#but this scene had me flailing with tears in my eyes

[peregrintook]

Rings of Power Episode 7 - The Eye

“ I always thought you were a mite Dwarvish for an Elf.”

“And you are a rather Elvish Dwarf, Durin. Son of Durin. Grandson of...”

“Scoff if you like. The mightiest thing a Dwarf can do is to be worthy of the name of his father.”

[aphroditeinthesea]

Percy Jackson x Fem! Athena! Reader who lives opposite him in new york, and the two end up in the same school. Originally, because they were younger, reader hated Percy because he was a boy (duh) and he annoyed her and called her names, with these things follow her to camp and such. Years later, after maturing, the pair slowly share a close connection with reader realizing through five seperate occasions that she does, possibly, like the boy next door.

The five occasions are honestly up to you! (but for example it could be when reader found Percy taking care of a younger camper who had had a nightmare, or when the pair were on the train to school and, reader running a bit behind, Percy reveals that he actually has both readers fav breakfast and the days books already packed for her.

“ i should hate you ”

percy jackson x daughter of athena!reader 🌊

y/n finds herself feeling a little too much for the most annoying son of poseidon

this is a little off from the books in an attempt to avoid too much percabeth, also this is really long but it was really fun to write. omg and hunger games reference

⚠️ language

⋆｡˚ 𓇼 𓆝⋆｡˚

nulla

When y/n first arrived at camp the first person she spotted filled her with rage. Perseus Jackson.

“No way Jose!” he called, walking over to her.

She crossed her arms. His dirty clothes and static hair told her that he had just gotten back from training, “how are you here? Of all places, why are you here?”

“Well, Tinky Winky, glad to see you, too.”

Tinky Winky. You dress up as a teletubbie one time in 2nd grade and suddenly you're Tinky Winky for the rest of your life, “I’m gonna head to my cabin. If I see you again, I might throw up on you.”

As she walked away, she heard him yell, “I’m the son of Poseidon, big three, you’ll be seeing a lot of me, babe!” She hated the way her stomach flipped at the name, what right did he have to call her babe?

I

She walked out of her cabin after a month of somehow successfully avoiding speaking to the boy, despite how close her sister was to him. She had free time, so she decided she would walk by the dock to get some fresh air.

She was sitting on the edge, looking at the water when she felt a particularly strong gust of wind. She tried to stand up, but slipped off the edge, falling into the lake. She flailed her arms, trying to maintain some buoyancy. She was never a good swimmer, which was apparent as she felt her lungs begin to fill with liquid as she tried to scream.

Suddenly, she was pulled back to the dock. She tried to catch her brush, coughing up buckets.

“Y/N, y/n, are you okay?” She blinked the water out of her eyes trying to make out the face. All she could see was dark hair and sickeningly green eyes.

“Percy?” She breathed out quietly.

He desperately nodded, “yeah, how long were you under there?”

“Maybe like,” she thought for a second, “20 seconds?”

He helped her up, holding onto her hand, although she urgently pulled it away, “can you breathe fine and everything?”

She nodded, “I’m fine, I’m just gonna go dry off.” She began walking off before stopping and turning back around towards him, “thanks, Percy.”

II

She ran through the woods during a game of capture the flag while clutching a dagger in one hand. She came to a sudden stop as she heard quiet voices. She hid behind a tree bur peeked over to try and see who it was.

There she saw Percy kneeling on the ground next to a younger camper.

“Don’t worry about them,” he mentioned, “the Ares kids are all bark no bite. I would know,” he joked, offering a kind smile.

She noticed the tears coming out of the child’s eyes, “are you sure, because they were saying how-”

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, “they talk to you like that again, you can tell me and I’ll flood their cabin.”

The kid chuckled, causing a grin to find its way to y/n’s face as she watched the scene unfold.

“Now,” Percy stood up and patted the child’s shoulder, “go get that flag.”

The younger boy nodded before running off once again.

Percy brushed off his clothes, suddenly locking eyes with the daughter of Athena, “hey, Alfalfa.”

She tilted her head in confusion, “what?”

He laughed, “your hair.”

She sighed, brushing her fingers through the top of her hair to make sure there were no floating strands, “better, wiseass?”

He smirked, reaching forward and moving a piece of hair behind her ear, “there.”

She felt blood rush to her face, “I’ve gotta go,” she muttered as she ran off. She heard a laugh from behind her, but she carried on, trying not to think of him anymore.

III

She figured the fates must hate her, after all, she was stuck on a quest with the person she hated most. Or that’s what she wanted to say at least. She hated Percy Jackson. She had known him her whole life, and all he had been ws obnoxious.

“I’m as happy with this as you are, y/n,” he interrupted her thoughts as he spoke, “but we should at least talk.”

“About what?” She coldly answered, not even looking at him.

He thought briefly, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Oh, now you’ve gone too far,” she joked.

He smiled in return, “seriously, I’ve known you forever, what is it?”

“F/c,” she answered, glancing over at him.

“See, I never would’ve known that.”

“What’s yours?”

“Blue,” he replied, “reminds me of the ocean.”

“Conceited much?”

“What? That’s not-”

“Whatever you say, fish boy.”

He shook his head, “that’s really creative, wow.” He stopped in his steps in front of a convenience store, “I’m gonna go grab a snack.”

“Percy, there’s more important things right now than your stomach.”

“Right, yeah, whatever,” he brushed her off as he walked into the store.

She groaned, “that idiot.” She nervously looked around, sure she was a demigod, but she was still a teenage girl alone in a city. She felt that those five minutes went on for ages before Percy came back out.

“Here,” he spoke as he handed her a bag.

“What’s this?” She asked, opening the bag to find a package of chips.

“You used to bring a bag of those everyday in middle school,” he added while opening his own chips.

She smiled at how he remembered, “I’m surprised you even noticed.”

“You're hard to miss.”

IV

She wanted to scream looking in the mirror. Purple. Her hair was purple. She couldn't figure out what happened, she used the same shampoo and conditioner as always. She rushed to find her shampoo bottle and open it up. As she took off the cap, she was met with the burning smell of hair dye. She cursed herself for not realizing it before.

She stepped out of the bathroom to find only Annabeth and Percy discussing something while sitting on the former’s bed. They looked at her, surprised.

“Really living up to that Tinky Winky name, huh?”

“Shut up, Jackson!”

Her sister ran to her side, “what happened?”

“I don't know, I washed my hair and- and-”

“The Stolls,” Percy commented, walking over to her.

“Oh my gods,” she mumbled, “why- why-”

“They’re morons, that’s why,” Annabeth said.

Y/N breathed heavily as she tried to stop herself from crying. After all, it was her hair, what did her hair matter? It’s not like she was Aphrodite’s daughter. But, she hated to admit how much it meant to her.

Percy bit his lip, “I’ll be right back,” he mentioned as he made his way out og the cabin.

Soon after, she heard yelling from outside. Her and her sister looked out the window to see what the ordeal was.

“-It’s temporary, it’s not like it's a big deal,” Travis Stoll was defending.

“There is a girl in there crying because of you two!” She was confused why Percy was so angered by this.

“It’s funny-”

“It’s not funny, you ass, she did nothing, why would you do some shit like that to her?”

Chiron suddenly rushed to the scene, standing between the two boys, “what is going on here?”

“Percy’s mad because we dyed his girlfriend’s hair purple.”

Oh, Oh. She was made more confused by the way her heartbeat quickened at being called his girlfriend. She didn't care, he was Percy. She didn't care. She didn't care.

V

To say she was panicked would be an understatement. Percy and Annabeth had been sent on a quest, where only Annabeth returned in tears. As far as she said, Percy wasn't dead, he was missing. They had been fighting a group of monsters, when she turned around and Percy was gone.

Y/N sat at breakfast, unable to eat. She poked at her food, but her stomach was so nauseous, she could barely look at the food. That was until she heard gasps and cheers. She turned around to find Perseus Jackson walking, looking disheveled.

She quickly stood up and ran over to the boy, wrapping him a hug. He was taken aback but enclosed his arms around her waist.

She deeply breathed, pulling away from him. Her hands held onto his face like she was trying to make sure he was real, “I thought you were fucking dead,” she cried.

“I’m pretty glad I’m not.”

She giggled, though tears still streamed down her face. She stayed looking at him, just taking in every feature of his face, every scar, every color in his eyes, and the pink of his lips. She soon enough clashed her lips with his. She didn't care that she knew all of his friends were watching, all she could care about was that he was alive. She did kinda care about the fact that he smelled like raw tuna, but she could look past that for right now.

They separated for air, but their foreheads rested against one another, letting them stare into each other’s eyes.

“You're a pretty good kisser, Tinky Winky.”

“Thanks. You could do better, Spongebob.”

He chuckled, “wanna try again?”

[meraxesmoon]

Hostage

Aegon Targaryen/Aemma Velaryon (OC)

note: this was originally going to be a reader-insert, but ultimately, I decided to include my baby Aemma. did you see him in the new trailer??? my god tom has one hell of a face card

warnings: yandere content, dark content, reader is a bastard (criston's daughter), incest, forced marriage, attempted s/icide, smut, aegon is pussy whipped lmao, dubcon, I don't usually go into that territory so be warned, au where helaena was betrothed to jace (aka she's on Dragonstone), religious undertones, aemma doesn't want to be married period lmao, slight aemond/aemma, cunnilingus, there's foreplay, ik he has a fat d, I just know these things, tit-sucking, aemma is a plus-sized woman

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

Aegon stands next to Aemond as Alicent rushes around, trying to get things prepared for the ceremony. It would be quick and traditionally Valyrian due to Aegon's request. Despite Alicent's hurried motions, it was relatively quiet in the throne room, Aegon was restless, waiting for his wife to walk through those large doors.

Instead, they all hear the wails of Aemma Velaryon and the sound of a struggle in the corridor. Aemond and Aegon rush out into the hallway, watching with wide eyes as the usually docile girl becomes rabid in Ser Criston's arms. The ceremonial robes she wore were wet, sticking to her plump physique, and she was crying so loudly. Criston had one arm wrapped around her middle, his other hand behind her head so she wouldn't hurt herself against his armor.

"What's this all about?" Aegon questions, annoyed with the crying sounds coming from his sweet girl, he hated seeing her cry. Ser Criston wrangled the girl still, as she had grown exhausted from all of the fighting. "The princess tried to... fling herself from her bedroom window, Your Grace." Criston holds her gently, trying his best to make sure she wouldn't be hurt, and Alicent looks distressed as she watches the scene unfold.

The Dowager Queen holds a hand to her mouth, trying to hide the gasp that left her lips. Otto grimaced, looking at his grandson with disgust.

"Call a maester and have her calmed. The wedding will go on," Otto says, watching as the girl cried desperately in the arms of Ser Criston.

"I refuse! I will not marry a usurper!" Aemma cries out, flailing about as a maester tries to shove milk of the poppy down her throat. "My mother will come for me, and she will annul the marriage -" she can be seen getting drowsy, slumping in the hold of her unknown sire. Ser Criston, loosening his hold a bit, looks to Alicent and Aegon for guidance on what to do next.

"Let's get this over and done." Otto says, eying the young princess as Alicent guides her to the throne room.

Delirious and numb, Aemma Velaryon is married to her uncle, the man who had stolen her mother's throne. She groans as her servants ready her for bed, and she detests the thought of what came next. The handmaiden, Althea, has tears running down her dark cheeks as she dresses the princess in a soft pink night shift, her hands trembling as she does so.

Althea had been by Aemma's side since she was born, the handmaiden being the only one Rhaenyra truly trusted with her beloved daughter. Preparing her to lose her womanhood was painful for the woman, and she couldn't help but cry.

"Althea, please do not cry. It pains me..." the princess says, trying to seem strong, if only for her handmaidens' sake. "May the Gods burn them all down for what they're doing to you, My Lady." Althea seethes, her fingers trembling against Aemma's bare shoulders.

A knock comes at the door, and they both feel sick as Aemond walks through the door, looking rather displeased with the situation at hand.

They had been close as children, but she knew that asking Aemond for help would prove fruitless. Despite how they acted with each other, Aemond and Aegon were loyal. Aemond would never betray Aegon by helping her die or escape.

Aemond is silent and still, his hands behind his back.

"The King wishes for you to join him in his quarters, Good Sister." Aemond says blankly, trying not to look at his niece as she shivers in the cold room.

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

As Aemond led her to Aegon's personal chambers, she thought back to their childhood. She was about the same age as Aemond, so they played a lot together, read in the library, and talked about dragons constantly. They were friends, some would say. Now, he felt more like an executioner.

The door to Aegon's room is large and intimidating, despite the many times she's seen it. The feeling of Aemond's hand on her arm falls away, and he pushes her inside the room, closing the door as soon as she's inside fully. Aemma can feel her breath getting shorter as she stares at the large bed in the middle of the room and the several strange objects on the tables and shoved in drawers.

It looked as though someone had hurriedly tried to clean up.

"Wine? You look quite wound up, Ābrazȳrys," Aegon stands on the other side of the room, nursing a pitcher of wine in one hand and in another a goblet. She grimaces at that word. Wife didn't seem like the appropriate term for their arrangement. "Hostage, you mean. I am not your lawful wife, I am your prisoner, Usurper." Aemma says, wrapping her arms around her chest, trying to avoid her uncles gaze as he stares her down. Aegon pauses his movements, his expression clearly turning sour as he watches her getting closer to the door.

"We were married lawfully, and according to our own Valyrian traditions," he muses, walking closer to her as she pushes herself away from him, looking quite frightened. "All we have to do now is consummate our marriage, My Love."

"I did not wish to be king; you must know this. Fate has brought this union to us, who are we to argue?"

Aemma is disgusted, her back against the large wooden door as Aegon creeped closer, his free hand tracing the necklace she wore. A piece gifted to her by her late father, Ser Laenor Velaryon. A small seahorse made out of Valyrian steel, with soladite encrusted onto it. "Do you know who your true father is, Sweetling?" "Laenor Velaryon-" "No."

Aemma can feel tears brimming in her eyes once more as Aegon stares at her as though she were a piece of cake. Something he wanted to absolutely devour.

"He may be your father by law, but he did not sire you, nor did your mothers mistress, Ser Harwin Strong," he leans in to kiss at her collarbone, and she whimpers at the sensation, her trembling fingers fisting Aegon's night shirt, trying to push him away. "Your true father is Ser Cole; did you know that? It's amazing how loose he can get when drunk..." Aegon moans against her neck, rutting his hips against her, his arms wrapping around her middle as he embraced her.

"Mmm, I could ravage you right against my door, and your sweet Aemond would hear it all," Aegon presses his lips roughly against Aemma's, and she chokes out a cry as he forces a leg in between her thighs, sliding her shift upwards. His fingers play with the steel chain around her neck, delicate and sweet, much like herself. "He'd like that, you know. He likes you a lot, always has, but you belong to me now, my little wife..." "No! I cannot consummate this marriage; it would be treason against my own mother!"

She tries to make her case and tries to explain to Aegon why she couldn't be his wife, but he refuses to listen, only grabbing her by the back of the neck and forcing her into another kiss.

Aegon was ruining everything.

"I suppose, since this is your first time, that you'd prefer the bed," Aegon groans into her ear, fingers curling around her wrists as he starts to walk backward. When his body pulls away, Aemma gets a full-body view of her new husband and the tent in his night pants. She hadn't been prepared for such a sight, and she whimpered as he sat her down on the bed. Aegon hums playfully, his eyes dark as he takes her in.

Aemma would often wear soft blue gowns, as she said it was her favorite color. He remembers, before the incident at Driftmark, how innocent and cute she had looked, prancing around the Red Keep with Aemond and Helaena. He remembers being completely enraptured by her for as long as he's known her.

He remembers begging his father for a betrothal between the two of you.

Aegon tugs at the strings of his sleep shirt, shrugging it off on the floor, a hungry look in his eyes. Placing a hand on her shoulder, Aegon shoved Aemma hard enough for her to flop on her back, a small squeak leaving her as her body hits the thick blanket covering her uncle's bed. Her breath hitched as she felt him yank up her night dress, pulling the thin blue fabric just over her tummy. Panicking, she desperately tries to make herself decent, the thought of Aegon seeing her bare womanhood making her terrified.

Aegon smirks against her skin, trailing wet kisses down her abdomen as she squirms in his hold. Finger curling underneath her thighs, Aegon grips her tightly, a warning. "Mm, just relax," he says smoothly, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he glances at her bareness. Pressing a kiss to her cunt, Aegon moans, causing her to shriek and jump.

"Gods! You're such a maiden," Aegon laughs, lovingly stroking her thigh as he licked at her center. Smoothing his tongue along her cunt, Aegon groans at the taste. He felt bad, to a certain point, for corrupting such a sweet girl, but on the other hand, all of his fantasies were coming to life, and he was certainly enjoying himself.

The tip of Aegon's tongue seeks out her clit, and he flicks it gently at first, gauging her reaction. She fists at the blankets and pillows, shoving her face into the bedding as she tries to keep quiet and numb. She felt as though this was a betrayal to her sweet mother, and the thought brought tears to her eyes. Despite her fear, her womanhood is dripping from the stimulation given to her by Aegon, and the hot wetness is sticking to the inside of her thighs.

"You taste divine, Sweet Girl," Aegon moans, his tongue fucking her silly as she uncontrollably twitches under his touch. Her legs unconsciously wrapped around him, the fat part of her thighs encasing his head in a snug embrace. Her back arches delicately, her fingers digging into the blankets as her hips bucked voraciously, the pleasure clouding her mind.

She had not expected it to feel good at all! She had heard the horror stories of the wedding night for women, her septa would often rouse fear in the young girl, saying that it would hurt, but it was her duty to bare heirs for the crown. It didn't feel bad, though, and Aemma found herself reeling from the feeling of her most sensitive area being overstimulated. It does register in her mind that this is wrong. It goes against the faith and her vows to be loyal to her mother. However, she was stuck, and Aegon wouldn't let her go until she was fully tainted.

"Ngh, no - it feels... odd, Aegon!" She cries out into her pillow, grinding her cunt into Aegon's mouth. "This is so dirty!" Aemma whines, slowly feeling herself getting lost in the sensation of pleasure. She had never once heard of a man putting his mouth... down there, and yet here Aegon was, devouring her like she was his favorite wine.

Aegon's pointed nose rubbed against her clit, and she whimpers as she feels his tongue fucking her deeper. It felt as though he was trying to find something. A popping sound cuts through the air as Aegon pulls his mouth away from her pussy, his tongue playing along his lips as he hummed. Her slick was smeared over his chin, and Aegon licks it up before moving to suck on her clit once more, his fingers reaching into the depths of her cunt.

Aemma was unprepared for the intrusion, and as shocked as she was, she felt something gush out of her hole as her husband continued to thrust his fingers into her dripping hole. Twitching violently, she tries to pull away from the pleasure, crying out as overstimulation starts to set in, and she feels a wave of relief wash over her as Aegon pulls away from her. He looks quite satisfied with himself, popping one of his fingers into his awaiting mouth, sucking her slick off of the digit.

She recoiled in shame, looking away from him. She felt dirty, the residue of her own release making her thighs stick together, and Aemma wishes for nothing more than to take a comforting bath to wash away the sin that had been forced upon her. She thinks of her mother, of little Aegon and Viserys, and how stupid she was to stay in Kings Landing.

The Velaryon princess is snapped back into reality when weight is added to the bed, and a stark naked Aegon leans above her, his cock swollen and wet bobbing against her heat. Her discomfort is revitalized, and she tries to scramble away from him, hesitance apparent in her eyes.

Aegon chuckles, grabbing hold of her ankle and dragging her back down on the bed. His calloused fingers trace comforting circles into her skin as he gazes at her lovingly.

"This is all I've ever wanted; do you know that? It's all I've been able to think about since your mother dragged you to Dragonstone," Aegon muses, leaning down to kiss her cheek. His nose touches hers, and Aemma couldn't help but be comforted. If it weren't for the circumstances, she would have welcomed Aegon's affection. "Mhm, I've loved you for so long. Not being with you was almost physically painful."

Aegon wrestles her legs and wraps them around his waist, the tip of his weeping cock bouncing against her skin as he breathes heavily. "I'm not usually gentle, Sweetling," Aegon says, gripping his cock steadily as he guides it into her cunt. "But you aren't just some whore." He leans downwards, capturing her lips as he pushes the rest of his length inside.

"Fuck..." he draws out, his breath getting caught in his throat as he savors the feeling of her tight cunt squeezing him. He laughs, his hips stilling as he sheathes himself fully. She's wet, and Aegon moans out as she instinctively squeezes down on him. His nose rubs against her cheek as she gasps, trying to stop herself from making any noise. She grips the pillows and bedding, whining as she feels Aegon's thick and weeping cock nestle in her walls. "It's alright," Aegon muses, mouthing at her breasts as his fingers paw at her soft thighs. "You can give in to the pleasure, it's natural."

Aemma wants to disagree. She wanted to cry about how nothing about this was natural, and that this was treason against her mother, but the feeling of his tongue rolling over her nipple made her brain go fuzzy, and she couldn't help but let out a soft, nearly silent moan.

Aegon bucks his hips, his patience suddenly gone as he begins to fuck in earnest.

"Aemond is outside, peeping through the door, watching you being fucked by me," Aegon sobs out, still sucking and licking on her tits, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he revels in the feeling of his cock being squeezed into her wet cunt. "He desires to fuck you the same way, Dearest... Ahn, but I wouldn't allow such a thing." the mentioning of Aemond makes Aegon glance towards the door, his lips smirking against her skin. "He probably has his hand in his trousers as we speak, listening to you moan like that."

"S-Stop it... he wouldn't-" "Oh, but he would," Aegon moans, suddenly sitting up, and coming to rest on his knees. He grabs her thighs, forcing Aemma to wrap her legs around his hips. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've caught him fucking himself to the thought of you, your sweet Aemond isn't as virtuous as you think." Aegon grabs her hips, fucking into her as he throws his head back.

The fucking turns into grinding soon enough, and Aemma is moaning on her back as a finger comes to flick over her clit. Aegon's cheeks are pink as he starts to twitch, his hips bucking wildly into her cunt, and he tightens his grip on her hips. The feeling of the wet slide of his cock forces Aemma into another orgasm, her thick thighs tightening around his narrow waist.

The sweet whimpers. The wetness of her cunt. The knowledge of Aemond being right outside, listening in on them.

All of this ends up pushing Aegon over the edge.

In the end, Aemma is too exhausted to push Aegon away when he pulls her close, nuzzling his face against her bare bosom. She falls asleep quickly, not having the strength to keep herself awake. Aegon smirks against her plush skin, happily humming to himself.

He had sacrificed his freedom, but he had gained enough to make up for it.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Blooming Love - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1610

Summary: Having a picknick in a garden, together with your children, truly is a treat, is it not?

As the sun slowly crept across the sky, casting its warm, golden light upon the emerald green grass, Anthony and you, laid out a cozy picnic blanket in the Bridgerton's family garden. 

Your two daughters, Edith and Florence, giggled as they chased each other through the lush foliage, their delicate dresses billowing behind them like the sails of a ship. 

Little Gerald, meanwhile, sat contentedly in front of his father, absorbed in a game of peekaboo. 

The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses as if nature itself was conspiring to create a perfect, idyllic scene.

Your hands were full with a basket of freshly baked treats, and you paused for a moment to admire the view.

 "Anthony," you said, your voice tinged with wonder, "isn't it simply marvelous?"

 You glanced over at your husband, his strong, handsome features etched with a look of contentment that seemed to radiate from within. 

You couldn't help but feel a surge of love and gratitude for him, for your children, for this life you had built together.

Anthony smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. 

"Yes, my dear," he said, taking your hand in his. "It is indeed marvelous. And it's all the more so because we're sharing it with those we love most."

 He leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away.

 The tenderness of the gesture was not lost on either of you. 

You knew that soon enough, your lives would change irrevocably with the arrival of your newest child. 

But for now, you were basking in the quiet, peaceful joy of this perfect moment.

As if on cue, little Edith skipped over, her brown curls bouncing, her blue eyes shining with excitement. 

"Papa, Mama, look what I found!" she exclaimed, holding up a particularly beautiful flower.

 Anthony and you exchanged amused glances before thanking her and admiring the flower. 

"That's a lovely bloom, Edith," Anthony said, his voice full of pride. 

"Why don't you put it in your hair?" You suggested, helping your daughter pin the flower behind her ear.

You placed the basket down on the blanket as you tried your best to sit down on the blanket with the round bump in the way, but Anthony held out his hand and helped you settle down gently. 

"There you go, dearest," he said with a warm smile. "You're going to make quite a beautiful picture sitting there like that."

 He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness, knowing that soon enough, your lives would change forever. 

But for now, you could just enjoy this moment, this time together as a family.

As Edith ran back to her game with her sister, Gerald started crawling towards the picnic basket, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 "Oh, let me get that for you, young man," Anthony said, scooping up his son and setting him down next to him. "You're just a bit too small to reach it quite yet."

 Gerald giggled, his tiny hands flailing in the air as if to prove his point, and Anthony couldn't help but laugh.

The sun continued to climb higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the lawn, but you all didn't seem to mind. 

You were content, for now, just to be together, to soak up the last moments of this idyllic, peaceful life before your world was turned upside down.

 And as you sat there, surrounded by the beauty of the garden and the love that bound you together, Anthony couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for everything you had.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

 "Do you ever wonder what kind of life they'll have, Anthony?" you asked, gesturing toward your daughters. "What kind of world will they grow up in?"

 He looked at you, his expression thoughtful. 

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that we'll give them love, and we'll give them strength. And we'll teach them to always be true to themselves." 

You smiled at him, a tear trickling down your cheek.

Your conversation was interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from your daughters. Edith and Florence had found a game of tag and were chasing each other around the garden, their giggles filling the air.

 Anthony's heart swelled with love for them, for the joy they brought to his life, and for the promise of the future they represented. 

He couldn't help but wonder what kind of young women they would grow up to be.

As if sensing his thoughts, you reached out and took his hand in yours.

 "They'll be fine, Anthony," you said, your voice steady and reassuring. "Everything shall be fine."

Gerald, meanwhile, had managed to crawl his way over to the picnic basket and was now sitting up, his tiny hands reaching for a cookie that he had spotted.

 "Careful there," Anthony said, gently pushing Gerald's hands away from the cookie. "We haven't had lunch yet. We should wait until Mama says it's time to eat." Gerald pouted, but reluctantly let his hands drop to the blanket.

Time seemed to slow down as you sat there, watching your children play. 

The warmth of the sun, the smell of the flowers, and the sound of laughter all blended to create a perfect moment that you knew you would cherish forever. 

But Anthony knew that this idyllic scene would soon change. 

He was about to become a father again, and with that came new responsibilities, new challenges, and a new sense of vulnerability.

"Do you ever think about the past, Anthony?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your children's giggles.

He turned to look at you, surprised by the question. "Of course I do," he replied. "But the past is gone. We must focus on the present and prepare for the future."

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. "Yes, you're right. But I mean, do you not ever have a single thought about what would have been different if we didn't wed one another?"

Anthony considered your question for a moment. It was true that you could have ended up in vastly different places if you hadn't met and fallen in love. 

Perhaps he would have married someone else, or you would have found someone else who could give you the life you deserved. 

The possibilities were endless. But as he looked at your happy family now, he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't change a thing.

"I suppose I do think about it sometimes," he finally said, "but only because it helps me appreciate what we have now. We could have easily been apart, and yet here we are, stronger than ever. Whatever it was, I'm grateful for it."

"No, no, I am grateful for you, for your family, all the lot."

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

 You turned to see Violet Bridgerton making her way toward you, a smile on her face.

"Oh my-, Violet," you said, rising to your feet. "What a lovely surprise."

"It surely is" Violet replied, hugging you. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to see my favorite little ones." 

Violet leaned over to plant a kiss on each of your daughters' heads, eliciting giggles from both Edith and Florence.

Anthony smiled at his mother. "And how are you feeling, Mama? How has life changed with Eloise getting married?"

Violet considered the question, her eyes drifting toward the garden. 

"Well, it's certainly different, Anthony. I never thought I'd see the day Eloise would be wed. But, she's grown into herself so beautifully, and she and Philip are so very much in love. It's hard not to feel happy for them."

She paused, her gaze returning to the two youngest girls, who were now running around the blanket, their laughter filling the air.

 "Of course, I do miss having her around as much. She was always such a bright light, even when she was at her most mischievous. But children grow up, and they move on to their own lives."

You reached over and took Violet's hand in yours. "You know we'll always be here for you. And you must remember that Eloise will always be your daughter, no matter where she is or what she does."

Anthony nodded in agreement. "And who knows? Perhaps one day we'll have grandchildren running around the manor."

Violet smiled at the thought, her eyes shining with happiness. "Oh, I hope so," she said wistfully. "It's such a wonderful thing, watching your children grow up and start their own families."

You sat together in silence for a moment, lost in your thoughts until the sound of the children's giggles grew fainter. 

Realizing that they were getting hungry, Violet spoke up, offering her hand to her grandchildren. "Shall we go inside for some tea?"

Gerald accepted her hand. "That sounds lovely, doesn't it?" she replied. "I'm sure you all would love some freshly baked scones."

You watched the kids go inside the house with Violet and you let out a content sigh, leaning back on your hands.

"It's amazing how much they've grown, isn't it?" you said, looking at your husband. 

Anthony nodded in agreement, his gaze following your daughters as they disappeared into the house. "They are the lights of our lives."

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, the sounds of laughter and clinking teacups drifted out from the house, reminding you of the life you had built together.

 It was a life that had started so uncertain, with so many obstacles in your way, but you had managed to overcome them all. 

[awarmcupofmilk]

Gojo x reader "Fake Smiles"

afab!reader

series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 pt 6

summary: a drunken conversation ends your five year marriage w/ gojo

content warnings: breakup/sad, angst, alcohol use (not extensive), deviations from gojo’s past arc, divorce

word count: 1,367

note: thoughts on this becoming a series?

© 2022 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

“I want my life back.”

“What?” Gojo turned around, finally, sneering. It made you feel cold. 

✧

You had gone to pick Gojo up. On the exceptionally rare occasion, he had gone drinking. When you stepped in the dimly-lit, slightly musty room, he was bantering (flirtatiously?) with some girl in a neon pink two-piece at the bar. She was pretty. 

He tried to shrug your arm off. And when you reached for him again, he slapped your hand away. Was he that drunk? You smiled awkwardly, apologetically at his company, as if it didn’t tear a hole in your chest. 

You strapped him in the passenger seat, stroking away the sweat-soaked hair that clung to his face. 

He flinched at your touch. 

✧

Indignant tears glided down his cheeks as you drove. They shone in your peripheral vision. His sunglasses were slipping, they shined, too. You pursed your lips and ignored it, as if the scene didn’t make your own tears well. 

“We’re home,” you said when the garage door clicked and the car slid comfortably into place. 

He grunted.

You had to carry him inside.

✧

Gojo struggled so much, arms flailing about like a whining toddler. You couldn’t handle his weight past the living room, so you just let him flop onto the couch. 

His tear-stained cheeks glistened in the lamplight as he glared. He glared at you with so much contempt you wondered what role you really held in his heart. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It didn’t come across as accusatory as you expected. You said it so softly, so timidly it made you feel pathetic.

He sneered. Drunkenly. He looked in pain. What did that make you?

“Why are you like this now?” Your voice trembled; your lip quivered. Keep it together, you scolded yourself. 

“I…” His voice faded out. He was so quiet, so close to sleep, you had to step closer. His eyebrows instinctively furrowed when you did. Was it your scent he didn’t like? But he was the one that reeked of alcohol.

“I’m so unhappy,” he whispered. It broke you. 

“It’s all… you are… just… so boring.” He had enough energy to stress the last word, as if it hadn’t already shattered every previously fractured piece of you. 

He didn’t say much else, only turned on his side and fell asleep, even snoring slightly. He didn’t list out the reasons why, didn’t name every little thing that seemingly tortured him in your five years of marriage. You were sure this was worse. It was all so cruel. 

Namie slept soundly in her room upstairs. The thought made your heart twist. You sighed as you laid a blanket over him. Then, watching him snore gently, you ran a hand over your face and smiled, as if you couldn’t feel your throat clenching and eyes watering from the pain of it all. Every family, every marriage goes through this. 

Doesn’t it?

✧

You were sitting at the dinner table when he got up the next morning, with nothing in front of you. Gojo didn’t find it strange. Or he just didn’t see. Probably the latter. 

Namie had already gone to school, eyeing him with concern, pulling on your dress to ask “What’s wrong with daddy?”, dawdling in the living room until finally reluctantly turning away after you reassured her, very surely, for the seventh time that he was alright. 

He had swung open the fridge door, reaching for the milk, so nonchalantly. Had he really been that drunk? Or did he just not realize, not care enough about the pain his words caused you? 

He was at the counter now, pouring the milk clumsily into one of the mugs—that you washed, you might add. You stood up, walking over to the pantry for a hangover cure packet. You set it down by him and he smiled. It wasn’t particularly different from any smile he’d given to you in the past five months, so maybe it had been halfhearted this whole time. Maybe you were a fool for letting smiles this forced make your stomach flutter. 

If he noticed something was off, he didn’t say anything. That almost stung more than his words. You went upstairs before he finished breakfast. You didn’t come down when he left. If he thought that was strange, he didn’t mention it. 

✧ 

Truly, you wouldn’t have left at that. Not over a drunken confession, albeit of utter discontentment. Not over the lack of concern at your (obvious) hurt. You could have handled it. You were ready to handle it. 

But then he did something you couldn’t ever forgive. 

He had been drinking with Geto. Just a can of beer. Why did he do it? He didn’t like alcohol. Either way, you went to pick him up. You didn’t bother letting him know, Geto’s apartment was so close by. 

“Why are you so miserable all the time, Satoru?” Geto asked, probably jokingly. “With Y/N and Namie, you’ve got it made.” 

Gojo snorted. “Marriage really isn’t all that.”

A pause. Geto didn’t respond. He must have felt awkward. Probably confused. But Gojo didn’t need any prompting. 

“I’m really wasting my life. I’m always worried on missions, and now this is always being used against me, you know they gave up being a sorcerer.” “It was for Namie though, right?” Geto tried to defend you. Uncomfortably. This was all so very awkward. More so if they’d known you had showed up at the door then, and caught the tail end of this tragedy. 

“Sure, but did I ask for that?”

You felt like you were stabbed. But the blood trickling out from the wound was icy. 

Geto didn’t say anything this time. Probably sitting in nervous silence. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, Y/N and I were friends in Jujutsu High. Maybe we should have stayed at that.”

Something in you died. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to stop the cry from coming out. Tears streamed down your cheeks in globs. 

Somewhere along the line, the word “bored” came up again. Or maybe it was “boring”? You were too shattered to care. 

The subject changed then, and the conversation skipped along, so easily, so carelessly. 

You crouched down and sobbed.

Because you couldn’t spend your life with this man anymore. This cruel, heartless man chatting and laughing right in front of you, without a care as to what you’d given up for him, what he was doing to you. 

You were going to leave. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But at that, he lost you. 

✧

You still picked him up that night. It was what you came to do, after all. 

You held out another two months. But everything about him made you angry, aggrieved, indignant, devastated. Thousands of reactions provoked and not a single one positive. It really was a lost cause. 

Maybe somewhere, among the ruins, you had wished it wasn’t. 

✧

“I want my life back.” You said. 

And Gojo, not having paid any attention to your words before, turned around, sneering. He sneered comfortably now, without any influence of alcohol. “What?”

You set down the papers. Neatly, too. He picked them up roughly, crumpling the pristine stack. Scanning through the contents, he was frowning now, eyes wide—in alarm or disbelief? 

“What is this?” He asked, almost vehemently. 

“What do you mean what is this?” You spat back, voice sharp. You hadn’t expected, hadn’t want to take that tone. You tried to soften the delivery. “I want a divorce.”

“Where is this coming from?” Gojo asked, hand yanking on his hair, clearly panicked. 

Before you could think, you laughed. Probably out of shock. He really didn’t care enough to see what he had done to you. 

He frowned more deeply. Was he upset? Overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all? That should be you. 

“If you really don’t know, I’m not going to sit here recounting every bad thing you’ve done since we got married. It’s probably best that you don’t know the details anyway. It would bore you.”

He wouldn’t understand, of course. And when he looked at you in clear confusion, clear exasperation, you almost smiled. 

Next Part -> ✧⭐︎☆⭐︎✧

✧ Masterlist ✧

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 54. you didn't.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse (including sterilization) and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

If the night at Bucky's had been an isolated incident, I wouldn't have thought much about it. Unfortunately, in the days that have followed, things have only seemed to get more and more difficult for Willa.

It started the following morning, when I woke up around 5:00am to find the little girl in the bed next to me, bawling her eyes out. I had quickly switched on the bedside lamp, checking her over to see what was the matter, and I found her to be in the grips of a seemingly hellish night terror. She had no mind channel open, no crimson glow, so there was no way for me to know what she was dreaming of. Immediately, I had gathered her in my arms, rocking and soothing her as best I could while simultaneously hoping to rouse her from her torturous sleep. But it was no use; she was far too deep in the nightmare to break free. She flailed and sobbed and sputtered incoherently for hours, and all I could do was hold her and watch. By the time 7:00am rolled around, she finally woke up, and at that point she was inconsolable.

I couldn't get anything out of her that entire morning. She had fought her way out of my arms and crawled deep under my blankets, and I simply had no heart to remove her. I tried coaxing her out with the promise of cuddles, breakfast, and even her favorite movie, but nothing worked. Eventually, I decided to leave her alone and let her determine when she felt safe to come out, but she ended up staying there for most of the day. When she did finally emerge, she was a puddle of tears, her eyes begging for comfort and reassurance. But at the same time, she wouldn't let me come anywhere near her. When bedtime came around again, I offered to let her sleep with me in my room for another night, and she surprised me greatly by agreeing to it.

Through the night, she had another horrific nightmare, one so terrifying that it sent her jumping out of the bed in fear when she awoke. As soon as she saw me waiting for her with the lamp on, a deeply concerned expression drawn on my face, she grew so afraid of being punished that she began hyperventilating, eventually passing out from her compromised airflow. In the agonizing process of her panic attack, she wet herself again, and it was at that point that I decided I needed to speak with Jenny.

"Did anything happen in the days leading up to her shift in behavior that might've been cause for such a regression?" the mild young lady asks as she sits across from me in the living room. Resting back against the soft cushions of the sofa, I pick apart the past week in my mind, ultimately unable to identify anything.

"No," I sigh with a shake of my head. "There were small incidents here and there, but that's always the way it's been with her. Nothing major happened, at least, not that I can think of." It's now later in the morning, and Jenny and I are wrapping up a last-minute session I requested while Willa plays in her room. The doctor started off speaking with the child herself, but after half an hour or so of not getting much response at all, she decided to come out and work with me instead.

"I see," Jenny notes, scribbling something down on her legal pad. Closing up her pen, she brings her eyes up to meet mine, a familiar sense of warmth and patience lingering in her gaze. "Steve, with everything that Willa's gone through, her road to recovery isn't going to be as smooth as any of us would like it to be." I nod, not sure where the doctor could be going with a statement like that. "And even though things seem like they're getting worse with her, this is actually a pattern that's seen quite frequently with survivors of abuse and trauma who've recently escaped. Willa's body and mind were suppressing a lot of emotions, a lot of fear during her captivity, and even at the tower due to the things Tony did; her system couldn't handle addressing these feelings, so it shut them out. Now that she's in a truly safe place, with a safe person who only loves her and takes care of her, those things are beginning to show themselves because it's safe for them to." A wave of relief washes over me as the woman finishes her explanation, and I let out a deep hum.

"So this... is normal?" I ask. She nods.

"It's a difficult part of the process, since it might seem to both of you like things are getting worse when they should be getting better, but it's really just a sign that her body and mind are ready to start doing some deeper repair."

"I see. That's..." my voice trails off as I bring a hand up to brush through my hair. "That's so good to hear," I finish honestly. "I was really worried that I had done something wrong, or was messing up in some way."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Steve, not at all. You're doing a phenomenal job with Willa. She just adores you." A faint smile crosses my face as I think of the little girl, and how much love and care I hold for her in my heart as well. "As far as dealing with her new or returning behavior, I'd recommend allowing her to get it out, as much as you possibly can. A big part of her might just need to respond in the way her body originally wanted to. She might need to go through the act of being scared or crying or getting sick, since those were all responses that were made impossible for her up until now. In regards to the increased accidents, it's a very common indicator of sexual trauma in children. I know it's frustrating, but try to be as patient with her about it as you can."

"No, no- it's not even frustrating," I assure her quickly, meaning the words with all my heart. "Really, it's not. It's not a hassle when it happens, not at all; it just makes me so worried."

"I know it's alarming to see her regressing in that sense, but it's totally normal and shouldn't pose an issue permanently as long as she remains in a safe environment where she isn't violated sexually. We're just meeting her where she's at, if that makes sense, and where she's at might go forward or backward for a while before we really start making linear progress. I know you know this already, but Willa is in many ways somewhat younger than five still, at least internally. And that's okay. We just have to let her exist at whatever developmental age she's at."

"And you think- you're sure it's okay? That I'm kind of, well- I don't know, kind of 'babying' her, as Tony would say?" I ask, wanting to be sure the doctor still approves of my controversial approach. Jenny smiles, allowing me to relax even more with relief.

"Yes, that's completely acceptable. Actually, it's probably very therapeutic for her system to be allowed to have those critical early childhood experiences that she was deprived of for so long. Whatever helps her feel safe and secure, even if it's meant for younger kids, is completely fine."

"Good," I nod, feeling slightly more sure about myself as a parent from all of Jenny's encouragement. "I'm sorry she wasn't up to working with you today," I apologize again, "I told her you were coming and asked her to do her best to be open and honest, but... I don't know. At the same time, I don't have much heart to push her."

"It's completely fine," Jenny reassures me once more, shaking her head at my persistent apologizing. "Therapy isn't ever something that should be forced upon a child. She'll talk when she's ready." Glancing down at her notepad, she offers, "I was wondering, though, if maybe the three of us could wrap up the session together? I believe Willa's still playing by herself in her room, and a lot of times children can be demonstrative of what they're thinking or feeling through the ways that they play. Maybe we could sit in with her for a little bit, if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all," I tell her, earning a smile as she rises to her feet. 

"Alright, then," she says with a nod. "I'll let you lead the way."

Leading the woman back through the house, I stop just outside the child's half-open door, knocking a few times against the sturdy wood before pulling it the rest of the way open. Willa sits on the floor beside her bed, a few toys scattered around her as she holds a small wooden doll in her hands. Her big green eyes meet mine warily, and my heart sinks as she begins to tremble. "Hey sweetheart," I greet gently. For a moment, I remember that just a few days ago, she would beam every time I entered the room. Realizing that we're back to such a state of fear and uncertainty, a tinge of disappointment builds up inside of me. But then, I remember the doctor's words, and I'm able to remind myself that Willa's behavior is actually probably a good sign, in some weird way. "Things are starting to show themselves because it's safe for them to."

"Your daddy and I were wondering if we could sit and play with you for a little bit," the young lady's soothing voice overlaps her previous words running through my head. A look of skepticism forms on the little girl's face as she glances between the two of us, but thankfully after a few more moments, she nods. "Wonderful," Jenny says with a smile, and we enter in, both sitting a few feet back to give the child some space.

"What're you playing, Willa-bug?" I ask in a gentle tone, now able to get a better look at the toys she's taken out of her boxes. She has a bathtub and a sandbox from a dollhouse set, as well as Captain America and Ironman figurines, and the little brown-haired doll she's holding in her hand. The clothes are half torn off the doll, the hair messed and tangled. Big, frightened eyes look from the doll to me, and then back. "Who've you got there?"

"Willa," she says simply, holding up the doll that seems to represent herself. I nod.

"Is Willa getting dressed?" Jenny asks politely.

Swallowing hard, Willa shakes her head. "Off," she mumbles, removing the toy's purple dress and placing it on the floor. She then removes the doll's underwear as well, leaving it completely naked. Next, she reaches over and picks up the sandbox, opening up the cover. Almost urgently, she begins to dig, not stopping until she's created a little hole in the center. Then, she takes the Willa doll, placing it in the center of the hole. A lump forms in my throat as she buries the tiny pair of underpants with it, not paying any mind to the dress.

"Oh, you're... is Willa playing in the sand?" I ask, trying to understand the child's actions. Not giving a response, Willa simply continues with her scene, picking up the Ironman action figure and extending its arm. Clumsily, she begins using the plastic hand of the figurine to begin shuffling sand back over the doll that represents herself. "Willa, sweetie, what- what is Ironman doing?" I question carefully. 

Once the wooden doll and her underwear have disappeared completely beneath the sand, Willa extends the other arm of the superhero's body, making them now both stick out straight. With a concerning amount of force, she begins jabbing the hands into the sand, uncomfortable sounds of plastic and wood colliding as the man apparently attacks the girl. Glancing over at Jenny, I see that her brow is furrowed in concentration. All I can hope is that she's understanding what Willa's actions mean, because to be completely honest, I have no idea what to make of any of it. 

After several more moments of the violent motions, Willa finally stops, putting Ironman's arms back down and dropping him to the floor. Sifting through the sand, Willa pulls out the wooden doll, shaking her off slightly before finding her purple dress and redressing her. Turning back to the sandbox for a moment, she uses a single finger to re-bury the underpants, causing my brain to ache with questions and concerns. When satisfied with the way the piece of clothing is hidden, Willa picks up the bathtub, once again removing the doll's dress before placing her in the tub, coming to what seems to be a stopping point.

"Sweetheart?" I ask quietly, unable to even form my thoughts into a question.

"Can you tell us what you're doing, Willa?" Jenny fills in for me. "Willa's taking a bath now?" The little girl nods. "What about Daddy? He's with you when you take baths, right?" she continues, picking up Captain America off the floor and offering it to the child. To my surprise, Willa shakes her head, pushing the doll away. Jenny lets her. "No help from Daddy? Okay, that's okay, hun," the doctor says quickly, wanting to avoid upsetting the chidl. 

"What was... what happened in the sandbox, honey?" I ask, not sure if I should be asking so many questions but ultimately too worried to refrain from doing so. Willa flinches slightly at my question, her bottom lip quivering as she gives me nothing but silence in return. "Okay, it's okay, sweetheart," I coo soothingly, not wanting to push the subject too hard, "that's okay, you don't have to tell us."

"How about you keep playing, sweetie," Jenny suggests, "it's okay. You said Willa was in the bath?" The small girl nods, looking back down at her toys before pulling the doll out of the tub, redressing her in her purple gown. Then, the child surprises both me and the doctor by repeating the same exact process all over again, starting with digging out the underpants in the sandbox, putting them back on the doll, and then completely undressing it.

My brow creases in perplexion as I watch Willa 'play,' her motions almost seeming like a routine or ritual that her body knows by heart. She repeats the entire scene once, then twice, and by the point in which she's buried herself a third time with her underwear, preparing the Ironman doll to perform his assault, I finally speak again, causing the child to pause. "Willa," I breathe, my heart pounding faintly in my ears. "What are you doing?"

Her wary gaze rises to meet mine and she blinks, her arm beginning to tremble as she clutches the action figure tightly. 

"Could you explain it to us?" Jenny adds, her voice laced with concern. "What is Ironman doing to Willa?"

"Why is she buried with her underwear?" I ask, earning a glance of warning from the doctor. Sighing, I take a moment to breathe, not wanting to say anything I might regret. "What is- sweetheart," I murmur as I notice the poor thing's eyes filling with tears. "What is Tony doing to you?"

"Hurting me," she concedes, her voice barely loud enough to hear. Her big green eyes peer up at mine and beg for what she's too afraid to out loud: to not hurt her, myself, to not be angry with her for expressing her feelings with her toys.

"Okay, Willa-bug," I nod, not completely understanding but deciding that at the moment, I don't really need to. My biggest priority for now has to be showing Willa that she's safe and that she's not in trouble for what she's admitted. "What if- how about Daddy comes and helps you?" I offer hopefully, taking the Captain America figure from Jenny carefully and holding it up for the little girl to see. "How about Daddy comes and protects you?"

"N-no," Willa refuses, picking up her sandbox and holding it slightly closer to herself, almost in a protective manner.

"Why not, sweetheart? How about Daddy comes and- comes and makes Tony stop, stops him from hurting you," I try, reaching out with the figure and trying to place it in the sandbox with the other two characters. Unexpectedly, Willa jerks it away, bits of sand spilling out from the sides as a look of anger forms on the child's face, a look I've never seen before. "Willa, please-" I insist, extending a hand to take hold of the sandbox.

But to my complete surprise, instead of pulling back again or allowing me, Willa throws the entire thing at me, sand dumping all over my clothes as she snaps, "No. You don't. You didn't."

As the dust settles into my lap and I blink away the sand from my eyes, I'm met with the sight of Willa staring back at me, any indication of anger or frustration completely drained from her face. Her eyes are as wide as saucers as she gawks at me, as if she, herself, can't believe what she's done. And before I can say anything, before I can reassure her or even try to calm her fears, she's jolted up onto her feet, running right out of her bedroom door. 

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[hacash]

I’ve said before that I think it could make sense that Nate might want to return as assistant kitman for a little bit - to concentrate on being happy, to be one with the guys, to join in with all the team rituals he was barred from in S1. I also think that, going by clips from 3x12 and dialogue from 3x11, it’s not ridiculous to assume that he ended up back as coach, and that the kitman stint was intended as temporary (and likely done at Nate’s instigation).

However, do to that well it really needed a couple of additional scenes, which I can only assume had to be cut to save time...

-

“Good to have you back, mate,” Colin says, coming up to Nate while the team come together, chatting and laughing over Isaac’s costume. “But what are you doing as assistant kitman? We thought you were gonna be our coach again.”

“Oh! Oh, I know that. But, you know, it was all very sudden, and there wouldn’t have been time to draw up a new coaching contract before the season ended, and I still wanted to return in whatever capacity I could, and I - ” Nate’s cheerful ramble ends, his gaze slides over to where Will is shaking Isaac’s hand, “I had some unfinished business here, you know? Besides, I always enjoyed spending time in the locker room with you lot.”

“Glad to hear it, boyo. But you’re going to be coaching us next season, right? We didn’t trek it all the way over to Tooting just to set you up doing laundry, you know.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my fabric softener blend has been much sought after by members of the team,” Nate snarks. “And their mums.”

Colin just looks flatly at Nate.

Finally Nate grimaces, eyes briefly tensing shut. “I…I don’t know; alright, Colin? I just – I didn’t behave well as a coach at all when I was here, and I don’t know if I trust myself to do the same thing again, you know? I don’t think I deserve to be your coach again.”

“Oh, come on, you weren’t all that – ”

“No, no, no, let me say it – that was something I was wanting all my life, you know, and I,” hands flail, “I fucked it up, alright? I made mistakes, and I hurt people, and I just – I’m not sure if I want to put myself back there yet.” Nate sighs, visibly pulling himself together. “Look, for now I just want to enjoy my time here and focus on the last game, alright?”

Colin sighs and huffs, but he nods. “Whatever you say, Nate.” He glances around and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Look, rules are rules and all, but me and the Honourable McAdoo are gonna split your fine between the two of us, yeah? No need to worry about it.”

Nate laughs. “Well, that’s very generous of you; but if I’m part of the team I want to be part of the team, and I can afford it now – ”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it, boyo. Just some unfinished business, yeah?”

Colin tips Nate a wink and heads back into the group of laughing footballers, leaving Nate watching them all. His eyes travel over the Greyhounds – the team he once said could do anything, his smile broad – and then, as his smile softens, he glances back to the coach’s office. Ted can be seen in the window, talking to someone.

Jolted out of his reverie by someone’s laughter, Nate looks back to the footballers. He laughs genuinely, loudly. When Bumbercatch gestures him into the crowd he joins them, willingly. He’s part of the team.

-

“No! No, no, no, that’s…that’s lovely.”

“Knew you’d understand.” Ted pauses, smiles. “Mind if I ask you a personal question, Nate?”

Nate’s still blinking back tears, but he manages to muster a deep breath. “Of course, sure.”

“What the heck are you doing back here as a kitman anyhow?”

Nate nearly flinches again, as if Ted has snuck up on him a second time. He looks around sharply, but Ted is just staring up at the wall, smiling.

“Sure wasn’t expecting it, when I came in to see you folding towels again.”

“I just…didn’t feel it was right to return as a coach yet,” Nate says. “It just didn’t seem right.”

Ted looks at him, until Nate blushes and glances down. Finally Ted nods.

“Right, right. Well, I get that. After I came home and found out that my dad died I dropped out of my high school drama club entirely. Kept thinking that if I’d just got home in time that day I coulda gotten him the help he needed, I felt it was only right.” Ted’s words are soft. Nate blinks in surprise, looking at him carefully. “Just landed the role of Kenickie as well. Heckuva thing, could have landed myself a career on Broadway rather than Richmond.” He smiles. “I just wonder…what would have happened if someone had pointed out that I was just wasting time punishing myself, you know? That it wasn’t helping anyone to deprive myself of something I loved, least of all me.”

Nate bites into his lip. He’s trying not to cry.

“Right. I…I think I understand that.”

“I knew you would, Nate. You’re a smart fella.”

Another pause.

“I just need to think about it, Ted.”

“Well, you’d better think long and hard about that sucker,” Ted says. His eyes crease gently. “After all, after this week there’ll be a space going free on the coach’s team for someone with plenty of smarts and a big old heart as well. I can’t think of anyone better for the job.”

Nate visibly softens as he looks at Ted. “You’re really going back, aren’t you?”

Ted pauses. His eyes flicker back up to the space where the poster used to hang, and then a tender smile deepens. “Time to go back, Nate. I didn’t know how much longer I could take, not being with my little boy.”

Briefly Nate hovers, and then touches Ted’s elbow. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that.”

-

“Aren’t you going to stand up with the other coaches, Nate?” Will asks as they sit together, awkwardly watching eleven grown men openly weeping on the pitch.

“I’m the assistant kitman,” Nate murmurs absent-mindedly, already chewing on a thumbnail. God, he’s nervous. “To. Assistant to the kitman.”

There’s a pause. He glances across to see Will glaring pointedly at him.

“You get a better view from back here anyway,” he adds weakly.

“Uh-huh,” Will says, not sounding particularly convinced.

-

Throughout the match Nate is on the edge of his seat, almost straining at the bit. Unable to join Roy, Beard and Ted standing on the sidelines. Not quite part of their group, but not in amongst Will and the physios and the reserves either. Eyes fixed on the Richmond team.

Whenever the Greyhounds miss a pass or take a tackle Nate winces. Halfway through the second half Ted turns and sees a notebook has appeared in Nate’s hand: he’s jotting down notes without even taking his eyes off the play. Ted smiles to himself, and then turns back to the game.

When the additional seconds of time are added Nate’s on his feet: still not joining the coaches, notebook still in his hands. Staring onto the pitch as if his life depends on it. Nate’s eyes are flickering as Roy and Beard debate the merits of trick plays - murmuring beneath his breath, brain going into overdrive, and then – oh. Ohh.

Realisation dawns on Nate’s face. On Ted’s face. Their gazes meet.

“Oh my God,” Nate says softly. Half a whisper, half elation.

“Yep,” Ted is going – grinning, already beckoning Nate to come forward. “Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep – ”

“You sure that – ”

“Yes.”

“You really think it’ll – ”

“Yes! Hey, hey Jamie!” Ted hollers for Jamie’s attention and then mimes handing something over to Nate. “It’s an Oscar!”

“Or a Tony Award!” Nate hollers. He’s grinning.

He knows where he belongs.

[loopyarts]

Rated teen and up warning before you read this fanfic it contains lots of heavy subjects such as dysfunctional/toxic family relationships, child abuse, bullying, death, blood and violence.

It was written by Me and shouts out to my editor Sangerie they went above and beyond making this the best it can be they even partly co-written the fic mainly the Sanji scenes near the end and Sora POV.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52099930 also here’s a link to the fic on Archiveofourown.org if prefer to read it there.

With all that said enjoy your read of oneshot fic of Ichiji. :3

Sora's Pov

Cries of pain echoed from Sora and all throughout the walls of Germa castle as she went into labour hours ago. She pushed with all her might as the midwives scurried about to-and-fro to aid her. Through teary eyes, she heard the cries of her first baby boy ring out before sunrise.

Her breathing was slow and ragged as the midwives held him up so she could gaze upon his features. He was a quiet newborn. He blinked around the room, unfazed by his surroundings as his deep yet dull ocean-blues that reflected her own gazed back back down at her.

Tufts of vibrant red hair strands fell down and framed his little chubby face. She longed to reach out and hold him so badly, but a shot of pain surged through her body. Her second son was clearly itching to get out.

As she braced herself with a deep breath, she noticed her husband, Judge, enter the room and watched as he was handed their firstborn son by a midwife. His face beamed with pride and joy.

"Ichiji. His name shall be Ichiji, and all throughout the North Blue–no, all throughout the world will know of him one day!" he laughed proudly as their son remained expressionless in his arms, blinking at him with dull eyes.

Sora's heart grew heavy as she watched Judge hold him almost as if he were a doll. Her body strained through labour and her spirit did too as she lamented that she'd failed her firstborn son while tears pricked the corners of her eyes at the knowledge that her husband had robbed Ichiji of his heart.

She watched on bitterly as he coddled Ichiji tenderly in his arms, giving him a love that she'd never seen him give to their daughter before. She gnashed her teeth as the long grueling morning marched forward.

23 minutes passed and out popped "Niji" with a round pouting face, squinting eyes and arms flailing about blindly as he whined ever so slightly. Not long after Niji came "Sanji" into the world wailing out loudly as he was washed and then placed neatly beside his brothers. And then finally 40 minutes later her fourth and final son, "Yonji" was born. He seemed to be a curious one as his eyes fluttered across the room and he babbled softly.His eyes settled on her for a moment, but much to her dismay he quickly lost interest in her and looked away with a dull blue expression, too.

After the many hours of pain, she laid her head down into the pillow with a heavy sigh. Sweat rolled down the sides of her face and she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to hold her sons, but her eyes could barely stay open a second longer. Her vision narrowed, her body ached.

She will just have to coddle them tomorrow.

_______

Ichiji's Pov

Ichiji blinked as he stared up at the ceiling of the castle walls, he then felt one of his brothers latch onto him and snuggle him tightly. He turned his eyes to his left and gazed at his blonde brother who babbled and giggled as he cozied up further into Ichiji. He laid his head around Ichiji's stomach as he wrapped his arms around him in contentment.

Ichiji felt annoyed at first–he shifted around but stopped when he realised his brother wasn’t coming off.

He huffed to himself as he laid there hot, bothered and annoyed. Although after a while, it actually started to feel nice as his blonde haired brother clung to him. It felt warm, comfortable–safe. His eyelids grew heavy as he began drifting off to sleep along with him–cuddling back into him tightly.

_______

Ichiji was startled awake by voices. Quickly, he was being lifted up into the air with his blonde brother-along with his blue and green haired brothers carried in tow by another.

He'd wondered where they were going before they'd stopped in front of a woman with golden hair, basking in the beams of morning's light.

The strangers carrying them had then placed them into her warm embrace. She poured over them with her oceanic eyes and smiled fondly. "Hello my dears, I'm your mummy." she said in a soft honeyed voice.

Ichiji's dulled blues met her bright ones along with his brothers. They gazed up at her, taken in by her loving expression.

Her, now "mummy" began to comb through his red hair gently with her fingertips. Ichiji held a puzzled expression at her actions. He blinked at her, letting his head lay gently in her hand. He began to drift off while letting his brothers flail, giggle and babble to her while he relaxed in his mummy's embrace.

_______

At two years old, Ichiji walked about and around the playroom, it was playtime mother said (or "mummy" he called her sometimes–but father didn’t like that.) He would say to Mummy, "No son of mine would ever be calling their mother such a childish thing."

Ichiji found the toy box, it had dress-up stuff inside; it had probably belonged to his older sister, Reiju.

He dug inside the box and found a toy crown and placed it atop his head. He then found Sanji's blue blanket-or in Sanji's words–"blanky", he wrapped it around his shoulders and tied a knot to make a cape. Sanji wouldn’t mind if he borrows his blanky for just a little bit, Ichiji thought cheekily.

He set off to find mummy to show off his new kingly look to her, his little shoes pitter-pattered along the stone castle hallways towards his mother’s bedroom.

“Mummy!” called Ichiji in a happy yet deadpan-sounding tone as he entered the room to see that his mummy was reading a book cuddled up with Sanji whose eyes sparkled in awe as he was read to. Ichiji then stood proudly puffing up his chest attempting a smirk as best he could on his mostly static face.

“Look Mummy, I’m king now! Look at my majestic crown and cape!” he twirled a little as his mother giggled at him while Sanji looked a bit annoyed as he realised that the cape Ichiji was wearing was actually his blue blanket.

“Oh I see, aren’t you a handsome king” his mummy chuckled bookmarking Sanji's book and placing it on her lap as Sanji walked up to Ichiji with puffed cheeks.

“Ichiji, why do you have my blanky?” His younger brother asked, tilting his head with a pout yet curious expression on his face.

“It’s not a blanket Sanji, it’s a cape and I’m only borrowing for a short while, little brother.” Ichiji taunted.

“You’re a big meanie!” Sanji whined as he pounced on his eldest twin and knocked the toy crown off Ichiji's head to which the redhead responded by playfully fighting back. The pair tumbled about, giggles and laughter could be heard but mostly coming from Sanji. Ichiji grinned as he easily pinned Sanji down.

“I win” he said flatly yet filled with pride.

“No fair, you always win!” screamed Sanji as he tried to get Ichiji off of him. Ichiji looked down blankly and watched as Sanji struggled, he huffed and loosened his hold on his younger brother.

In the next moment, to his surprise–he'd found himself toppled to the floor and pinned down by Sanji instead, his tears had been a sly trick!

Sanji beamed at him proudly, "I-I did it?" he said, dumbfounded. It honestly amused Ichiji, he was always so dramatic over the simplest of things. Then again, Niji and Yonji both had similar reactions when he'd let them win, too. When Niji won, he'd grin cockily and taunt him with a "Ha! Who's the little brother now?" While Yonji would loudly and playfully cheer at his own victory.

Ichiji stayed on the ground as Sanji attempted to tickle him to no avail.

Just then, he heard his mother’s voice call out to them, saying how messy they had gotten from play-fighting and that she'd help tidy them up. Ichiji noticed then how messy his hair was, it was all fluffed out of place.

He walked up to the end of his mother's bed and promptly sat down. He watched idly as she first brushed Sanji's hair waiting for his turn.

Ichiji never had Mummy brush his hair before, it was usually the maids and servants that did that. Then again, rarely has it ever gotten dirty or messy unless he was training. He was tidiest out of all of his brothers, even Reiju in some rare cases.

As his Mother finished brushing Sanji's hair, she looked at him with a smile and asked “Would you like me to brush your hair too, Ichiji?” He nodded yes to his mummy and crawled on over to her side, sitting where Sanji was, while Sanji took his spot placing himself at the end of mummy’s bed.

His Mummy hummed as she gently brushed through his messy red hair. It felt nice. He peeked up at his mummy, fidgeting his fingers slightly.

She continued to brush his hair humming her tune. “You know, Ichiji...you have such soft hair just like your mummy and your big sister. It makes it much easier to brush–” she chuckled a bit and then continued, “unlike your brothers, who have your father’s much thicker hair.” Ichiji dully blinked at his mother as something similar to a genuine small smile crept onto his face. He wondered why mummy broke down into tears and pulled him into her embrace, holding him tightly at the sight of his smile. He was confused–"Mummy and Sanji are so strange", he thought.

_______

At four years old, Ichiji was honestly still so confused by Sanji. Why was he always slacking off and playing with rodents? It was not playtime, it was training time. He managed to drag Sanji back, although he was clearly not happy about it. He shivered at the mere sight of Ichiji and the redhead didn’t understand why. He was just doing what was necessary to make sure Sanji got back in line. Why did he insist on defying father if he knew it would make him angry?

_______

After the training, they all played in the garden with mummy. It was one of rare times she was allowed out of her room given her sickly condition. Niji was running around chasing Sanji, who hopped over Yonji causing Niji to slam into him.

Ichiji shook his head, his younger brothers were all such fools in their own way. Sanji cried, running behind their mother–or "mummy" why does he still call her that, anyway?

He stared down at the grass with his head propped up by his hands as his dull eyes locked onto a butterfly. He didn’t understand why he fixed his stare on the insect, but the yellow and gold wings reminded him of mother. The butterfly took off however, the moment Ichiji was suddenly pushed onto his stomach from behind. He was now covered in dirt, blades of grass and scattered petals from the flower patch below him.

“Gotcha, Ichi!” laughed Niji, lying on top of him covered in dirt with leaves sticking out of that blue hair of his. Ichiji huffed in annoyance as he hopped up, knocking Niji off of him in the process. He glanced down at the sight of himself–he hated being dirty. He shot an icey cold glare at Niji causing his younger brother to flinch and turn on his heels rushing away to join Yonji who was kicking a ball around with Reiju in the distance.

He didn’t understand Niji and Yonji sometimes and how they could run around like idiots–seemingly not having a care in the world about getting dirty or keeping up appearances.

Ichiji sighed as he walked over to his mummy who was resting with Sanji in the shade,who held his favorite book close to his chest as laid his head next to mummy's side. His annoyance rose at the sight of them together, "why does Sanji get her attention all of the time?" Ichiji thought as he approached his mother and tugged at her dress gently.

"Oh, Ichiji! What is it sweetheart?” asked his Mummy. His deep dull blues looked up into her glistening ones as he pointed at his untidy hair covered in dirt and fauna and then pointed over to his mother's brush quietly.

“Ohh, I see...so you want me to brush your hair and tidy it up a bit–is that right?” she smiled and patted her lap, signaling Ichiji to sit down there. He propped himself up and sat quietly in his mother’s lap. She began plucking the petals and grass out of his fluffy red hair, treating him delicately.

She dusted him off and then began brushing through his red locks. He relaxed and closed his eyes as she began to hum a familiar tune while running her brush and warm hands through his hair gently.

His siblings chattered off in the background–a cool salty breeze blew by. He liked moments like these between just him and her.

Reiju skipped over a rope gleefully as it was held by Niji and Yonji at opposite ends, swinging it over and under in sync. Sanji sat at his and mummy's side reading his favourite book–"The All Blue" as he recalled. The story was a fairy tale but for some reason, Sanji believed it was real.

Ichiji closed his eyes and listened to his mother humming away with cheer in her voice as birds flew overhead and his siblings giggled and laughed happily in the distance .

It would have been nice if good moments like those lasted forever–but good things never do.

In fact, he only saw his mother again 4 more times after that.

_______

It was so strange, lately he barely had time to think. Most days were spent training day in and day out like clockwork. Sanji was getting on his nerves as he was always falling behind–he couldn't even take down a simple foot soldier. Ichiji thought it was no wonder that he got his ass handed to him by Niji and Yonji so often.

“Why is he so weak?” he muttered to himself in a hushed tone. Weren't they born from the same womb? They'd shared a crib for the first few weeks of their lives and practically did almost everything together...yet only he was so different, why?

Just then, he heard a sharp crash followed by someone wailing. He watched as Sanji burst out of a room and ran past him in tears. He then saw their father walk out shortly after, “Pay no mind to that failure, he’ll get over it.” was all his father said as he continued to walk away.

Ichiji curiously made his way into the room shortly after to inspect the scene. He then noticed the broken window with splashes of food on it. He pushed up a chair and hopped atop it to look down only to see a spot of red below and what looked to be a dead rodent surrounded by shards of what once was a plate and a discarded meal scattered about.

"Is this really what he was crying on about?" Ichiji sighed. How could he cry for lowly vermin?

He hopped down from the chair and briskly made his way back to the training grounds so as to not keep his father waiting.

_______

Ichiji never sees his mother much anymore. Too busy with training and studying, then again–when has he had any free time at all in this past year?

Father boasted how proud he was of him and that he wanted to push him harder, saying it would help him become a better king when he’s older. So Father doubled his training and studying for this year.

Ichiji's body felt hot for some reason–he stayed up late last night because those were the only hours he had time to himself these days to relax. He liked how quiet it was whenever he went out in the garden at night to stargaze. Sometimes he’d bring a book as well to read under the glow of his lantern.

Suddenly he began to cough, he blinked in confusion. Why was he coughing so much? He stroked his throat as it grew sore. He continued to walk through the castle hallways and he noticed how the maids looked at him with pity in their eyes as he kept coughing and coughing. He heard them whispering from under their breaths–“Poor dear” said one.

“Maybe if it were Prince Sanji, I would feel more pity.” scoffed another.

“But, I thought those monsters couldn’t get sick?" said the third in a confused tone.

Despite the servants' attempted whispers, Ichiji had heard it all. He coughed profusely once again and carried on with a groan. This was starting to get on his nerves. He made his way to the library and sat down with materials to study. When he tried to start taking notes, his hand began to shake. He attempted to steady it but it wouldn't obey and the ink from his quill fell to the page leaving wobbly indecipherable scribbles in the place of words.

This shocked the young prince. He threw the pen aside and slammed the book closed in frustration. “Ahh! What in the world's wrong with me today!?” Ichiji shouted in a monotone voice–even his screams of anger and frustration were quieter than all of his brothers.

He then lifted his face up from the table, his vision was getting a little fuzzy. He shook his head to clear it up and coughed with a wheeze into his hand. He then thought of mother’s room–almost by instinct, he started to rush over to the infirmary where his mother's room was while coughing all the way there.

As soon as Ichiji entered her room, his mother sat up with surprise at his sudden arrival. "Ichiji-!" his mother said with cheer "Oh, it's been so long since I've seen you last! How have you been, my dear?" He made his way over to her, "Mother.." he said flat and breathlessly as he climbed up into her bed and seeped down by her side, looking up at her with hazy eyes.

Her skin had grown so pale since the last time he'd last seen her. She looked almost transparent, like a ghost. Her once golden hair now carried only a drop of the vibrant glow it once had.

He talked to her about his training and how he's been working very hard. She nodded along, smiling softly at him–until he mentioned how his father had been giving him extra special training. This seemed to have upset his mother after hearing that.

As the conversation carried on, his coughing fit flared back up again and his mother bounced up with great attention and worry. She placed the back of her chilly hand to his forehead, "Ichiji, you're burning up-!" she said with great worry in her tone. He began to feel faint and the room spun more as his coughing continued in his mother's arms. She held him closer and whispered gently, "Rest now, Ichiji. Don't worry, mummy will take care of you."

There was that word again, "mummy".

His eyes began to grow heavy almost as soon as he'd gotten permission to rest. He snuggled further into the warmth of her embrace. A strange rhythm in her chest became his lullaby as he drifted off to sleep.

_______

As he slept on, he thought he'd heard yelling, although it was faint and everything sounded muffled as if it had been underwater.

It sounded like...mother and father? Were they yelling at each other? His breath rushed a bit and then halted more as the voices drew near him and became clearer.

"How could you!? He's only 7 years old, Judge!"

"I will do whatever I must to ensure that he reaches the height of his potential! You need to stop treating them as if they were average children, Sora!"

A pained scoff fell out of her, "Are you truly the man that I married? What happened to the man that swore he'd do anything for his family–? Or has your pride and ambition to bring back the 'glory days' of Germa turned you into a blind and heartless fool!?"

"Sora–why can't you see that I'm building a future for us all? Ichiji is to be the future king of Germa, failure is not an option! He must be strong, he must be the best of the best! I must make sure that he is perfect! Together we will retake the North Blu–"

A stifled sob came from her, cutting him short as she coldly turned her back to him and faced towards the still and silent Ichiji wrapped up in her bed, "You've taken enough, haven't you? You've taken his heart, his freedom, his will–why can't you see...? There's nothing left to take anymore."

Loud footsteps plodded away followed by the sound of a heavy door closing behind him. A moment of silence hung in the air before his mother sat down softly beside him and stroked his hair ever so gently. He then felt warm wet droplets rain down over his cheeks followed by an embrace with quiet sobs at his side.

His eyes remained too heavy to open them and his ears rang louder. Why was she crying? And what did they mean by all of that before? His mind became fuzzy again as he drifted back off into a deep sleep.

_______

When he woke up, it was already late at night. He turned his head to see he was laying by his mother's side as she held him close. He still felt dizzy, but he laid in her embrace looking up. Tear stains were dried on her cheeks. Why did she cry to this extent? Was it because of him?

Ichiji yawned and cuddled in closer to his mother and then he heard something in her chest–the same rhythm as earlier, "ba-thump, ba-thump" it went. How strange...was this part of her illness? And yet...the sound was nice. He slipped away into sleep just like that.

_______

In the morning, his mum's personal maid ("Époni", as he recalled) came into her room and halted with a horrified expression at the sight of the two. She wasted no time in hurrying up to the redhead to collect him away from his Mummy. In a panicked voice she pulled him away explaining that if he stayed with his mother, he could potentially give the queen his fever and rapidly deteriorate her health further. Ichiji looked back and saw the sadness in his mother's eyes as he was guided away from her side.

He spent the next few days bedridden and was forced to lay there with nothing to do, much to his annoyance. He'd run his hand across his red satin sheets out of sheer boredom. Worst of all, Niji and Yonji would stop by only to just taunt him for getting sick. In the redhead's mind, he hoped they'd get sick as well so he could get back at them.

"Just you wait, Niji, Yonji...!" the eldest had a devilish plan brewing indeed. Once he was fully recovered, they were in for a nasty surprise.

_______

Ichiji was very pleased indeed as he heard from the maids and staff within the castle chattering on about how Prince Niji and Yonji were now also bedridden by a sick bug caused by mysterious food poisoning.

He giggled to himself in a tone so flat that it was almost creepy. His little prank had worked. He slipped into the kitchen the night before and spiked their soup with a few special ingredients of his own–a slightly mouldy turnip, some dirt and a slug for each of them. He was surprised they didn’t notice the odd taste as they consumed it all.

“They’re so stupid!” he laughed monotonously once more as he headed to the training grounds. Now they have to miss a few days of training too, he thought snidely to himself. Strangely enough though, his father seemed to have lightened up on his training schedule. Instead of double the work; it was just the same as his sister and brothers.

However, his father set a cold gaze upon him today and Ichiji didn't like it. He tried to shake off his father's piercing stare and focus on his training.

Sanji still fell behind the same as ever, but what else was new? Meanwhile Reiju nearly outran the hotblooded prince himself that day on the running course.

Almost beating him in a race?! He would not stand for that. He wasn't going to let Reiju of all people get the satisfaction of beating him on the track, that'd be shameful! He'd just have to work even harder from now on.

_______

After training he saw Sanji heading into their mother’s room. He peeked inside to see them laughing together. Ichiji blinked between the two, why are they laughing? There is nothing to laugh about. Ichiji's mouth felt dry. Mother only ever smiles like that for him. What in the world made Sanji so special? Sanji's just a good for nothing failure; meanwhile Ichiji himself is far from it.

He stopped peeking from around the corner and continued walking down the hall, remaining vexed by his swirling thoughts.

It's not fair.

"...it's not fair!!" he roared out in anger, slamming his fist into the wall causing it to shake by the force of the blow. The wall cracked and left behind a crater the size of his fist as he pulled it away. What is this fury that brews inside him, making his body tremble and his teeth grind within his mouth?

Why couldn't he make his mother smile like Sanji can?

_______

Throughout the week, he continued to see Sanji; he couldn’t stand him at this point. Why is he always trying to cook mother a meal? He should be training! He started to hate mother as well–she only ever pays attention to Reiju and Sanji nowadays, it’s not fair! All she ever gives him is a look of pity and sadness. Then again, she always loved Sanji more. He hated it so much-! Niji's jealousy was far greater than his, though–to the point that he harassed Sanji every chance he got or whenever saw him exit mother’s room.

But on the last day of that week, something in Ichiji snapped and he made a mistake he'd regret for the rest of his life.

"I hate you!", Ichiji said with enough venom that it pierced through his normal dull tone.

He towered over the cowering Sanji as he cried against the side of his mother's bed. Ichiji continued hurling insult after insult his way, rubbing salt in his wounds further.

"I sometimes wish you were dead, so I no longer have to see your fa–" he was cut off abruptly by the impact of his mother's frail hand meeting the side of his face.

Her weak body trembled as she struggled to remain standing upright. She shot daggers out of her eyes at Ichiji–a sight he'd never seen from his mother before.

"Don't you EVER say that to your brother again-do you hear me, Ichiji!?" she yelled with tears dousing her fiery eyes as she shielded Sanji from him with her body.

Ah, he'd made her cry again…

A moment passed as she made Sanji leave the room saying she'd like to have a word alone with Ichiji. He stood there frozen in place with a stoney expression as Sanji nodded quietly and turned away from Ichiji and their mother to exit the room. The door clicked behind him and then it was just Ichiji and mother.

As she approached him, his breath grew heavier and hitched in his throat when his eyes met her cold gaze. It wasn't the first time he'd been looked at this way by someone, but this time it felt different.

His legs began to buckle and his marked cheek stung the more she yelled at him and cried. But it was when her voice fell and she said softly "I'm so sorry my love, I've failed you-" something in the normally quiet Ichiji just snapped like it never had before as he yelled at the top of his lungs, "I hate you! I hate you, mother!! You're a liar–!" He closed his eyes tightly, feeling his whole body tremble with rage, "You've never loved me or Niji or Yonji the same way you love Sanji, so don't you lie to me!!" he finished huffing and panting and then suddenly he felt something wet–something warm slide down his cheeks.

His mother looked on in shock as her hand covered her mouth. "I-Ichiji, I'm-" her voice trembled as she hesitantly reached out.

Ichiji didn't understand this unfamiliar feeling that was overcoming him but his mind went blank and he turned on his heels bursting out of the room fleeing the scene as his mother fell to the floor crying out to him begging him to come back. Her voice grew smaller and more faint the further he ran through the corridors.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" her voice still lingered and rang in his ears even though he could not hear her anymore.

He ran into his room and threw himself onto his bed, burying himself deeper into it. He couldn't stop the hot unpleasant wetness from flowing out of his eyes.

_______

After some time had passed, Ichiji lifted his head from his pillow which was now dampened by the mysterious liquid from his eyes. He got up to look in the mirror and inspect his face–his eyes were puffy and red, did that water really come from there?

He walked over to his window–it was sunset now and orange dyed the sky in its vibrant hue. The sun's rays bounced off Ichiji's scarlet red hair as it dipped down slowly behind Germa's high walls. He'd calmed down now, sitting by the window transfixed on the far off horizon. He felt so confused. He was supposed to be "perfect" but then why did he-? His thoughts drifted back to his mother and his chest grew heavy. He just couldn't understand.

"I have to go see her again–" Ichiji made up his mind, standing up with determination. He made his way over to the door but then paused for a moment, deciding to pick up his crimson hair brush on his way out–he didn't know why but he felt he needed it.

When he arrived at her door he hesitantly peeked inside her room. And there he saw her sitting up in her bed with glassy and distant eyes facing the window as she watched some birds fly by.

Slowly, he stepped into her room and climbed up onto her bed, making his way to her side. He then took his brush in hand and began to brush her hair remembering the times she used to brush his. He thought that maybe this will make his mother–mummy happy?

His mum took notice of him as he remained fixated on brushing her hair. He went through her soft golden locks steadily bit by bit. And then he felt something gliding through his own hair–his mum reached back behind his head with her own brush and faced towards him brushing his hair in return. She gave him a small genuine smile with cheerful eyes as they held a peaceful silence between the two of them brushing each other's hair back and forth for a while.

The silence broke however when his mother spoke up, "Is this your way of apologising to me, Ichiji?" she inquired. He looked up at her blankly and tilted his head, he was a little confused–was this really some type of apology? He wondered.

"I forgot–you've never been a big talker, you've always been such a quiet boy.." she continued to brush his fringe, "and yet you're a good listener aren't you–you always listen to what Niji and Yonji have to say." Ichiji nodded along–but in the back of his mind he thought about the real reason why he didn't talk much. It wasn't because he didn't want to but because he found speaking to be so tiresome.

Sometimes Niji would speak for him and he liked that. It made his life so much easier when his loudmouth brother did all the talking–although he and Niji still did butt heads every now and then.

With Yonji, he loves attention and enjoys prattling on about things that interest him. Right now it's bread. Ugh seriously, why bread of all things...? But even still, it's nice that he talks on and on–filling the air so he didn't have to.

Ichiji remained quiet, continuing brushing his mum's hair as he lingered a little longer on the thoughts of his brothers.

"Mhm, maybe..." he muttered back to her. His hand stopped brushing and gently lowered a bit as he closed his eyes while his mother continued on brushing his. She made her way through the rest of his cowlicks and smoothed them out one by one as the brush caught the loose strands in its grasp. His mind drifted away. He wondered why she was even brushing his hair–wasn't she still mad at him? This thought made his chest feel weighted again...but maybe–maybe mother would know?

"Mother...my chest hurts, am I ill again?" he said, pointing to the side of his chest where the ache was.

His mother then placed her hand at the spot where he pointed and said to him, "That is your heart, Ichiji. Sometimes when something is bothering us, our hearts react to how we're feeling." She closed her eyes and lowered her head, resting it against his chest, "And having a heart is, well–it's what makes someone human." his heart pinched at her words that were laced with a hint of pain.

She sighed and held him all the tighter, "I'm so sorry, Ichiji...I wish I had known sooner."

The redheaded prince didn't understand, why was his mother apologising to him? What did she mean by she "wished she knew sooner"? He didn't know the answer–but he reached out and started to pat his mother's head and then he wrapped his arms around her gently.

They stayed in each other's embrace for what felt like hours (his internal clock told him it had only been 20 minutes, though.) He looked up outside her window and saw that it had already become dusk. He pulled away steadily from her, "Mother, it's getting late. I should be getting back to my room now." he felt his frail mother tighten her grip on him and she whispered weakly with glassy eyes, "Ichiji, sweetie, can't you stay just a little bit longer?" Ichiji didn't know what to think of her request...no–it was more like a desperate plea for him to stay.

He could easily pull away and break her hold on him if he wanted to–yet seeing her tired eyes made him ache for some reason. He then nodded with an affirming "mhm..." and leaned back into her. Despite her ghostly appearance, she was still just as warm as he'd remembered. She pulled him down to rest with her and began to hum a nostalgic tune as her silken fingertips petted him softly. He couldn't see his mother's expression, but he could tell she was happy.

_______

Sunlight filtered through the window and into his heavy lidded eyes causing him to groan. He raised himself up and blinked idly around for a moment before looking down towards his mother.

"Good morning, mo–" he stopped in his tracks. She wasn't moving. He then reached out and held his hand to her face–ice cold to the touch. Her lips held a soft smile with ruby red stains that painterly poured down her chin and pooled into the ridges of her sunken neck. "M-mummy-?" her eyes once bright like ocean mornings were now dull and cloudy like rainy skies. Lifeless. He began to shiver and in a desperate attempt, he grabbed his hairbrush and began to brush her faded hair hoping it would become the vibrant gold it once was again.

When it didn't work, he halted and the brush slipped from his hand. He couldn't move, he couldn't feel anything. He stared at her in shock until he heard a piercing scream come from the doorway, "Ahh! Prince Ichiji!! What on earth are you doing!? What have you done to the queen!?" yelled his mother's maid, Époni as she gasped in fright with mother's morning meal smashing to the floor.

He didn't understand her insinuation at first but then he looked down to his hands and shirt and saw that they were stained with the same ruby red colour that trickled from his mother's lips. He realised then what she thought he had done.

No–he didn't do it! He didn't do that to her-!

The terrified maid scowled at him with a fierce glare and at the sight of her weighty judgment, his eyes became wet again–the warm liquid poured down his cheeks and his vision blurred. Seeing this, the maid's expression softened and her anger melted away. In a flash she rushed over to him and picked him up with a hug, "Ohh, don't cry you poor dear!" startled by the abrupt shift in mood, Ichiji watched as the maid fell into tears along with him for some reason.

"I'm going to miss her, too!" she sobbed.

“Miss her"...is that why he's crying?

He froze as she cried into him and found himself wondering how she could go from being terrified of him to coddling him? She was really a strange woman indeed.

_______

Nobody found out he was in mother's room that day and yet rumors and whispers still scurried throughout the halls that the queen had been murdered by one of her devil sons.

He'd pass by and hear the murmurs thinking that the servants honestly had way too much free time if they could spin up that huge web of lies in such a short span of time.

It was complete and utter rubbish and yet he felt offended, but why?

_______

Mother's death was strange. Being at her funeral was strange. He stood in deep thought recalling how his mother's eyes were so cold and yet she still had a warm smile on her face even in death. He just couldn’t get that image of her out of his mind. He looked over to his other siblings–his older sister Reiju and younger brother Sanji were crying while his other younger brothers Niji and Yonji looked confused and bored. Ichiji felt nothing, yet something weighed on him; he never got to apologise to his mother did he? Not that it matters anymore...she was dead now and nothing will ever change that.

_______

In the evening, Ichiji laid down on his stomach in his bed with a book and started reading. His expression was as stoic and stoney as ever. He found himself sighing as loose strands of hair fell into view in front of his face. Just then, he heard someone come into his room but he couldn't be bothered to see who it was and so he kept on reading.

Much to his own surprise, he'd picked a fairy tale book today. One that he and mother used to read together–"Iron Hans" it was called. Everytime he reads the tale, he feels a sense of karma to it. Despite it being make-believe and a folktale, he found it rather endearing.

“He raised himself up quickly but the whole of the hair of his head was already golden and shone like the su-” Ichiji paused his reading–someone was behind him.

He peered over his shoulder to see who the trespasser was, only to find Sanji!? Whose face was still stained wet with tears from earlier that day and in his hand was...his crimson hair brush?

"Sanji-" Ichiji said with some surprise, colouring his tone at the sight of his younger brother. It wasn't long before Sanji piped up, "I-I'm sorry, Ichiji...I should have told you I was here." he began to fidget where he stood, "It's just that...I remembered how much you loved it when mummy brushed your hair before, so I–"

'God...', Ichiji thought when he heard the word "mummy" fall out from Sanji's mouth. And of course it was Sanji of all people that would say such a strange thing. He wanted to brush his hair just because mother used to? Why? It wasn't even particularly untidy at the moment and besides, if he wanted to brush it; he could just do it himself for crying out loud. There was no need for all of this.

“I don’t need you to brush my hair, you failure. I can do it by myself.” Ichiji glared at his smaller brother and shot upwards to snatch his brush back from him.

“And even if I wanted my hair to be brushed by another–it would be an insult to have it done by the likes of you, so scram!" his blonde brother broke into a sob at his words and began to yell back at him in anger. This surprised Ichiji as Sanji was normally so meek in his presence. It was rare for Sanji to even talk back to him at all. He looked down at his younger brother watching his wet eyes simmering with a roaring fire behind them–he hadn't heard a word he said but his eyes told him all the same.

"I was only trying to help you, Ichiji–you big jerk-!" Sanji yelled with eyes falling to the floor, "Reiju was right about you and the others–" he continued with fists shaking, "you really are just heartless monsters!" he shouted one last time before turning his back and running off, leaving the room cold again.

A "monster"? Is that what he was?

He didn't cry at the funeral, but his chest felt heavy again at Sanji's biting words. He'd made Sanji cry again...although, that wasn't particularly rare. But Ichiji thought it felt different this time as he grabbed his chest and quietly hunched down with wet eyes of his own.

_______

Not long after the death of their mother–their father announced that Sanji had died to all of Germa. But Ichiji knew better than to take his father at his word. He'd later spotted a servant sneaking off carrying a tray with covered food down into the dungeon depths and discovered the real truth behind the "death" of Sanji. He'd been locked up and caged like an animal, placed in an iron mask that hid his face from view.

"If Sanji had just done what he was told..." Ichiji thought, "then none of this would have happened."

The brother's traveled down into the depths to continue their harassment of Sanji once they learned the truth of his whereabouts.

They found that he was cooking even in the depths of the dirty grimey dungeon.

A familiar scene played out once more where he'd found himself in front of Sanji as he'd just baked a cake with a cream and strawberry topping. Ichiji snatched it from his hand just as he did before–and all the same, Sanji sprang at him with a punch that reverberated a loud clang echoing in the depths.

Ichiji could hardly believe it–after all this time, Sanji was still so terribly weak. Ichiji's body shook with fury and his vision turned red as he lunged forward with a growl, taking Sanji down and pinning him to the floor.

His chest erupted with a burning heat as he began to wail on the younger for displaying such a pathetic sight. The echoes of the other two laughing bounced off the walls and rang throughout their ears as he kept beating down further and further.

''You're an embarrassment–you embarrass even me!" just the sight of him made his blood boil, he was the source of his rage–that's right, it was him! It was all his fault!! All of his pain was because of Sanji, wasn't it? It was always him from the very start!

Catharsis overcame him as his fist became bloodied. He released his rage as Sanji sobbed beneath him, attempting to claw back and begging him to stop–crying out how it hurts. But he wasn't going to fall for his tears again, not this time.

When Ichiji finally stopped, he rose up and pulled away from the bruised and battered Sanji. He stood up and over him and felt that Sanji had become even smaller than before. Ichiji looked down at the ruby red dripping from his fists and he left without a word, leaving Niji and Yonji to their own devices.

As he walked away, he crunched some remaining shards of the shattered plate that once carried the cake beneath the heel of his boot.

It was their 8th birthday today and he felt nothing. He only tasted bitterness in his mouth.

He brought his bloodied hand to his face and stroked his cheek where Sanji had landed the blow. There wasn't even a bruise there. Honestly, he was pathetic beyond all measure. Why would he ever expect any different?

Sanji was Sanji. A failure will always be a failure.

_______

Sanji had gone off and ran away not long after the incident in the dungeon. Despite him leaving, not much had changed between those that remained. Years began passing by like clockwork for Ichiji as every day settled in a fixed routine. The boy was becoming a man quickly as he remained ever static and cold.

He laid on the experiment table often as the scientists dug into his body, refining him into an even more perfect soldier. Scalpels and needles poking and prodding him became something normal that he'd bear with a dull and never changing expression. One scientist however was rather strange, often reaching out and remarking about the color and softness of his hair calling it "pretty". But what use does that spoken sentiment hold to a weapon? What a waste of breath.

_______

At 12 years old, he was sent on his first mission with Reiju tagging along to teach him how things were done and show him the ropes. Most of the opponents were easily mowed down by Ichiji.

On the battlefield he was called many things–freak of nature, devil, monster.

The rain started to fall heavy that day as blood ran from the corpses littering the streets with it. His hair flattened in the rain as he walked through the broken roads that reeked of sulfur, dampened smoke and iron. He still felt nothing as he looked on at the decay around him. But then his chest began to twinge and his heartbeat fell as he took it all in. He still couldn't understand why.

"Their lives were all so meaningless" he thought–but then again, so was his.

Even if he died, he wouldn't care. He was made to not fear death–he cannot fear it. Death was just another worthless word to him, no different than "pretty".

Ichiji may have been a child but he wasn't naive in knowing that death came for all. The world is cold and humans are ugly–he couldn't change this fact.

He stopped and faced his head towards the sky, taking in the sound of the rain crashing down from up above him. It carried bloody water his way, creating small rivers that branched off as it hit his boots.

At least the rain sounded peaceful.

_______

On one of his missions at age 14 and a half, the young prince happened upon a lost kitten who seemed to have been left behind without its mother–wandering in search of her. Ichiji made up his mind to promptly put the small stray out of its misery and end its life as he knew it wasn't long for this world anyway all on its own. He reached out with cold and malicious intent only to feel his heart thump in his chest and skip a beat when the kitten buried its round face into his hand and mewled happily in the act of doing so.

Against the "emotionless" young prince's better judgment, he picked up the lost kitten and carried it back to Germa in his arms. He didn't know how his father would react, but luckily his father was too busy making preparations for an upcoming political meeting he, Ichiji and his siblings were to attend. It was of such high importance that his father paid little mind to the new creature now rummaging within the castle, let alone the detail of who had brought it in.

Ichiji had named her "Nyasha". At first, he wasn't quite sure how to treat her. He'd either hold her wrong or be "too rough" with her as the observing servants would remark in hushed voices within an earshot distance from him.

He had no idea what she wanted when she circled him with a barrage of meows or how to tend to her.

Funnily enough, it was seemingly the most timid servant that approached him and offered the suggestion that petting her gently would please her. The servant then crouched down and began to rub the side of Nyasha's chin with her fingers as an example.

"Gently"? Who am I, Sanji? Ichiji thought to himself with almost a scoff at the notion. But low and behold, Nyasha began to purr away in delight. After a moment, the servant removed her hand from the kitten, "Now you give it a try, Prince Ichiji." she said stepping up and back, giving the two space "Nya would enjoy it even more if it were you. She loves you most, after all."

Ichiji paused for a moment to fully absorb her words, realising just then that the woman that stood before him had actually been quite brave indeed. He then turned his head to Nyasha and began to quietly imitate what he'd been shown. Nyasha looked up at him with eyes big and adoring, she purred in contentment, blinking them slowly at him.

"Love" huh? Was that what this was?

_______

In the evenings, Ichiji would give the ever-growing Nyasha all of the attention she deserved. She'd lay with him and stargaze in the fresh cut grass and she'd even let him read aloud to her or vent his daily frustrations. It didn't matter how flat his voice was or what he'd say, she'd sit with him and listen all the same. He'd found that animals were much easier to understand than humans.

From time to time as Nyasha grew, he'd wonder how strange it was that she had almost tripled in size. She was unusually big for a cat and she had even grown to be half the height of the young prince himself. She grew without any definitive end in sight or so it seemed. Was it something he'd been feeding her? He would question. She was quite chubby, after all.

But as he watched her roll in the grass pleasantly beside him, he concluded that while she may be an anomaly in her own right, it didn't really matter.

Ichiji faced his head up towards the sky–the stars twinkled above them as a cool salty breeze blew through the garden, rustling the leaves on the bushes and nipping through his hair. Nyasha nestled herself into his arms and he couldn't help but feel a small smile creep onto his face.

_______

Present day

Ichiji fell to his bed when he returned home. He was exhausted. Saving Niji and Yonji was no easy feat, especially with the dead weight that was Caesar Clown also tagging along. His raid suit was torn and covered in burn marks–his face was covered in cuts and bruises along the whole of his body, too. His hair hung tangled and messy in the view of his face. At this point, he didn't even care anymore. He was far too tired to even think about getting up to tidy it.

Honestly, it was hard to fully absorb everything that had happened in such a short span of time. Between the wedding preparations and Sanji's return to Germa as a prince–well, rather than saying he'd "returned", a better choice of words would be that he'd been dragged back and forced into an arranged marriage between he and a daughter from the Charlotte family.

And then there was also the matter of the admittedly intimidating Big Mum and her practically endless slough of children at her fingertips.

He was supposed to have died that day, they all were. They were ensnared in a trap and all that was left was the order to pull the trigger–but then Sanji appeared before them and shattered what bound them all beneath the heel of his shoe in an instant. Ichiji just couldn't fathom why. After all he'd done to him...didn't Sanji despise him, hate him even? Why would he go as far to save someone who he'd once called a "heartless monster"?

No, Ichiji knew it had nothing to do with him. Sanji had just done it to spare Reiju's life, that much was obvious. But even still...it moved Ichiji to the point that he sprang into action moments after.

He mulled over all that had happened days before in his head. Thirteen years had passed between them but Sanji remained just as confusing as he ever was.

He thought back to his childhood days and the turbulent feelings that overcame him at times throughout the years.

Perhaps his father...had been wrong about Sanji, and maybe Ichiji himself had been wrong, too. Perhaps Sanji's kindness was never the grand weakness he'd thought it to be. Maybe...he and Sanji weren't so different after a–

It was then that Ichiji's thoughts came to a halt as he sensed a sudden presence standing behind him. He removed his sunglasses and looked over his shoulder only to find Reiju standing there with a slightly curious expression.

"Well, that's a surprise–you never take those things off. What an honour–" she jested with a smile and continued, "Wow–I'd forgotten how much your eyes looked like mums. Such a rich and deep blue–just like the night sky..." she remarked leaning forward just a tad to soak in the rare view.

Ichiji blinked, pausing for a moment at her words–were his eyes really just like mothers? He'd always thought that Sanji's–hell, even Niji or Yonji's eyes looked more similar to hers when compared to his deep ocean-blues.

Ichiji sat up, "Right. So...why are you here?" Ichiji inquired with a monotone inflection, "Do you have something important to say, or are you just here to annoy me?"

To his surprise, she'd then revealed a pink hairbrush that she'd been holding out from behind her back. "I remembered how mother used to brush your hair. You always looked so happy and content when she did it, so..." she drew in closer, "I just thought you might enjoy having your hair brushed by me as well." Ichiji wanted to protest her assumptions but he held his silence for a moment. He was too tired to argue.

"I can brush my own hair, Reiju. I'm not a child any longer." He muttered in a low tone.

She then reached forward and began to brush away as if she didn't hear his reply. Soot and ashes fell from his hair as she kept at it diligently. He sat up further and maintained his silence as he accepted she was stubbornly going to do this whether he wanted her to or not.

It was strange to have his hair brushed by Reiju of all people. And yet...it still felt nice. Comforting, even. He closed his eyes in contentment and in his mind he saw a faint memory of his mother.

He remembered as she hummed that tune while gliding the brush carefully through his cowlicks. He saw her golden locks cascaded over her shoulders as he viewed her from below. His memories of her were faded now but he could still hear her tune and see her smile backlit by the sun. She spoke to him but he could no longer remember the words.

The memory dissipated as the brush left his hair in better form now. "There...all done." Reiju said, doing the remaining finishing touches with her fingertips.

"Good." He got up to pat the dust from earlier that day off of his clothes. He then turned to his sister and looked her up and down with just his eyes–she looked so much like their mother now, it was almost scary.

"Thank you, Reiju..." he spoke softly. At his words, his usually stoic sister lit up a bit and smiled softly in return. He didn't understand why she'd go this far–didn't she hate him? Wasn't he just another heartless monster in her eyes as she once told Sanji?

"Anytime." she said. He nodded in reply and then she slowly turned, leaving the room with a faint warmth it didn't have before.

Ichiji walked up to the window, taking in the pale of the moon. He thought of Niji and Yonji pinned in Big Mom's book like butterflies in some sick display. The night carried on right before his eyes and soon the sun's rays pierced through the high walls of the crumbled desolate country that was known as Germa.

A bird took flight outside his window, becoming one with the sky. It reminded him of his once-weak brother, Sanji as it disappeared and flew far out of view.

His mind wandered further as he rested his head against the wall and closed his heavy eyes.

A small thought popped into his head as he drifted off–he'd wondered if one day they, too, could fly off.

To become free, just as he was.

[lace-coffin]

I have a request. Could you pretty please do some spicy headcanons of Asa with a bratty S/O 🙏. He probably has no tolerance for disobedience so having a bratty pet would result in punishment. Apologies I'm a horny bastard lmao 😂

How would Asa Emory cope with a bratty s/o? (Nsfw)

Asa Emory x gn!bratty!reader

Trigger warning for sexual content- bdsm- power exchange/ power dynamic- spanking

If you asked Asa if he likes brats a few months ago he would frown and say no. Not enjoying the constant battle and frustration of trying to subdue them, Asa wants complete submission and expects nothing less.

If you asked Asa if he likes brats in the present day he would smirk and tell you “they’re not as clever as they think they are” thinking fondly of you, at home, still chained to the wall where he left you, hopefully that is, you’re a slippery one to hold down.

Had Asa known you’d been a brat when scouting you for the collection he wouldn’t have bothered, would’ve found someone more easy to command. God is he thankful he didn’t.

He expected to hate training you, but he couldn’t love it any less. You were harder to break down than previous pets, kicking, swearing,spitting, straight up ignoring him sometimes. The punishments that followed were indulgent for him, marvelling at the way you fought hard at first, all gnashing teeth and scratches.

This was no longer the case once Asa had wrestled you to floor, both panting and glaring eachother down. Pinning your arms above your head and sliding his leather belt out of the loops. Shit. You knew where this was going. This only makes you thrash harder, legs jutting into his stomach, winding him momentarily.

Regaining his position over you he snatches your legs, fastening the belt around your claves and securing them. Before you can even think to fight back your hauled over to the sofa and slung over Asa’s knees, bottoms and underwear ripped down unceremoniously.

“Now, pet, you can either choose to apologise and the punishment will be lighter or you can continue being the dumb little mutt we both know you are and receive the full extent of it.” A moment passes in silence….”get fucked” you spit back. “You never learn, there really isn’t anything going on up there is there? You need daddy to tell you how and when to think, it’s pathetic.”

They way you break down into a dumb sobbing mess is beautiful in Asa’s eyes, all big talk and flailing until his black gloved hand comes down onto your exposed ass, again and again,leaving you begging and sobbing out apologies.

Asa looks at you pitifully, taking in the tears clinging your lashes and the rosey hue of your beaten ass, he knows you’ll be feeling it for the next day or two. His gaze softens as he rubs some ointment on your red behind and pulls your underwear back up, manoeuvring you to lay on the sofa on your side, careful not to put pressure on your butt.

He hushes your whines of complaint as he leaves briefly to get you a snack and a juice box, he may be a sadistic dom/lover but he’s not an improper one, aftercare is non negotiable and is always first priority after a scene.

He returns and settles into the sofa next to you, prompting you to sit upright so he can feed you, your brain still fuzzy and airy in Subspace.

Your master runs a hand over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear and looking at you smittenly. “See how easy it is when you’re good for me? You can just be a little pet and let master do the thinking ok? No need to be bratty. Just let daddy handle all the difficult things and it’ll be ok.” he practically coo’s at you, fondly committing your far away subby look to memory. “I have you, my silly cricket”

[nekassvariigs]

Man...blushing madly just writing this.

Rayleigh x reader

Age-gap, slow-burn, confessions,fluff turned smutt, body worship, bit of edging, Nsfw.

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

Waves sloshing against the frame of the Oro jackson your slender body resting on the handrails you stared into the horizon. The waves shimmered in pale gold from the moons reflection your gaze immovable from the scene.

"Whats got you out here?" The striking man came from behind you, his back positioned against the rails aswell he took in the view of the ship shining under the light.

You chuckled a little, "Just in the mood. It's beautiful out here." watching a pair of sea kings leaping in the air from afar.

Raighleys frame turned around hands overboard he looked out the sea aswell, your body growing colder from the cool winds.

"Have you ever felt.. " you thought to speak but stopped unable to speak your heart. Waves moving the ship you had to steady yourself, boot slamming to the deck as you balanced yourself. Raighley watched your face his eyes rarely decieved him, tonight you looked lost, as if too lost in your own head. He offered you his ears. "Go on.." he waited.

"What would you do if you loved someone but couldnt for the life of you get close to them?" You blurted out, cheeks hazing a light pink, you didnt intend to ask him about this at all, but your heart spoke before your mind could interfere.

Raighley looked at you with a gentless. He didnt think youd already fallen for someone. You were that much younger than him and somehow it ached his heart knowing that you found yourself in this haze of attraction.

A strand of golden hair flailing past his face he sided himself to face you. His glasses gleaming white from the reflection, his eyes unreadable.

"I'd confess. Wether they grow closer to me or not atleast i'd know i've said my peace." Your eyes widened at the thought alone. You turned your head to look up at him, eyes glazing with tears.

"But its not that easy." You sobbed fearing the worst of the situation, You fancied Raighley, however you didnt want to admit to him, he was your mentor, the one who took care of you when you were a teen. He showed you the world so how could you begin to be so selfish as to confess to him about love of all things.

He smiled weakly understanding your emotions far too well, it wasnt easy for him either, it took all his strenght daily to not see you the way you saw him, he'd be the biggest liar in the world if he said he didnt love you but you were much too sweet for him, not to mention how far apart you were in age, he didnt want to be the man pining over something unatainable and yet here he was.

"No it's not easy." He listened to you sob, it hurt him so much to see you like this, so he allowed this indulgance once. His warm calloused hand picked your chin up, your lips were so swollen eyes painfully red, this silence must be hurting you so much.

Feeling the warmth of his hand you couldnt help but to break down even more.

It's you. Its you damn it.

You bit your lip sniffling, why were you so afraid.

Raighleys hand splayed out slowly reaching for your cheek, his thumb wiping away your tears. His face was so endearing, filled with compassion for you in ways he wished you could never feel such pain.

You leaned into his hand compleatley lost of all strenght to continue.

Your cries dried out slowly however you wanted to hold him against you so badly, the quiver in your voice making you feel so helpless.

Raighley hummed trying to soothe you ,unable to offer you more because of his restraints.

You held his forearm, your weak quivery grip lowering quickly.

"I'm sorry." You sniffled, whispering to yourself.

"Theres nothing to apologize for." The calmness of his voice soothing the pain.

Without thinking his hands reached for you enveloping you in his warm embrace, head burried against his chest you couldnt keep even cry anymore, you closed your eyes feeling the waves, and the slow burning thumps of his heart.

You felt like this would be the only occasion you got to hear his heart for the rest of your life. The sea seemed restless tonight aswell, waves growing every other second, you balance already weak you stumbled, Raighleys back making contact with the cabin behind him.

His hand drew lazy circles on your back the other laying low on your hips, he sighed watching the moon rise higher.

What was he doing indulging himself like this. He looked down at you noticing your sobs dying down your eyes lazily watching the waves.

He closed his eyes, head resting on the wooden wall behind him, your body shifted, eyes tracing his features, his linear beard sitting on his chin, the way his hair flowed in the wind, his round glasses laying on the bridge of his nose, the content face he was making while holding you.

"Raighley.." you sighed, your hand clutching the fabric on his side.

He opened his eyes looking at you, your smaller frame hugged tightly against his embrace, he let you go feeling a bit ashamed. "Whats the matter..?"

His hands hovered near your body , he worried if he had done something.

"I hope you can forgive me for this.." you looked up at him slighlty grabbing the side of his collar pushing down, your lips grazed his for a moment before pulling away, however Raighley's hands stedied back onto your frame, squeezing your bodies flush against eachother. His beard tickling your skin, soft lips crashed against yours, his hands squeezed your waist tigher, making you moan into the kiss. He grew a little relentless having waited so long for something like this he deepened the kiss his hand holding the back of your neck gently, strands of your hair tangled between his fingers.

You hands reached to undo a bit of his shirt, hands feeling around his abs, he groaned at the response brows furrowing as his hips buckled against you.

"Wait, not here atleast." he whispered against your lips. Ignoring him you kissed the underside of his jaw feeling him buckle his hips again.

His cock buldged through his pants, he couldnt hide his feelings for you however he was willing to be more patient with himself than letting his emotions get the best of him now.

He grabbed your hand giving it a quick kiss, he walked you down the ship realisation setting between the two of you, the two of you shared a glance avoiding it quickly to cover the redness over your faces.

He ushered you into his room closing it with your body, a slight mewl escaping your lips feeling him on you once more.

His room was tidy, desk littered with different types of books however you didnt care anymore.

Your selfish desire was right infront of you, your hands on his strong shoulders as he lifted one of your legs up to get closer to your clothed sex, his growing erection bulging against your covered entrance.

You moaned feeling the heat of his cock so close to you, you rubbed your hand against it , it felt feverish ,hot to the touch and pleasantly hard.

"I've been waiting for you.." you shamefully admit with a sultry whisper. His smile perking up, he kissed the corner of your lips. "I know sweetheart." Your heart pounded with excitment. Did he know about your feelings,and for how long?

He picked you up straddling you onto the bed. Your eyes finally meeting. "How come you know?" You spoke undoing his zipper sliding his pants down with your legs. "Hard not to when theres two of us." He panted slightly kissing near your ear, his hands traveling to undo your shirt, you raised your hands for him top flying across the room.

"We'll get that later." His husky voice echoed in your ear lifting you up to undo your bra, he slid it off with his hand ,slowly kissing your belly all the way down to the start of your pants, which he pulled down even slower licking and suckling the skin there.

"Fuck," a moan ushered from you hips buckling towards him, his nose poking against you.

he sat back taking off his shirt revealing his tanned body the tip of his cock present through his boxers.

You blushed at the sight leaving him smirking, trying to get up only to be pushed back down his hands roamed your lower body squeezing and fondling your sides. leaving breathless kisses against them.

"Raighley~.." he went down toying with the elastic of your pants. His thick fingers pulling down your pants along your underwear in one fell swoop exsposing your drentched pussy.

Resting on your elbows to admire the sight as much as he did he planted his face between your legs ignoring your exposed core and focusing on you inner thighs, he pulled you closer to him, your body dragging along as you gasped from his touches.

His tounge circled against the smooth surface of your legs, his hands fondling with your thighs as you toyed with your breasts.

"Youre so pretty." he breathed against your skin sending shivers down you legs. His mouth cupped the other side of your inner thigh suckling on it with loud gulps. Seconds later he pulled back revealing a dark pink hickey. You rolled your eyes noticing how he marked your body wishing he did this all over you.

His hand unwound one of your legs letting it rest on his shoulder he toyed with your damp clit, thumb stroking it he saw how needy you were for him, he kissed your lower lips suckling them having a taste of your juices, he swallowed proudly relishing the sweet soury taste. "Youre delicious.." he murmured licking his lips, his cheeks dusting scarlet.

You looked at him through your thighs taking the side of his glasses off his face, brushing a stray strand of his hair away from his handsome face. "Thank you~" your eyes coated in love your hand brushed past his cheek which he quickly caught placing a kiss onto your palm his narrow eyes looking at yours seductivley.

Your thumb brushed his cheek for a second which he leaned into before plunging his face into your core, tongue rolling over your clit feverishly, unable to contain your yelps of pleasure you tried covering your mouth, he quickly grabbed your hand rubbing circles on it. "I need to hear you.." he panted between kisses, suckling your lips, he felt everytime you bucked against him, he absolutley cherished how you wanted more of him, it made him proud to have you begging for his touch.

"Rayleigh please.." His cock twitched having just jinxed himself. His nose rested right on the top of your clit his shameless tongue licking you over and over, he bided his time rubbing one finger against your wet hole. Your toes scrunched feeling how well he knew to tease you. He gently inserted his finger rocking it back and forth his tongue doing most of the work on pleasing you, he started doing kitten licks on your pussy his finger curling inside you leaving you a squirming mess.

"R-raighley, no~" you stuttered your words but he had a habit of not listening when he enjoyed himself. He rubbed his face all over your pussy, his beard glistening with your juices, he wiped it proudly kissing your belly once more "I know darling." he sat back undoing his pants, cock springing free from the cloth prison it was in, the tip was glistening with precum showing just how much he loved eating you out.

He rubbed it a couple of times smearing his precum all over his thick shaft. He lazily spit in his hand his smirk inevitable as he stroked his cock , he lowered himself over you gently kissing your lips, "May i?" you nodded as he kissed you once more. "You'll have to say it sweetheart~" he brushed your hair to the side enjoying how red your face was from his scandalous actions.

"Please, I want you Raighley~" He smirked positioning himself against your entrance, he slowly traced the tip of his cock inside of you. He groaned in pleasure feeling your warmth, he waited a second to let you adjust to him before pushing further inside. The way you pushed your head back, your hands traling down keeping his cock positioned inside drove him more restless by the second, he started off slow , however he couldnt resist you, he quickly fastened his pace seeing how much you enjoyed being fucked by him.

He held you by your hips watching as his cock slide in and out of you, your breasts jiggling between the thrusts. You played with your nipples squeezing the buds for more pleasure, biting your lower lip you looked up at him, he was so focused on making you feel good , You held out your hands for him which he quickley wrapped around his neck lowering over you, trapped between his hands his rugged panting tickled the skin on your chest. You leaned in to kiss him, loud exhales coming from the two of you as you shared your bodies with eachother. You pushed away after a second with a sloshing pop finding your head between his neck leaving inconsistant kisses and bruises along his collarbones and neck. You laid back admiring your work on the handsome man as he bucked his cock deeper into you. Heat rising betwen your legs you guided Raighleys hips against you, the inevitable sloshing of your arousals piercing through the room, he lowered his head panting heavily mumbling a low "Fuck." His cock twitching inside you.

You were loosing your mind moaning profanities everyime his cock stroked against your sweet spot.

"Right there Rayleigh, Fuckk~" your voice desperate for him, Moans falling throughout the room, he loved how you clentched around him. He leaned for another sloppy kiss, one hand groping your chest as he pumped himself fully into you. His cock twitching vigurously he wasn't allowing himself to cum just yet he wanted to see you in pleasure first, he wanted you to come undone before him first.

Pecking your cheek then lowering himself to place brethless kisses on your chest his fingers worked their way to your sensitive clit rampantly nudging it with his thumb, Your legs shaking madly your climax reached its peak you squirted all over his chest far too lost in the bliss to be ashamed about it , he winced not having much strenght to resist himself pumping you full of his seed, both of you sharing a deep kiss he lazily kept pushing his cock inside you making sure not a drop escapes.

"I love you.." You whispered against his swollen lips.

His heart skipping a beat, he picked you up laying you inside his lap his cock still inside you as your pussy twitched all over him. He looked at you lovingly kissing every spot he previously marked, his hands pulling you closer to him. "I love you too..." He felt a sense of pride knowing you loved someone as old as him.

"Youre okay with me?" he asked brushing your hair aside once more.

"Why wouldnt i be?" you responded hands lacing on his neck. Raighley kissed your hands slowly, looking you in the eyes with a sense of doubt.

"Im way older than you, are you sure-" you shut him up with a deep kiss holding him close to you as you crawled your way deeper into his lap.

"So sure Raighley..Youve got no idea.."

[gr00vyminibus]

BLACK ORCHID

Nomi x black fem

You've been talking to Nomi for some months and really have deep feelings for her but you can't unshake this sense thats she's hiding something. The longer she wants to keep it away from you the bigger she tears your relationship apart. Will she save it or allow you both to fully disconnect from eachother?

Will include: angst, suggestive scenes, stalker activities, this was split into two parts since it was so long all together but thats basically all for this section. Kinda fast paced and proofread

Taglist: @zeezeecave @mybonafidefeelings @masterajoy314 @xenaizogie @blacksapphhicmaddonna @scribblecake

Alsoo!! Happy birthday to my wife <333 a thousand, million, trillion billion kisses!! 😘😘😘

She knows everything about you.

Yet sometimes, you sit and think at night. Slowly giving life to a trecherous fear that you didn't know much about Nomi herself.

She wanted to keep a few things confidential from you and you respected that but the excuses to leave for weeks, even fly over seas, and come back with a blind eye to your suppressed melancholy like nothing happened started to aggrivate you.

She couldn't have missed it, it was often hid lazily behind your polite guise when she greeted your baby. All you could do was worry and painfully ache at the thought of her going again, leaving you to keep reassuring your one year old daughter that nomi had places to be.

Sometimes you would try to pry but the way she effortlessly ushered you into another topic was astounding. Nomi undoubtedly had a shit ton of secrets and you had to confront her about them if she wanted to love and be around you as someone more than a good friend..

"I hope when you get older, you're able to tell me anything." You stroked your daughters small curls as she gnawed on her fist, she garbled incoherent sounds but her doe eyes were glued to you like she was partially listening.

Laosa was your world, your hearts capacity, your biggest reason to breathe everyday. You'd do anything for her well being and if you had to cut some certain people off, so be it.

"Ghhh.. grrrhh.." she flailed her arms and twisted back and forth as you furrowed your brows and held her hips, "What's up, hm?"

"Muh mii.." she looked at the front door and leaned against the back of your thighs while gnawing on her fist again.

"Are you saying mommy?" You smiled, fingers gliding across her stomach as she giggled aloud. Screaming in the midst while she squirmed and you eventually stopped to let laosa lay against your chest as you focused back on your movie.

You knew Laosa wasn't going to nap unless you continued rubbing her back so while you both shared a night alone in your cozy apartment, no disturbments.

A sudden knock had came. In the wee hours of the night.

You snapped your head to the door, feeling an exhausted anger draw out with your deep exhale.

"Who in the world could be at my damn door this late." You looked at your baby and carefully took her in your arms, hand coming over her ear so it could muffle your strides and anything else that could potentially wake her up. You reached the front door and squinted in the peep hole.

Feeling an eminent shock halt everything in your body like a hiccup. Nomi leaned against the wall opposite from your apartment door in a long trenchcoat. Seemingly in deep thought as she remained still and waiting.

Normally she came with a notice and during the daytime but for her to show up like this with nothing but a bag on her person was strange.

"The hell.." you mumbled, but her eyes drifted up from their initial spot on the ground, darting to the very bottom of your apartment door as she momentarily pinched her eyebrows together. Could she hear you?

".... might as well." You sighed and situated laosa on your hip as you went to open the door. Nomi's figure straightened up as the locks began moving and then the door cracked, revealing you.

She smiled faintly, mouth parting to say.

"Hey."

"Hey?" You whispered in confusion as she pushed herself off the wall and approached you just before the threshold.

"Um," she sighed shaking her head. "I should have texted you but my phone got broken during this accident so..." you furrowed your brows.

"What'd you get yourself into now." Your eyes trail up her figure as she chuckled but nothing in the world seemed funny at this moment.

"Car crash actually." You gasped softly, door widening as she glanced at the interior of your home just wanting fall inside for a good night, she returned her tired gaze to you.

"A-are you hurt?"

"Shoulder's a bit sore but I'm fine really." She assured in coaxing deep tone, making you both blend into a silence of distant cars and quiet crickets.

"Well, come in." You turned on your heel and made way for nomi to follow you as she shut the door and remained behind you like a shadow.

Even while you carefully placed laosa in her crib, kissing her on the forehead while tucking her in a blanket that might be tugged off later in the night but for now your baby was safe and warm.

You rubbed her silky young hair and muttered a sweet affirmation into her ear before leaning up and sighing. Nomi took her bag off, eyes not leaving the resting baby girl.

"Can I kiss her goodnight."

Something inside you got effected at how she mumbled that request, almost as if she needed it.

"Yeah, I'm going to head to bed." You walked out of the room and she watched your figure retreat around the corner, afterwards walking to the edge of the crib where laosa's head laid.

Smiling softly at her little beads of hair because it reminded her of her own. She leaned down to laosa and kissed her temple. Just existing in her presence was slowly dominating her fear of being close with the people she loved.

It was scary to hold you at night and realize you were sound asleep while she stayed awake and stared at nothing. Just waiting for something unexpectant, a built in mode of survival engraved into the marrow of her bones.

It was scary to feel a plethora of things just because you smiled at her and treated her like a nice human being. Not knowing that she could change into the complete opposite.

It was scary to surrender. To allow the two most precious things in the world to possess her once idle beating heart.

But although nomi was scared, she wasn't a coward. And she'd die before abandoning the both of you. That was a commitment she agreed with internally.

Eventually she left the room quietly while shutting the door and made her way to your room, the door was cracked but she knocked anyway and when you granted her permission nomi caught you in the midst of sliding into bed.

You were silent tonight. Very concisely worded and it was one of the things on her list that were rated as torture. So as always she asked you how you felt, "are you angry with me?" You sighed and turned on your side with the cover pulled over.

"I have nothing to be angry about."

"But you are." She got comfortable under the covers once she shed off her trechcoat and made her feet bare.

"Am not." The agent completely disregarded your defense and rolled on her stomach just behind you, head looming above your ear.

"If you want to talk we can talk. You're not tired." She stated from the fact that you haven't stopped shaking your leg. Its just the thing you do when your up, but drifting between laziness.

"Nomi." You turned around as she raised her brows and tilted her head.

"Hm?"

Go to sleep. Thats what you should have said but you didn't. She grew unsure of your stretched pause, the rush of blood in her body making her wound ache but she was still as stone. Deep eyes switching between your own.

"What is it, y/n." You contemplated shortly before answering.

"How did you get in that car crash?" She then looked weirdly dull. Eyes wandering from your own to glance at something blankly.

"The person who hit me was a reckless driver. Isn't that the main cause of every car accident?" She slowly fluttered her lashes at you and furrowed her brows.

"Tell me about it?" You rise up against the headboard as she cautiously followed suit.

"Well, I was driving on my way to you actually before someone hit me from the side during a speed chase. The impact caused me to slam into the drivers door."

"And what's the condition on your shoulder?"

Nomi bit her lip and let a sort of silence stretch until she was comfortable responding back, "that's not how my shoulder got messed up."

"... can I see?" She puts a hand infront of you in a halting manner, wordlessly unbuttoning her shirt with one hand.

"I got it. Let me." You offered and she was going to protest but your hands had already gently eased her own off and finished the task, having the shirt ready to be pealed back.

Your fingertips traced the bandage around the upper joint of her limb and gently pressed around, above, near the edge of her right armpit and then finally in the middle. Nomi hissed immediately, discomfort taking her feautures for a moment.

"So its right there, is it a spring, twist, bone out of place?"

"It's... more like a gun shot wound." She shrugged with one shoulder before pulling her shirt back on.

"Who shot you?!" You slightly raised your voice as she closed her eyes and pressed her index finger to her lips. Listening out for laosa's potential cries. Then she reopened them and dragged them from the bedroom door to your face.

"I'll make it short."

"Make it clear." you demanded, a douse of anger that hid in your silence finally jumped into your tone. Nomi sighed.

"The police caught up with the other car, they ended up crashing with me and while I exited my vehicle.. I was blindly shot. That's all that happened, darling." You stared into her eyes, a soft frown etched into your feautures that she didn't appreciate one bit, but she believed she could fix it.

"So.. can we sleep together tonight? I haven't laid with you.." Nomi leaned closer to your body and wrapped her good arm around your waist, connecting your foreheads.

"In weeks." You take a deep breath and crossed your hands in your lap.

"Please?"

"... yeah.." you let go of it tonight, telling the inner voices in your head to shut up about the fact that you may be sensing Nomi isn't telling you the whole truth.

"That's my girl." Your bodies lower back into the bed as she welcomes you on her chest and you try you best to avoid applying more weight to her right shoulder.

Though the next morning, doesn't turn out like you expect.

You hear the television and sounds of cheesy nursery rhymes frolicking throughout the place. And there's a smell in the air, pleasant, delicious yet different from you normally whip up in the kitchen. You inhale with relief.

She's still here.

That old smile of yours started to form on your face as you turned in the pillows. Now you're eased onto your stomach and lying there undisturbed.

But suddenly the door creaked open and seeing as you're awake, you decide to easedrop.

"There. There goes your mommy all knocked out and sleeping sound, try not to wake her up yeah?" Nomi whispered as she bounced your baby girl on her hip and comfortingly let her small hand squeeze her thumb. Her doe eyes were glued to you.

"Satisfied little spy?" Laosa did a sort of wobbly nod as she squirmed on Nomi's hip and held her thumb harder. The woman raised her brows.

"Back in the living room I suppose." Nomi glanced at the lump in the sheets and quietly closed the door as you continued 'sleeping'. A short chuckle left you, fingers coming to wipe your eyes of any residue while you sat up.

Your arms dropped to bed and then flung the covers off so you could go to the bathroom and freshen up. Once you reached the living room you saw Nomi writing on a note pad while multitasking with spoon feeding Laosa.

She squished Nomi's forearm and took the spoon of baby food with a gurgle before softly falling back in the seat.

Nomi underlined a few things with haste and sensed someone approaching, eyes drifting up to the sight of you in your long gown and it made her marvel, "Good morning, Darling."

"Good morning, thanks for feeding laosa" you sighed gently was going sit on seat next to the woman but one of her arms hooked around your waist and eased you onto her lap. You parted your lips to say something and she stared up at you with faux innocence.

"You're welcome. Does that earn me a kiss?"

"Don't know?" Her arm flexed to hold you tighter and you could feel her plump lips pressing into the bare skin of your shoulder blades and neck.

"Stop being stubborn." she rasped in your ear as you shifted on her lap. Instinctively pressing back into her embrace. Nomi raised her hand to turn your chin so she could kiss you, but just as your mouths was centimeters away a wet glob landed on Nomi's temple.

She leaned back as you did aswell and gaped at the orange mess dripping down her face. Nomi shook her head and grabbed a few napkins off the table to wipe her skin. You laughed loudly while she chuckled.

"Not funny."

"Lala doesn't think mimi deserves a kiss?" You cooed at your baby and escaped from nomi to pick her up from the high seat as she giggled.

Nomi sat while looking between the both of your faces as something bright swelled within her heart. The feeling all too familiar.

"Your plate of breakfast is on the counter, I'm going to take a shower" Nomi snapped out of her trance and excused herself with fake irritation.

Once she was out of sight you did reprimand the newborn with a whisper before setting her down somewhere she could play.

The breakfast Nomi made was pretty good, she never failed a dish anyway. It tracked all the way back to the second date at her apartment when nomi cooked for you. She looked hot and whatnot while slinging an oven rag over her shoulder, shaking a pan of frying vegetables, which accentuated the muscles in her arm.

She was picture perfect, you could say.

Very relaxed, knew how to have a good time, never really jealous, made you laugh in any circumstances and she always blew the fuse out of an argument in the best ways. Nomi apologizes.

Which she never does to anyone but you. She isn't touchy either but she craves your cuddles and kisses, especially when you squish her face when you're extra happy.

The only you didn't like was her reluctantance.

Nomi could've been your girlfriend by now but everytime you brought that topic up she just steer the convo.

Solidifying your relationship despite all things you do for eachother was a pretty big step for her, one Nomi needs to grow longer legs for.

And you'd give her countless days that extended to weeks and months. But you'd be insane if you were going to continue being in the 'talking' stage with her after a year.

So the fears began to creep.

Is she playing you? Are you just an excellent hang around? Will Nomi eventually grow bored of you and.. leave?

You slowly chew on your food and make the fork meet your plate, mood soured and spoiled. You just end up wrapping it all up and putting it in the fridge before walking to the bedroom.

-

Your arms are placed behind you as you sit on the bed, waiting. Now you wanted to talk.

After twelve minutes went past the shower finally cut off and there was some shuffling and the close of a cabinet, then the knob twisted and she padded out with a towel around her body.

"You sneak.." Her British accent irked and attracted you at the same time while she approached your drawers.

"Whatever.. " you mumbled, Nomi payed you no mind until she glanced back.

".. Mind if I burrow some clothes?" You shrugged as she turned back and fished out some comfortable clothes. She discarded her towel and unfolded the pair of sweats to pull it over her legs and pulled a t-shirt over her head.

You looked elsewhere the whole time until a presence could be felt dipping into the mattress, a hand took your idle one and interlaced their fingers.

"You're silent again." Nomi searched for an explanation in your body language that your mouth wasn't going to give right away.

"I want to talk this time." You utter.

Nomi nibbles on her lips, "About what, I'm all ears."

"About how I feel," Nomi hummed as she examined you from head to toe.

"Go on?" her lips pinched into a straight line as you were getting ready to respond.

"I want to know more about you." You stood strong yet you felt like dissapearing due to her deep stare.

"Im very private you know that, you also know enough darling, what's the real issue." She furrowed her brows.

"The real issue is.. your enough, isn't my enough. Look, I won't beat around the bush.. you've been keeping me in the dark for a while." You pressed. She scratched her brow slowly and dropped her hand in her lap.

"If that's how you feel-"

"And I do?"  You state, tone defensive. You take your hands back for yourself.

"You make me worried sick? I— I can't keep any tabs on you whatsoever, I don't know what your job profession is, where you dissapear off to, I don't even know your schedule which I always stay considerate of no matter how odd it is.. and how it may be eating into my time." you breathe in deeply.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you got shot?"

"Y/n-" your hands then jab at your chest.

"As your...... hell I don't even know what am to you at this point but I'm pretty angry at the possibility that you may be keeping some huge secrets from me while I expose my whole life to you?"

"Y/n, you know who you are to me."

"Do I? What's our status, how am I special?"

"You're.. " my love. Nomi didn't think she could say that to you, every time her toungue fell limp and her jaw clenched. She loved you more than you could imagine but knew where admitting to it would get her. She felt unworthy of you. Prohibited and Insecure.

The way she lived glued her to this mindset.

Your shoulders dropped.

"Exactly. I can't bring myself to play pretend the next day when my heart's still sore from you choosing when to come and go. Giving that same explanation of work," you groan, "its like I always make time for you but you don't make enough time for me... I'm doubting if what I'm trying to do is right.." 

"What is that?"

"Trying to gain your trust. Your reassurance. I mean we are getting to know eachother so we can potentially be together... but you obviously haven't felt that close with me yet so you have the obvious option Nomi..."  

"Don't.. don't do that." She glared, you couldn't be insinuating that. And the way her name came out of your mouth wasn't soothing her like usual.

"Then tell me what I should know, from the moment we first met." You lay out your request on the table while Nomi sits deep in thought for a proper response back. She wouldn't lie and say she didn't realize you feeling this way, she always knew.

But the last thing Nomi wanted was for you to leave her for it. She just needed more time, but now the hourglass had finally ran out.

"You want," with a pounding heart.

"trust.. openness? fine. But If I'm speaking from the deepest part of my heart, all I ever did was try to protect you and Laosa."  

"Protect us from what?!"

"Simple answer?"  She placed her palms infront of her as you demanded with a raising brow.

"The simplest." 

"I work with the government."  

"..... Nomi if you're an FBI Agent you could've told me-"  

"Not that type of agent." She frowned, eyes closing momentarily. 

"Then.."  you trailed off. Nomi crossed her arms and fully turned to you, face giving confliction and compromise at the same time. This was it. If she told you, everything would change.

She'd overcome that boulder that layed atop her jurisdiction once and for all. You deserved to know.

"Nomi?"

"I'm the one that.. takes care of the criminals you thankfully haven't heard on the news. People like me handle.. them— i-in advance."

"Oh."

"Listen-" 

"Is that how you got shot?" Stunned silence.

"My." You turned away.

Nomi breathes in deeply. "I'm finally coming clean to you about what I'm hiding and now you're shutting me out? Y/n look at me."

"..I can't..." You're reluctant. But a now cold hand reaches for your arm with gentleness. Light as feather and you let Nomi settle behind you with the fearful thought of a reptile slithering around your skin.

"Darling." But you snap out of it, you have too. Upon this news you feel like everything you've known about her is a lie and all that she is, is her choice of work. An agent. But you know deep down Nomi is more.

"If only you were willing to understand." She rubbed her hands down your arms and held you firmly, feeling your deep trembles.

"I've had to do unspeakable things for this world. I've had to kill." You squeeze your eyes shut while hers bore into the wall ahead.

"Would it alleviate the weight off your shoulders if I told you all of them were really.. really bad people." She put her chin in your neck and pulled you closer than you already were, squeezing, making you slightly breathless.

"A.. life, is a life." You exhaled.

"And what is a justice?" She whispered, hold suddenly loosening. The truth. It filled you with so many emotions that you though you were prepared for but weren't. After all, this was what you wanted.

So now you must make a choice.

"Nomi." You mutter and then swallow. The agent is silent, arms still interlocked around your abdomen. She's torn in her thoughts, remaining clueless about if you'll end things with her or not. Its maddening.

".. Nomi." Your voice wavers and it's painful to consider the thought that leaves your throat sore in guilt.

"You need time." She abruptly pulled away from you and got off the bed, darting her burning eyes to the ground.

"When you've come to a decision... call me." Nomi states as clear she can while gathering her things.

She's gone quick and two times the door gets shut. Mimicking the breaking of your crystal glass heart.

This was best for now.

-

One.

Two.

Three.

Four Days.

A Thursday had never felt so.. empty. Nomi skimmed her cabinets for numerous bottles of dark liquors and sweetly bitter remedies that left her body ablaze right under her skin. She didn't grow tired often, not remembering a proper trip the bed in that span of time.

Maybe a crash on the couch every blue moon. Or a late night ride.. past your complex.

Every blue moon, though.

Nomi knew she could give into her intrusive thoughts and scoop you and laosa up. Proposing a stay at her Mediterranean and remote home while you continued to think. In her passanger seat. As long as you both were in her reach. That's all she wanted.

The agent put her hand on the car door, fingers eerily still on the handle as she pondered on it. She could do it, she really could. Your usually home this hour anyway, probably making fragrances or nurturing your baby on the lap while the TV remained on.

Desperate.

Come on, thats desperate.

Nomi clenched her jaw and brought her hands back on the steering wheel, leaving the premises without hesitation and internally degrading herself on the way. She had to be patient.

Meanwhile you were in the house wondering how to contact her, as if you could send a simple text or call. But what would you say, how would you say it.. in which way would you deliver your sentiment. Should you give it a little more time and think logically rather than your heart taking all the space up in your head.

The organ told you to forgive nomi and continue loving her. To be willing to understand like she wanted. And you truly wanted to but you were scared. Images of her bandaged shoulder and how exhausted she looked with slighty sunken eyes. You couldn't bare to see her so..

Beat.

You sighed and stood up to put laosa to bed again. A sad frown etched into your features while you thought of the woman.

Tonight's dreams had mimicked your pain in distorted ways that made stubborn tears escape through your closed eyes and your heart did its familiar, agonizing turn and twist.

But as always, the sun did its usual appearance and you were still slumped in bed when a buzz from your phone had you stirring in the sheets.

Buzz

"Ugh.." you turned on your side.

Buzz

"Mtch.. shoot." You grumbled and quickly reached for your phone on the nightstand. After rubbing your eyes and blinking the blurriness away you noticed there were text messages, from Nomi.

Mimi💕: I have to report back to work on Monday.

We need to talk soon.

Your face twisted up into an angry pout as your feet kicked in a dramatic toddler fashion. You weren't ready to face her at all, even looking at her blue text bubbles made you feel intimidated. You thought of responding or leaving Nomi on read for a minute to recollect yourself.

You chose the latter.

Today wasn't the best day to talk, you had to be at work by nine and drop laosa off to daycare, along with a ton of other things. You sighed and got out of bed to freshen up and make breakfast.

Throwing some bacon in the oven before you went into the baby room and eased Laosa out of her slumber.

Her little body was putty in your arms as you carried her to restroom and got her ready for the day aswell. She could barely sit up straight when you brought a soft brush along her scalp.

"Lala.." her eyes squinted open to your voice as she slightly perked up and then slumped again.

"Reminds me of when I used to brush her hair after a good old wash day" you mumbled with a smile while fitting a puffy headband on the little girls head. The longer you stared into the mirror and reflected, the more you missed her.

And it was at that moment when your chest began to hurt again that you knew you had to do it. You couldn't delay this talk. So hopefully there could be a slot in time for your discussion.

[rosecoloreddesire]

The Hold You Have Upon Me

Summary: Your best friend Olivia gets you in on her big role in a new movie and you gladly accept the offer. Little did you know the job had a lot more to offer than it lead on.

Note: I’m so sorry for being so inactive! Please forgive me y’all! Should this be my first Austin series??? But the new pics from behind the scenes??? LORD HAVE MERCY!

Part 2

Warning: FLUFF! Also I only read through this twice so I’m sorry for any errors!!

“Y/N, c’mon! You’re doing great! I’m so proud of you for being here for me.” Olivia wraps her arms around you in a warm embrace.

“You know I wouldn’t have denied being an extra in an Elvis movie,” Olivia rolls her eyes as her makeup finishes,” and wouldn’t have denied seeing my best friend have the role of her life!” She smiles as the finishing touches are applied and twirls around.

“Time to line up, girly!” She takes your hand and leads you to set. The booming echo of the band thumps within your body as you watch Baz record them up close. Olivia tugs on your arm and points at the corner of the set. There he was.

“Holy shit, Liv. He’s Adonis…” you hadn’t had the time to see Austin as Elvis yet. The sight of his tanned skin adorned in black leather pulling the air from your lungs. She laughs and pats your back as a set manager pulls her away from you. You can’t keep your eyes off of him as workers surround him to make sure he looks perfect. That shouldn’t be too hard you think. His cobalt eyes are stoic as he finally catches you staring. His smirk eliciting a squeak from your lips as you go to find the same set manager that stole Olivia away from you.

“Got enough of gawking Mr. Butler in for one day?” Mia asks as you walk up next her. You sigh and rub your hands on your face.

“He saw me and probably thinks I’m a freak.” She cackles as she’s reads the list in front of her. She pulls you along with her.

“Well, this freak is front of stage. Have fun, love.” You whip your head to glare at Mia.

“‘Mia?! Are you kidding me? This is insane! Please, put me closer to the back or something.” Mia shrugged her shoulders and looked through the papers on her clipboard. You try to look over her to no avail.

“They dressed you up just like the girl in the original ‘68 comeback that sits right there! Soooo, no can do, love!” She waves at you as you sit down. He’s going to be dancing right in front of you. You place a hand on the stage and drag your fingers on it softly. This is insane.

“Good luck, Y/N. You got this!” Olivia looks beautiful as she shakes your shoulders.

“Knock ‘em dead, Priscilla.” She smiles and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. You smooth your skirt down as other extras begin to fill in next to you. Your heart begins to beat out of your chest as Baz calls for action.

“And here he is, Mister Elvis Presley!” The applause sign lights up as you begin to clap. Ignoring the total arousal that seeps through you as you see him begin to bend to grasp his guitar. He sits down and begins to sing and your heart all but melts. You could see he put everything into becoming Elvis and he looked just like him. You could feel tears well in your eyes as you remembered watching Elvis with your grandma when you were younger. Never understanding why she’d get so emotional. Now here you were seeing double. You smile as the song comes to an end and wipe your eyes. Baz calling cut so that he could move things around for a better shot. He smiles at you as he makes his way to Austin. You nod and turn to where Olivia is sitting. She shapes a heart with her hands and you return it as you take a deep breath.

“Quick touch up break!” Makeup artists swarm in as cast members make their ways to chairs. Some stay seated and some grab something to snack on. You watch as Austin sits down panting as staff use towels to lightly dab onto his face. He smiles and his lips curl as he listens to Baz and his flailing hands.

“Hey, why don’t you just try talking to him?” Mia startled you, your hand shooting to your chest. She grabs onto your shoulder as you grasp your surroundings again.

“M-Mia, I’m one of how many extras trying to get to know him? Give me a break! Not gonna happen-“ you choke on your last words as you make eye contact with the aforementioned man. His gaze could pierce stone as you squirm in your seat. He nods to the artist powdering his face and he rises from his chair.

“Welp, I gotta go! Have fun, darling!”

“Hey, you’re Olivia’s friend right,” you nod as your throat dries,” I’ve seen you on her Insta page. You’re uh, you look gorgeous.” Your eyes widen as does his.

“Thank y-“

“ I’m sorry if that was weird, darlin’.” His voice lowering as he rubs the back of his neck. You laugh, shaking your head.

“No,” your voice squeaking, you clear your throat,” no! Um, I think you’re gorgeous too.”

“It’s just the get up, I feel.”

“I mean the get up is a plus-“

“A plus? You really like it that much, doll?” He stepped a little closer to you. You move back a little scared he’ll hear the pounding of your heart. You place a hand on your chest as your cheeks flush.

“Austin,” his hand slips around your waist as his other hand rests tenderly against your cheek. His fingers softly move against the soft skin,” I-I do.” You splutter out meekly.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m really liking the get up you got goin’ on to.” Before you can say your weak attempt at a joke his soft lips are upon yours. His grip slowly tightens as you sigh into the kiss. You rest your hands on his chest as you feel your legs begin to weaken. His entire being yearns to be as close to as possible. He pulls away and uses the hand still on your cheek to move your face to the side. His lips finding solace betwixt your jaw and neck. You begin to giggle as he hums against your skin.

“A-Aus, what are you doing? You’re gonna have to go on soon.” He continues to hum into your skin. Not leaving any marks but leaving a slight tingle in his tracks.

“They can wait, darlin’. I just can’t get enough of you.” His phone buzzes in his pocket as he finishes his rasping speech.

“I don’t think they want to.” You wink as he pulls away from you with a pout. You stand to your tippy toes and lay a chaste kiss to his nose. His skin flushing pink within seconds.

“I’ll find you after, Y/N.” He holds your hand until ultimately he has to let it go. You sigh heavily and lean against the wall as you collect your thoughts.

“That was….adorable!!!” Olivia squeals and wraps her arms around your shoulders. You yelp and she covers your mouth.

“How could you?! Did you see all of that?!” You take her hand off your mouth.

“Hey! I was tasked to come find Elvis and found Elvis I did!” She wiggles her eyebrows as you groan. You both make your way back to set. Your seat open in the front of the stage as he winks at you from it. You take Olivia’s arm.

“I’m not sitting back up there. I just kissed him and I gotta act like that didn’t happen?” You groan once more as Olivia shrugs.

“Hey, at least it’ll help with the fan girl in love look.” She smiles as she leads you back to your seat.

“Liv, I feel like I’m gonna hurl.”

[mathanlin]

// physical injury, emotional neglect

Actor AU where Tommy is hired as actor!Wilbur’s stunt double. 

It’s the jump-start to Tommy’s career — no wonder his manager accepted without asking Tommy. Still, he’s elated. 

Until he reads the script, and sees just how much pain he’s going to take. 

No wonder his manager had a hundred waivers to sign. There’s fight scene after fight scene. Car crashes. Falls from heights — which makes Tommy’s gut flip at merely imagining it. 

And still, meeting Wilbur almost makes him forget the fear. 

Almost makes it worth it. 

The first thing Wilbur does is toss a coat into Tommy’s arms.

“Gotta dress like me, right?” he says. No wonder he’s a star, that grin is brilliant. “I’ll get your wardrobe set up. Come by later, alright?”

Tommy just nods, wordless — there’s a reason he’s not the actor.

The first day of filming only solidifies that fact.

Wilbur’s on set, Tommy’s on the sidelines, manager at his side. Wilbur spits lines — a hero’s, quick & snarky. Tommy fights back a laugh at each. 

And then Wilbur laughs, too. “I should probably get hit after that line, huh?” 

Silence.

It’s… not in the script. Wilbur’s just improvising, they won’t— they won’t add *another* hit to Tommy’s list of injuries. 

But Tommy’s manager pipes up, setting a heavy hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Tommy doesn’t speak. It’s not his job to.

But he still hopes that this’ll be it. The only scene Wilbur “adds his little flare to,” as his manager says — “He’s the actor. You do everything he wants. Everything.”

It’s a futile hope.

Wilbur’s relentless.

“Our character’s a right prick,” he says one day, throwing an arm around Tommy’s shoulders & grinning. “Should beat him up a lil more, huh?” 

Tommy can’t mimic him. Not when he’s imagining being thrown further, hit harder, dropped from higher.

And when it’s Tommy’s turn to film, Wilbur never shows up.

A good thing. Tommy can always paste makeup over the bruises, shade his eyes from the stage lights with each concussion.

And cry when he hits the mat.

At least then it’s only his manager who mocks him.

“Come on,” they spit, as Tommy wipes blood from his nose. “Good stunt doubles don’t get hurt, Tommy. You know what you need to do?”

Tommy shakes his head, dazed by the lights. Another concussion, probably.

But he can still see his manager grin.

“Practice the falling scene.” 

Tommy goes still.

“What?” 

“You’ve read the script,” his manager says, eyebrow raised. “The final scene? The *most important* scene?”

*The scene where you’re thrown three stories down?*

Tommy shudders, already dizzy from terror at the thought of it. Of plummeting, smacking the unforgiving mat. Of having to jump off himself.

So his manager’s right.

He does need practice.

The set’s empty. Tommy’s alone.

That doesn’t make it easier to stare down at the mat thirty feet below.

To sway, dizzy from fear & one too many concussions. To force his feet forward, off the edge—

“Tommy?”

Tommy falls.

He— he knew he’d have to, but he’s not ready, he’s flailing, screaming, tearing through the air—

And hitting the mat shoulderfirst, head whipping to the side.

“my—Tommy, oh god, Tom—”

It’s… Wilbur, who falls at his side. Who gently picks him up from the mat as Tommy’s head spins. Who tries to haul him to the medical office, before Tommy bats his hands away.

Who rasps out, “What were you *doing,* Tommy?”

“My job?”

Wilbur stares, mouth moving silently. Like he… can’t think of what to say.

So this time, it’s Tommy who says his lines. “I— I was just practicing, Wil. I’m not *actually* hurt, that’s— that’s the whole point, right? I’m not—”

“Then why are you covered in *bruises?*”

Tommy’s gut goes right back into freefall.

He’s not wearing his coat. *Wilbur’s* coat, the one he’d given him that first day. Warm. Soft-scented. 

Long-sleeved, to hide the bruises. He hadn’t thought Wilbur would be here.

He never has been.

“You actually get hit?” Wilbur says, voice hushed & shaky. “You actually fall? I thought— I thought it was for show.”

“It’s not that bad. I get hit *lightly,* it’s not like—”

“And I told them to hit you more.”

The realization is quiet.

Wilbur pulls away, shaking his head. Tommy stumbles, trying to stand with him, to get up as the lights blur—

“I need to go.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not a line.

Wilbur leaves.

(He doesn’t care. He can’t act in this role — not if it means every hit is directed Tommy’s way. 

But he doesn’t fire Tommy. He doesn’t have the power to do that — but he can still stop the hits Tommy’s forced to take. 

By quitting himself.)

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

Quick!! Link a scene or piece of work you're created that you're proud of! First one that comes to mind!!

*bounces in place* ohohohohoho you've gone and done it now!!! Feast your eyes on this scene from one of my many WIPs - I hope I'll finish it one day. It really is one of the Big Three of my Magnum Opuses.

Below the cut:

Female whumpee

Mute whumpee

Disabled whumpee

Female Caretaker

Recovery

Mentions of Scientific/Medical Trauma

Bruises and bandages

Collapsing

Fatigue/Weakness

Samira slept for another day. Until the pangs of hunger and other necessities grew to be too much to ignore. She drew in a slow breath and sighed, then lifted her arms in a stretch. The skin of her elbows pulled uncomfortably and she stopped at the telltale sensation of scabs beginning to split. Even now, days later, she felt the bone-deep ache from her journey here. The dull throb of a lingering headache. The pulsing pain in her knees. Her hands still held a tremor without the slightest provocation. More than anything, she wanted to go back to sleep until the soreness went away, but nature had other ideas.

Turning her head, she saw she was alone. The lights to the room were dimmed low, and the only other source of light came from the glow of a safety light in the bathroom five feet away. Blessedly, she saw the IV pole was on the same side of the bed. All she had to do now was walk. Piece of cake. Pulling the blanket back, she slung her legs over the side of the bed. She stopped long enough to wonder at the sight she saw.

Socks. Soft, fuzzy yellow socks with grips on the bottoms. She turned her attention to her gown. It, too, was buttercup yellow, decorated with bumble bees and daisies, and the hem - stopping at her knees - even had the tiniest decoration of white lace. She longed to rub the material between her fingers, but the bandaging on her hands prevented her from doing so. It would have to wait. Besides, the thick wads of cotton taped over each knee ruined the effect. Her skin, she noticed, was far paler than its healthy cinnamon color, and even the patches of vitiligo, normally rosy, held a sickly shade. She frowned, feeling like the ghost of her former self.

Gripping the IV pole for balance, Samira scooted forward. Tentatively, she settled her feet on the floor. No fear driving her to move. No dizziness. It didn’t matter how many times she had tried to stand on her way here. She was stronger now. She was rested. She could do this. Carefully, as if to balance on an egg without breaking it, she put weight on one foot. Her knee began to quake and she grabbed the IV pole with her other hand, clinging to it, and the momentum of doing so forced her full weight forward. Quickly, she brought her other foot forth to catch herself.

For the briefest of seconds, she teetered, awkwardly poised between the IV pole and her fawn-like legs. She could feel the cuts in her palms reopening as she clung to the pole, the gauze slackening her grip. Then the wheels of the IV pole rolled. Samira flailed, gasping as her crutch moved before she was ready, and tried to snatch it back. It fell, and she followed, knocking a metal tray and its contents to the floor with a great crash.

She might have cringed at the noise if she hadn’t instinctively tried to catch herself. Though the gauze cushioned the fall somewhat, it didn’t stop her knees and elbows from cracking against the hard tile - biting through the cotton and clawing at her already-shredded skin. Tears sprung up and a mute yelp rattled her throat before she could stop herself. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, and still a hoarse sob wrenched itself from her chest.

Hurried footsteps sent a dart of panic up her spine, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The lights switched on, then a set of hands were on her. She flinched, but they didn’t release her.

“Samira.” Jean. Jean was there. “Samira, it’s alright. It’s just me.”

Without waiting for a response, Jean lifted her back to the bed as easily as a child might lift a dropped doll. Samira tucked her hands beneath her chin, arms pressed against her chest, and tried to control her breathing - all while fighting the urge to curl in a ball right there. Hot, thrumming pain rolled up her limbs, coiling into tight knots and biting, clawing, digging into her bones. Why did it hurt so much? How could things go wrong so quickly? She opened her eyes from where she’d squeezed them shut, peering between wet lashes at the mess she’d made. Fresh, unused medical supplies lay strewn about on the floor. The IV pole lay on its side, and the tray had skidded a couple feet away. She drew in a shaky breath, shame heating her cheeks.

Automatically, an apology tried to leave her lips. Instead, it came out in a pitiful wheeze.

Mistaking the gesture for one of pain, Jean smoothed a hand over Samira’s back. “It’s alright, Samira. Do you want something for the pain?”

Samira shook her head and hid her face behind her hands, the gauze absorbing her tears.

“It’s okay if you do. You don’t need to be brave, not here.”

Samira shook her head again, gulping back another sob before it could surface.  She already owed them so much, and it shamed her to anticipate their response to her inability to speak - and now, it seemed, the inability to walk. Had the Team left any part of her untouched?

[dandylovesturtles]

Please tell me something about the Shape of Water AU I'm very curious

this is just the doc title for my "100 Feet and a World Away" AU! I have the lore post linked in my pinned.

tldr: the boys get kidnapped young and raised in a lab by humans who aren't aware they have human level intelligence, and they try to escape.

I posted a bit about Donnie (aka Turtle Four) eating french fries awhile ago but here, have the rest of the scene too:

April unwraps something. The smell assaults his nose - greasy meat, cheese, that red vegetable he’s seen sometimes - and he slips into the water and swims over, popping out just shy of the fence.

“I’m sorry, are you eating during our escape planning meeting?”

“Don’t start with me,” she says, holding up a hand. “I had to work through breakfast to catch up on my homework for my morning classes, then work through lunch to catch up on my homework for my afternoon classes, and then I worked through dinner to catch up on everything else.” She takes a bite, chews, swallows. “This is the first chance I’ve had to eat all day.”

“Huff! Fine. But did you have to bring something with so much…” he flails his hands, “smell?”

“It’s just a burger. What, you never had a burger before?”

He stares at her. She catches his eye, and then lowers her gaze.

“Right. Stupid question.”

“Sometimes the humans bring those. The burgers, you said? They eat them around noon.” He thinks of it with distaste. He can remember exactly which of the humans tend to chew with their mouths open, or talk with food in their mouths. It makes him feel slimy when he watches. 

“We call that “lunch”,” April says. She looks at the burger, then back at Four. It’s with an expression he doesn’t understand, but he’s noticed from her more and more. “Do you want to try it?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t know if he wants to or not. The smell is overwhelming, and he isn’t sure how it will taste. How it will feel, in his mouth.

No one ever offers him food, though.

“...I’m perfectly fine with my nutrition blocks,” he finally says.

“Oh come on, Donnie, that’s not food.”

“It is. It gives me all the vitamins and minerals I need. And…” He stumbles over what he wants to say. He hates when he does that, but he doesn’t know the words for what he’s trying to convey. He wishes he had a bigger vocabulary. He wishes he were allowed to read.

Wishes get him nowhere. He has to focus on the task at hand. Only, April doesn’t seem to want to continue with their escape planning unless he makes a decision about the burger.

“...And?” she prompts, startling him.

“...I don’t know… some food… feels weird,” he finally says.

“Feels weird?”

“In my mouth.”

For a moment she just stares at him. He guesses he must have said something weird. Humans must not care about how food feels in their mouth. Maybe that’s just a turtle thing.

Or maybe his brothers don’t think that way either. Maybe it’s just a Four thing.

But then April’s eyes go a little wider, and she says, “Ooooh. You have texture issues, huh?”

“Texture?”

“Yeah. How the food feels. Some people get really bothered by it; guess you do, too.”

Oh. So it’s not just a Four thing. There’s a whole name for it. He learned something new! How exciting!

“Yes!” he declares. He feels more confident about it now. “I have texture issues!”

She laughs at that. It’s not a mean laugh. He’s not sure why what he said was funny, though, but before he can ask she’s tearing off a small piece of the meat on the side of the burger she didn’t bite.

“Here. Just try it.” She slips it through the gaps in the chain-link, where he can get to it. “If it feels bad, you can just spit it out. I won’t be mad.”

She’s always telling him that. That she won’t be mad. He doesn’t know why; he’s never seen her get mad, at least not at him. But she always tells him that anyway.

It makes him feel better, somehow, even though that’s illogical.

He takes the meat gingerly in his fingers and looks at it. It doesn’t look particularly appetizing. The smell is a lot, but not so bad now that he’s getting used to it. He likes meat - not that he’s had it much. Maybe it will be fine.

He puts it in his mouth and immediately knows it isn’t. He doesn’t like the way the meat falls apart. He can’t describe it, he just knows it’s wrong.

He spits it out. April said she wouldn’t be mad.

“No good, huh?” she asks. She doesn’t sound mad.

“No. It was bad, actually.”

“Hmm, alright…” She glances around, then grabs the sack and pulls out something else: a small container of something thin and golden brown. “Wanna try a french fry?”

“A french fry?”

“It’s just a fried potato.” She pulls one of the thin stick-things (french fry) out of the container and pokes it through the fence. “Here!”

He takes it, looking it over suspiciously. It has the same greasy smell as the burger, but it’s not meat, it’s “potato,” so it must have a different texture.

He nibbles the end, and oh.

It’s actually good!

He devours the rest of the fry. She laughs again, and when he looks back at her she’s smiling.

“Alright, so the fries are a winner. Here, have some more!”

She slips a few more through the fence, and then a few more. Four happily eats all the fries she passes him. They taste nothing like the nutrition blocks, they taste better than the nutrition blocks, and they don’t feel bad in his mouth, not even a little.

“When I get out of here,” he says, after downing the last one, “I’ll eat like this every day.”

“Maybe not fries every day. They’re pretty unhealthy.” She shrugs. “But there’s all kinds of other things out there for you to try! We’ll figure out all the foods you like to eat.”

[prettypiscesgal]

Friends without benefits 2

part 2 - read part 1 here

Summary: You have a friends with benefits relationship with Eddie, but it all falls apart after the beautiful Chrissy Cunningham catches his eye.

Warnings: angst & implied smut

Listen while reading:

Fight or flight - Conan Gray

Bad Habit - Steve Lacy

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Mr. Collins was on my ass about-” My explanation dies on my tongue as I take in the scene before me.

Chrissy was sat on my seat next to Eddie, her cute cheer uniform still on and she’s smiling softly, giving me a little wave.

It’s been a week and I’ve tried, really tried, to wash down my hate and jealousy. The fact Eddie could so easily jump into a relationship with Chrissy after keeping me a secret for months. I’ve endured him, trying not to let him notice how much I despise him. I know it’s not fair to hate him for not having the same feelings as me.

He’s not a villain, he just doesn’t love me.

But it’s very hard. I haven’t talked to him much. Always giving him short responses and ignoring him to speak to Dustin or Mike. And i’ve started walking home so I don’t have to sit in a car with him and Chrissy. I don’t think I could handle that.

“Hey Y/N.” Eddie smiles as if everything was normal. “We already started without you, but you can still pull up a chair.”

They started without me.

They never start without me.

Yeah, it’s not like I’m a player, but they always wait for me to start.

And Eddie always saves that seat for me.

Always.

Fuck, I know it’s not that big of a deal, but I can feel my eyes starting to tear up. I can’t stop crying, I haven’t been able to stop crying over everything recently.

“Um, actually I’ll just skip out on watching this one.” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “But, um, I’ll just see you guys at my place later for the party.”

“Party?” Eddie says, his eyebrows scrunching.

“Dude.” Dustin rolls his eyes, “The birthday party for her cat? Bowie? The one she’s been planning since September?”

“Oh, right! Sorry, brain fart.” He smiles, shaking his head and I look at the ground, trying to hide how my lip quivers.

He can’t even remember the party. The party I spent all those late nights talking with him about. He wasn’t even listening, no, probably just waiting until he could take my clothes off.

Fuck him.

“Eddie. What about our date?” Chrissy whispers softly, looking to him.

“Fuck, you’re right, princess.” He says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Sorry. We planned to go out tonight.”

“No, it’s all good.” I reply, quickly wiping my tears before anyone could see. There’s no way I’ll ever let this asshole see me cry over him. “I was actually going to cancel the party. I mean, who throws a birthday party for a cat anyway?”

I awkwardly laugh, everyone else looking at me worriedly, “But we’ve been talking about it for months. You’ve been planning it for even longer.” Mike says.

“Yeah, but it’s stupid. Its all stupid!” I exclaim, my arms flailing wildly. Everyone is looking at me with concerned expressions. Except Eddie. He’s just looking down at the table as if I wasn’t even there. “I’ll see you Monday.”

I ran back to my house, crying my heart out the whole way home. I was sick of feeling like this. Sick of being the second option. Hell, if we’re honest, I wasn’t even an option.

It doesn’t matter now. Eddie found his person and I have no one.

I suck it up for a couple hours, long enough to pull out the cake I had made for Bowie and light some candles on it. After, we cuddled and watched his favorite movie, Labyrinth, of course.

“I’m sorry more people couldn’t come. I kind of have no friends now.” I whisper to Bowie, cuddling him tighter to me.

“Meow.”

“Except you of course. You’re my best friend.”

———

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Eddie.” Dustin said, pulling Eddie away from the group to scold him.

“What’d I do now, Henderson?” Eddie replies, pulling his head back in confusion and shock.

“Can’t you see how horribly you’re treating Y/N. You really skipped Bowie’s party for a date? You know how much that meant to her!” Dustin scolds, pressing his finger into Eddie’s chest accusingly.

“I..” He trails off, not knowing how to respond to that. In reality, he’d been focusing so much on Chrissy and their relationship because he was scared. It was new and fragile and he didn’t want to upset her and have her leave. He cared about her.

“Do you even care about Y/N anymore?”

“Of course I do! What the fuck are you on about!?” He replied immediately, becoming defensive.

“You have basically shut her out every since you got with Chrissy. God, are you really this dense?” Dustin shakes his head like a disappointed mother.

“No I..” Once again, he cuts himself off. He knows it’s true. He has shut her out and he hasn’t been focusing on her because of Chrissy.

Because he knows she can so easily destroy their relationship with one look.

“I love her.” Eddie admits and Dustin’s jaw drops. Eddie’s eyes widen at what he just admitted. Of course he loves her. He was just so sick of waiting for her to give him any sign that she felt the same. And when she didn’t even flinch at the idea of him asking Chrissy out, he thought he should just move on.

That proved as a difficult task because no matter how hard he tried to focus on just Chrissy, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t replace her.

“Well, you got a funny way of showing it, idiot!” Dustin yelled, stomping away and leaving Eddie alone to dwell on his own idiotic mistakes.

———

I decided to skip school today and cuddle up with Bowie. I need some time to recollect myself and all my emotions. Because I think if I saw Eddie right now, I’d immediately slap him in the face.

“Bowie? Where you going?” I ask, watching as the cat suddenly jumps out of my arms and runs over to the window. I climb out of bed and walk over to the window.

“Nothing’s here, b- OH MY GOD!” I scream when a head comes popping in the frame of my window and I fall backwards onto my ass.

I look back up to the window to find Eddie’s face, snickering at the fact he just scared me so bad I fell on my ass.

Oh, he is so lucky I took those anger management classes back in 7th grade.

“What do you want?” I ask, opening my window to look down at him, who’s currently clinging to the roof of my garage.

“Can I come in?” He asks, looking down at the 10 foot drop with a gulp, and then back to me.

“No. Go hang out with Chrissy or something.” I roll my eyes, looking to Bowie at my side who is glaring at Eddie.

“Meow.”

“Bowie doesn’t want you here either, so..” I shrug, starting to close my window, but he quickly grabs it with his hand and pushes it back open.

“Okay, Bowie loves me.” Bowie replies with a hiss to his words and I just raise my eyebrows with an ‘i told you so’ look. “Come on, I just want to apologize.”

“To me, or Bowie?” I ask.

“Both of you.” He says, looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. Which, even though I’m so fucking pissed at him, look really pretty in this lighting.

Oh, fuck him and his perfect eyes.

I groan, walking away from the window and leaving it open so he can climb through. I can practically hear his grin as he stumbles through the window, into my room.

“How would Chrissy feel knowing your alone in another girl’s bedroom?” I can’t help how much venom is in my voice. I don’t have anything against Chrissy, I’m just a jealous bitch.

“We broke up.” He replies and I quickly turn to face him with a shocked face.

“What!?”

“Because I love you.”

“What!?”

“I said-”

“I know what you said, numb nuts.” I scoff, “God, what are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?”

“I.. what?” He looks at me, confused and a little scared.

“You are such a fucking mess, Eddie.” I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “If you love me, why’d you get with Chrissy? Why’d you treat me like shit after you got with Chrissy? Why’d you just use me for sex all those months before that? Why did you break up with her and come crawling to me as if that immediately fixes everything? Fuck you!”

“I-” He just stares in shock, opening and closing his mouth while trying to think of how to respond. “I didn’t know you liked me back-”

“Didn’t know!?” I cut him off, “Are you blind? Or are you just stupid?”

“Okay, fuck!” He finally shouts, flailing his arms around. “I’m sorry! I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You’re right, I’m a mess! I never had girls actually want me before, I’ve always just been the freak, and you were the first girl to ever show interest in me. And I didn’t even know what to do or think and I thought you just wanted sex and didn’t want to actually be seen with the ‘Freak of Hawkins’. I mean, fuck, you were the closest thing I had to a girlfriend before Chrissy. I thought I could just start dating Chrissy and replace you because I couldn’t take just having sex with you and not loving you. But obviously that didn’t work and I found out that she was just dating me out of pity, so, I’m sorry and I love you and I don’t know what else to say.”

We both stare at each other with wide eyes, Eddie breathing heavily after his long rant. I look down to the ground while I try to process everything.

I mean, as far as excuses go, I suppose that was a pretty good one. I guess we were both just pretty blind and stupid.

“Um.. So Chrissy said she dated you out of pity?” I ask, looking up at him. He nods with his head down. “Wow. That’s pretty embarrassing for you.”

“Fuck you.” He laughs, shaking his head and I smile at the sight of his pretty face.

“I can’t believe you were trying to replace me with Chrissy. God, you’re an idiot.” I say, pushing at his shoulder.

“I know.” He pushes my hand away, smiling at me, “So.. you forgive me?”

“No.” I reply and his whole face drops.

“Oh come on, what do I have to do?” He whines, giving me those same puppy dog eyes.

“Get on your knees and convince me.”

His eyes shine at my words, “Gladly.”

———

sorry for making you wait

also some people’s @ weren’t working so sorry if i couldn’t tag you.

love you all !!

@honneypies @fujiihime @bratckerman @munsonzzgf @spookybabey @eddieslotionbottlecap @thegirlthatsfalling @lexthemess21 @insomniac23 @mega-fandoms-everythingrock @celestialallysum @grimmbunniee @deadpoolgirl23 @missgay15 @strangerdangerb1tch @hellv1ra @bambi-laufeyson @st-sucker @ksldicne0 @aedicn @elxctro @bisexual-d0ughnut