Nadine's direction. “You better be careful with the next words that come out of your mouth.”

“Hmm well let me take a second to think about what I wanna say about you, your husband and your kids.” Nadine paused dramatically. “Your husband always had his ass in my family's business, in my husband's ear about this and about that. Thought it was just him but you and your damn kids are the same way. You took your husband's spot in my husband's ear and your kids are in my daughter's ears.”

“Hassan and Moriah know how to make their own choices! We did not make them do anything they didn't wanna do, Nadine!”

Nadine rolled her eyes. “Oh sure. They just happened to make these stupid decisions after talking to one of you Fatus.”

“Oh please, Nadine. I'm glad you think so highly of us that we have that much control but sorry to tell you it's complete bullshit.”

“I'm not my daughter or my husband, I'm not falling for that.” She chuckled. “As bad I felt when your husband died, I was glad cause I thought I was finally getting control back of my family. But then the manipulation and interference didn't stop.”

Kamille stood at that. “Nadine, you're going too far. Stop that.”

“Oh I'm just getting started,” she spat, laughing. “I don't think I'll have to wait that long to get control back and have my baby come home to me. That child of yours is following in his father's footsteps literally so it won't be too long before he joins him. Now that's a funeral I would pay good money to sit front row at.”

Leata's right arm reared back then forward with as much force as she could muster connecting with Nadine's left cheek. There was so much force behind her slap, Nadine lost her balance and hit the floor. She held her cheek, opening and closing her mouth trying to check her jaw. Kamille stepped in front of Leata. Pushing her back gently trying to calm her.

“That was the last time you will ever talk about my kids or my husband! If you ever talk about them again like that it'll be your funeral we're sitting front row for!”

Slowly, Nadine pushed herself up onto the love seat. She heard Leata but the pain in her face and jaw kept her from responding. There was a slight ringing in her ear as well that wouldn't go away.

“Breathe, friend. Breathe. I got her, you go call Arthur.”

Leata glared at her old friend as she left the living room, mumbling to herself. Kamille stared at her big sister wondering how the sister she used to look up to turned into this person. They were fifteen years apart but at 38, Kamille felt like she had much more sense than the 53 year old sitting in front of her today.

“Why would you say that to her? You can't really feel that way, Nadine.”

Nadine winced a bit when she opened her mouth. “You know I don't say things that I don't mean.”

“I don't know that but I do know if you say things to hurt people to get the upper hand. You wished death on her kid. That's not right.”

She chuckled. “What's not right is her family breaking up mine.”

“Their family didn't do a damn thing but love you, Hassan and Moriah. Although it's clear that they wasted their love on you. You and you alone broke up your family.”

“If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were drinking the Kool-Aid too.” Nadine smirked as best she could. “So tell me which Fatu are you sleeping with? Hmm let me guess … Jacob. He was always fond of you.”

Kamille frowned at her big sister. “Me and Jacob are friends, basically family like the rest of them and you know that. You just say anything to avoid accepting fault. Mama didn't raise us like that.”

“How would you know? I was damn near grown when you were born. You don't know shit about how I was raised.”

Kamille sucked her teeth, “I know enough to know that she raised us both the same way. You need to stop this before you get to a point where it can't be fixed.”

“I don't need to do anything but call the police.”

“For what, Nadine?”

“I'm pressing charges. She assaulted me and you witnessed it.”

Kamille shook her head.

“You are absolutely not. If you call them, I'm calling Mama and telling her what you did to Moriah and what you just said to Leata. And I know no matter how old and bitter you are, you do not wanna deal with a pissed off Trenice Parker. Do you?”

Nadine stared at her sister for a few moments then huffed loudly. “Go get me a ice pack, don't just stand there.”

Knowing how her son felt, Leata waited until they got back to her house to tell her how the meet up had gone. He then spent thirty minutes going off about Nadine and debating on going back to Kamille's to finish what his mother had started.

“You know you gotta tell Zay and Rye, right.”

She shook her head. “No, they've already got a lot going on. I'll tell them just not right now.”

“Mama, they need to know now. Especially Rye. This not nothing to keep to ourselves.” Arthur stressed kneeling in front of her while she sat on the sofa. “She better hope I don't see her in public.”

“That right there is why I don't wanna say anything. Your brother is gonna react that same way.”

“And he should, Mama. Her bitter ass wished him dead. You don't say stuff like that.”

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay fine but this is gonna hurt Moriah.”

“Whether you tell her now or later, it's gonna hurt her, Mama.”

Begrudgingly, she facetimed Zilla. A part of her hoped he didn't answer so she had more time. Her hopes were dashed when she saw his smiling face and heard Moriah's voice in the background.

“Aye! Stop hitiin’ me, Mama on the phone and ima tell!” He laughed. “Mama, tell this girl to keep her hand to herself.”

Arthur moved to sit beside Leata, putting his face in the frame.

“What did you do to her, son?”

“I … ow, your lil hands hurt, mane. She offered me cake and now she mad cause I ate it.”

“Nah uhn! I offered him a piece yesterday and he ate another piece today!” Moriah yelled.

“He sorry,” Arthur suggested, “Right, Zay?”

Zilla frowned a bit, pulling Moriah into a loose headlock. “Uhuh, right. My bad, Fat. What yall got going on?”

Arthur put his attention on Leata, silently urging here to go on.

“I wanted to tell you two that I went to Kamille's to talk to Nadine. And it didn't go well.”

Zilla moved him and Moriah to their sofa to sit down. Moriah got comfortable against his chest.

“What happened?” Zilla asked, looking between his mom and brother.

Leata looked at Arthur then back at the screen. “It didn't last long, I'll say that. We got into a spat, she said some ugly things and it escalated.”

“What did she say?” Moriah asked softly.

“I asked her about what she made you do and she said she was proud of it and felt accomplished.”

It was heartbreaking to see the residual joy leave Moriah's eyes. Zilla pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Leata waited for her to respond, when Moriah didn't she continued.

“She also said some things about your father and your brothers but mostly you. Things escalated,” she sighed, “I'm not proud of it but it ended in me slapping her.”

Zilla's brows raised.

“What she say? Had to be bad for you to do that.”

Arthur realized she wasn't going to be able to say it so he stepped in. “She wished death on you, Zay then Mama slapped her.”

Moriah sat up immediately, pushing herself off the sofa but Zilla held onto her waist with one hand.

“Fat, sit down. Come ‘ere, man.”

She shook her head, roughly pulling herself from his grasp. “No, I can't. I can't.”

Leata spoke up. “Let her go, Zilla.”

He huffed watching her walk off to their bedroom. “The hell I do to her for her to say that?”

“I'm telling you that you did nothing to deserve having someone say that about you, Isayah. You could tell that woman to have a good day and she would swear you cursed her. You hear me?”

He nodded starting at the closed bedroom door. “I hear you, Mama.”

“Isayah,” Arthur called out, getting his brother's attention, “Mama told yall that so yall would know what that lady got going on not to cause a setback between the two of you.”

He nodded again.

“Go do what you need to do.”

Zilla disconnected the call as he got up from the sofa. He went to listen at the bedroom door for a moment before going in. Moriah laid with her face in her pillow, crying softly. Going to her side of the bed, Zilla kneeled there and rubbed her back.

“You meltin again, Fat?”

She shook her head, not lifting it from the pillow, followed by a muffled ‘no’. He smiled a little, nudging her over so he could see her face.

“It look like you meltin’, baby.”

“Just a little,” she said softly.

“You don't gotta melt over that. Zilla ain't goin nowhere, Zilla gon stay right here with you to get on your nerves.”

She nodded, sniffling softly. “Promise?”

“Zilla promise. What can I do to make my lady stop meltin?”

“A kiss maybe.”

He chuckled, leaning up to kiss her. “Better?”

“Mmmm … maybe one more.”

He kissed her again. “Now?”

She shrugged. “I kinda feel better. A snuggle would probably make it all the way better.”

“Whenever you ask me to snuggle, you end up tryna do more than snuggle, Fat.” He pointed out getting up from the floor and climbing into the bed behind her. She moved her body back, closer to him. “See? You already startin’.”

She laughed softly. “Just getting comfy. Plus ever since Zilla threw his condoms away, he hasn't wanted to snuggle with me anyway.”

He laughed in her ear. “We both been tired as shit, Fat. My bad.”

“You never cared about me bein tired before.”

“That's cause I wasn't tired.” He kissed her neck a few times. “I promise to snuggle with you next time. Aight?”

“Pinky promise?” Moriah proposed as she lifted her pinky up.

He linked his pinky with hers.

Since they were leaving for Tampa as soon as Moriah's shift ended, Zilla dropped her off at work Thursday morning. She had long forgotten about Zilla's inquiry into Thomas’s work schedule so she didn't question him taking her to work or warn him to not do anything bad. Moriah liking to be thirty minutes early to her shift worked out in his and Bronco's favor seeing as the friends made it to the parking deck minutes before he did. Unbeknownst to him, he parked his Audi between Bronco's truck and Zilla's challenger. When he stepped out of his car, Zilla was standing at the back of his car startling him.

“What's wrong? Why you so jumpy, mane?” Zilla laughed.

Bronco crept up behind him, slamming the driver side door for him. “He act like he seen a ghost or sum.”

Thomas jumped again looking between both men.

“There are cameras in here.”

Zilla looked up at the cameras, smiling even wider. “You mean them right there? I wouldn't count on them workin.”

“Naaah they definitely outta order, my guy. Kinda like yo ass,” Bronco added with a chuckle.

“What do you want? I need to get to work.”

Zilla moved closer to him grabbing his collar to shove him against Bronco's truck.

“Wait, why he not hemmed up against his own car?” Bronco asked, frowning.

Zilla ignored his friend, maintaining eye contact with Thomas. “Moriah told me yo ass still botherin’ her and if it's one thing I can't stand is somebody that don't understand no especially when my lady say it. She asked you one too many times to leave her alone so now I gotta step in.”

Thomas struggled to get out of his grasp but his strength was nothing compared to Zilla's. “It's not that serious. We were just having a conversation.”

“A conversation that she told you she ain't want which mean she said no to your ass.” He spat, pressing his forearm into Thomas’s throat. “This the one and only warnin you get from me. The next time you see me or my boy it won't be to talk.”

Bronco stepped forward and leaned down so they were sure level. “And if you don't keep this lil meeting between us, you'll see us sooner than that. Comprende?”

“Sis! I been missing you!”

As soon as Moriah and Zilla stepped inside the house, Trinity ran to them engulfing Moriah in a tight, bear hug rocking them from side to side. Jon and Zilla watched them with frowns on their faces.

Jon hit his cousin's arm. “Uce! I missed you!” The two of them hugged mocking their women.

Trinity sucked her teeth. “This why you number six. Get on my nerves.”

“They just jealous cause nobody ever misses them.” Moriah rolled her eyes playfully. “Everybody else here or we early?”

“Yall late as hell.” Jon fussed loudly. “Should've took off like uce told you to. Lucky I ain't give ya room away.”

Moriah laid her head on Trinity’s shoulder. “My favorite cousin wouldn't let you do that.”

“And won't. Everybody in the backyard, come on.”

Trinity pulled Moriah along with her while Jon and Zilla followed behind. They talked softly and briefly with each other until they got to the patio. Moriah scanned the backyard, squealing when she spotted Jacob and another cousin on the grill. She ran to jump on his back.

“Jacob! I missed you!”

Laughing, Jacob sat the spatula he was using down and backed away from the grill. “Damn, girl, I missed you too. You almost took us both out.”

She got down, laughing and fixing her shorts. “I haven't seen you in so long. I missed my buddy. I don't have nobody to get on Zay's nerves with.”

“Shit, we got all weekend to make up for lost time, sis.”

“Yall asses is not about to get on my nerves all weekend unless her big head ass wanna get left here with you,” Zilla declared approaching them. He slapped hands with both of his cousins. “Fat, you remember Josh. Right?”

She nodded, moving to hug him. He barely returned the hug but she didn't notice. “Hey Josh. Of course I remember. He's the twin that's not annoying, the good twin.”

Josh nodded his head at her, mumbling out a greeting then turned back to the grill. Jacob noticed how their cousin acted but realized Moriah and Zilla didn't.

“Aye, sis, there go Sefa. Better get to em before mean ass do.”

Zilla frowned playfully. “I'm mean ass? You know her ass meaner than me.”

Moriah stuck her tongue then ran over to Sefa, jumping on him the way she'd jumped on Jacob. Zilla let his cousins know he'd be back after he spoke to Sefa. Turning back to the grill, Jacob nudged his cousin.

“What's up with you?”

“Nun man, I'm cool.”

Jacob started to flip the burgers. “I would believe that if you don't just give that girl the cold shoulder.”

Josh shrugged, focusing on the chicken. “Ion like her. I ain't think he'd stay with her this long.”

“You don't like her? Moriah? Moriah that's been around since they was kids?” Jacob asked with his face screwed up. “Why you ain't like her?”

Josh looked over at Moriah with his family, his lips turning up at the sight of them being happy and friendly with her. “She ain't right for uce. He deserve better.”

“Better than Moriah? She the best thing that ever happened to his mean ass.”

“That's what yall think.”

Jacob scratched his head looking over at his family then back at Josh. “Ion know man. You gon have to explain that one to me later on. But word of advice, chill on the attitude with her, that boy ain't right in the head when it come to her. He protect her heavy.”

Josh waved him off. “We'll see.”

#aao #zilla fatu #zilla & moriah #the samoan dynasty #the bloodline

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