#I wish I had a crib

[raulfernandez]

I hate the situation I got myself into because I basically have to make a decision about my future in the next like week, because I honestly don't think I'm able to pass the last attempt at my exams so I'd rather not have to take them and just drop out because then I can pretend that it was my decision and not my inability. I could technically ask my company if I can do an Ausbildung instead of a Studium with them, but honestly, I don't feel too comfortable with that idea because if I fail that it'd be even more embarrassing and I honestly don't think it's the field I want to go in long term... my dad realising that I only did this for my parents so far, kind of ruined my plan of never telling them but whatever... dad said I shouldn't care about them, as long as I do something they'll support me and I should pick something that I like, but I should really think about if I can actually imagine that for myself before I do it. There's so many things that I can imagine myself liking, but at the same time, I have no clue if I could actually do any of them....

[furryprovocateur]

a 91% missed for me. You have got. to be fucking kidding me.

[intersexfairy]

just wanna ramble about this for a moment but, my late grandmother had some seemingly jewish customs and im having a hard time figuring out why. if she had jewish ancestry, i wanna know (especially if she was practicing crypto-judaism). hopefully one day i get an answer..

[mecachrome]

notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

[bnhaobssesed]

Thinking about husband!Bakugo and wife!reader

Katsuki always pictured himself as a hero, yes. But when that became a reality, his life had no other purposes than to be the number one hero. Bear with me, he still wanted to be number one. But as he grew older he saw people around him settle and have a compromise between hero life and their private life. And by that I mean building a family. Kirishima was the first one to do so with Mina, soon followed by a lot of his friends. Even Deku at some point. And even if he sometimes loved being 'uncle Kats', he sometimes wishes he could hear that small laugh looking like his, or small eyes sparkling like yours.

For the first time ever, his wishes took another turn. He wanted to be father as much as he wanted to be the number one hero. If not even more.

And even if it took a while to get it off his chest, he wouldn't regret it for one second just to live this moment.

~

He was coming home after a long day of work, expecting to hear little screams and be met with the vivacity of his house. No, pure silence. It seemed strange to not hear small runnning footsteps towards the entryway and a little excited 'daddy !' coming from the living room.

He got his shoes off and started his investigation on where the people in his house was hidden. He first thought of one of their endless pranks which soon got denied by the sight next to the couch.

You were there, sleeping on the carpet with a little boy in your arms. His son, his first born of now three. And your hand rested on the edge of a rocking crib where his daughter of a little less than five months was sleeping peacefully too. She was sprawled out just like him when he sleeps and beneath her closed eyelids she shared the same red irises as him and her brother.

His son had his head nuzzled in your shoulder, being always so clingy to you in such a vulnerable state. And your cheek was smudged against the top of his spiky looking hair. You were drolling a little, your hair slightly messed up but right now you looked like the most beautiful creature that he got the whance to marry somehow. And that shimmering band on your finger was the proof of it.

He crouched down, carefully putting his gauntlets away. He studied you three for a very long time, never getting sick of it. He had build this... After years of only wanting to be a hero, he had build something greater. Something to go home to, to live for, to not be reckless for, to protect with all his strength. Because when he left in the morning, it was to those smiles and those faces he was fighting to come back to. He gently took out his phone, already filled to the brim with other frozen moments like this... of his family. He took a picture, his smile extending as he heard you mumbling his name in your sleep. He obviously put it as his new lockscreen, a new vision of his motiviation.

He'll bleed and fight for this and make all those streets sure for these three persons right in front of him. He kissed each of your faces carefully before silently going to cook dinner. Not without glancing at the baby photos hanging on the wall on his way out.

They were his copy, a fact you would often complain about. Being the one who "carried them for 9 months and got no credit on the appearence" as you liked to say. But he knew part of you adored to have little versions of him running around. And he was jealous of it, he wanted to have a mini you too running around.

But that would be for another day. Closer than you might know.

[urgothgfsbeltchain]

“uncover the mystery,

tell everyone what you see.

it’s not what it seems,

vulgar when brought to light.”

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warning: postpartum depression requested by multiple: mama's family

"Where's my baby?!"

You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as you give your aunt a tight lipped smile. "He's due to get up any minute." She sighs, like it's an inconvenience, your mom hot on her heels.

"Hi honey," she says, glancing around your now pristine flat, "how are things?"

"Oh, fine." It's the same thing you've been saying this whole time. I'm fine. I'm good. Everything is great. "Went to the pediatrician the other day, Ry is perfect and healthy." You omit the rest of your news, the sudden reappearance of Simon, the stable, consistent presence in your life, the man who was supporting you in anyway he could.

Even though you absolutely do not want your mom or your aunt to meet him, let alone know about him-

you still kind of wish he was here.

He told you yesterday, regretfully, that he had meetings on base all day today, and you told him your mom and aunt were coming by, but probably wouldn't stay long. It was good, that he wouldn't be around.

Before he left for the night, he made you promise to call if you needed him. Text him to check in. You did as he asked, but didn't hear much. Not a surprise, since he said he wouldn't have a lot of time to respond, but still wanted updates.

"That's great honey." Her smile is genuine, and you know she means it. She does mean well, mostly. It's not her fault you're bad at asking for help, or that since you left home, you've become stubbornly independent. You even spent a few years "gallivanting across the globe" as your sister liked to say, shirking responsibility after uni.

Your family was used to you being a bit of a ghost.

"- don't you think?" Your aunt's voice brings you back to earth, and you nod robotically, unsure of what you're agreeing to. You're about to apologize for missing the conversation when the baby monitor on the kitchen counter lights up, Orion's fussy 'I just woke up mom, come get me' cry crackling from the speaker.

"That's for me." You joke half heartedly with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You know the battle with ensue as soon as you come back into the living room with the baby, and you dread it.

"Hi baby." You bend at the waist, scooping him out of his crib. "You're gettin' too heavy for mama, big boy. Don't know what I'm gonna do when you're older." The thought stops you in your tracks, the acknowledgement that he'll get older, that soon he'll be six months, and then a year, two. He'll learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. It's exciting, and anxiety inducing. What if you mess him up? What if you don't give him a good life? What if you're not a good mom, or he gets sick, or there's an accident, or an attack or-

No. You're not going to do this. You're not going to fall into these obsessive what ifs. It will only make you sick to your stomach.

You get him into a new nappy and clothes before slinking back into the living room, cowed with your head down. His head turns against your chest, seeking, and you know he's starting to realize he's hungry.

But the vultures don't care.

"Bring that boy over here, let me hold him." Your aunt croons, syrupy sick voice conjuring a roar of nausea.

"He's probably hungry." You start to warn them that this won't last long as you lower him into her arms, but you know it will fall on deaf ears. "So-"

"Just get a bottle from the fridge dear, I can feed him no problem." You fight the urge to to snap at her, unreasonable rage swelling inside your heart. No one feeds him except you, and Simon. Bottles are fine when you're asleep and can't nurse, or between feedings, but he doesn't eat as much from them. Of course, you've tried to tell them that, multiple times, but it never seems to stick. Your mom knows, but she never stands up to her older sister.

Like mother like daughter, you guess. You've never been a doormat per se, but you don't have a strongest backbone, and becoming a mom has changed you, a lot. You've become even more soft, more sensitive. It's... a problem.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You know she's asking mostly about your body, your stitches, your physical aches and pains, which were plenty considering what you went through when Ry was born, but your mom's voice is gentle, like she senses you frustration, and you give her a weak smile. It's nice she's expressing interest, but that's usually as far as it goes, unless you count the meals she's brought over that you barely picked it, not having enough energy to even feed yourself, or shower, or the suggestion that you give her the baby all the time so you could 'take a break' even though he screamed the moment he was separated from you. Not helpful. Nobody cared that you had scary thoughts, scary moments, scary days. Nobody offered to be here at night with you, when you were all alone with the baby after dark, terrified, crying in the bathroom with your face buried in a towel so you wouldn't wake him. No one was here when you were afraid you might hurt him, or yourself, and no one seemed to hear you when you shrugged over and over again, your lack of interest in everything explicitly clear.

You sucked at asking for help, so you didn't. And when you did, you never got it right, or got the right answers, so you stopped asking. Everything became fine. Good.

"Fine, good." She opens her mouth to say something, ask some question, probably about Ry, when your blood goes cold.

The sound of your front door opening rings out like a bang, your eyes widening in panic, and you nearly run to the kitchen.

Oh fuck. Oh no, no no no-

You turn in slow motion to see your baby's daddy, the man who has a key now, stepping through the doorway. As soon as you lay eyes on him, you split down the middle. You're horrified, because of what's about to happen with the two hens on the couch and-

your libido roars to life. Simon's not wearing his usual jeans or joggers and black hoodie, but a camouflage military uniform. One that he fills out, broad shoulders and broad chest fitted snug inside the material. You think you're staring. Or drooling. Or both.

His lips quirk up on one side with a secretive, almost seductive smile, and he peeks over your shoulder before turning his attention back to you. "Hey mama."

"H-hey. Uh. Hi." Your hands uselessly flit around, like you're trying to swat some invisible bugs away or something. "My mom is still here. And my aunt," you can't help yourself, you take him in from head to toe one more time, "you look... nice."

"Price makes me wear my BDU for on base meetings." He grunts, slightly exasperated. Who?

"BDU?"

"Battle dress uniform. It's... the approved, standard uniform. I don't wear it... in the field." His lips press together, and your mind wanders, curious questions about 'the field' popping up like fireworks, but you push them away. Now is definitely not the right time. His thumb brushes your cheek, under your eye, and he frowns. "Everything alright?"

You step to the side, motioning to the living room, where your aunt and mother are whispering fiercely. You roll your shoulders, and take a deep breath. "Do you... want to, say hi?" The question is weak, your voice small. His brow furrows. He looks hesitant, and you don't blame him. They're a lot. It's a lot. He glances down at you again, head tilted in consideration. "Or you could just go. If you ran out that door... well I'd only wish I could come with you." You whisper, and he cracks a smile.

"No. 'm not runnin' from any part of you, sweetheart. C'mon. They can't be worse than..." he trails off, odd look in his eyes before it clears, "they can't be worse than a lot of things."

He follows you around the corner of the kitchen, crossing the threshold of the living room with two large strides.

Your mother gasps. Your aunt makes a sound that you can only describe as a goose being strangled, and Orion starts to cry. Perfect.

"Oh, oh shhh, shhhh." Your aunt tries to soothe him, but you know it won't work.

"Mom," you call over the noise, gesturing to the giant man standing next to your coffee table, and you, "Mom! This is Simon." She stares at you, confused, shocked even. You never told her your one night stand's name, just that you couldn't track him down, so she doesn't make the connection.

Still, she gapes at him. Clears her throat with a question.

"Is this... your boyfriend honey?" Your aunt's expression is not much different, and you freeze. Is he? Is that what this is? You half expect Simon to reject the term boyfriend flat out, but instead-

"Something like that." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you lean into it, relishing the comfort. Just the presence of him in the flat is enough to soothe you, lessen the tension you feel building in your chest. "Sounds like he's hungry, mama."

"Yeah, I think he's more than ready." You reach for Ry, eager to pick him up, but your aunt shifts her body, shying away, turning her shoulder to you. You're used to this, the keep away, the way they always try to convince you he'll calm down, to let them hold him for too long, to get him a bottle... but Simon is not.

He goes rigid at your side. You can feel the muscle in his arm turn to stone, and his eyes narrow, upper lip curling. Your mother's eyes go wide, but your aunt remains oblivious. "I can feed him, dear. Go get a bottle warmed up and-"

"No." Simon snaps, rough pitch of his voice dipping deeper into the manc accent, and she bristles. This bitch wouldn't be scared of the devil himself.

"Excuse me?" You watch the muscle in his jaw flex with fascination, wondering what he'll do next. You're brought back to when you met, when he stared down the guy who pushed you out of the way at the bar like he was going to murder him, before calling you over to settle next to his thigh. He put his hand on your waist, shielded you from everyone else for the rest of the night.

You were a goner before you ever had a chance to begin.

"Orion wants his mother. You can hand him over without a fuss, or I can throw you out of this flat. Your choice." His words are hard, cold steel, a sharp knife slicing away, exposing vulnerable parts and smashing them to pieces.

Your aunt has the gall to look scandalized, but when you glance at your mother, she has a different expression. It's warm. Approving. She mets your eyes with a small smile as you scoop Orion up, and then she stands.

"We'll get out of your hair, honey." She tugs you into a half hug before looking over. "Nice to meet you Simon." Your aunt is ranting and raving all the way to your front door, but once it's shut...

"Bloody hell." He mutters, and shakes his head. "I won't let anyone push you 'round like that, sweetheart. Family or not. Especially not in your own home, I-"

"Thank you." It's all you can say. "I um, kind of suck at sticking up for myself, sometimes. It means a lot, that you would do that. For me." He steps close, hand covering Orion's belly and chest, even though he's still crying.

"Kitten doesn't have any claws," he murmurs against your ear, and your eyebrows knit together. Uh... what? "Don't worry, you won't need 'em. Not now that you have me." There's something dangerous in his tone, something lethal and profound. It’s as fervid as his proclamation about his commitment to you, to Orion. Like dark water, bottomless and black, it draws you out deeper, sends shivers up your spine, but doesn't turn you away. It makes you curious, intrigued, desperate to peel back his layers, to dig into him until you know it all, inside and out.

Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say?

You weren't afraid of him that night, and you're not afraid now. You know Simon is not an ordinary man. You know you've bitten off a lot, by having his baby, rekindling this connection, giving him a key-

but you plan to chew.

[vivwritesfics]

Mrs Vettel's Anger

The long awaited (not really) sequel to Padawan Learner

Vettel!reader X Logan Sargeant (platonic)

She sat there, staring at her phone. Her baby was sleeping in the crib she had set up beside the sofa, never too far away from her. But he wasn't the focus of her attention at that moment.

She'd stayed off of social media since her impromptu retirement (she had every intention of returning to racing, but she wasn't ready to leave her baby yet). She hadn't checked any kind of feed, the only place her pictures were posted were to her family groupchats.

Her Formula One obsessed brother was the one that sent her the link to the article, the one about the future of Logan's career.

F2 racer Colapinto replaces Sargeant at Williams for rest of 2024 season

She didn't click on the article, just looked at the headline. She didn't want to click it, didn't want to read the rest of it. It couldn't have been real.

She looked over at her sweet baby, sleeping so soundly in the crib. She would be fine on her own for just a few minutes. Standing up, she gripped her phone as she raced through the house, desperately searching for her husband. "Seb!"

He emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "What's the matter, Meine Taube?"

Words failed her, so she just held up her phone. Sebastian took it from her hands and read the headline of the article. He clicked the link and gave the article a quick read. The grim look that crossed his face confirmed it for her.

"Fuck," she hissed as she took her phone and slipped it into her pocket. Logan really had been fired. James Vowles had ended his career, and she was fucking mad.

"I'm so sorry, Meine Taube," he muttered and pulled her in. His hand was on the back of her hair, nails scratching at her hair as she held back tears. "I know how much potential you saw in him."

"He's still got potential, Seb. I don't know why James doesn't see it."

He kissed the top of her head. "Have you spoken to Logan yet?"

She shook her head and went to go and do just that.

***

It was easy to convince Seb to go to Italy. The hardest part was leaving their little girl in the hands of the babysitter. Sebastian took her phone from her to stop her from calling the moment they got into the car.

The trip to Italy wasn't meant to be fun. It was purely business. Her hand was ready to do some slapping.

Seb held her hand as they walked through the paddock. Their first stop was Kimi (Räikkönen), the ex teammates catching up. Sebastian instantly had his phone out to show Kimi pictures of their sweet baby girl, going through seeming every moment of her life.

But his wife wanted to go to the Williams garage.

Finally, she got to go. She marched her way over to the Williams garage, steam coming out of her ears.

Alex, bless him, tried to greet her. He tried to say 'hello', to her, tried to stop her for a chat, but she was a woman on a mission. She marched straight past him, further into the garage.

There wasn't much Sebastian could do to stop his wife at this point. He stopped at the edge of the garage, wished Franco Colapinto luck on his first race.

James Vowles should have known to hide. But, instead, he smiled as Mrs Vettel approached him. He opened his mouth, ready to say hello to her, but her hand met his cheek.

The slap seemed to silence the garage. All eyes were on him as she stared up at James. "How dare you," she said lowly. "How dare you axe Logan in the middle of the season! You've never supported him in his career, James! You never wanted him in that seat! He had so much fucking potential and you go and replace him with another driver who won't get to show his full potential either!" She was breathing heavily as she stared at him. "Logan just wanted to make this team proud. That's all he's ever wanted to do, and you didn't give him the tools to do it."

James was staring at her, waiting for her to go on. But she had stopped, stopped long enough to hear a response. "It's purely business."

She slapped him again. "Mark my words, James. I'm going to get him into another team, a better team. Just you fucking wait." She turned on her heal and marched back towards her husband.

There he was, talking to the newest William's victim. She steadied herself, painted a smile onto her face, and approached him. "Hey, kid," she said. "James gives you any kind of shit, give me a call," she said and stepped into Sebastian's hold.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. He was so damn proud of her.

[cameronluvr]

BABY DADDY — exbf!dad!rafe x mom!reader

summary: you have a baby with your ex, rafe, but when you arrive early to pick her up from his place, you discover drugs on the table…

warnings: toxic!rafe, arguing, mentions of cocaine, rafe being manipulative and a total asshole, cussing, angst, lmk if i missed anymore!

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

your daughter is the most perfect little girl you could’ve asked for. she’s sweet, funny, sassy, and so beautiful. the older she got, the more she began to look like rafe. she has his bright blue eyes, his dirty blonde hair, the same shaped eyes and nose… she was his twin. and you were unsure whether or not you liked it so much. you love your daughter more than anything in the world, but gosh, you wish you didn’t see your ex in her every time you look at her.

rafe had her over the weekend, so when sunday evening approached, you left to pick her up. upon arriving at his place, you knock on the door and wait for it to open, but suspiciously, nobody answers. you frown, looking down at your phone to realise it was an hour earlier than you’d usually come to pick the baby up.

you knock again, only this time hearing footsteps rushing to the door. it swings open, and rafe greets you with a smile. “hey,” he moves out of the way, motioning for you to come inside.

“hi,” you walk inside, looking around. “where is she?”

“oh, she’s in bed.” he tells you, scratching his head. “already? she isn’t usually tired at this time” your brows furrow in confusion, it was only 6 PM. “yeah, well, she wanted to go to bed” rafe shrugs. you ignore him, walking to his bedroom to grab your daughter.

slowly opening the door, you see your baby laying awake in her crib, making you grin and walk over to her. “hi, baby girl” you softly say, reaching down to pick her up. she raises her arms, making grabby hands at you. you giggle as you pick her up, holding her on your side.

“mommy missed you so much,” you plant kisses on her cheek, making her laugh. rafe is stood by the door at this point, watching you both. you turn around and notice him, “did you have fun with daddy, hm?” you ask her, gently bouncing her up and down on your hip.

“yeah we did. we went to the park, and the beach, and we went to see your grandpa and aunt’s, didn’t we, baby?” rafe says, walking over to you both to give his daughter a kiss on the head. he loves her so much, you can see that. “ooh, that sounds fun” you giggle, looking at your daughter with a grin on your face.

“uh huh, we had the most fun” rafe smiles, tickling his daughter in your arms. hearing her adorable laugh made you both giggle in adoration.

“right, girl, we gotta’ go.” you tell your baby as if she can understand what you’re saying. you walk out of the room with her in your arms as rafe follows behind. you start to gather her things before noticing something in the living room.

on the table lies a fresh line of cocaine, with the bag it came from next to it. “is that?…” you ask, carefully setting your daughter down on the floor to let her play for a minute. rafe stops what he’s doing to look at what you’re looking at, both of your faces dropping.

“are you serious?!” you raise your voice at him, but not loud enough to scare or startle the baby. “what?” he asks so stupidly. “wh— what?!” your eyebrows raise and eyes widen in anger. “your one year old fucking daughter is in the next room and… wait, is that why you put her to bed?” you ask, connecting the dots.

he put her to bed early so he could feed to his drug habit.

“relax, she’s fine, isn’t she?” he asks, frowning as if you’re overreacting. “she’s fine? yeah, sure, that makes it all okay, rafe!!” you respond with pure sarcasm and rage. the two of you start to argue and bicker back and forth as your baby takes no notice. she’s too young to understand, and instead ignores you both to play with her toys.

“what if you got up to do something and she went over there, rafe?!” you yell, but again, not too loudly. “well she didn’t!” he argues back. “well what if she did, huh?!” you’ve never been this angry before, your face just inches away from his.

“that’s why she’s in my roo—”

“that’s why?! so she wasn’t even tired, you just put her to bed so you could ignore her while you sniff your fucking lines?!” you place your hands on your forehead out of stress.

“i wasn’t ignoring her!” rafe yells back.

“do you do this every weekend? is this why you took so long to answer the door?!” you ask him. “no, jesus, y/n! chill the fuck out” you stress him out now, watching as he runs his hand through his hair.

“chill out? you want me to chill out, after doing that shit around our daughter?!” you squint in anger at his stupidity. how could he be so selfish? to you and your daughter.

“i’m not doing it around her! i’m doing it while she’s in the next room, no big deal. i’m not hurting anyone” he argues, defending himself like a cocaine addiction is normal.

“oh, that’s fine then. it’s no big deal, you’re right. come on, y/d/n, we’re leaving.” you sarcastically roll your eyes before turning around to pick your daughter up from the ground.

“don’t think for a second that you’re seeing her next week, you can fuck off.” you face rafe for a moment before grabbing the baby’s bag with your other hand, and walking over to the front door.

“y/n,” rafe says, quickly following you to the door. “what?!” you snap, making your baby jump in your arms. “don’t be like that, i’m sorry!” rafe pleads, begging you not to keep his daughter away from him. he may love her, but boy is he stupid.

“rafe, this is the type of shit you could go to prison for, and get her taken away from us! is that what you want?!” you shout at him, not noticing as your baby begins to cry.

she ignored the fight when she was sat on the floor, but now she’s face to face with you both, witnessing the argument firsthand, which scared her.

“oh, baby,” you quickly divert your attention to her after hearing her cry, attempting to comfort her. “see what you did? come here” rafe blames you, taking his baby from your arms before you could protest.

“me?!” you ask him, the audacity. “yes, you!” rafe says, rocking the baby back and forth in his arms to calm her down, shushing her. “give her back to me, rafe” you demand, holding your arms out.

“no, you just made her cry.” he shakes his head, moving your daughter away from you as tears roll down her cheeks. “it was your fault!” you say to him, getting frustrated now.

“yeah, it’s always my fault. you want her to be raised around this? around her mom constantly yelling and being fucking crazy?” he asks as if you’re the problem.

“i— oh my god” you shake your head. “rafe if you don’t give her back to me, i swear to god…” you clench your fists. “what? you gonna hit me? with her in my arms? you could go to prison for that, too, you know” he tuts, shaking his head at you. he is the master manipulator in your life, you don’t know how you ever had a kid with him.

you love your daughter to death, but sometimes you just wish she had a different father.

“oh, fuck you, rafe.” you look at him with fiery eyes, almost as if you could murder him right now. “see how your mommy talks to me, baby?” he diverts his attention to the little girl in his arms, making you roll your eyes.

“your mommy can be real crazy, huh?” he says, only this time looking at you while he says it, which ticked you off the edge. “don’t talk to me about crazy, you fucking psycho.” you raise your voice at him, reaching for your daughter, but he moves her away again.

“rafe! let me take her home!” you yell. “this is her home, too” he shrugs, not yelling as he gently shakes her in his arms, trying to prove that you are the problem, not her daddy. “so you’re just not gonna give her back to me, is that it?” you ask, dropping your arms and giving up trying to get your baby back.

“that’s right. you can leave, she’s staying with me.” he nods. “why? so you can lock her away in the bedroom again? while you snort your fucking life away?” you still argue.

“believe whatever you wanna’ believe, but i am not giving her back to you when you just scared her” rafe shakes his head, keeping your daughter away from you which angered you deeply.

“it was your fault!!!” you say again, like you said before, but he never listens. “yeah, yeah” he rolls his eyes, turning to walk away from you. “where are you going?!” you raise your voice.

“we are going away from you so you can calm your fuckin’ psycho ass down. makin’ a baby cry like that, what’s wrong with you?” he says, still walking away with the baby.

there’s no winning with rafe. you get the blame for acting crazy, starting fights and trying to protect your daughter. you just dread to think what he will tell her when she gets older.

“you know what? i’m done. i’m leaving. i’ll be back for MY baby, asshole.” you shout, opening the front door and slamming it as you walk out. rafe always manipulated you, always got his way with you… you should’ve considered that before pushing his baby out a year ago.

this is SHORT and i really don’t know if i like it or not… hopefully you guys liked it! lmk what yall think in the comments. thank you so much for all the support, i LOVE you guys. <333

@cameronluvr

[0silver0dreams0]

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader

Summarised: (your name) died in a horrific way, but she has been reborn in a new world, where the body she is trapped in is (your name) Targaryen, daughter of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, who took her own life after the death of her dear sister Helaena, who was very close to her.

Warning: This story contains descriptions of sexual violence and vulgar language, a small change of ages of the characters to make more sense.

Author's note: English is not my first language, please let me know so I can correct them.

You just want to relax at least one second or two, maybe end that series or read that special book. Being at university was tough but it was even tougher having a job too in a bar, where if a man showed even a minor interest in you will go he would comein you direction, visibly drunk, smelly and disgusting putting money in your uniform and saying obscenities. Some would just go and leave you alone if you were lucky, but others would try to follow you or even try to touch you, but you always managed to get away and escape them. But is seems that this time, you didn't. Now you were pulled into a lonely alley, next to the trash, with an obviously drunk man, with ginger hair, horrible teeth and a foul smell he gave you a ten-dollar tip but now he was trying to take your clothes off. Fighting and fighting, that's the only thing you could do, and the worst of all you just DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. How to getting yourself out of this situation? He was stronger and bigger than you, he had already taken you underwear off under your skirt until he freed one hand to unzip his jeans, so you put your only free hand in his eye, pressing as hard you could and with rage.

"Ahh! bloody bitch!"

When he let you go, you ran as fast you could, but he grabbed your ankle, causing you to hit your head. You felt dizzy, numb, and you couldn't move your body. Plus your vision was lost; you could only see the little mark on the wall, a dragon with more than one head or at least you thought could see.

"Hey! Get up! I'm not playing! GET UP, BITCH!"

You just heard him, you wished, you really wished that you could get up, but you couldn't. You felt water around your head and neck, but you could see now, it was not water, it was blood, your blood. Now it was cold or at least it was for you, and it was catching you, cold, and colder you felt. that bastard haad gone already, leaving you there, alone, cold, and without underwear. Maybe is a good idea to take a nap, isn't it? Maybe in the morning everything will be better, just maybe.

When you wake up, you are in your crib, hungry, and alone, so you did the only thing you could: you cried.

"What is wrong now,dear?" A woman came up, your mother, "You are hungry, right?" your mother look at you with a soft smile, taking out her breast, she gently brushed your hair as you fed.

You are her little baby, her replica. She wasn’t going to use you like she did with your brothers; you would have freedom in this harsh world, she often thought about your future. But one thing was certain: you weren’t going anywhere from her side. Before she could think of anything else. She left you in your crib, your stomach already full. Even though her other sons wasn’t like you, she loved them. It’s just that you were like her—you have her hair, her nose, her cheeks, and even her smile. You only have your big purple eyes, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were another piece of her.

Even though she didn’t like to admit it, you were her favourite. And even if she never said it, it was obvious to everyone. She fed you herself; you didn’t have a wet nurse like your siblings. She knew that, apart from Rhaenyra, you were the second favourite of the king, her husband. And then there was your sister Helaena, always watching you with her curious eyes, who was only one year older than you. As for Aegon, well, he would always be Aegon—jealous of all the attention and love you received. Of course, he loved you, but why? Why did you receive so much attention and affection? He felt like he had to beg for even a little, as if he didn’t have a grain of love, as if he wasn’t special.

A while later that night, the doors opened, letting in your dear father, followed by someone behind him—your older sister, Rhaenyra. With a smile on his lips and without greeting anyone, not even his wife, he went straight to your crib.

"How is the little one? It seems she’s resting just fine," he said, touching your cheek lovingly. "Everything is fine; she just needs her space, Your Grace," Alicent responded, her voice tense. "She looks like you, but I can feel the dragon inside her," said Rhaenyra, gazing down at you beside her father. "Yes, but I really need the two of you to go. She’s already asleep, and I don’t want anyone disturbing her and—" before the Queen could finish, Rhaenyra interrupted. "We aren’t making any noise. Just five minutes won’t hurt, being by her side."

"Please, Alicent, she’s just a baby. She doesn’t need space; we can stay here with her," the King responded, a touch of obviousness in his voice. "As you command, Your Grace," Alicent replied.

The only thing Alicent could do in that moment was clench her fists behind her back and bite the inside of her cheek, merely watching as her husband and Rhaenyra hovered over your crib, oblivious to the tension and rage on her face. You stirred lightly in your sleep, unaware of the silent battle above you.

"You’ll see, my Queen, she’ll be like me—like a dragon, big and strong," Rhaenyra said softly, her voice filled with affection as she gazed at you.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her frustration growing with each word Rhaenyra spoke about you and herself. How dare she compare herself to my daughter? Alicent thought bitterly. And how dare they act as if they know what’s best for her? You were her child, and you would never be like Rhaenyra, bearing bastards and shaming the name and duty of your house.

"Yes, she’ll be strong. But now, let’s leave her to rest. It’s late, and we don’t want to wake her," the King said, turning to Alicent. "Thank you, my dear. You’ve done well."

Alicent bowed her head, the polite gesture hiding her fury. "Of course, Your Grace."

As they turned to leave, Alicent stood by your crib, just the two of you once more, her mind racing. She would protect you, no matter what. You were her baby.

The next morning Alicent was awaken by the maids, who prepare her for the day, when she came back in her room were you were before, your crib was empty. Scared call one of the maids

"Where's my daughter?!" She asked with anxiety and tension clear in his voice. "I'm not sure, my Queen. I'll find out right away."

While the maid was gone, Alicent’s anxiety grew. She rushed out of the room, determined to find her daughter. Who dared take her baby away from her protection?

She searched everywhere, her worry mounting with each passing moment. It wasn’t until she reached the garden that she finally saw you—her little baby girl—in the arms of Rhaenyra, walking through the garden with her illegitimate sons, as if nothing had happened,as if they had just stolen her baby.

"How dare you?!" Alicent's pace quickened as she moved to take you into her arms. Before she could reach you, Rhaenyra stepped aside, still carrying you, blocking Alicent’s path.

“We were just taking a walk. She looked so bored and alone in her room, so I thought it would be nice for her to get a little sun,” Rhaenyra explained, gently brushing the little bit of hair you had.

“She’s not yours to decide that! She is my dau—” Alicent began, but before she could continue, Viserys cut her off. “Alicent! Stop right now. She is my daughter too, and I think it’s a good idea that she spends time with her sister and nephews.”

Defedent Alicent just look the little smirk that Rhaenyra gave her. Rhaenyra triumphantly thanked her father, and walked away with you and her little toddlers.

How could she protect you when you had been taken from her side so easily? Why did no one listen to her about what she wanted for her baby? Why was everyone so ignorant?

While Rhaenyra was just happy, feeling she had won against Alicent for you, her little sister, she imagined everything would be better if you were her daughter, her little baby. But Alicent always seemed to step in the way. Soon, you and Rhaenyra would be inseparable. Perhaps you could marry one of her sons, and in that way, you would be with her forever. She envisioned herself as your mother, but ultimately, she would be your mother, no matter what—regardless of Alicent’s rants or even your brothers.

Pt. 2 >> (coming soon)

Author's note: (your name) doesn’t know what will happen to everyone or what will happen to her in the other world.

[bagofshinyrocks]

The Baby is Sick

Prompt: The baby (and the two of you) somehow got a cold. Simon wants to make sure you get enough rest and decide to take care of the baby when he wakes up in the middle of the night. [Requested by @ertepla]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

You weren’t sure who brought a cold into your house. If it was someone besides you or Simon, you cursed them and wished them every single misery. If it was either you or your husband, you had no strong feelings. As you two were already in purgatory.

Because the baby was sick. And when baby was sick, he decided to make everyone else equally (or more so) miserable.

You and Simon were always covered in snot and saliva, as your son had not yet learn to not sneeze or cough directly in someone’s face. The baby wasn’t eating as much, which scared the shit out of you. No one was sleeping well.

“I know, little man, I know,” Simon soothed, as your son whined and flailed in his arms. “I know, it’s not fun. But it’s gonna help.” 

He was wrestling a nose aspirator into the second nostril. You didn’t blame your kid, having a tube that sucks all the snot out of your nose real fast didn’t sound real comfortable. But you know what was worse? Cleaning the snot out of the tube.

“See? You can breathe better.”

Simon bounced the boy a little, and he soon stopped crying, though still a bit grumpy with his dad. He started breathing through his nose and accepted his bottle again. You almost cried in relief.

“He’s okay, lovie,” murmured your husband, siddling up next to you and wrapping his arms around the two of you.

Your son looked up at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Simon’s brown eyes fluttered behind the boy’s lashes, and his hold on his bottle got looser. You helped him angle his bottle into his mouth and Simon rubbed his stomach.

He got through three quarters of the bottle before pushing it aside, and you considered that a victory.

“Time for bed, little bug?” you cooed, gently raising him up and walking to his nursery. Little burps and sleepy noises as you went and 

While you changed the baby and wiped his face of snot, milk, and drool, Simon refilled the humidifier and covered the windows to hide the fact the sun was still up. Any time your son seemed a little sleepy, you two would put him down for bed and then try to get as much sleep for yourselves.

With the care of disabling an explosive, Simon lowered the boy into his crib and tucked him in. You watched silently from the hallway and he tiptoed back to you and closed the door.

“Time for bed,” he whispered to you.

“It’s only 7 PM.”

“I know.” He beamed. “Aren’t I good husband? We get to go to bed early.”

Fifteen minutes later, you two were tucked into your own bed. Heads elevated with pillows, cups of water nearby, and a humidifier running quietly. The chest rub and a generous amount of petroleum gel on your lips and noses made the two of you shiny.

“Nighty night, baby,” you murmured.

“G’night, honey.”

Simon jerked awake at the first squawk. You hadn’t even moved by the time he was stumbling into the nursery and leaning over the crib.

“Wha’s wrong, little man,” he asked in a gravelly, sleepy voice.

The boy’s face was red, and tears and snot dripped anew. Little hands reached for Dad, and Dad picked him up.

“You’re alright.” Pats on the boy’s back and gentle bounces. “Dad’s here. Dad’s gotcha.” Small fingers burrowed into the collar of his hoodie and a small splotch of drool and snot darkened his shoulder. After a few moments of silence, Simon leaned the boy back and asked him what was up.

He held up his little fist and opened and closed it. Hungry.

Simon kissed the boy on the forehead and walked to the kitchen. “Just like Uncle Johnny. Always ready for another bottle.”

Simon expertly made half a bottle with one hand, while the little man sniffled and watched. A tissue to his nose helped a bit, and Simon decided against another round with the nose aspirator till the morning. Well, sunlight morning. All of you had slept from 7 PM to 1 AM.

More kisses and your boy started his bottle while Simon made himself a snack. With a sandwich and a boy in each hand, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. 

While the baby was transfixed by dancing fruit and sucking down his bottle, Simon could eat the whole sandwich. And “rest his eyes” for a few minutes.

A particularly dangerous sounding burp woke him again and he immediately grabbed a towel and started burping him, turning his back to the screen.

“Christ, that was a wet one. Get any on ya?”

No response as the boy stared at the blueberries and pineapples.

“Yeah, I’d keep that to myself, too.”

After almost five minutes, the boy’s head sat heavily on his shoulder and his brown eyes could barely stay open. Another diaper change, more rocking, and then placing him in the crib like an active bomb.

Success.

Simon changed his hoodie without bothering to look at the damage (he could smell it) and crawled back into bed with you.

The bags under your eyes had lightened in your sleep, and your nose looked less raw. He kissed the tip of it gently and fell back asleep with ease.

Simon woke up again around 10 AM, to small hands grabbing at his nose. He opened bleary eyes to the smile of an elated infant.

“Dadadadada.”

“Mm, tha’s me.”

The mattress dipped a little as you sat down.

“Morning, handsome.”

The little man crawled on top of his dad’s chest and sat down, playing with his nose and the strings of his hoodie.

“Morning, sexy,” chuckled Simon, guiding your face to his. A sweet kiss, joined by the baby, who shoved his face against yours. He didn’t like being left out.

“Guess who drank a full bottle this morning?”

“Didja really?” cooed Simon, poking the boy’s tummy. “He had half a bottle at around 1.”

“He woke up at 1?”

Simon squeezed the little socked feet. “Yeah, he was hungry. And needed a change. He went back down quick after that.”

You kissed your husband’s forehead. “Thank you for waking up, baby.”

“Mm. You needed some more sleep.” A nip at your lip until you leaned back in for another longer kiss. “Can’t have my sexy thing staying sick.”

“I’ll get him tonight then.” He scrunched up his face and started to protest. “Ah. I can’t have my sexy thing sick either.” You squeezed the muscles of his upper arms and waggled your eyebrows.

The baby squawked and broke the sultry eye contact between you and your husband. Then he giggled as he and his father’s chest went up and down with a laugh.

“Oh trust me, little man, you’ll be an only child for a while.” Simon poked the boy’s tummy again. “Don’chu worry. Sneezing straight into my yawning mouth has made sure of that.”

Posted: 2024 January 17

Thank you for reading! Enjoyed this? Check out my other works!

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

need pt 2 of the arranged marriage wit toji im begging

THE WAY YALL BLEW THAT UP AND I DIDNT THINK IT WAS GOOD OMG <333333 HERE IS MORE I HOPE I PUT THE SAME CRACK IN THIS ONE

Arranged marriageAU!Toji x reader PART 2

CW: Toji had gone on a business trip just when you and Megumi get sick, what will you do

You knew it was going to be a bad weekend when you woke up in the middle of the night to a raging fever. You squinted at your phone as you picked it up - 3 am. Fuck.

Megumi slept soundly on the baby monitor thankfully. A sick baby while you were sick was not something you wanted to deal with. Toji was away on a work trip this weekend and wouldn't be home until monday so in the event something were to actually happen this would not be the weekend for it.

You crept to the kitchen, throwing back Tylenol and brewing some tea. Every muscle and bone in your body ached, your head swam and you could feel a sheen of sweat along your skin.

As you sipped your tea and the Tylenol kicked in, slowly you were feeling better. Things could be worse but for the moment you could deal.

Until the faint sound of crying hit your ears. You leaned your head back preparing yourself for what you knew was coming.

Quickly you went up the stairs and to Megumi's room. His crying only got louder as you opened the door to see him standing in his crib, his face flushed red as tears stained his cheeks.

"Megumi baby what's wrong?" You felt the heat radiating off of him as you picked him up. "You have a fever too don't you?" He wailed as you tried to feel his forehead and to your dismay he was definitely feverish. You cooed at him as your tried to soothe his screaming.

"Maybe a bottle will help 'Gumi? Do you want a bottle?" He took a short breath before wailing again as you took him downstairs to the kitchen. It was safe to assume you weren't going back to sleep.

It was hard to do anything while he flailed and screamed in your ear. "Megumi it's okay you're okay baby but I gotta put you down for a second." you placed him on the floor beside you but he only then stood, gripping your leg as he wailed. You felt terrible to say the least.

You made his bottle as quickly as you could with him latched to you. A few drops of children's Tylenol to hopefully soothe his raging fever.

"Okay baby come here. You want up?" His cries died off as you picked him up and gave him the bottle. The tears dried and you paced around as you bounced him, hoping to soothe him back to sleep.

Eventually his eyes closed, and quietly you walked up the stairs and to his room. Just as you set him down and went to walk away his eyes opened and he cried once again. "Megumi, I don't know what to do." You picked him up again, his cries softened to sniffles as you bounced him. Your body ached with every movement.

He settled, his head resting on your shoulder but his eyes still open. The sun would be up but you were both riding on no sleep and a tired Megumi was not something you needed on top of you both being sick.

Walking to your room you tried to lay him down in your bed with you but he only cried. Sighing you stood and picked him up again. "I don't know how to help gumi. I'm right here. Mama doesn't feel good either." Nothing soothed him.

The entire day continued. Your own fever raged on, your head pounding as Megumi cried and wailed at every point. You had never wished so badly for Toji to be home.

It was late in the evening now on saturday, Toji wasn't supposed to be home until monday but you couldn't do this. You could feel yourself getting irritated and upset. It wasn't Megumi's fault and it wasn't your own either.

You stared at his contact on your phone. Would he be mad? Would he even do anything to help? He probably wouldn't even answer. Sighing you pressed the call button, Megumi crying in your other ear as you tried to soothe him at the same time.

It rang and rang, you felt tears brimming as you listened to it. He wasn't going to pick up. You pulled it away from your ear ready to hang up.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" His deep voice sounded through the phone, you could have cried. You wanted to. You were.

Sniffling you stuttered trying to find your words. "Toji I'm sorry I-I-"

"What's wrong? Is that Megumi crying?" You didn't even notice the concern in his voice, over the tears and crying.

"Toji can you come home please? I can't-"

Before you could even finish he cut you off. "I'll come home immediately. It'll be a couple hours though. Are you going to be okay or do you want me to call someone?"

A sob left you, you couldn't even think you were so tired. "I-I'll manage for a little longer I think. I'm so tired Toji."

"I know mama, you're doing good. I'll be there soon okay? If you change your mind and want me to call someone I will just text me okay."

A shuddering breath left you, Megumi's own hiccups from crying sounded into the phone. "okay, thank you.."

"I gotta hang up now. Text me if you need anything okay?" The call ended and silent tears left you quietly as you pushed the damp hair out of Megumi's eyes. Both of you were feverish and no medication was bringing it down. "dada is coming home. You miss dada Megumi?" His little hands rubbed his wet eyes as you swayed softly hoping to soothe him. "I miss him too baby."

What you didn't know was Toji had missed you too. Since that night in his room, he's only been plagued with thoughts of you. He thought going on this work trip that he originally had not agreed to would allow him to put space between you two. To build the walls around his heart again but here you were, melting it. He had never moved so quickly after hearing you crying through the phone.

It had been an hour, then two, then three. It was pushing midnight and Megumi's cries never stopped. No matter what you did he continued. You had cried with him. Had cried even hard when he was sick all over you. He cried even harder when you had to quickly put him down to rush to the bathroom to be sick yourself.

Relief swept over you as the lock turned and Toji's large frame came into view. He kicked off his shoes and threw down his bag before swiftly moving towards you. Still in his suit, not even taking a moment to strip off his jacket. His hand cradled the back of your head as he pulled you and a crying Megumi into him. Kissing the top of your head, he mumbled against you. "You did good mama. Let me take him."

You mind reeled at the affection but you were too tired and too sick to say anything. Toji took Megumi from you, mumbling something to him as his tears slowed. "Come upstairs." You nodded, following behind him. At the top of the stairs you went to turn towards the hall with Megumi's room but Toji grabbed your hand with his free one. "Come this way."

You looked at him with large eyes but followed him anyway. He pulled you along to his room, past the sitting room, into the bedroom and then the large bathroom. Toji dropped your hand, still holding on to a sniffling Megumi who had stopped crying for the time being. He opened a door, pulling down two black fluffy towels and placing them on the toilet beside the shower. He even went as far as to start the shower.

"I'll take care of Megumi. Take some time to relax." He left the room shutting the door before you could even register what happened.

The shower was heaven, somehow the water pressure in his room was so much better and you knew you would be sneaking in here when he was gone to use it. You felt refreshed and mildly human again, still lightheaded and ill but not so yucky.

You wrapped the fluffy black towel around yourself before realizing you didn't bring clean clothes in here. It wasn't like Toji had never seen you in a towel or naked for that matter but it still felt odd to just walk out only in a towel.

Cracking the door open a tiny bit only to see Toji sitting on the bed, legs spread as his elbows rested on his upper thighs, still sitting in his suit. He looked up at you through the door as it opened. "Feel better?"

You opened the door all the way and nodded. "Yes thank you."

Toji nodded back before handing you a pile of clothes. "Here, I grabbed some clothes for you." You nodded your thanks before slipping back into the bathroom to change. Heat rushed to your face, surely not because of the fever, when you looked at the clothes. The black shorts were yours but the large black t-shirt was definitely his, it smelled like him too. A little too happily you slipped it on. It covered your shorts but it was so comfortable and soft.

You opened the door once again, holding your towel in your hand as you tried to dry your hair. Toji stood, towering you as he held out his hand. "Give me the towel." Unnerved you handed it over, he threw it into a basket in the corner of the room before turning you around and leading you back towards the bathroom mirror.

Toji moved around you, pulling out a hair dryer and plugging it in. Turning it on, he pointed it at your hair, softly moving through the strands. This moment felt more intimate then any time you had sex with him. The image was also a little funny. A huge intimidating man in a suit drying his wife's hair. Well forced wife. That thought ruined the cuteness of the moment.

You could feel your eyes getting heavy as he worked. "Oh wait, where's megumi?" Your eyes snapped up to look at him in the mirror.

He chuckled low. "I gave him some medicine and put him to bed. I grabbed the baby monitor from your room. I'll worry about Megumi."

Toji wrapped up the hairdryer putting it away once he was finished. You followed him out of the room and stopped short as he pulled back the fluffly comforter on his bed as if he was about to go to sleep in his suit.

"Well I guess I'll go to bed now. Are you sure you don't want me to take care of Megumi?"

He turned to look at you, his hands resting in his pockets. "No. I want you to rest."

You nodded and turned around to leave the way you had entered his room.

"Where are you going?" Turning to look at him as he had taken steps towards you as if to stop you if you got too far from him. "To bed?"

A smirk crossed his face. "You're sleeping in here."

"What? I-"

"I wasn't asking." Your eyes widened at his words but you followed as he beckoned you over.

You got under the blankets where he had pulled them back, hating how much more comfortable it was. Toji pulled the blankets up and over you before moving to turn on the lamp beside you and turning off the big light in the room.

"I'm going to shower. Go to sleep. If Megumi wakes knock on the door and I'll go check on him. Understood?" His voice was stern but there was an underlying softness to his words.

You nodded, not being able to hide how heavy your eyes felt. "Take this first mama" He handed you a pill and some water, choking it down before resting your head on the pillow once again.

He slipped into the bathroom and you slipped into a slumber.

Your eyes weakly opened as light from the bathroom shined into the room, framing Toji's body, making the water on his skin glisten. He looked almost otherworldly from your perspective. You could barely see the smirk that played on his lips. "Go back to sleep doll, I didn't mean to wake you."

Mumbling something in coherently you closed your eyes, his soft chuckling floating through the quiet room.

It could have been ten minutes or an hour since he came out of the bathroom but you couldn't mistake the way the blankets moved and the bed dipped next to you as Toji got comfortable next to you. You were much to tired to object to the way he placed his hand on your forehead to feel your temperature, or the way your body shook from chills.

"You awake doll? You're shaking."

Somehow you forced out a, "cold" through your sleepiness.

But you didn't protest when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against his warm and bare skin. You also didn't have any control over the content hum that left your body at the feeling of him against you.

You had fallen back asleep before hearing the soft chuckle that left his lips or the wide smirk that crossed them. "What am I gonna do with you doll."

Tag list for those who requested a part 2: @acroso @chilichopsticks @freshscrumptiousgoateepeanut @kodzukenwhore @maskedpacific @jdasiilva @xdrcula @jdjsj377777

[liliacamethyst]

Sneak Peak Part V - Web of Eternal Dawn

“Drop the child, Miguel.” the figure warns.

With an unimpressed raise of his brow, Miguel retorts, “Go home, Miles.”

Gabriel, now more settled, looks up at Miguel with adoring eyes, already halfway back to sleep. But Miles’ persistent voice booms through the little room. "Miguel, step the fuck back from the baby, and let's settle this outside. NOW."

"Kid, this isn't a fight you wanna fight," Miguel warns, gently lowering the now sleeping Gabriel back into his crib.

But just as the situation seems to have reached a tense standoff, the door bursts open, revealing you, fully clad in your spider-suit, ready to fight, fury painted on every feature. Flashbacks of the past, filled with anger, pain, and fear, cloud your vision upon seeing Miguel bending over your son.

"Sunny, I can explain—" Miguel starts, but your  reaction is swift. With a well-aimed web, you pin him to the nearby wall, rendering him immobile. Miles, clearly taken aback by your rapid response, stammers, “He... uh... was trying to... take Gabriel again. I saw it?”

Miguel's eyes, though pinned, glitter dangerously. “Cut the crap, kid.”

You had heard enough, and you fired webs at his mouth, silencing him. Standing tall, you demand, “What the hell is going on?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, an overpowering nausea threatening to bring you to your knees. Not again, you beg internally, this can't be happening again. The biting sensation of deja vu feels like a punch to the gut. 

As if reading your panic, Miles lifts his hands in a placating gesture, but your focus narrows solely on your sleeping baby, peacefully oblivious to the tension in the room. Swiftly, you cross the distance to his crib, gently scooping him up, trying your hardest not to stir him. Every instinct screams at you to get away, to protect your child from the unpredictable scene.

You barely register Miles' words of apology or his attempt to follow, reacting instinctively by sending a web in his direction, narrowly missing him and instead encasing Miguel against the wall. With him momentarily restrained, you leave the room.

Miguel, however, almost effortlessly shrugs off the sticky restraints, ripping the webbing from his face. He's pissed, furious even, seething at the situation. Anger boils at the goddamn circumstances, but above all, his ire is directed at this noisy kid. Damn, Miles, can't he just go bother someone else? This isn't his fucking business. It's his mess to fix, his responsibility, and he needs to make things right. Why does Miles have to complicate things even more?

With a tension thick enough to cut, Miguel turns to Miles, "What do you want, kid?"

Miles, glares defiantly, his voice dripping with loathing. "You, gone. Either in some forsaken universe or dead."

Miguel sighs, running a hand down his face, his weariness evident. "Fine, do whatever you wish. Kill me, banish me, torture me. Whatever your little heart desires. Let me first make sure that they are safe. I won't fight you, Miles.”

Miles pauses, disbelief flashing across his face. "You serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Miguel retorts, his gaze piercing.

Miles takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "You're a monster, Miguel. Maybe not a murderer, but still a monster."

"I know what I am." Miguel admits, his voice breaking ever so slightly and without looking back leaving Miles speechless.

Miguel hesitated at the window, on the precipice of leaving. But something - be it fate, spider-sense, or sheer reckless longing - pulled him back. He silently treaded through the apartment, drawn to a soft melodic voice.

There, in the dim room, you stood. Without your mask, vulnerability framed your features, eyes closed, a cascade of hair down your shoulder.

 You swayed gently, singing a lullaby, with little Gabriel secure in your embrace, his breathing even and deep. This sight, so full of love and tenderness, tore through Miguel. It was a clear representation of everything he yearned for, of the life that slipped through his fingers, so vivid he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

His heart ached, thinking of the life they could've shared, of waking up to this exact scene every day, of being a part of this little family. The regret was suffocating him in its weight.

You sensed him before you heard him, before you smelled his perfume, warm and woody with a hint of something spicy. He smelled like the shower gel he uses when you both took long showers, the walks you used to take in the woods on Earth 99, discussing plans for the HQ, but you just enjoyed holding his hand. He also smelled like your pillows after he disappeared in the morning, a scent tinged with abandonment. He smelled like a thousand things you couldn’t place, but foremost, he smelled like one thing, and you just hated that thought. Home. 

You finally broke the silence, your voice soft and wearied. "What are you doing here, Miguel?"

He swallowed, voice raw. "I needed to see if you were okay."

A sad smile played on your lips. "You're too late for that."

Ahhhh, you guys are amazing! Please share your thoughts, and don't hesitate to suggest how you'd like the story to end – I might just include it! Let's turn this into a group project. I was close to giving up on the story, feeling not good enough. I love writing and creating, but anxiety often gets the best of me. Your kind messages, (which yes, I read and cherish every single one) have helped immensely. I'm so grateful and want to return all the positivity back to you. Wish I could hug each of you! ☀️

@ieatmunson @buggiecrawls @strawberriesareprettycool @lux-thebimbo @hk-4ever @invaderzim13 @hannah-goulll @arivh @alwayslegendarymoon @deputy-videogamer @560ria @myconglomerateromance @mateihavenoidea @alwayslegendarymoon @shibble @pagesfalling @kurooyy @regretfulmoth  @crazysandwichlady2p04 @ poet-dae @rev-hellfyr @suya-x-syx @daimiyu @lazy-idate @jenniferdixon05207 @lostprince @amplsblog @eternalsams @cubinhodegelo @ prvttystvr @dabi-hawksbrainrot @noxiousfeline @maeplayscello @everyoneluvsvane @vinskyspuff @snazzajazz @yuuuumii @loreleis-world @fuckub @shugrcrush @fandomsinthegalaxies @vladersira @greatstudentbird @avengersinitiative2012 @therealnekomari @xiangping-28 @tanchosanke @tulipsc @tonystank1011 @la--figue @pingpongfingfong @ash-tronomicall @spardaenjoyer @venuswash3re @sofi786 @ranpuwo @sayonaratoyou @fuckthatfeeling @k7a4 @mxjss @rizahawkeye1380 @sinnamongirl @soosheee @cheezit-luv3rr @ransbatonowo @azurerose010 @azestar12334 @muertethekid @jay-joy @staronus0buttercup @mashiromochi @iseizeyourmom @salty-sister @aryjai @surhii @sinning-fae @gel0517 @hinata7346 @princessfuckyou @danyisawesomedontdenyit @typicalife-101 @arabell13 @thekinghazzastyles @sockears @perfectprofessorloverapricot  @mkissad @spiritndrain @melovetitties @ihateuguys @honeycriess @pinkbearddragon @yrlocalsimp @savagemickey03 @beiroviski @vanilla-sweets @autismsupermusicalassassin @itsjstz @wifeofnatasharomanoff @alleo-i @jxsoook @saint-chlorine @novausstuff  @canary58143 @amal31 @belle643 @ellahlour @akyino @give-me-cats-or-give-me-death @daemonlover @jiminling @forever1kay @chixkencxrry @nessrin @noelsilly @crispmarshmallow @rfvuhhvbin @johfaam @cenkisabibl @rosseyblog @pixiepaintt @pissboyazzy @couchpotato2006 @youcantseem3 @burningfishkidlamp @hellsingalucard18 @mimooyi @riverflowsanywherebuthere @desmanchaprazeres @dorck26 @seasaltjackal  @cupcakeandkisses @lost-in-thevoids @starlightaura @stained-tea-cup @yarri0 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @rizzie-lovee127 @shirasakai @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @hiptobesquare13 @iloveplayboicarti @cosmoscoffeee @spaceemeeatt2 @bblouifford @aisyakirmann @xdarkcreaturex @lotustv @fenrysashryver @bri-loves-sunflowers @azrealbanerstark @lostaudfound @ithechipmonk @bby-lupin @mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake @hxlytrin @laennetargaryenskywalker @angi531 @namjooningera @stevenknightmarc @vr00m-vr00m @itsmadamehydra @blep-23 @alastorhazbin @bluevenus19 @bxdbxtxh15 @mrs-ohara09 @strangetrashblog @embersfae @animez96 @thekidscallmebosss @missdragon-1 @navyyoo @harmonics0537 @1206kju @chiharuundead @ahleeyuh @amyg1509 @kiruoris @rvnd0m-th1ngs @vallaufeyson @roses-and-grasses @enalofi @janeety @ash-aragami @peachycreamysmut @saltyllamakidwombat @3zae-zae3 @soupinacan444 @thepassionatereader @lukasdreamland @miracleangel19 @blackqueengold @yosistairl @adv3rs1ty @walkingtravesty97 @girlbloggingisamentalillness @rocketstyx @joined2023lol @whatdudtheysay @thatshouldgoonahat @eileen201804 @nuhteyam @panassbitch @ahoeformyself @abyemayiamay @stevenandmarcslove @froginmygarden @yunamaii @polireader @st0rmyt @delusional505 @enesitamor @groovycass @teamowolverine @blueoorchid @ausara23 @cyberv0dka @danika1994 @rawegggohan @mysteriousmeaning @defiance749 @rinx35 @tamales78 @saucypeanuttt @mitskistannn @shinydragoneagle @rorytrusov @shoyosdoll @sleepycow21 @urdads-gf @okgenic @nim360 @chuckle-nuts @trashybebe @cowabummwerdude @fresa-luna @fjordg @perkip3nguin @randomficlover @skylarlyn823 @prettysbliss @sajova @xxtipherethxx @yeahnotf @pendeja4bts @shoxji @mysingularitybts @moon-alexys00 @szaplsdropthealbum @kibo-ichiro @ace-mothman @shadowdaddysposts @emmytheinsecurepinata @darksunemiku @inafantasyworld10 @kyezofficial @beanstock7 @awesome-animenerd @levermilion @elliellielliesgirl @ thesimpybitch @jasontoddsfavoritechair @athena-portgas @redhoodedtoad @strawnanamilk @bijuu-naginata @chaimantis @ef4iryone @1-800-call-a-milf @idcalol @eddiesb3dstainss @rootintootincowboi@6billionyearsold @xiaolanternn @etherealkistar @mitzukichan18 @quackimilktea @my-goverment-is-a-dictator @bxbyyyjocelyn @teramjna @morilemochi @chompwoman

@vanillacoffeeology @calicoootalks @shine101 @mental-illness-is-my-friend @myhomethesea @janedah0e @st4rrlighttt @imnotyourbcbe @1lyyff @marsbars09 @migueloharaapologist2

[maudeeloise]

Do you think you could do a Jacaerys x reader where they are childhood enemies but get betrothed and when things are going well in their marriage Jace misinterprets a moment with reader and someone else and accuses the reader to be pregnant with a bastard until it’s born looking exactly like him and he must reconcile and win reader back.

Sworn Enemies || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

You weren’t surprised. When your mother mentioned it and your sister ran into your room to check on you a few moments after your talked with your mother.

You were a noble and you had known since the very first that you would be bethrothed with another noble. Unfortunately, your family was being too close to the Targaryens that the first person they chose for you to marry was the last person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The marriage was rocky and was filled with arguments — even about the smallest things. Your marriage was built by loath instead of love. You couldn’t stand his arrogance and he couldn’t stand your stubborness. Your hatred towards each other was so deep in your blood that it became the reason you ended up with his child.

Just like any other night, there you stood in different sides of your shared chambers. The bed seperating you as you had argued since the past hour.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Jace’s voice roared, filling the room with his anger.

“How dare you accuse me of something I didn’t do?!” You matched his tone, firm and loud.

“I am not accusing you of anything!” His jaw clenched slightly. “That baby is a bastard and you know I’m right.”

You bit back your tongue once you processed his words. He called your son a bastard. He called his own son a bastard.

“You are insane.” You spat through gritted teeth. “You have no proof on what you believe in, however I do and you’re too terrified that I might be right.”

“Nonsense!” He shook his head. “I’m not terrified of anything because I know I’m right.”

“Then take a look at your own son!” You pointed at the crib which was placed beside your side of the bed. “You have refused to even take a peak of him since he was born. Do you despise him that much?”

“He is not my son!” His voice boomed through the room.

A sudden cry broke from the baby, stealing both your attentions. You rushed towards the crib and took the baby gently before rocking him in your arms. Whispers of sweet nothings followed by a humming of the first song which came to your mind, eventually died down the cries. It only took a while before the baby went back to his slumber.

Disgust written on Jace’s face as he watched the two of you. “We need to get rid of him as soon as possible.”

Your face fell in surprise at his suggestion. There was a long moment of a pause before you moved to place the baby back on his crib. A long sigh left your lips in disbelief.

You were tired of convincing him. If you had to be honest, it hurt you every time. You wouldn’t care if he was mocking you nor he was treating you as if you had betrayed his family, but it was his son he was hating. His own flesh and blood he planned to banish.

“Are you really that insisting?” Your voice broke. Your heart aching. But you forced yourself to keep a fierce look on your face and your posture straight.

Jace let out a scoff. “You were the one who betrayed this marriage.”

“I would never!” Your voice heightened, but it wasn’t anger. You were exhausted. “I may despise you with every inch of my body, but I would never do such. I love my family and I would do anything to keep our names clean, so don’t you ever start a rumor just because you got tired of me.”

“Got tired of you?” Jace taunted. “I had wished for your death since forever, but I have never started such rumours.”

“Then whoever did!” Your chest moved up and down. Your eyes were filled with desperation, silently pleading for him to believe you. “You may hate me for the rest of your life, but that is your son, Jacaerys! Just for this once, I am asking you to second your beliefs.”

“He is not my son!”

“Take a look for yourself!”

That was the last thing you said before you exit the room. It was starting to become too much for you. Your chest hurt from holding back tears. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, or else he would’ve thought he won the argument.

Once you found yourself in the middle of the empty hallway, you broke down. A hand covering your mouth to silent the cries as you fell down to your knees.

On the other side of the door, stood a hesitant Jacaerys. If he had to be honest, a part of him wanted to believe you, but he had to big of an ego and a habit of always wanting to be better than you, so he was persistance of his opinion.

His eyes stared at the crib for a long minute. He was arguing with his mind whether he should just leave the room or do as you ask. His hands were fisting the material of his coat.

“Fuck this.” He said before walking up towards the crib.

His angry expression was soon replaced by a soft one once his eyes caught a glimpse of the baby. His mouth fell open slightly. The baby was a carbon copy of him — brunette hair, brown eyes, his nose, his lips. Shame masked his face the longer he looked at the baby.

He stumbled back in surprise. His hands were holding at the crib to steady himself. Guilt rushed through him like a wave of tsunami. You weren’t lying. The baby was his heir, his firstborn, his own flesh and blood.

[harunayuuka2060]

*Imagine #12*

Leona, Ruggie, Lilia, and Malleus: ...

Baby Leo: *strangling a snake that has crawled into his crib*

Ruggie: Bruh-

Lilia: Fufu~ We have another strong baby in the family.

Malleus: Little one, you must let go of the snake now.

Baby Leo: ...

Baby Leo: *cries*

Leona: No, no. You keep it. That's yours.

Baby Leo: *stops crying* *giggles*

Malleus: ...

Leona: *smiles proudly*

Ruggie and Lilia: ...

Toddler Luna: How are you, Mama?

Yuurin: I'm doing well.

Silver: Have you checked on your baby brother, Luna?

Toddler Luna: Yes, Baba. He looks like Mama.

Silver: *smiles* Indeed he is.

Leona: *walks in with Baby Leo*

Baby Leo: *still holding the snake he caught earlier*

Yuurin and Silver: ...

Leona: Heh. Isn't he just like you?

Baby Leo: *giggles upon seeing his mom*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *smiles*

Leona: *brings him to her*

Baby Leo: *lets go of the snake and seems to give it to his mother*

Yuurin: Thank you.

Baby Leo: *giggles again*

Yuurin: *looks at the snake*

Yuurin: Hara mou, this snake is still alive.

Silver: I'll take care of it, Agapi mou-

Toddler Luna: Can I have it?

Silver: Are you sure?

Toddler Luna: *nods* I'll make it listen to Leo.

Yuurin and Silver: *both smiles at her*

Yuurin: Go ahead.

Toddler Luna: Thank you, Mama! *kisses her mother's cheek*

Silver: Be careful.

Toddler Luna: Okay, Baba! *then runs out of the room with the snake*

*The first-year gang (except Sebek and Ortho) talking through a video call*

Ace, Deuce, and Epel: EH?!!!

Epel: Is that true?!

Jack: Yes. I came to visit them.

Ace: Damn, bruh- Yuurin's children as strong as heck!

Deuce: I wish I had seen that myself!

Epel: *sigh* I hope we have a school reunion soon. I want to meet her kids.

Ace: Same, but I'm sure my wife will tell me to stay home, and she'll be the one going.

Jack: Huh? Why?

Ace: Apparently she has a crush on Yuurin and wants to befriend her. 🙄

Deuce: Wow, your wife is ready to replace you.

Ace: Shut up!

Epel: *laughs*

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——