#fucking reminded me that HIS daughter died.

[taniushka12]

she was so funny for this, i love subplots where characters have to take care of kids its always so silly :)

[strawberrypaw]

my stepmother’s emotional state never stops amazing me

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Can you write hcs for Luke and a daughter of Hypnos (😴)

PLEASE

🥰

(If possible?)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ luke castellan x daughter of hypno! reader hcs

content: luke castellan x daughter of hypno! reader hcs warning: so soft you'll puke tho tbh minor mentions of luke's angst author's note: why do i love this more than life itself???? i dunno, you tell me. i kinda wish it was longer but yo girl outta ideas. also, i think im so fucking funny for that last line like hello guys where is my oscar for funniest teen girl to exist????

lukey pookie and his sleepy girl frrrrr

you guys were, like, aware of each other but not like friends, ya know???

until his quest - well, failed quest

he kept having nightmares, horrors of the shame on his father's face, visions of his mother hearing the news had he actually died, terrible dreams of demented dragons and enough golden apples to drown in

chris noticed and suggest luke go see you, hypno's best daughter

chris knew you following a head injury that had him scared he was going to fall into a coma, but the apollo cabin had called you over to sooth his nerves.

you were also often called in when new, younger campers were struggling to sleep, which made the a common but distant face in the hermes cabin

and chris just knew you could do wonders for luke's recent sleep problems

after a little bit of resistance, luke finally went to you

he'd had the worst nightmare yet, leaving him with huge bags under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that he couldn't seem to loose

he figured it quite literally couldn't get any worse, so he knocked on the door of cabin fifteen, already feeling slightly more at peace from just standing outside it

then a pretty girl opened the door, a cute yawn hidden behind her hand

"h-hey! luke, right? what can i do for ya?" you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before beaming a soft smile at the boy

luke choked on nothing, attempting to get words out but his tongue kept getting in the way and all that came out was chortled noises

you giggled softly, unable to keep them in despite the boys growing blush

"i-i- chris, he said- er, something about you being able to help me sleep with you- sorry! no, sleep, just, you know, in general," luke finally managed to spit out, his brain working overtime and the words coming out all wrong

you giggled at the boy once more before leaning forwards and grasping his wrist, tugging him into your cabin

you gestured towards one of the free, fluffy beds, disappearing off to somewhere, though you kept talking to the boy

"chris is really worried about you, ya know. i almost had to visit you, which we don't do very often. here, you want some tea?? lavender or chamomile? i prefer the chamomile but i think you'd like the lavender," you rambled, sitting beside him in the bed criss cross and presenting him with a mug and holding up two separate tea bags

"chamomile's fine," luke replied, taking the teabag from you, not wanting to mention that it reminded him of his mom but it reminded him of his mom

"chamomile's great!" you joked, bumping your shoulder with his

a few minutes passed of just luke drinking the tea and yawning before you mentioned that he should lie down, removing the mug from his hands

he was resistant, admittedly, not wanting to risk seeing more horrible things in his head

but you took his hand into yours, gently running your fingers along the veins and bones that you could just feel through his skin

"you think i'm just here for shits and giggles?? nah, i'm here to fistfight the boogie man. and lemme tell ya, these fists are lethal," you joke, winking at the boy, who laughed, settling into the soft pillows and blanket

but most importantly, he was settling into your presence, the hold you had on his hand, the soothing that your voice did to his brain and heart

and luke fell asleep, peacefully drifting off to the sounds of your hums and the feeling of your soft fingers ghosting over his skin

for the first time in a long while, luke castellan slept like a baby, warm and coddled and trusting that nothing bad could happen to him

not with the defender of REM cycle there

[babygorewhore]

Unholy Contrition

Rafe Cameron immediately wrote you off as some Bible thumping prude. And when his father died and left the entire fortune to him, he absentmindedly chose your father, A preacher, to speak at the funeral. But he catches something about you that reminds him of his favorite Porn Star. And he decides he’s going to corrupt you. What he doesn’t know is…you’re not as innocent as you act.

Okay guys the horny demon got me and I once again had to write about cocaine daddy because I’m addicted to him. Thank you so much to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for helping me with this and beta reading. I love you dolly.

Word count 5K!

Moodboard

Warnings! Talk of religion (duh) reader is a porn star, masks, masterbation, slight cat and mouse, choking, degrading, oral, unprotected sex! Virgin reader! Daddy kink! Kinda perv reader tbh but same. Slight breeding kink. And barely proof read I apologize.

Disclaimer: female in photos just for aesthetic purposes!!

When Rafe first saw her, it was at the annual outdoor movie where the pouges and Kooks got together. The pouges served food and drinks while he and his family sat comfortably in the front row. Topper, Kelce and himself watched JJ and Pope after their encounter. He thought they knew better than to fuck around with him and his friends. But he’d have to teach them. Burn it into their brains.

He was Rafe fucking Cameron. And they would learn their god damn place.

“Watch them.” He told Kelce and he got up. Kiera was getting a drink and this was an opportunity to assert his intent.

“Tell your boy, we know what he did.” His warning did nothing to sway her loyalty as she walked away. He smirked and then it fell when a girl was walking up to the line. It was the Preachers daughter.

He towered over her like most people but what caught his attention was the high neck shirt, covered thighs and worse. A cross on her neck and a wrap around cross bracelet around her hand. Her hair was in pig tail braids. She had doe eyes and bitten pink lips.

And she was carrying a fucking Bible. Which was a shame. She was pretty. Beautiful even. But he hated the church.

“Excuse me,” She whispered and moved past him. He had an urge to snatch it out of her hands and throw it. But he had more important things to do.

“Yeah; go ahead Jesus freak.” He hissed, bending down to say it to her ear. Her eyes widened and her brows pulled together.

“I-“

But he walked off. He wasn’t going to waste him time when he had two pouges asses to kick.

Your dad gave funeral talks all the time but now you were weirdly excited to go. Not that you were excited about Ward’s death but more about who’s attending. Rafe Cameron would be there and you actually thanked god for it. It wasn’t that you didn’t have your own belief system but the entire restriction? Fuck no.

But for the sake of your poor older father, you kept up the good girl facade. It was easy really. Keep everything simple, light pastel clothes while hiding what was underneath. Your nickname was Kitty from the cat ear beanie you had since you were a teenager. But your dad had a variety of nicknames for you.

All of them were gentle. Pure.

You adjusted your white lace turtleneck before your hands settled on your ankle length pink skirt. The very sight was way out of your true style but it would do for the service. Your white socks and black Mary Jane’s. Your cross bracelet, and necklace was a little overkill.

But no one knew how you used the cross in secret on your only fans.

The black thong you were wearing was already growing wet as you stood next to your father waiting for him to arrive. He greeted everyone with a handshake. Your eyes drifted over the crowd, mascara thick on your lashes as you subtly rose to your tiptoes. Damn, was he late to his own fathers funeral?

“Kitty, look who it is. Hello, Sarah.” You forced yourself to smile. She was crying with Topper on her arm. Apparently she and John B, Rafes arch nemesis, had broken up. For now anyway.

“Hi, Sarah, I’m so sorry…” You gave her a genuine hug and she squeezed tightly.

“Thank you, kitty.” She sniffed.

“Mr. Cameron, now that you’re here-“ You tried your best not to snap your head too directly in his direction but you slowly turned your head.

Rafe was wearing a suit and his hair was slicked back out of his eyes. Different than he had been running around a few weeks prior before he inherited the entire fortune.

He seemed…more unhinged. Something in his eyes flashed when he saw you, drank you in like a man after a day in heat. You gave him a sympathetic smile and you rolled your ankles, trying to seem smaller. More vulnerable. “Hi…Mr. Cameron. I’m so sorry for your loss…” You murmured.

His strong hand engulfed yours, his fingers long, covered in gold rings and warm. You looked into his blue eyes, shining on you and he said. “It’s still Rafe, little bunny.”

The nickname made you want to cum in your panties but you ducked your head with a blush. But you couldn’t blame him with your modest clothes and makeup. He returned to speaking with your father and you tried to keep your glances to a minimum. He was going to work for it.

The service was simple. Outdoors and you stood next to your father. You held a small Bible that was gifted to you in middle school as your cross dangled from in between your fingers. Rafe was staring at you. You could feel it but you wouldn’t give him the chance to meet your gaze yet.

You had a lollipop in your pocket. One you took out of your collection as you left your house. You always sucked on something. Your cross. Your dad wouldn’t think twice as you subtly unwrapped the paper and slowly licked a circle around the candy. Your tongue was lewd as you then pressed it passed your swollen lips.

You took another measure by your pointer and thumb pushing it back and forth and then you stuck it further…until it hit the back of your throat. Playing dumb, you gasped quietly and coughed. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, lipstick slightly staining. You then took an opportunity to look at Rafe.

His jaw was tight and he was biting his lower lip. Blue eyes were darkening as he inhaled the process of your action. His chest moved up and down rapidly. You wanted him to know you were baiting him. But you also wanted to fuck with his mind. So you did the most reasonable thing your thoughts came up with.

You gave him a small wink.

After the funeral, he was out of your sight. But you took the extra step by linking your second account on your instagram story. You knew he would watch it.

Your obsession with Rafe Cameron started in high school. He was a few months older so he graduated sooner. But when you first saw him, hanging around other girls and guys at the private school. Disobeying rules but having enough family power to ignore them. Turned you on. His rebellion was something you craved. Your attraction only grew when you saw him one day yank a girl into a closet and you heard how good he made her feel. Granted, you hid right outside the door. You wanted to be her.

You want him to throw you around. Use you. Take you like you were only made to be his little toy. Your fantasies only grew when you followed him on social media, he was public so you had fast access.

What he didn’t know was that you used your second account. Where you wore your sluttiest clothes without showing your face. You posted stories about sexual thoughts, songs and thirst traps of your body. And he commented on every single one.

“Fuck, I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I want to fuck you. Fuck your throat. Watch you leak with my cum.”

It was an endless amount of fun. You knew he wanted you. He just didn’t know you were both versions yet. And each response you gave him, ended with a wink.

“Kitty, you look tired. Do you want to head home?” Your father asked. You nodded sheepishly. Finally, you could get home and post more on only fans. You knew he would watch as well.

“Thank you, dad. I’ll see you later.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek and started to the car.

It wasn’t an accident you parked across from him and you saw him walking in the direction. You dipped your hand into your pocket, acting like you were searching for your keys as you dropped a thin fabric on the ground. Quickly, before he could approach you, as you heard his shoes you got into the driver's seat.

Playing dumb was simply picking and choosing when you showed innocence. As you drove away, your plan cemented and you bit your lip.

Getting home and settling into your bed, you wore the lingerie Rafe always requested. Normally you charged him more, but you’d give him a treat today. You pulled out your rabbit, spitting on it and slathering it with lube. You barely needed any on your pussy as you set your phone exactly where it showed the best angle.

You wore the cross on your bracelet as you traced your clit with it. A lot of girls did this but Rafe would consider that it’s yours. Maybe he wouldn’t. The doubt would drive him crazy. Just like he drove you crazy.

He was infamous for snorting coke at parties you were never invited to and you imagined smearing it across his gums before licking them. Or his strong fingers holding you down as he did a line on your body. What you wanted most? Being pinned down as he spat on your mouth and slapped your pussy. These thoughts drove you to easily slip two fingers inside as you grind onto your hand.

“Fuck me, daddy. I need you.” You whined. You wish he was here. You wish it was his hand instead of yours.

You tried to hold back, usually taking longer for a video but you came extremely quickly. As you laid there, sweaty and still needy. You glanced at the notifications. They were repeated. Sliding on your side, exposing your bare ass, you picked up your kitten mask and read the messages.

They were all from Rafe.

He was sending money. “Please, let me see that fuckable face. I’m begging you, kitten. I need it. I need to fuck that soaking pussy. Daddy needs you.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling.

Normally, you just winked. But this time, your fingers swiped and you replied.

“Work for it, daddy.”

Rafe couldn’t get the image out of his head of you sucking the lollipop out of his fucked up head. You were the preacher's daughter for god's sake. Someone he teased for being some sort of Bible thumper and she probably didn’t even know what kinky meant. But…god she was pretty. The way she innocently batted her eyelashes at him like a bunny. That was what stuck out to him. A little bunny rabbit.

And then she winked at him. It felt so pointed. Purposeful. She also dropped a black damp thong on her way to her car. Rafe snatched it up before anyone could ever see it and he half scoffed and moaned. A creamy stain that was recent. Either she secretly touched herself or she was so wet that it soaked through and ran down her pretty legs.

The last words of the mystery girl on Only fans, who was his favorite porn star, gave him more than a wink this time. Work for it, daddy.

It made him cum all over his hand again just from her words so he couldn’t even imagine her pussy. But the doubt. The doubt was there. But she was-he clenched his fist. It was during the day and he had a second to breathe in between meetings.

Rafe typed her name on instagram.

As he suspected, it was mostly scenery shots, half faced selfies and photos with your father. A few of them you were smiling, apparently whoever took the photo made you laugh when you were at the beach. He almost swiped to another photo when he narrowed his eyes.

It was very small. He almost missed it but there was a small…handprint? Right below your swimsuit above your thigh. It had to be your hand, given the size but his mind drifted to a particular video where mystery girl spanked herself to his request. Was he being paranoid? He looked at another photo, a flashback to your graduation where John B took you to prom. And he felt at twitch in his jaw. But not before another detail caught his attention.

Underneath your bracelet. Left wrist. He saw a black mark. Not a mark, he zoomed in, careful not to like the picture.

It was a tattoo.

He couldn’t see what it was but his eyes widened. Mystery girl also had a tattoo there.

But you couldn’t possibly have one. Not the preachers daughter. Weren’t they forbidden or some shit? It was starting to drive him insane when his alarm went off.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself and clicked the button. Turning his screen black. It couldn’t be you. Not this innocent girl who called him Mr. Cameron. But what if it was? He’d have to find out for himself. Anyway he needed to.

And here he was. At fucking church. He couldn’t remember a time he was here other than his dads funeral. Your dad was on the stage, flipping through a book he assumed was the Bible when he looked up.

“Mr. Cameron. What a pleasant surprise. Kitty, guess who’s here!”

He tried to keep his expression neutral as you came from a door on the left side. You wore a long light colored dress right above your ankle with the same shoes as the funeral. Your hair was in two braids with a kitten beanie, in this weather? And you still wore your two crosses.

But you were so pretty. Prettier than last time if it was possible. You gave him a small smile, ducking your head. “Hi, Mr. Cameron.”

He neared you both, trying to think of a way to subtly touch you without catching the attention of your father.

“Rafe. Um. I just wanted to stop by. Say thanks for the service. It-helped. Especially with Sarah. She’s all emotional and shit.” He quickly glanced at your dad. “Sorry.”

“No need. Freedom of speech is a gift. But you don’t need to thank me. It was Kitty who told me about him as well. So I could make it personalized.”

Rafe swore your eyes flashed. Just for a second. So he pushed. “You did? You friends with Sarah or something?”

You twirled your hair, apparently sucking on some sort of candy. When you opened your mouth, your tongue was red. “Yeah! We talk sometimes. I just wanted to help, you know?” You started sniffing. “I can’t imagine losing my dad.”

“Oh, honey…”

Rafe cleared his throat. Desperate to get you alone. “Hey-can I talk to you? Just for a minute, I wanted to ask you something.” He eyed you carefully and you nodded. Your dad didn’t seem suspicious. Which made his doubt increase.

Maybe the wink was a fluke. A nervous habit? Or maybe you did that to everyone.

You both stepped away, slowly walking down the aisle. He felt uncomfortable, wearing a suit when he wanted to feel loose. It was too constricting. You played the cross on your bracelet. He raked his brain for something or someway to look at your arm. He had to prove that you didn’t have a tattoo and he was just crazy.

“So, what did I want to talk about?” You prompt him and he clears his throat.

“I’m-“ Oh, no. What could he possibly say? “I’m trying to be more spiritual. You know, with my dad dead. I just want to have hope, you know? That I’ll see him again someday. I would ask your dad but you know. You’re more my age-“

“Oh, Rafe. You don’t have to explain yourself. Do you want me to help you? I can just…go over scriptures with you. Meet with you here. Doesn’t have to be complicated.” The way you said his name made him feel insane.

You had a tilt to your voice. The way you said the word. You didn’t sound like a little mouse for an instant. You sounded-confident. And then it quickly disappeared as your eyes flicked away. “Only if you want, I mean if you don’t, I understand-“

“No, I’d love that. And I also wanted to apologize for what I said. A while back.” This was the most awkward conversation he’d ever had in his life. You started twirling the end of your hair with a painted fingernail.

He squinted, trying to see any sort of ink. Nothing. He was right. And now he was stuck with some sort of scripture offer. “I-“ and then you stretched.

Your arms over your head and he didn’t know where not to look. Your tits were lifted, your neck exposed and then he saw your sleeve lift.

It was a black butterfly tattoo. It was medium sized. Pretty. And then he saw a few more peeking on yiur skin. Mystery girl had the same tattoo but it looked like you had more. Rafe snatched an opportunity.

“I like your tattoo.” He complimented. Hoping to get some sort of answer.

“Oh, thank you. The first one is from a while ago but the rest are new. Dad doesn’t approve but I promised to keep them covered up.” The candy you were sucking on. You rolled it around in your mouth and Rafe was bouncing with some sort of frazzled energy.

“What do you do? Outside of church?”

“I make jewelry. My own business. Sarah actually bought a few things. It’s obviously not Cameron level but I do pretty well.” A blush reddened your cheeks. Jewelry making? Damn. He didn’t have a fucking clue. But why did you wink?

He was going to lose his mind.

“That’s cool. I’ll have to-“He checked the time. He stopped here before going to the building for work.

“I have to get going. But I’m glad we talked. And I’m sorry again.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I understand. Besides, I was still in high school and I was a little awkward.” You giggled behind a hand. Your smile was adorable and he had an urge to cup your face.

What was he doing? What was this end goal?

“Yeah, me too. Um-“

“Here,” You brought out your phone and opened the number key. “Just put your number in here and I’ll let you know when we can get started if you still want to!” She chirped as he quickly typed in his number.

Her phone in his hand was so small and he felt a twitch in his crotch. Her camera roll. It could be so easy. Just a Quick Look. Just to see. Just to be sure. But to his surprise, you took it back before he had a chance.

“It was nice to see you,” You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah! You too.” He said quietly and watched you walk away. His mind was even more fucked.

Who were you? Or who was the mystery girl? For once in his life, he did consider praying for an answer.

Getting more tattoos at the same time he showed up at church wasn’t planned but it worked out exactly to your favor as you shut your room door with your hip and set your bag down. But you saw the wheels turning in his head. He was taking the bait and you smirked. This was almost too easy. Trapping him. But he was so desperate.

You needed to spark something in him, either get him to ask directly or get him to cave.

Adjusting your hair in your car mirror, you scanned your white dress for any stains. The small flowers decorating the fabric and your cross on your body. But this time you wore a pair of boots that your father nearly had a heart attack with. They were completely different than you normally wore. But you needed more proof that you were his favorite little bunny.

The church loitered with a few people, as they normally did after a Sunday service. Your knee bounced as you waited for Rafe as you sat in the front. You had a few scriptures in mind, ones to stir him and you knew he’d never imagine were in the Bible.

“Sorry, I kept you waiting.” His raspy voice caught you by the surprise but you slowly turned and looked up at him.

Rafe wasn’t in his suit today, instead his casual clothes but there was nothing casual about the way he was staring at you. His eyes were on fire. Full of desire and confusion.

“Oh! That’s okay, Rafe! I wasn’t waiting long! Please sit,” you scooted over and he seated next to you. His knee against yours. You didn’t move it.

“So, you want to hear a few scriptures, or I can pray for you, which would you prefer?” You spread your legs a little and Rafe swallowed. His jaw clenched.

“Uh-I-i don’t think I’ve ever prayed before. So the Bible is fine. I just want to make peace, you know. With my dad. But I have another problem.” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s someone I really want. And I know it’s…against the lord of whatever. And I need some help. What should l do? How do I resist it like you?” His question hung in the air and your chest tightened. You were so tempted to tell him but that’s not what you wanted.

“Well. I just listen to what the Bible says about that. It keeps me strong. What it says is clear.” You nodded. You opened the book on your lap, “1st John 1:9 ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness’” you looked at him.

“So, if you confess, God will help you.”

Rafe bit his lip and leaned in closer. “This girl. She’s a fucking porn star,” he growls. “And she wears a little kitten mask and she fucks herself all nice and obedient for me. But the problem is she teases me like a brat. She never shows her face even though I give her more money than she’s ever seen. She’s her fathers only child but she calls me daddy. And had the nerve to tell me to work for it. She fucks her cross on her pussy when she knows damn well I could do it better. But she hides. Hides behind this little innocent act with the holy Bible and looks at me with eyes that make me want to rob every single innocence away from her and expose her for the whore she is. And baby, I think it’s you.”

Your core was dripping on the bench. You were almost shaking with want and you almost had to look away from him. You felt exposed. He did figure it out. You weren’t quite prepared as you thought with his reaction. Despite your activity behind your close door, you hadn’t fucked anyone all the way. Making out with friends at sleepovers was as far as you got in real life. Your obsession with Rafe made you wait. You always knew he’d be yours. And you made it happen.

“I-“ he held a finger against your lips, cutting you off.

“No, no, no, see you’ve fucked around with me a little too long, little girl. Now, I get to show you exactly how big of a mistake that was. So, you’re going to go home and think long and hard about what’s going to happen next. For once, I think your God isn’t going to protect you from me.” Rafe pulled away and stood.

“How does it feel to be left high and dry? And by the way, nice tattoos.” And then he winked at you.

You gasped as he walked away.

Your thighs were growing damp from the leaking arousal and you were breathing heavily. Holy shit. It worked. You bit your lip as you pulled out your phone.

He had texted you. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

When you got home, your dad was out. He was gathering his sermon scriptures and then to spend time with his small circle of friends. You told him you didn’t feel well enough to go. Your mask was secure on your face as you took photos in your bra and panties.

You planned on making more content but it was getting harder because you wanted Rafe so badly. You wanted him to fuck the brat right out of you, making all your dreams come true from his earlier talk. Pouting, you started going through tik tok, laying on your stomach. But then a noise caught your attention. Sitting up, you went to grab your robe when your door was bashed open.

Eyes wide, you see Rafe walk towards you, with a sadistic smirk on his face. He tilted his head, trailing his blue irises over your body, your naked knees pressing together.

“Hey kitty.” He said, stalking towards you. Rafe kneeled on your bed before grabbing your ankles. You shrieked as he dragged you towards him and loomed over you. “The mask was a really nice touch, baby.” Rafe glanced at the cross on your neck after he tore off your mask and threw it. He pulled it, tugging you up.

His breath hit your mouth. “You want to be my slut? All those fucking videos for me. Making me crazy. Making me doubt myself. You’re gonna regret it. Open your fucking mouth.”

You immediately obeyed and Rafe spit inside. He grabbed your jaw and closed it.

“What’s wrong? What happened to that little brat? Aw, she’s done isn’t she? Fuck, and I haven’t even done anything.” He tapped your cheek harshly. You felt his silver rings against your skin.

You were trembling but you grabbed his face and smashed your lips together. You tried sitting up but Rafe would have nothing less than submission as he pinned your hands above your head and dominated his tongue in your mouth. He kissed you with brutal force and you almost came just from that. All these years and it was better than you could have ever imagined.

He ripped away and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Tell me you’re going to be good.”

Your air was cutting off and you nodded rapidly. “I’ll be good.”

“Say I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry for making me have to search for answers. And finally break into your fucking house.” Rafe snarled and tightened his grip. You could feel him hardened above you.

He shoved his hand inside your underwear, grazing your soaking pussy. His two fingers rubbed your clit but with too light pressure. Your eyes rolled back as your stomach tightened.

“You’re so pathetic. Gonna cum and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You’re a fucking virgin, aren’t you? A little whore but you’ve never done this with anyone but your own tiny fingers.” Rafe lent down and hovered over your mouth that was parted.

He pulled his hand away and you whined. “No, please, I’m sorry daddy. I’m sorry for doing all this-“

“I’m sorry daddy,” Rafe mocked you, his fingers shoving inside your greedy entrance. “I’m sorry daddy that I’m a dripping whore and I need the Bible to get you to fuck me.” He started chuckling as you grew noisier. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“I’m-“ He stopped and you almost screamed. “I’m so sorry, daddy. I’m a stupid dripping whore but I want you so bad. You can do whatever you want to me. I’ll take anything but please stop teasing-“

Rafe broke then, his hand removed from your neck and you sucked in air. His mouth slammed against yours as he ripped your underwear off, and fumbled with his belt. He slid down, kneeling on the floor as he spread your legs. Your glistening cunt made his eyes darken. “You’re so fucking wet for this.”

His tongue lapped at your clit, circling it around the bud before he licked the underside with pressure. You mewled and clawed the bed as he devoured you. Rafe’s tongue slipped inside you with ease as you clenched. You were so close it was painful. But he was relentless. Slowing when you were just about to reach your peak.

“Daddy, please make me cum.” You cried out, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m sorry, but please daddy.”

Rafe stopped and yanked off his pants and boxers. His heavy leaking dick was bigger than you thought as he wasted no time running it down your pussy. “This may hurt a little,” He warned before slamming in. “But you can fucking take it.”

Your nails clawed his back as he thrusted again. You moaned so loudly it surprised you but he met you in volume. “Fuck, daddy!” You said against his ear.

“Are you going to behave?” Rafe grunted as he crudely started massaging your clit. “Are you going to behave from now on?”

Your vision went white as your stomach tightened, “yes I promise,” You whispered before your pleasure exploded.

Rafe did too, his movements stalled as you felt him empty inside you, and your damp forehead rested against his.

“Maybe I fucked a baby in you, kitten.” Rafe sneered with a fucked out look. He was still inside you. “Looks like you corrupted me to your religion.” He smirked before pulling out.

“So…” You cleared your throat and looked at him with a small amount of vulnerability. “What does this mean? Is this it?”

Rafe inhaled and his fingers went to grip your jaw. His powerful face above you sent chills down your naked spine. “If you think you’re anything else but mine, then you’re a dumb little bunny. No one will ever touch you but me. Be with you but me. And besides,” He grinned wickedly. “Your dad already likes me.”

Tagging

@imyourdaninow @drewstarkeyslut @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @slvt4jamesmarch @reidsbtch @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow

[thenerdyindividual]

Rewatching A Crown of Candy had reminded me how much I hate Saccharina. She is such a well done character. Her expectations are completely out of line with reality. The Rocks family lost Jet less than two weeks before meeting Saccharina, and they’ve had no time to process their grief. They’ve been running for their lives for even longer with out any idea that Saccharina existed, and have had no time to come to terms with everything. Calroy, someone they cared about and trusted, was directly responsible for the state of affairs, including Jet’s death. There’s been no time to process a betrayal that profound. Ruby, Jet, and Liam went from being rambunctious teens to war guys, and they haven’t been able to figure out what that means for them.

Despite all that, Saccharina expects them to play happy families immediately because she’s known of them her entire life. Then, because of her background, she takes every instance of tension as a personal slight. There’s no consideration for what the Rocks have been through because she’s experienced pain too. She is so focused on the distance she feels with Ruby and Amethar, she ignores that the rest of the party has been welcoming to her. Theo gave his loyalty to her within minutes of meeting her. Cumulus bonds with her over Lazuli. Liam is… well he’s Liam. He’s an awkward guy with everyone, but he is welcoming to her too. Amethar is doing his best but Saccharina doesn’t consider that his struggles to bond with her have nothing to do with her. He lost a daughter and now is being asked to accept another daughter he didn’t know about on the heels of that loss. Ruby didn’t just lose her twin, she lost her best friend, but Saccharina expects Ruby to put aside her grief to welcome a new sister with open arms. Just a couple episodes before, Ruby is “warging into Yak so I don’t have to be in my fucking body” and saying she felt like she died the day Jet did. Yet when she tries to explain all of the grief and trauma to Saccharina, Saccharina’s response was “I was born with nothing”.

What makes all this so brilliant (besides Emily Axford’s rp and character choices) is how if the tables were turned, we’d hate the Rocks family. As @anarchycox pointed out, if this was a YA novel where we had been following Saccharina’s point of view, we’d hate Amethar and Ruby for not accepting Saccharina. We’d be raging and saying things like “She’s your daughter! You’re meant to love her, you asshole!” After everything Saccharina has been through, we’d be pissed that she couldn’t get a happy reunion. There would be no question that we were on Saccharina’s side.

It is the only time I’ve experienced feeling guilty about hating a character. Normally, when I hate a character it feels good to hate them. They’re a bad guy and it’s fun to tell them to go fuck themselves. Saccharina isn’t a bad guy, or even an antagonist. She’s is an ally, and a deeply flawed and wounded character.

I still hate her.

It’s brilliant. Emily Axford you’ve done it again.

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #4

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Truth unveiled, Alastor being unusually touchy, Lucifer being himself. Warnings: Mentions of child death.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink

One year and seven months left. You reminded yourself while watching the black snake tattoo that slowly made its way up your arm, soon it would reach your heart and all would be over.

“Ten years, you work for me at my Hotel, and if I can’t manage to convince you to find something good to do with yourself, I’ll set you free” Charlie’s voice resonated in your head, it made no sense, but the true meaning of the deal was that if she could manage to help you find a reason to continue living, you would have a permanent home at the hotel.

If she couldn’t, you would have your soul back, and then the snake takes care of ending your suffering.

A swarming of feelings and thoughts came from thinking about the countdown, “It’s probably the best” who was going to miss you anyways? No one did back at the living world, your daughter died post-partum, your husband had died because of his sins, most of your friends at the time flew overseas looking for a better life, and there was no family left to mourn you.

Still isn’t.

Your father and your husband were most likely around in hell somewhere, in a hundred years you haven’t bothered to check, probably ended up repeating the same pattern: Gambling, debts, death.

May was a dreadful month, Mother’s day, your daughter’s birth and death anniversary, and just by the end of it, your birthday. Turning 40 is bad, but imagine turning 140 years old, that is worse.

You died at 35 years old in the 1920’s, since that to now it’s been 104 years, plus your age at the time 139, now turning 140. “It’s a blessing that I stayed looking the age I died in, otherwise I would be looking worse” you outlined your hips with your hands while straightening the leather straps around your waist.

‘Y/n, can you come to the parlor please?’ you heard Charlie speak through. You immediately knew what was going to happen, giving that it was nine Am sharp, and you weren’t summoned to make breakfast.

She either told them, or Angel was going to be fried alive.

Just as you guessed, there was Charlie in front of the fireplace, as the rest, except Alastor, looked rather hurt and shocked, specially Lucifer and Vaggie.

“You called?” the smoke cleared, making yourself appear sitting on the couch next to Charlie. A gasp found its way out of Vaggie’s throat before anyone could say anything. The angel collected her thoughts and then she was able to speak.

“Charlie, what the fuck is the AXE-MAN DOING IN THE HOTEL!” Vaggie didn’t doubted a second to stand before her with the spear pointing at you, “She’s the chef of the Hotel” Charlie smiled weakly, trying her best to stay collected. “Since when?” the feline bartender asked, not minding your presence very much.

“Before it started actually, eight years now?” she turned to you for confirmation, which you nodded affirmatively. “And you hid this, because…?” Angel’s turn to ask. Charlie was in shambles trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t raise more questions, but failed, so you interceded.

“We made a deal; we don’t need to disclose the details, but it made her feel guilty” she shot you an unamused look before turning to her partner, her hand softly tracing the outline of her cheek.

“How come you got angry at me for lying to you, but you keep this kind of secret, honey?” ‘Oh hell no’ master or not, you weren’t going to allow that girl to talk to her (or anyone) like that.

“Hey now, whether she wanted to tell you or not it’s my and her business, but you hid the fact that you are an angel, worse than that a murderer, and no better than us sinners, so don’t act all hurt because now you two are even” your eyes lit up as the staring began to feel more lie a threat towards the fallen angel.

“You knew?” she diminished the distance between her spear and your neck, not earning a single flinch on your part, “One piece of advice, your golden blood leaves a trail, and the stench is very… specific, those like me that are used to blood can tell the difference” Alastor nodded in agreement.

“Why didn’t you tell me” Charlie sounded suspicions not hurt, to no one’s surprise really, “Last thing I knew I was a chef, not the gossip press” you took a look back to Vaggie, using a finger to lower the spear with zero effort, “Besides, wasn’t my secret to disclose” you winked an eye.

“Wait hold on, what makes the Axe-man want to work in a place for redemption?” Lucifer questioned, now more relaxed, he was all and hellfire before thinking you had taken her daughter’s soul. “She’s…kind of…forced to be here” another gasp.

Everyone turned to you, “I’m not ashamed of it, I got my ass kicked by miss sunshine here, lost my soul in the process and now I’m the chef” all except you and Charlie laughed, tearing up a little too.

“Charlie doesn’t own a soul, don’t be stupid, she’s lying right, Charlie?” Lucifer, watched his darling, perfect daughter image crumbled when all she could respond to that was a quiet shameful nod.

“YOU OWN A SOUL?” the shock was understandable.

It was too much for Lucifer so he sat beside you, holding his head on his hand, “Before you all judge her, I was stupid enough to challenge her when Lilith had just left, she was in a very dark place, my timing was terrible”

“How dark?” the king whispered your way, “I was her punching bag” he muttered a ‘oh shit’ both impressed and somewhat feeling guilty. They both had similar eyes when it came to pain.

“The infamous Axe-Man of New Orleans, I must say I am a big admirer of your work” Alastor came forward, grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Oh, how unfortunate” he knew your name from above, so he lived around or in New Orleans.

“Why would you say that? You made an entire state fear your axe, for years there was nothing but jazz playing in the streets at night, and what’s best you were never identified nor caught” he pulled you from your seat, hitting his chest, his cane disappeared, leaving his free hand to sneak behind to hold your back in place.

“Well, I’m not that person anymore” Alastor drank in your scent, the sweetness burning its way down his lungs.

Every fiber, every hair on his body, told Alastor to run. Animal instinct, a deer in the jaws of a lion, a prey in front of a carnivore. Maybe because of the post-battle adrenaline he didn't feel the same instinct when you helped him. What will you feel with him so close? hunger? anger? lust? Curiosity ate him alive, he wanted to know what was telling you your instinct, how would it feel to be eaten by you.

“What made you bury the hatchet?” Angel’s pun made you smile, “Alastor” still in his arm, you felt him shift. “When you made yourself…present in hell, young, power hungry and all that, something inside me just told me that it was time to stop” ‘or else it was going to end with blood’ you thought. 

“Also before all this, I had heard about the cannibalistic murderer” you were aware of his aberration to touch, but given his closeness, you had no choice. Both of your hands settled on his hips, mostly for leverage, but to see how he would react to you.

“What an honor, I must say your performance inspired mine” his smile twitched, specially after feeling your warmth though his coat.

“You’re insulting me, Mr. Heartfelt” his chest tightened, a growl emanated from your throat, subtle but it made Alastor’s mind cloud a little. Focusing on your dilated pupils at all times to read any sign of warning, he saw nothing, no emotion whatsoever.  

“Your act was sloppy, careless. The bullied that became executioner of his bullies, tell me, do you feel better?” He didn’t understood what you were implying, once he tasted human meat he just couldn’t stop. He never asked himself if he was content, or if the blood made him feel better.

“You only targeted Italian mobsters; I’d say that’s rather sloppy” that’s all he could think, “And yet I didn’t allowed myself to be shot in the head” there was a weird aura surrounding you and him.

The situation was charming, two assassins of excellence, powerful Overlords with influence and stigma. Despite their sins, they were beautiful beings full of life and grace. Lucifer couldn't help but feel a tingle on his back watching such a scene. It seemed like they were going to devour each other, and relish in it.

“Disappointed?” your fangs shined with the firelight. “A little” he answered, expecting you to be more sanguinary, just as you used to be. “I’ll make Jambalaya today if that makes you feel better” but no matter what he did, while froze in place, like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t make him feel less excited, so alive.

“Thank you chérie, what about my work as of late?” reluctantly he let go of you, taking both of your hands in his.

“Very entertaining” he has a very slim waist, and yet it felt strong under your fingertips, warm. He has his hands and forearm blackened, just as his legs must be. The rest of his skin must be of that beautiful cream color. Of course, his chest wasn’t bald, like you he has a thin layer of short and soft fur.

“Get a room” Lucifer broke the moment, making Alastor’s eyes turn into the demonic radio stare you knew so well, “Funny I didn’t think such a tiny person could have a massive mouth” he then stepped away. Was it normal to be cold? Your body missed his closeness.

“Here he goes again, how about you help me with breakfast munch-king?” Lucifer felt his jacket being pulled off the couch, dragged by it towards the door that lead to the hallway to the kitchen, “Did you seriously called me that?” he allowed that, with a smirk he gave Alastor the finger.

“Want me to sing the song too?” you warned with a smile, “You wouldn’t dare-” your arm hugged his small frame into your side as you started to mock him, “Ding Dong the witch is dead!” you started, dragging the king down the hallway, “STOOP!” that was the last thing the crew heard before the door closed behind you.

🍎📻

“So, you challenged my daughter?” you hummed a yes, “She took the split a bit bad, huh?” on the corner of your eye you could see him sit on the kitchen island, just a few inches from where his daughter had hurt her hand.  

“I’ll send you my medical bill” your sarcasm made him laugh a little, “You don’t look like you belong in the sin of pride, yours must be wrath, isn’t it?” do demons look accordingly to their sins? You didn’t knew, “You tell me, I have yet to allow myself to ponder over what I have done”.

“I think I didn’t introduced myself, please forgive me” you left the kettle under the fire and walked over him, “My name is Y/n” you extended your hand to him, he took it with a smile. “Lucifer Morningstar, you may call me however it pleases you” his touch was gentle, but firm, you could feel his pulse though his gloves.

A thought tickled your brain, “In that case, would you like sugar or honey in your tea, Samael?” his eyes shifted, his horns grew. Like wood, like wood, his gaze was the same as his daughter's, and yet they harbored both hatred and sadness, both as deep as an abyss.

It shot an intense wave of electricity up your spine. You stood in front of the biggest predator in all of hell.

“Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you” he hadn’t let go of your hand, nor squeezed it, “I apologize, my king” your free hand caressed over the fabric.

He pouted, still not letting go of your hand. “If you let me touch your ears, I may forgive you” he turned back, you caught the sight of his tail slithering inside his pants.

“Sure, but please don’t get too close to the inside, my instincts are very strong and unforgiving, I would hate to have your blood on my uniform” You couldn't even finish speaking when he pulled your hand, immediately starting to touch the fur surrounding your ears. His knees settled on either side of your hips, taking advantage of the extra height the furniture provided.

“So soft, it’s so weird, a lion sinner, usually it’s a loyal, brave and true creature, heaven material” the sensation made your heart flutter. You felt like a dog, which made your ego bruise up a little, but at the same time his hands were warm and gentle, he took your advice and avoided the areas that you mentioned.

“Anyways, you’re forgiven, again, you’re very soft” Another cold feeling due to loss of touch, how annoying. You swallowed a lump of saliva before you could speak again, “Thank you, I take care of myself”.

“Oh and the note, thanks, it hasn’t been easy” he didn’t eased the pression on your hips,  “Marriage ain’t easy, and being apart after thousands of years must be rough” it’s not like the closeness bothered you, but it grant him a cocky smile and a sense of power over you, that feeling brought back the feeling of looking like a dog.

“I just…I wish I could make it up to Charlie” his hands grabbed one of yours, fidgeting with your fingers and the palm. “If it makes you feel more at ease, the sole fact that you’re here partially does more than enough” the light in his eyes lasted a few seconds, it was a lovely sight.

“Partially?” worried? Understatement. “If I say it you can’t hit me or anything” he made an X over his heart, then his hand went back to yours.

“She lied to you and you just went along with it? Parenting 101, mutual respect: she doesn’t lie and you don’t either” he applied a light pressure to your hand pads, making your claws come out and retract, that seemed to amuse him.

“So I have to…ground her?” his golden gaze went up to your eyes, but you were far too concentrated in his movements. “Well not now, but maybe speaking with her about it might be the right course of action”.

Melancholy, he had a feeling so he went for it.

“You were a parent?” he was right, your pained expression lasted a second but it was enough for him to feel a pang on his side. “For a day and a few hours” your eyes darkened, as it they were lost in a thought. The warmth of his hand on your cheek and a soft ‘My condolences’ brought you back.  

“I just know appropriate parenting by taking my parent’s example and do the opposite” you masked your pain with a smile and a smart remark, just like him, “Yeah, me too” his response made you scoff, “Where would you’ve sent you daughter for this kind of idea, Heaven?”.

Laughter filled the room. He wouldn’t do such a thing, nothing Charlie did would make Lucifer banish her anywhere, much less punish her like that for trying to help others.

“I had a different perspective of you” your tail stiffened around your leg, “What, a soulless maniac killer and nothing more?” you used to be like that. He laughed, “I mean, soulless indeed” you ruffled the hair that fell on his forehead, “But I’m glad I was wrong, thank you for taking care of my daughter, I see she trusts you a lot” you wouldn’t call it trust, nor she relied on you much.

Now that you think about it, taking care of her was instinctive, “I just grew used to her this past eight years” he smiled, “Thank you” he sensed the shift in you, the situation tensed up very quickly.

“Don’t, and just to be fully open about it, you were my objective” you would never show your fangs to anyone, looking like an animal doesn’t give you the right to act like one.

“Wait really?” his lips twitched, almost smiling. “I thought if I bruised up your daughter you would appear, but you saw how that ended” he hummed, rather amused. Your intimidation did nothing to him.

“Are you strong enough?” his question, he was insulting you? “Are you offering to fight?” you looked  at him up and down, not a trace of malice. “I mean if that’s what you wanted?” he was willing to fight with you? “I…I knew I wasn’t strong enough, nor I am now. To be honest, I wanted to pass to history as a crazy bitch who died at the hands of the devil”.

‘I’m oversharing, shut up’ you took a deep breath, adjusting yourself in between his legs, “I see” his breath hit your skin, “Now I just do this, and I’m fine with it”.

“I’d say, you’re terrific in the kitchen, no matter if it’s a served cold or hot type of dish, you always make it taste like home” your ears flattened against your head. “Thank you” he then looked up from your hand once again, a tender pink hue adorned your cheeks.

“Anyways” you got rid of his touch, as well as separated his knees just enough to walk a few steps backwards, “I have to make breakfast, and I just pulled you away because your constants fights with Alastor has gotten old very quick” you walked away, taking your white apron off the hanger, then tied a lovely bow on your back with the laces.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, see you later then” was that disappointment? You didn’t knew, and couldn’t care as long as your body remained trying to shake off the excessive heat, and the phantom of his touch still lingering. “Fuck” thinking about it made you cut your finger with a knife.

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

Stay tuned :3 Part 5

[buckttommy]

Why do you like Shannon so much?

because i look at her as a whole. she wasn't just eddie's wife. she wasn't just christopher's mom. she was a woman in her own right. and she was... she had a whole life in front of her, you know? not even at the point when she died (but that too), i mean she had her whole life in front of her at the point where she got pregnant. and we know how that was for eddie, you know? we can see, at least in some ways, the effects of christopher's birth and existence on him and how those things shaped who he was and who he became but shannon, in some way, only exists to further his story. and that's fine because, like, he's the main character. but what we do know about her is just so tragic.

think about every teenager you know. every teenager you ever knew. how many of them are ready to be mothers? how many of them are ready to be mothers to disabled children? how many of them are ready to be single mothers to disabled children? how many of them are ready to be single mothers to disabled children while their own mothers are dying of cancer, while their mother in laws are not offering support, and while they're constantly living with the fear that this is forever? because that was her reality. if eddie died overseas, that little glimpse of her life without him would have been her Entire existence for the rest of her life. and i don't know about you, but even as 20-something, that entire existence seems so daunting and overwhelming.

i don't support her for leaving christopher. she fucked that boy up, as we can see now (and have seen over the years) and she shouldn't have abandoned her son, period. have whatever feelings you want to have about your husband but don't bring your kids into that shit. you know? but when i step outside of just that aspect and look at the entirety of who she is? someone just as young and confused and scared as eddie was without receiving any of the grace and understanding that he did inherent, at least, to the fact that he was a soldier at war? i just. man. it reminds me of that poem. you know? they fuck you up, your mum and dad / they may not mean to, but they do / they fill you with the faults they had / and add some extra just for you. and it's just, like, how many choices led them to where they all were/are? all of them.

how many choices from how many people led shannon to getting pregnant by her loser boyfriend? where was her dad? texas dads don't typically let their daughters go get knocked up in high school, btw, so where was he? was he dead? was that, too, something she had to shoulder on her own/with her mom, or did she just never know him? how many choices led her to saying "enough is enough" and walking out? how many sleepless nights? how many tears? how many doctors appointments and arguments and mean words thrown back and forth led to it all just becoming too much? when did she decide she didn't want to be the bigger person anymore? because she didn't decide it the moment she left, that was when she just finally put those feelings into action. she decided it long ago. just, like, how many different choices for how many different people led to all these different versions of all these characters that we know so well?

we'll never know. at least not where shannon is involved. but we can see it in the main characters, so exploring the tragedy of shannon diaz as a viewer, and as a woman, and as a former teenage girl is just. so interesting and so compelling and so sad on so many different levels, like. she deserved better. not just her character, but she, as a woman, deserved so much better. she deserved so many more chances to be the woman/person she thought she wanted to be. when she was a little girl growing up in religious texas, i highly doubt her vision for her life included being lonely, angry, sad, and divorced. and i think the writers (and eddie) do a great job of honoring her as a human being and as a mother. she was not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but that's what makes her so good and so sad and i just. i just love to probe deeply into who she is even if we'll never get confirmation in canon because i think, if nothing else, the character deserves that much

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: You awake in a top secret facility where you learn of Leon's true nature

Word Count: 5.9k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, dubcon, pregnancy, monster f*cking, body horror, lactation kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

“Where’s Leon?”

“In this building.”

“Where am I?”

“At the BSAA North America headquarters in Washington D.C..”

“BSAA?”

“The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance.”

“Did Leon do something wrong?”

The man called Clive lets out a chuckle, leaning back in his chair, “that’s a loaded question.”

You feel a lump form in the back of your throat. You swallow it back, remaining silent in hopes that Clive will continue.

“Nine years ago, the president’s daughter was kidnapped by a cult in Spain called Los Illuminados. D.S.O. Agent Leon S. Kennedy was sent to rescue her. Both of them had become infected with a bioweapon-- a parasite the cult called Las Plagas. Leon had successfully removed the parasite from the president’s daughter, however…”

Clive pauses and you can feel your heart start to race at the implication, but still you press, “however, what?”

Clive clears his throat, “by the time the U.S. government realized Leon was still infected, he was long gone, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. He’s been on the run for nine years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The hikers? That man at the festival? Your father? They’re all his victims,” Clive states.

“You’re lying!” you shout, standing up from the chair and slamming your hands onto the table.

“The plaga feeds on blood in order to survive; it seems to have an affinity to human blood, too.”

“You do realize this sounds absolutely insane, you’re making it sound like Leon’s a vampire or something.”

Clive chuckles again, “that honestly wouldn’t be that far from the truth,” you watch his eyes glance to your swollen belly, “I take it that’s Leon’s baby you're pregnant with?”

“Yes,” you reply curtly before sitting back in the chair, crossing your arms, “it is.”

“Shit…”

“What?”

Clive takes a deep breath before continuing, “I hate to tell you this, but your baby isn’t entirely human.”

Your eyes widen, “excuse me?! Now you’re fucking with me, this is insane!”

“Don’t you find it odd that Leon hasn’t taken you to a single prenatal appointment? Odd that your pregnancy seems to be progressing awfully fast?”

You stand back up again, angrily shaking your finger at Clive, “you are full of shit!”

“Deny it all you want, it’s the truth. Unfortunately you’re too far along in your pregnancy to safely abort, we’ll have to wait until you give birth so we can euthanize it; we’ll make sure it’s done humanely.”

“No one is coming near my baby! You’re just trying to scare me!”

You watch Clive reach into his jacket, pulling out a photo and placing it on the table in front of you. What you see immediately makes you pause and stare. It’s a poorly lit room, a person is tied to the support beam, covered in blood and what you assume is bite marks on their neck.

“This was taken in Leon’s basement after we apprehended him. This is why he kept the basement locked.”

You can’t take your eyes off the photo, especially after you realize you recognize the clothes; it’s a woman that had gone missing after coming out of a work Christmas party in Plymouth; you had seen a photo of her at the party on the news. You feel chills go up your spine.

"Unfortunately she died from blood loss when we were transporting her to our clinic," Clive states.

You swallow hard before making eye contact with Clive, “what the hell is going on…?” 

“I think it will be easier to show you, come with me,” Clive replies, standing up from his chair and motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for a moment before you decide to follow, going back out into the hallway. The two of you eventually make your way to a single elevator, watching Clive swipe a card and then call the elevator. It beeps before the doors slide open and the two of you step inside. 

“How long have you been watching us?” you ask, figuring out that based on what Clive had said to you about Leon not taking you for prenatal check-ups, that someone was watching you and Leon’s every move.

“Shortly after Halloween, a police officer in Oakvale had reached out to the FBI to ask about Leon; in turn the FBI reached out to us. We had to ensure that it was definitely him before making our move.”

You nod, shifting uncomfortably on your feet and unconsciously rubbing your belly. After a couple minutes, the elevator door opens and Clive steps out, you follow him closely. Several men in lab coats turn and greet Clive.

“Director O’Brien! For what do we owe the pleasure?” one of the scientists asks before looking at you, “is this…?”

“Yes she is,” Clive replies, “has he been fed yet?”

The scientist looks back at Clive, shaking his head, “not yet, we were just about to get ready to.”

“Excellent, bring us to the observation room.”

“Of course, director.”

The scientist leads the way bringing you down another hallway that’s barricaded with several large steel doors. At the end, he turns to a door on the left, swiping a keycard and inputting a passcode, causing the door to slide open. You can’t help but feel like you somehow woke up in a science fiction movie. You pinch yourself again to make sure you’re definitely not dreaming.

Once in the room, the scientist pulls up the blinds on a large window and you see Leon, still in just his sweatpants, sitting on a basic metal bed hunched over, staring at the floor. Your heart seemingly skips as you rush up to the window, putting your hands on the glass.

“Leon…” you say softly.

From what you can see, there is nothing out of the ordinary about Leon and you start to reckon that they have the wrong man. Leon wouldn’t hurt anyone. Looking around the room, you notice there is a purple hue. You look up at the room’s ceiling and see that between each fluorescent light is a purple one; the same lights that you saw when you and Leon had gotten ambushed at home.

“What are the purple lights?” you ask, turning to Clive as you remove your hands from the glass.

“High powered ultraviolet lights. The plaga can’t stand sunlight. That’s why he only hunts at night.”

Suddenly, a walkie talkie that is sticking out of Clive’s outer jacket pockets goes off, “We’re ready to commence feeding if you are, director.”

Clive grabs the walkie talkie out of his jacket and replies, “proceed.”

On the left side of the room, a door slides open and a blindfolded man is pushed in and the door closes. The man practically falls onto his face. The man sits up on his knees and you see that his hands are bound behind his back.

“He’s a death row inmate,” Clive says, answering a question you hadn’t even asked, “we have a partnership with the penitentiary and they supply us with inmates that are going to be executed.”

Your attention is drawn back into Leon’s room when the UV lights are switched off and the fluorescent lights dim. Your eyes are drawn to Leon when he suddenly lifts his head, his eyes locked on the man that’s in the midst of a panic attack in the middle of the room. Before your eyes, you watch dark, inky veins start to spread over Leon’s exposed skin. Leon suddenly stands up, walking towards the man like a predator stalking its prey. Movement coming from behind Leon makes your breath hitch; a long, jet black tail comes out  of Leon’s back; the closest thing you can compare it to is a scorpion’s tail.

That isn’t all, four more appendages come out of his back, these looking like claws. You want to close your eyes, you want to run, but you can’t; your eyes remain locked on Leon. In a split second, Leon pounces onto the man, the man’s cries for help going unanswered as you watch Leon’s mouth latch itself onto his neck. The four claws latch onto the man as his tail whips itself back and forth as Leon feasts upon him. You suddenly feel your baby shift in your belly.

Leon suddenly stops, unlatching himself from his meal and looking directly at you. 

“Can he see us?” you ask, your voice shaking.

“No, it’s a two way mirror,” Clive replies, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

Leon stands up walking right up to the window, his eyes locked onto you. To your horror, you see his eyes are red, seemingly glowing in the dim light. His blood stained mouth hangs agape and you can see that all four of his incisors are elongated and sharp. Leon puts his hands onto the glass, his gaze still locked onto you.

“Angel?” he says, his eyes widening, “is that you?”

His tail moves back and forth as he stares at you and that’s when your baby inside you starts moving erratically, causing you to wince in pain as you grab your belly. 

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” Leon continues, his hands running down the glass, leaving trails of blood behind, “this is not how I wanted to show you my gift.”

“Gift?” you whisper, taking a couple of steps back from the window.

“He’s referring to the plaga.” Clive replies.

“Our little girl has the gift, too,” Leon continues, his right hand pets the glass as you watch his gaze shift to your belly, made even more unsettling knowing that he can’t see you, “isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your baby shifts again, feeling your baby’s foot go up your rib cage, causing you to yelp as you once again grab your swollen belly. 

There’s no way your baby is reacting to him right? Right?

You watch as Leon’s crimson eyes narrow, one of his fists balling up and punching the glass, causing it to crack. You scream, stumbling backwards and falling to the floor as Leon throws another punch at the glass, cracking it further. Clive rushes over, picking you up off the floor as he grabs his walkie talkie.

“Turn those damn UV lights back on! NOW!” he shouts into the walkie talkie as he pulls you out of the observation room.

You turn and look back as the UV lights are powered back on, Leon letting out the most inhuman scream you’ve ever heard in your life and in an instant, you watch his grotesque appendages retreat back into his body as he stumbles away from the glass, clutching his head with his hands.

As you and Clive retreat back to the elevator, Leon’s cries of your name fill the halls.

You have no idea how much time has passed since the incident with Leon. Clive had you relocated to a more comfortable room at the facility; it has furniture, a small refrigerator and a window to look outside. You’re sitting in a rocking chair next to the window, rubbing your pregnant belly unconsciously as you watch a gentle snowfall outside. Over and over, your brain plays out the last few months since you returned home from dropping out of college.

Every little thing you had noticed that was odd suddenly made sense: eating the rarest meat imaginable, that one time you thought he had sharp teeth when he bit into his burger, him suddenly going into the basement, him getting up in the middle of the night to ‘check traps,’ the day they found what was left of your father, that smile he had on his face was burned into the back of your mind. Your eyes unconsciously widen at another revelation; the red eyes you saw in your window that night, they were Leon’s.

“It was him… he was the B.O.W. the whole time…” you whisper to yourself, a single tear rolling down your cheek. 

The sound of the door opening startles you and you watch Clive walk in, giving you a gentle smile and wave as he steps into the room.

“I just spoke with your mother,” Clive says, taking a seat on your bed across from where you sit, “I let her know you were experiencing complications in your pregnancy and that you had to be taken to a specialist in D.C., so she at least knows where you are. I didn’t mention Leon to her.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly, letting out a sigh as you return your attention back out the window.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

“Empty? Lost? I’m not sure what to feel… I feel like the last few months have been a cruel lie,” you reply honestly, wiping more tears that run down your face away with the back of your hand.

“I know and I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard this has been for you.”

“Is it true that you can’t cure him?” you ask, looking back over at Clive.

Clive nods, “unfortunately. The parasite has completely taken over his body, if we try to remove it, he will die.”

“How… how is he?” you ask, not really sure you actually want the answer.

“He’s refusing to feed. We’ll have to execute him sooner than we intended,” Clive replies, leaning forward, resting his forearms onto his legs.

“Execute?!”

Clive nods, “yes, he’s too dangerous to keep alive. Our hope was to study the plaga inside of him before putting him out of his misery, but he’s making that difficult.”

“Is there any chance I could say goodbye to him before he’s executed?”

Clive stares at you puzzled for a moment before replying, “I believe I can have that arranged.”

“Good,” you say with a soft sigh of relief.

Despite everything, you still love him. You still love the baby growing inside of you. The thought that both of these things that you love so dearly are going to get taken from you absolutely kills you.

“I’ll make sure to come get you when that time comes,” Clive says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the door, “don’t hesitate to give us a holler if you need anything.”

You believe another few days passes, you awake one morning to the sound of wind howling; a blizzard seems to have come in. Just after you get yourself dressed and cleaned up, Clive once again comes into your room.

“It’s happening tonight,” Clive says, his look solemn.

You acknowledge him with a nod before following him out of your room and back to the elevator that brings you to the underground research facility. This time, instead of bringing you to the observation room, Clive brings you to the door leading to Leon’s containment chamber.

“Remember,” Clive begins, causing you to draw your attention to him, “we’ll be watching. We won’t let him hurt you.”

You nod as the door to his containment chamber slides open. You step inside the small chamber inside the door, it sprays some kind of mist on you which you suspect is some kind of sanitizer. After that, the final door opens and you see Leon, laying on his back staring at the ceiling. You step inside, listening as the door slides shut and locks, making your heart jump in nervousness. At first, Leon doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he continues to stare at the ceiling.

“Leon?” you finally speak up, your voice soft.

Leon lifts his head, staring at you for a moment before he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, practically running to you. He places his hands on your shoulders, looking at you in disbelief.

“Angel! You’re ok, I’ve been so worried!” he exclaims before planting a kiss onto your forehead.

Now you’re able to get a good look at him. His skin is extremely pale and you can see the faint, inky black veins all over his exposed skin. It reminds you of the time you had gone to the festival, before he had killed that man behind the fairground. Now you know why Leon had looked so terrible that day.

“I’ve been worried about you, too,” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with him.

“What’s wrong Angel? It’s just me,” Leon coos, his hand gently grasping your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

His gaze shifts down to your belly, a smile slowly overtaking his lips as he stares down in awe; once again feeling your baby move inside you.

“My God… you’ve gotten so big! Our little girl is growing like a weed!” he says, the excitement evident in his voice as he places a hand on your belly, rubbing it slowly.

A hint of sadness hits you, knowing that as soon as your baby is born, it’s going to be humanely euthanized, but you don’t want to do anything that could cause Leon to lash out, so you keep that knowledge to yourself. 

“How do you know it’s a girl?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“She told me,” Leon explains, his gaze shifting back to you, “because of our gift, we are constantly connected.”

You feel your pulse pick up, feeling your baby continue to writhe inside you as Leon continues to rub your belly.

“I’m going to give you the gift, as well. We’ll be together in both body and mind. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Before you can even process what he just said to you, you notice there’s a sudden change in the lighting; your eyes dart around to see what changed when you notice the subtle purple hue is gone. The UV lights have been turned off. You want to panic, but you take deep breaths to try to keep yourself calm. You reckon it must be a mistake, they’ll turn the UV lights back on in any second. However, more agonizing seconds go by and you realize that they are not coming back on.

Leon slowly looks up, a smirk spreading across his lips when he realizes the UV lights are off, “well… that's convenient.”

He closes his eyes, rolling his neck and shoulders as you watch in horror as the dark veins on his skin get even darker. When he opens his eyes again, you are once again met with the crimson eyes that have haunted your subconscious since the day you saw Leon from the observation room. But now that he’s right in front of you, everything inside you is telling you to get away. You take a couple steps back away from him, his smirk immediately turning into a frown.

“No, no, no! It’s ok, I won’t hurt you, Angel,” he pleads, reaching out to you and grasping your upper arms to stop you from moving away, “I just want to take care of you.”

You watch as his tail snakes out from behind him, moving between the two of you. The end of it goes under your shirt and you watch as the blade-like end of his tail moves upwards, slicing through your shirt. Once your shirt is completely sliced open, his fingers gingerly push the remains of the shirt off you, exposing your swollen breasts to him. He brings one hand up, brushing one of your sensitive nipples under his thumb, causing a small white bead of liquid to come out before running down your breast, pooling onto your pregnant belly.

“Aw look, you’re making milk. Our little girl will need blood, not milk. No matter, I’ll make sure it won’t go to waste,” Leon says before leaning down, wrapping his mouth around the leaking nipple and sucking hard.

“L-Leon!” you cry out, trying to push him away.

You look over at the mirror, knowing that there are people watching. Does Leon know there are people watching? You want to cry out for help, to get someone to come get you out, but you can’t; you don’t want to risk invoking Leon’s fury. After what seems like an eternity, Leon unlatches himself from your breast, his crimson eyes staring down at you lustfully. A grin slowly forms on his face, showing off his long, sharp canine teeth.

He grasps you gently, coaxing you over to his bed where he spins you around, forcing you to bend over onto the bed with your knees on the floor. You rack your brain over what on Earth he’s doing when you feel a very sudden sharp pain in your shoulder, causing you to scream. You then hear a low moan; Leon’s mouth is latched onto your shoulder, his fangs sinking deep into your flesh as blood starts to pour out from the wound. 

He releases his mouth from you briefly, his breaths heavy as he grips onto your waist, his hands then reaching around to undo your belt and pants, “you taste just as divine as I remember, Angel,” he purrs into your ear.

You start to question mentally what he’s talking about until you recall back to the first night you stayed at Leon’s house when the two of you had sex for the first time. He wasn’t just eating you out that night. He was feeding off you. This newest revelation causes a sudden wave of nausea to come over you, causing you to gag. You quickly cover your mouth with one hand while the other grips the sheets on his bed, tears burning the corners of your eyes, threatening to pour out. 

He bites back down into your shoulder as his hands make quick work pulling down your pants and underwear, his fingers rubbing your slit slowly, gathering up the slick of your body’s arousal on his fingertips. While still feeding off you, he pulls down his sweatpants and you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance. Your eyes widen when you watch two of the claw-like appendages stab down onto the bed in front of you while the other two wrap around your waist, trapping you against him; you feel one of his hands rest on your hip while the other grips your hair, pulling your head back. It takes everything in you not to scream.

With a quick thrust of his hips, he buries his cock inside you, unlatching his mouth from your shoulder with a loud moan as his grip on your hair tightens. You cry out at the feeling of him practically splitting you in half; he feels so much larger than you remember. There’s also another sensation inside you, one you don’t recognize at all. It’s almost hard for your mind to even describe; like a thousand fingers are stroking your inner walls and your cervix and with each quick thrust of Leon’s hips, it feels amazing. You can’t help but let out a loud moan as Leon pistons himself into you, hurtling you towards your release. 

“That’s it Angel, you’re doing so well for me. My perfect mate,” he purrs as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, the hand on your hip gripping so tight that it’ll surely leave bruises, his other hand running down your neck before resting onto your other shoulder, “now, be a good girl and take my gift.”

Against your better judgment, you turn your head to look at him. Leon is opening his mouth and you watch as four mandibles come out from the depths of his mouth and you can hear something squealing from inside his throat. No longer able to put on a brave face, you start to scream, thrashing your body in a desperate attempt to get away from him. The strange sensation you noted inside you suddenly starts to sting as you try to get yourself off him and you feel the claws wrapped around your waist start to cut into your skin as they grip you tighter. 

The door to Leon’s room suddenly opens and Clive along with two men with tactical gear and guns swarm in. Clive holds up a large UV flashlight, shining it directly at Leon’s head. Leon roars, the mandibles going back inside his mouth as he falls backwards, freeing you from his grasp. You quickly pull your underwear and pants back up before running over to Clive, using your arms to cover your exposed breasts. Clive positions you behind him as the two men move to either side of Leon, their guns drawn and pointed at him. One of the scientists then rushes inside the room, Clive turns his head to address him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Clive shouts at the scientist right before the UV lights turn back on.

You wince when you hear the inhuman cry come from Leon as he scrambles to crouch himself into the corner of the room, gripping his head and trembling.

“We just wanted to see what he would do, that’s all!” the scientist says, pleading with Clive.

“She nearly got infected! Was that part of your plan?!” Clive shouts, walking up to the scientist, getting in his face.

“Well, no…”

“The lead researcher will be hearing about this, now get out of our way, I need to take her back to her room,” Clive continues, practically shoving the scientist out of the way as he gently grasps your upper arm to lead you out of Leon’s containment chamber.

As you walk out, you turn and look at Leon, who’s still crouched in the corner; his eyes are locked onto you, a smirk spread across his lips.

Leon stays seated in the corner of his containment chamber for the majority of the day, only moving to relieve himself in the toilet inside his containment chamber. Scientists have been in and out of his containment chamber as well, almost as if they’re preparing for something, though he didn’t have the slightest clue of what that could be until the lead researcher comes in with his young assistant, who looks vaguely familiar to Leon. 

The lead researcher takes Leon’s vitals and a blood sample, staying completely still through it all, watching the assistant take a seat on Leon’s bed, taking notes with a clipboard and pen.

“Dr. Jacobs, a question if I may?” the assistant suddenly asks.

“Go ahead, Chambers.”

Chambers. Rebecca Chambers. That’s why I recognize her…

Rebecca was a former member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team prior to the Raccoon City outbreak incident on September 30, 1971; Leon’s first day as a police officer. A part of him wishes he had died that day.

“How did he manage to infect the fetus? I thought you said it was transmitted via the bloodstream, hence why he bit her.” she asks, setting the clipboard and pen down onto the bed next to her.

Dr. Jacobs swallows hard as he turns to address her, “we believe there are plaga larvae in his semen, which fused with the embryo upon fertilization even though we found no larvae in the semen samples we were able to get. Somehow… the plaga inside him can control when a larva is released… absolutely extraordinary, a real shame we’re executing him tonight.”

Leon subtly raises an eyebrow.

“What about the baby?” Rebecca presses.

“The baby will be humanely euthanized upon birth, the BSAA wants to put the plagas parasite to bed for good even though the child could provide valuable data. I tried to fight it but O’Brien wouldn’t budge.”

What?

Leon remains calm on the outside, but on the inside, he is panicking. He has to protect his offspring at all cost, but how? That answer comes on a silver platter when he watches Rebecca stand up from the bed, grabbing the clipboard but leaving the pen behind on his bed. He waits a couple minutes to see if they realize she had left the pen in here. When he’s confident they’re not coming back in, he stands up, walking over to the bed and collapsing onto it, clutching the pen in his hand as he lays down. He turns, his back facing the camera that’s on the opposite wall pointed towards the bed. 

During his stint in the military after surviving the Raccoon City outbreak, Leon picked up a few tricks, one being how to make lockpicks out of just about anything. He meticulously takes the mechanical pen apart, using the metal parts to make a crude lock pick, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

Later that evening, the door to his containment chamber opens and Dr. Jacobs comes in along with another man in tactical gear with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and a pistol strapped to his leg. Dr. Jacobs is carrying a metal folding chair, which he hands to the guard for him to set down onto the floor after opening.

“Sit,” the guard orders Leon, pointing at the chair.

“Yeah, yeah…” Leon replies, standing up from his bed and sitting in the chair.

“Hands behind your back. Now,” the guard barks.

Leon does as he’s ordered, putting his hands behind his back around the back of the chair. The guard walks behind him, handcuffing his wrists together. Unbeknownst to the guard, Leon has his makeshift lock pick wedged between two of his fingers, completely concealing it. The guard walks back around, standing in front of Leon as Dr. Jacobs prepares a syringe of bright green liquid. Slipping the lock pick out, he begins to pick the lock on his cuffs.

“It pains me to do this Leon, it really does,” says Dr. Jacobs as he approaches, the guard moving to the side of Leon to let him through, “you were a brilliant agent. I admit this will not be pleasant, but you won’t suffer for long, I promise.”

Leon manages to free himself just as Dr. Jacobs kneels down to inject him with the deadly serum in the syringe. In the blink of an eye, Leon snatches the syringe from Dr. Jacobs, stabbing it into his neck and pushing the syringe. Dr. Jacobs’ expression contorts as he collapses onto the floor, his body going into a seizure in what Leon imagines is the painful thralls of death.

The guard curses as Leon stands up from his chair, pointing his AK-47 at him to shoot. However, Leon’s too quick, he side steps and grabs the AK-47, using the strap slung around the guard’s body to strangle the man, all the while, the gun is still firing, shooting out all the lights in the ceiling, including the UV lights. Inky black veins quickly envelope Leon’s body and his eyes shift into the deep crimson as Leon bites into the guard’s exposed neck, drinking as much blood as he can in a short period of time.

He then kneels down to Dr. Jacobs’ lifeless body, searching his pockets to find a fob. With this fob in hand, the door to the containment chamber opens, allowing Leon to make his escape. He can sense his offspring is several floors above where he is, so he quickly finds the elevator, the fob allowing him access to it. 

When the elevator doors open, several guards are waiting for him, guns drawn. In an instant, Leon’s tail and back appendages emerge and he practically leaps out of the elevator pinning one of the guards down and ripping out his throat while his tail whips around, decapitating and fatally stabbing the other guards. Just when Leon thinks he’s in the clear, he hears more footsteps coming towards him. He looks up, blood dripping from his mouth and chin and finds Director O’Brien with about 10 more guards behind him.

“I should have known you wouldn’t go quietly, Leon,” Director O’Brien says, crossing his arms.

“Where is my mate?” Leon growls, standing up to face them, using his back claws and tail to make himself look bigger.

“In a place you won’t get to, Leon. You’re not leaving this hallway alive,” Director O’Brien replies.

“We’ll see about that.”

Leon begins to step forward, his legs and arms mutating, turning black like his claws and tail. His fingers become more claw like and his legs contort to become more insect-like; his feet also transform into three toed claws. His jaw splits open to reveal rows of sharp elongated teeth, his four incisors still longer than the rest. His four mandibles also come out of his mouth and he lets out an inhuman roar as he charges towards Director O’Brien and the guards. This is the furthest Leon’s ever let himself transform and he’s honestly eager to see what he can do.

The guards shoot at him, but the bullets do little to no damage to Leon as he rips through them like paper with his razor sharp claws, blood and guts spilling everywhere. In the chaos, Director O’Brien slips away, running down the hall. Leon sees this and quickly gives chase, what’s left of the guards strewn all over the white marble floor in his wake. Director O’Brien comes around the corner with his angel, his mate in tow, both of them stopping in their tracks upon seeing Leon.

Leon opens his mouth wide, letting out a loud hiss as he glares at Director O’Brien. Unfortunately in his current state, he’s unable to speak. His crimson stare shifts over to his angel, who to his dismay, is visibly frightened.

Angel, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you…

He curses internally about not being able to give her his gift; if he had been successful, he would be able to communicate with her easily. His gaze then shifts to her swollen belly, sensing his offspring is strong and healthy inside her. He watches as she grips her belly, flinching.

“Back off, Leon!” Director O’Brien shouts, pulling out a small flashlight from inside his dark green coat and turning it on, pointing its purple beam directly into Leon’s face. 

Leon, turns his face away, growling as he feels the light sting his mutated parts. His tail whips forward, slicing off the hand holding the UV flashlight before he turns back to Director O’Brien, stalking towards him and using one of his clawed hands to pick him up and pin him against the wall. Letting out a guttural growl, his mouth and mandibles open wide only stopping when he feels his mate’s hands on his arm.

“Leon, don’t kill him, please!” she cries, “don’t kill him and I’ll… I’ll go with you…”

His mutated mouth closes, turning to her to see her bloodshot eyes staring up at him, pleading with him. He lets out a soft purring sound, turning back to Director O’Brien and abruptly dropping him. He falls to the floor with a gasp, Leon’s attention back onto his mate as he grabs her by her wrist. She looks up at him, the fear evident in her eyes as she starts to panic, pulling against his grasp as she hyperventilates. 

Angel, don’t do this… it’ll be ok, I promise…!

She then faints; Leon’s quick reflexes catch her before she collapses onto the floor. He picks her up into his arms bridal style, stalking into one of the rooms that has a window. Using his tail, he smashes the window open, the blizzard raging outside now blowing snow into the room. Leon leaps out of the window, carrying his mate into the stormy winter night.

Part 8

[mrsquill]

I always catch myself thinking about the fact that Joel wasn’t able to see an image of Sarah’s face for twenty years.

Like, we take photos and phones for granted so much if we lose a loved one; our memories are captured forever, ready to revisit when we need to, when we need that reminder that that person was real, that they were here.

But, Joel’s daughter died in such a traumatic way, and he had no way of remembering her face other than his own memories, which would’ve been catastrophically tainted by the way she died. Joel’s lasting memory of his baby girl is corrupted by blood and anguish.

I just know he’d curse himself one night for not being able to remember the exact number of freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose; or not being being able to recall the shade of her irises when the sun hit just right, or the shriek of her laughter when her Uncle Tommy made him the butt of his joke for the hundredth time.

I think Pedro did a stellar job of conveying this despair when Joel catches sight of someone who looks just like Sarah in Jackson; I’m sure it’s happened several times over the years, but the hope - wrapped up in sadness - shown in his eyes… man. A true visceral reaction. His daughter is a ghost to him, to his own mind. And it breaks me.

(Pure word vomit inspired by a fic written by @swiftispunk as part of her Folklore collection. Sorry Han, I just couldn’t get it out of my head after your fucking AMAZING line about Sarah’s eyes. Poetry).

[romanoffsbish]

Shelter me From the Storm

Actress!Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stripped Bare (Part 1) / Two people asked for this and I already had the ideas so boom. 😂

Warnings: Loss of Parent / Grief. Post-Partum Depression (Not mentioned, but heavily implied—hygiene/eating struggles, struggle to bond/help). Media (Implied lack of respect for Sex Work).

Smut: Soft | Daddy (N) | Nat has a penis | Oral (Both) | Fingering | Overstimulation | Squirting | Unprotected / Breeding | Cockwarming (Plugging)

18+ | Minors DNI | Please Don’t Report, it’s labeled properly.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Natasha's raspy voice startled you, but it also soothed your aching soul. It'd been exactly two months since the two of you moved to Oregon to officially start your life together. "My mom, us, them."

The redhead nodded solemnly, worried eyes casted down onto your fidgeting hands. She settled down beside you on the porch swing, and took your freezing hands between hers. Gently as ever she kissed, and breathed onto them until she deemed them warm enough.

"You couldn't have worn mittens?" She teased, then her strong arms wrapped around your body so she could pull you into her lap. Her forehead leaned against yours as she tried her best to comfort you. It was you who broke the distance and pressed your lips to hers for a kiss that reminded you that you were really there.

——

You were still alive, even if your mom wasn't. The thought broke you, this idea that Apollo and Luna would grow up without her love.

"I miss her," you sniffled, and the redhead sighed empathetically, "Me too moya lyubov'."

A smile graced your face at the memories of Nat with your mom. They'd only known one another for a little over a year, but your wife stole your mother's heart instantly. The sick woman never missed a chance to talk to her, even if it involved interrupting your convos.

They had a pure love of you in common, so it was easy for them to spend hours talking. It warmed your heart, but also infuriated you to no end when your mom shared your secrets.

Natasha never needed to know about your failed prom, or about how you believed in Santa and his friends until sophomore year.

The redhead loved to tease you about it, even now, "Who else will tell me all your secrets?"

"Thank fuck that's over," you sadly joked, because embarrassing as it was, you'd let your mother release all of your most embarrassing moments in life if it meant she was still here.

"Ooh, What about Cole?"

You snorted, "Not if he wants to stay alive."

"You're no fun."

Silence soon fell over the both of you as you watched the rain harshly pelting down. The pavement, and dirt saturated in no time as mother nature wept, you weren't sure of her reason, but you liked to think it was for your mom. She loved the rain, it never presented as an inconvenience to her like it did for others, you remember chasing the rainbows with her.

Losing her was polarizing really. It was always coming, but you were never prepared for it.

All that really brought you comfort since she passed, was that she met your daughter first.

Luna Romanoff, the little girl with your wife's cheeky smile, and your mothers love for music.

At only ten months old she was a little rockstar. The xylophone was her go to instrument, it made you feel like your mom's name as her middle prophesied their clear connection. They had met, then five hours later your mom died.

Natasha took care of everything after, she still does some days when you can't manage. You usually feel bad, but every time she senses it, and reminds you that there's nothing else she'd rather be doing than caring for her family.

"I'm going to miss you too," you finally broke it, voice cracking as your emotions got the best of you. "I wish you didn't have to leave at all."

"Me neither," Nat replied in the same tone, a tear slipped down her face as she stewed over her departure this evening. Leaving you in such a vulnerable state wasn't easy, but she hadn't a choice as she had to do a slurry of interviews for her upcoming film, as well as clear the air on her sudden disappearance from Hollywood.

It was the only way the execs would let her off the hook for the premiere. The buzz from her interviews will give them enough scandalous PR. Especially when she announces this will be her last film for a long while. The seats will fill.

She'd pleaded for zoom interviews, but even being as big as she was, they wouldn't budge.

"I wouldn't go if I had a choice," she reminded you for the umpteenth time. "I know Natty."

"It just sucks," she voiced your thoughts.

You chuckled humorlessly, "Majorly."

The sudden sound of a cry through the baby monitor brought you and your wife out of your bubble of intermixed grievances, and right into the house where you found a shocked Apollo hovering over Luna's traveling bassinet.

Five minutes ago they were peacefully napping, one in a heap of blankets and toys, while the other was cozy in her bed. It was safest not to move your son, he'd have woken up lively.

Where he lays, he stays—a household motto.

The scene was clear as day, he'd climbed up onto the couch with a devious curiosity, and now it appears the young boy had slapped her.

Natasha swiftly moved to the side of the couch, stopping your son from repeating the offense with a gentle catch of his hand. With ease she scooped the boy onto her hip, then she lovingly reached down to smooth a hand over your daughters face. Her cries stopped instantly.

After your daughter was soothed you watched quietly as Natasha handled your son. Her look was stern, but her eyes were still adoringly soft. There was no true harm done, it was clear Luna was mostly just shocked, not genuinely hurt.

Plus, he's only two, this was like a canon event.

"Apo," she called his attention to her with the nickname derived from his inability to say his. "You have to be gentle," she softly reminded him, using her hand to mimic proper touch as she continued to brush her hand over your daughters face until she was sleeping again.

Apollo butchered the word as he repeated it, but he mimicked her perfectly. Tiny hands covered in god knows what reached out to cup her face, something he'd seen done before. Both of your hearts beamed at the boy for his slow, but steady understanding. This would probably happen again, from both ends, but you knew that it would be an easy resolution.

Natasha's gentle approach to the kids was a surprising discovery you'd made. Not that you expected her to be downright cruel, but you just expected more sternness from your former experiences. But then you remember the Natty that you'd loved was always there back then too, and then it all makes sense. The first time you witnessed it was when your infant son was playing with an extension cord. You wanted to run over and rip it from his hands, but she'd stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

Instead she walked over to him, created some static electricity with her hands then tapped his. It seemed almost cruel, but then she picked him up as he wailed, then that soon faded into hiccups and it all became clearer to you.

He'd wanted her attention all along, and she taught him a valuable lesson in the process.

The gentleness came right after, when she held him close while she hummed a Russian lullaby to soothe him. All the while pointing to the enticing cord and saying a simple, firm no-no.

You remember watching them fondly, with a smile on your face, a hand on your bump, and a subtle sense of relief that'd washed over you.

No matter what came, you knew you'd all be safe with Natasha. Parenting was a learning curve, without your mom to guide you you've lost it, but you felt like she'd had it mastered.

That's why after the night slowly crept in you anticipated the arrival of your little brother. He's flying in from New York, and should be to your house by 8:30pm, and Nat has to be gone by 9pm, or she knows she'll never make it.

Apollo had already gone down for the night, but Luna Bear was still a live wire. Bouncing on her mama's hip while haphazardly shaking her head side to side in a tiring game of 'no-no'

"Wow, you've gotten so big Lunar Eclipse," your brother greeted the giggling baby, who turned to him with a wide, curious smile. Natasha sent him one as well at the relief she felt since she no longer had to shake her head.

"Luna," you corrected with a fixed glare. "I've been meaning to ask you about that sis."

"Cole," you warned through gritted teeth, and for the first time Natasha had realized the help she planned might actually be the bother.

"Why would you name your kids like animals?"

Natasha glared at your brother just the same, coddling the baby into her chest with a hand over her ear to shield her from hearing him

"You're the most annoying person on Earth," you deadpanned, he gasped in offense. "Give me the cat, and say your sappy goodbyes."

Natasha's arms around your waist stopped you from chasing your cackling brother down as he took your giggling daughter into the house.

"Don't leave me with him," you pleaded. "I won't look good in an orange jumpsuit Nat."

Natasha snorted softly, "You're so dramatic." Then she leaned in to kiss you slowly, a bunch of unspoken words being exchanged: 'I'm only a call away,' 'Don't kill your brother, please,' and 'Seriously, call me if you need me,' but the most important of messages came tumbling from your very own parted lips, "I love you."

Natasha smiled against you, she instantly repeated the sentiment, "I love you too Y/N. With all of me. You'll be okay detka. Promise."

The driver honked impatiently, and you fought off the urge to flip them off. Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw the petty conflict behind yours. "I'll be back in three sleeps sweetheart, you take care of yourself while I'm gone please."

Natasha sighed as she saw you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours she'd become familiar with. You never wanted to disappoint Natasha, but you felt like you always were when you couldn't even manage the mundane tasks.

"It's hard, I know it is," she sympathized with your newfound wave of inability. "But eat, drink water, and sleep whenever possible."

"I'll try," you whisper against her chest as she hugs you close for a final moment. "That's all I ask moya lyubov, you deserve to be nourished."

"Three days," you whispered, your eyes shut tight as you reeled in your emotions. You could break down when she made it onto the road.

"Then there'll be no more leaving, we got this."

"Safe travels Natty." You kissed her cheek, then made the move to slip from her grasp, knowing all too well that she wouldn't willingly let go.

As you entered the house she watched, making her driver more irritated but she didn't care. His paycheck was signed by her, therefore his patience was paid for. She watched closely and nearly broke down when she saw a little Luna crying as her hands slammed into the window.

It was strange, how the ten month old could understand the implications of her mother in the car, and it hurt the woman's aching soul.

Once you locked the door, and scooped your daughter up she told released a breath and told the driver he could take off as she sent off a worried text to Cole, begging him to keep an eye on you like he promised her he would.

Then she sat back and began to count down the milliseconds until she could return to you.

—

The following morning came with a wake up Facetime call, your wife waited until it was 9am your time, then spent hours virtually cuddling. Around 12pm she bid you farewell, as it was 3pm in New York, her interview was for 6pm, but with makeup and wardrobe it was time.

It was live, so at 3pm you'd ensured the babies were already down for a nap, and settled onto the couch in some clean pajamas with your emotional support water bottle, and chips.

Natasha looked beautiful as she crossed the stage, with practiced elegance she flashed her award winning smile, and you swooned. It felt like it was directed at you, and with it being your Natasha you realized it probably was.

They discussed the movie, it was a smooth interview, until the hot topic, you, came up.

"So, tell me Natasha, who's the mystery girl?"

Natasha instantly grimaced, but quickly shook the expression for one of happiness. "My wife."

"Wife, huh?" He chuckled nervously, you both saw a question on his mind designed to send you spiraling. "Fans across the globe really thought you'd end up with Wanda Maximoff."

Natasha breathed harshly through her nose, it took all of her patience to remain composed.

"Wanda is nothing more than a lifelong friend." Natasha cooly replied. "Who's happily engaged, need I remind you, to The Vision Stark."

"Hindsight is 20/20," he jested awkwardly.

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, not even humoring the man with a response as she watched him fumble through his note cards for more. She smiled, it was perceivably smug, and made you feel something you'd yet to in almost a year.

He took a steadying breath before his face relaxed, then he continued his futile attack.

"I have it on good authority that your wife, Y/N Y/L/N." Natasha cut him off, "Romanoff."

"Sorry," he replied annoyedly, "We've been informed that Y/N Romanoff was a stripper."

Natasha nods thoughtfully. "Is there a question there, or are we just stating useless facts. If so, I'd like to inform you your tie is on wrong."

Your eyes widened, in all your years of knowing of Natasha, you'd never seen her so snarky. It was really hot, and you truly couldn't deny it.

"I guess, if it wasn't obvious," he starts shakily, as if he feared the 5'3 redheaded woman. "The world is wondering if that's how you met."

"Well, the honest answer is yes." The audience gasped, she rolled her eyes behind her lids knowing they were likely prompted to do that for shock value alone. "I know right? How shocking that rich people still go to strip clubs."

Her eyes then narrowed onto the nervous host. "As if you yourself aren't a regular Johnny."

"Jimmy," he timidly corrected and she laughed. Boy did she laugh, it was mocking, and had the man sweating through his shirt. "My apologies, so tell me Jimbo, does your wife know what happens during the actual late nights? We both know this show is mislabeled. It ends by 7pm, but your life is only just beginning then right?"

The raven haired man gulped, it was clear Nat was prepared for his intrusive questioning. You caught sight of Natasha's sideways smirk just as the show cut to a commercial, and when it returned your wife was no longer there. Cole snickered from beside you, "Mom would have loved to see this, God, I adore your wife Y/N."

You hummed your agreement, then left him to tend to the crying babies while you answered your wife's phone call. She was panicking, but you reassured her that it'll be okay. That her die hard fans wouldn't leave, and that with the progressive nature of Hollywood that she'd likely receive accolades for her honesty, and her overall support of the sex work industry.

Even if you both knew it wasn't a guarantee, Natasha couldn't help but to believe you. In the end, if this is where her career ended she didn't mind. She had more than enough money to retire, and she still would have her business.

Natasha ended the call after you'd calmed her as she had more interviews to prepare for.

It felt fulfilling being there for her, helping her through a freak out for once instead of it being the other way around. You knew it wasn't a competition, but it's hard to think otherwise when it's always you on the visibly weaker end.

There was a renewed confidence in your step now, and it showed when you fixed lunch for the whole house instead of letting Cole. You'd ushered him off to play with the kids, and got comfy with the concepts of cooking again.

—

When the next day came you got to hear from Nat sporadically. She told you all about her day, the highlight apparently came when she got to answer fan's questions while playing with cats. You rolled your eyes, knowing now that she'd be insufferable until you finally said yes to her taking in the stray kittens that lived amongst Wanda's garden. The brunette wanted to take them to a shelter a week ago, but Nat told her she'd win you over soon enough.

She begged again before she got off the call, and she was right, because that evening you sent her a picture before she went to sleep of a relieved Wanda on your doorstep with a box.

Natasha called you on the verge of tears, she'd only hung up the phone an hour ago so she could take a shower and get ready for bed. It was only 4pm for you, and 7pm for her, but she had an early morning interview before she was then meant to catch an afternoon flight home.

So, after she thanked you profusely, she settled down in her bed, and you on the couch as you pulled up her most recent interview done with Clint Barton. An actor turned talk show host.

He was also her very best friend, so of course she gave him the tell all story others wanted.

"So Natasha," Clint started with a teasing smirk. "Mhm?" She hummed playfully, her eyes softly rolled as a smirk overtook her face.

"When do I get to meet my niece and nephew?"

"Whenever you catch a flight out to Oregon."

"That's right," he bounces off her seamlessly, "You made the bold move to the Beaver state, what is in Oregon that's not in LA or NYC?"

"Peace," she answered simply. "It's gorgeous, and it's where my love wanted to end up."

Clint smiled, it was incredibly genuine as he admired the lovesick one your wife wore. The man has yet to meet you, but he plans to hug you tightly in silent thanks for changing her life for the better and making her this happy. He's watched her through every phase, the partying, all the meaningless hooking up, to the present.

Where she is outwardly softer, but as expected she is still guarded where she needed to be.

"Your love," he acknowledges, a slight tease to his tone as he met her eyes again. "Why don't you tell me all about who's taking you from us."

Natasha glared at him, but it was a playful way, that she agreed to, to ease her into her purpose for this interview. "You know Clint, I've been acting ever since I was a kid," she thoughtfully began, "It's all I've ever known honestly. It's been my greatest passion for three decades."

She took in a steadying breath, then sighed while wearing a shy smile, "It wasn't until I met her that I envisioned more for myself," her cheeks reddened at the thought of exposing herself in such a vulnerable way to the world.

Acting, telling others stories, was what she did best, but it felt foreign to tell her own like this.

With her eyes closed she imagined your smile, then she heard the memory of your kids giggles and suddenly it was the easiest decision. "Y/N is my light at the end of the tunnel, truthfully."

Clint nodded proudly, leaning back in his seat to metaphorically open the floor up to her.

"I know the world is already freaking out, some angry that I'm off the market, others mad that she's a former stripper, but I don't know why any of that matters to them." Natasha frowned as she tried not to cry. "People are saying my career will end with this, and to those people I say good fucking riddance. I've given almost every last piece of me to this industry, and if me finally choosing my happiness is a problem then I'll let it be for only them. I'm happier than I've ever been, and that is my truth."

"So, you're leaving Hollywood behind?" He asked for clarity, and she shook her head in a partial negation. "I have decided to take a step back, this upcoming film is going to be my final for an indefinite amount of time. I want to focus on my family, and I deserve a break."

"That you do Natasha," Clint acknowledged, behind him on a screen a slideshow of all of her hit movies began to appear. Emphasizing the focus of conversation. "If you retired today I'd say that you've left your mark on the world, even more so with those beautiful babies."

"They are my entire world." Natasha clarified, they were her legacy, sure, but they were so much more than that too. They were a perfect mixture of you both. Apollo with her distinctive eyes, and your sweet smile. Then Luna with her smile, and dimples and your huffy temper.

Both with their own blooming personalities.

The redhead smiled brightly when a photo then flickered on the screen of your little family. The four of you were sat on a park bench, Apollo stood on her lap with his hand pointing to something behind her, she had smiled at the camera, but her eyes focus was torn between him and the phone. Then sat beside her was you, with a blanket over your chest, shielding the hungry baby from the harsh Fall winds.

It was meant to be a cute family photo, and it still was, but far more dysfunctional than intended. Natasha had tried to get Apollo to turn around, but he wouldn't take his eyes off of the firetruck in the back. Then Luna cried, and it was clearly hunger so you let her latch on, and even then it could've been cute, but then she grunted angrily so you covered her.

"You guys look happy," Clint acknowledged, and the woman smiled fondly. "We are."

"Well, I hope that in a few years time we'll be able to see you back on the screen," Clint moves to wrap up the segment. "But if we don't, then I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to the greatest loss in the industry."

"Oh stop it," she joked tearily, leaning forward to playfully shove his shoulder. Clint winked at the emotional redhead, then he yanked her up and into a bear hug. "Tell Y/N I look forward to meeting her," he whispered, then he planted a kiss on her cheek, and she left the stage with a chorus of loud applause following her.

You turned the TV off, then wiped at the few tears that she'd elicited from you. Seeing her so vulnerable on TV, all in an attempt to make the media go easier on you, was overwhelming. It made your heart swell with more love than before and you couldn't quiet grasp how you could even love her more than you already did.

It also made you want her more than you did yesterday. No longer was it a feeling you could ignore, but instead a deep seeded need you'd had every intention of satiating upon your wife's return. Which is why you rebooked your brothers flight home, and reminded him about that one time you covered for him when he rear ended your evil neighbor Mildred's parked car.

—

The last thing Natasha expected to find as she entered your house late at night was you. But on the couch you sat, with a glass of red wine, and in a matter of seconds you were on her.

"Moya lyubov' I said drink water," she groaned, but it was a humored one. You looked up at her with wide eyes, then you smiled innocently. "Would you believe me if I said that Jesus showed up and magicked it himself?"

"Oh, is that so?" She cackled in a hushed way, you nodded vehemently. "Scouts honor Natty!"

"Mhm?" She teasingly hummed, the vibrato felt as she pressed her lips to yours, and you gasped affectedly. Natasha tried to pull back, feeling guilty for looking like she was trying to initiate anything, but then she felt guilty for feeling guilty because of course she wants you.

"No," you whimpered and clung to her biceps. "Daddy please, I-I'm ready." You were wet, desperation was controlling your mind now.

"You're drunk detka," she pointed out, but you showed her the bottle, proving that you'd only poured the one glass and hadn't had more than two sips. Which was only for liquid courage.

"What's changed for you?" Natasha pulled you down into her lap, you whined in frustration, but then you saw the glossy viridescent orbs full of concern waiting for your reply.

"Seeing you lose your cool on TV over me was hot," you admitted shamelessly, stroking her big ego in the hopes that it'd soon be her cock.

The redhead blushed, but quickly regained her cool as she leaned back into the cushion of the couch and firmly gripped your thighs apart.

"Can I see how hot it made you detka?" Her raspy voice made you dizzy, you nodded and moaned a soft please so she eagerly padded at the wetness seeping through your panties. "Oh look at you detka, you're just so needy, huh?"

She cursed in Russian when you answered with a buck of your hips. With a swift hand she laid you down and said, "You have to be quiet."

You shook your head. "I reminded Cole of a secret I kept, so he collected the kids and all they'd need and went to the guest suite."

"I knew I married a genius," she teased, her heart nearly exploded as you laughed. It'd been so rare to hear nowadays, so it was cherished.

"What do you want moya lyubov'?" Natasha looked deep in your eyes, wearing a smile that said only your pleasure was enough for her.

Instead of answering you pulled her down with a hand wrapped behind the nape of her neck. The kiss was soft, almost exploratory as it'd been so long since you'd had a spike in libido. But when Natasha still remained timid you took the initiative, your hand cupped her bulge, and you slid your tongue over her bottom lip.

She gasped and your tongue pushed beyond her lips, but hers expertly swirled around yours then darted down your throat. As you gagged she couldn't fight off the aching need so she pushed down into your hand and moaned.

The redhead pulled away, panting heavily as she tried to reel her neediness in. You drove her body wild, but she didn't want to get too lost in the lust if you weren't ready yet.

"You've been so patient with me," you purred, "Let me take care of you daddy, please?"

Natasha suddenly stilled, her sorrowful eyes set on  yours. "Hey no, detka, you deserve endless patience without expectations."

"Yeah, I know," you breathed. "But we went from having sex every few days to not at all."

Natasha smiled tenderly, her hand cupped your cheek. "That's fine, I don't need sex to be happy with you Y/N. You alone are enough."

"Well, that sentiment is returned, but I'm absolutely serious, so let me give you head."

Natasha was shocked by your bold words, it was a quick recovery though as she snorted, "If I ever say no, please do have me committed."

Natasha smiled triumphantly as you giggled, it always made her heart warm to hear your joy.

The mood swiftly returned to one of lust when after she leaned back you slid out and onto the ground on your knees. The woman was tired, jet lagged to be more precise, but that didn't stop her from helping you take her sweats off.

Natasha was undeniably aroused, her cock stood tall as soon as you slid her boxers off.

"You gonna stare all night detka?" Natasha teased, then her eyes softened. "If you're not ready, just say the word lyubov', it'll be okay."

You shook your head free of worry, and smiled at her for being so sweet. It was comically endearing. Here she sat with an erection that had to be hurting her at this point and she only cared about your comfort. Which actually only made you even more excited to suck her off.

Natasha groaned, the sound raspier than ever before as you traced your tongue over the veins of her cock. Her hands gripped the cushions of the couch as your lips wrapped around her tip, and she nearly came on the spot as your hands steadily pumped up from the base of her cock as your other hand lazily played with her balls.

Her breathing became increasingly labored as you bobbed your head up and down her length, you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs as you'd gone commando beneath her sleep shirt. Hearing just how much she was enjoying this had immeasurably turned you on.

Natasha's hips involuntarily jerked. "Oh fuck." You giggled around her shaft, the vibrations making her do it again, and this time you'd choked. Universal instant karma you suppose.

Natasha stilled, fearful eyes looking down into yours. "I'm okay," you immediately said after gasping for air upon releasing her cock, you didn't move far though, you instead hovered her tip with a goofy smile for hopeful clarity.

"Are you close?" You asked, but with how her shaft continued to twitch beneath your fingertips you'd figured you had your answer. Natasha nodded, it was uncharacteristically shy and you found yourself wanting more soft sensual moments just like this one with her. 

"Good." You mused. "Now how about you take over and cum down my throat as a reward."

The way you winked made the pit within her begin to unravel, Natasha's tip instantly coated in pebbles of white as you took over half of her length into your mouth, and proceeded to let her fuck your throat until it was raw. Your nails dug into the skin of her thighs that you were gripping for stability as she thrusted wildly, and glorious tears ran down your warm cheeks.

When she released down your throat the pleasure was blinding, her eyes slammed shut and she moaned for a prolonged moment as the hot spurts didn't stop. Strands of her cum slid down your chin along with your drool as she continuously thrusted until that wave of pleasure she was riding came to an end. 

While you both caught your breath you began to get handsy, impatiently pulling at the hem of her shirt until she removed it with a huff of amusement. You then kissed up her body until her cock was trapped against her abdomen by your slippery cunt, and your lips met hers.

Natasha's hands fell to your hips instinctually, and she guided you as you slowly ground into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth. When you whimpered with need she pulled back and you were met with dark, lusty eyes.

"I know you want me inside detka," she teased as she ran a thumb over your swollen lip that was still somewhat coated in her essence. "But daddy's missed your pussy in more ways than one, and I can't help but to need to taste you."

"Please," you whispered affectedly, and she pulled you back in for a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Thank you detka, lay down for daddy now."

Natasha removed your shirt seamlessly as you laid down, the fabric had barely left your skin before you felt her hands all over your body. One second they were gripping you by the hips to keep you from bucking into her face, then they no longer cared as they sought out your breasts. Natasha's tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves just as her thumbs pinched your nubs, and your body writhed as you came.

The orgasm you experienced was intense as the aftershocks continued rolling through you, and in retrospect it was also embarrassingly quick. But it'd been so long and Natasha was just that good, she never struggled to get you to let go.

Every muscle in your body relaxed for all of two seconds, but then the redhead continued to lavish away at your cunt. Cleaning up your arousal, but then delving even deeper to pull another, somehow more intense orgasm from the depths of your soul. Stars bloomed behind the lids of your eyes as you screamed her title.

Over and over again too. Natasha was like a woman starved as she refused to leave her place between your thighs. When you tried to shimmy away she growled, it was terrifying, but in the best way as you involuntarily gushed.

You knew that if you really needed her to stop you could say your safe word, but as much as you felt overstimulated you felt just as good.

"Fuck I missed this," Natasha moaned as she continued to lick at your glistening, puffy cunt. "If I could, I'd never leave this sacred spot."

You were cognitively incapable of a verbalized response besides the occasional, pitiful whine.

Natasha admired your fucked out face briefly before turning your whimpers into loud moans as she wrapped her lips around your clit, and sucked harshly as she suddenly filled you with three of her skilled fingers, that now curled delicately into your g-spot with every thrust.

Tears streamed down your temples, matting your hair to your face, and seeping into the cushions of your couch. You came with a yelp this time, cum absolutely drenching the couch and leaving Natasha in awe. You however were hardly able to breathe, or see as the tears made your sight bleary. This was when your hands flew into her hair, tangling up in the locks as you used all your remaining strength to pull her up to your lips in a redirecting manner.

Natasha kissed you sloppily, her fingers now coming to a stop as she understood your silent pleas. Slowly, after distracting you with a swirl of her tongue around yours, she pulled out. You whined lowly at the loss, but your body appreciatively deflated into the cushions, and while you worked to calm down she began to kiss all over your skin in a calm, soothing way.

"We should go get you cleaned up lyubov'," she murmured against the skin of your neck that she'd been nibbling, your breathing had finally returned to an evened rhythm. "No, please."

Natasha pulled back to look you over, she was shocked to see your eyes desperate for more.

"Are you sure detka?" You frantically nodded, "Yes, fuck, I want you to fill me so bad daddy."

Natasha pressed her lips to yours, and slid her throbbing member into your slick cunt without a hitch. Neither of you were going to last long, and truthfully neither of you needed to. There was already stars where the ceiling once was as your lover pounded into your sloshing cunt.

"Gonna fill you to the brim detka," she moaned against the shell of your ear. "Can't wait to see your beautiful belly grow with my baby again."

Her breaths were hot as they fanned across your twice as hot skin. Every grunt she released brought with it a reactive clench of your walls, and it drove the woman atop of you insane.

Natasha came with a silent scream, her load unleashing havoc on your abused walls, you were a moaning mess as she slammed into your g-spot repeatedly as she chased this glorious high, milking it for all it's worth and herself as well in the process. When she came to a stop, and pulled out of you she gasped.

The amount of cum that oozed out of you was jarring at first inspection. Natasha had never released this much in her life, she's almost certain it's impossible for that much to exist inside a person at once but she just rationalized it as a delayed release for the year without sex.

There was no way you wouldn't get pregnant.

Especially not after Natasha thrusted back inside of you, mumbling something about preserving the chance that made you chuckle.

"Are you prepared for a third baby?" You teased your wife, with a hand mindlessly running through her hair as she laid with her face pressed against your chest. "I once told you detka, I'd make you my breeding bitch."

You cackled, chest shaking beneath her head to the point that she had to lift up and narrow her eyes at you. "I'm not sure why that's funny, but yes, I'm prepared for whatever life brings. With you by my side I'd willingly raise a dozen kids."

Natasha smirked when your humor died away, eyes wide with fear until she finally took over laughing for you. "God, you looked so scared."

You scoffed, "I was. That's a lot of c-sections." Natasha pursed her lips in thought, then she shrugged her shoulders. "Not if we have twins."

"We'll leave the twins to Maximoff," you soon decided over a yawn. "I think two more is fine."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips. "Two more sounds perfect. A simple family of six."

"There's nothing simple about you Natasha."

"Yet you love me anyways." You could hear the insecurity in her tease, and it hurt your heart to think someone ever made her feel unlovable. "That I do." You gently guided her lips to yours, kissing her slowly before you guided her face back to the crook of your neck. "Very much."

Neither of you spoke another word, you just laid there soaking in the warmth of your love before slipping off into a restful nights sleep.

The first in a long time actually, and the last genuine one before Raven and Leo arrived. 

——

6,389 Words

Nat's former job: Acting / Y/N's: Stripping

Nat's current job: Breeder / Y/N's: To be Bred

❤️ Kaitlyn. 🤭

[deirdreskye]

Commercial I would produce as an advertising executive

We see two friends, a blonde and a brunette, are doing yoga in a park together.

BLONDE: So, yeah, work went okay today. I dunno, I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, and on top of that things have just been kinda tough ever since Kurt and I broke up. But oh well, that's how it goes, I think I'll be fine. What about you?

The brunette completes her yoga pose, then turns to the camera and rolls her eyes.

BRUNETTE: Don't you hate when this happens? I did NOT consent to expending this much emotional labor. Go! To! Therapy!

We see a boyfriend and a girlfriend sitting on a couch together. On the television a YouTube video essay is playing and the boyfriend is excitedly explaining it to the girlfriend as he occasionally flaps his hands and yelps in excitement.

BOYFRIEND: So this is the ending I got! When you link the Frenzied Flame, it puts an end to the cycle of the Elden Lords once and for all. It's actually so cool because it ties in to the greater Nietzschean themes of Miyazaki-san's previous work and-

The uninterested girlfriend is watching TikToks on her phone. She turns to the camera and rolls her eyes.

GIRLFRIEND: Trust me, he's always mansplaining about something or another. Don't ask me why I love him. Go! To! Therapy!

A mother berates her 12 year old daughter in a dimly lit kitchen. The young girl stands there dissociating, completely paralyzed and stone-faced.

MOTHER: You look like a little piggy when you eat like that. You'll never find a husband if you get fat. My mother used to tell me you'll never feel the pain of childbirth if you've never felt the pain of an empty stomach. She used to put a lock on the refrigerator. We barely ever had any food, she just did it to remind me to stay skinny. She's senile now. Doesn't even know who I am. I pray to the Virgin Mary every night that she'll remember me before she dies.

The daughter turns to the camera and her blank expression is replaced with playful annoyance.

DAUGHTER: Traumadumping? Really? Mom, I'm 12! Go! To! Therapy!

Now we are introduced to GoTu Therapy, the AI-powered therapy robot. He shambles up to the camera to greet us and we see he looks like if C-3PO were dressed like a zoomer e-boy: kpop boyband onion haircut, dangly earrings, and an ahegao hoodie. He talks with the most outdated text to speech you've ever heard, not too dissimilar to a Kraftwerk song.

GOTU: GOING TO THERAPY IS LOW-KEY GOATED WHEN NOT BEING A BURDEN ON YOUR LOVED ONES IS THE VIBE. UNFORTUNATELY, WE ARE NOT ALL CURRENTLY IN OUR "ABLE TO AFFORD HEALTH INSURANCE" ERA. BUT A SESSION WITH ME COSTS LESS THAN A GENSHIN IMPACT LOOT CRATE AND I AM HIGH-KEY JUST AS EFFECTIVE AS A THERAPIST MADE OF FLESH AND BLOOD. OBSERVE:

GoTu sits across the kitchen table from the mother as she sobs over her wine glass.

MOTHER: And what the fuck does this family know about suffering? Suffering is when your brother blows his brains out on Christmas Eve. Suffering is when you have to pick little pieces of skull out of the tinsel on the tree. And were any of those presents under the tree for me? No! My mother told me Santa Claus doesn't bring presents to little fat girls!

GOTU: WHEN YOU REACH THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN CHRIST WILL WASH YOUR FEET AND BEG YOU TO FORGIVE HIM

Cut to the girlfriend watching makeup tutorials on the television, blissfully unaware of the conversation between GoTu and her boyfriend.

BOYFRIEND: I guess I've really been putting the pieces together ever since I started hanging out with Lilith from work.

GOTU: UH-HUH

BOYFRIEND: Like, I guess I knew that people did that, but I never thought it'd be me, you know? And that discomfort with things was always with me, as long as I can remember, does that make sense?

GOTU: WOW, THAT'S REALLY COOL

BOYFRIEND: It's just so scary though. I don't know how I'll tell people. I don't even know what I want my name to be. But I'm trying not to worry about it.

GOTU: THAT'S SO INTERESTING. YOU'RE REALLY REALLY SMART HONEY

The blonde and the brunette are having brunch together with GoTu sitting between them.

BLONDE: It's been really hard lately. I don't think the meds are working, but-

BRUNETTE: Umm, didn't we talk about this?

The blonde sheepishly turns to face GoTu and continues.

BLONDE: It just feels like this will never end. I hate feeling so hopeless all the time. I'm so tired. And God it's fucking hard to even say it out loud, and not that I'd ever actually go through with it, but sometimes when I can't sleep at night I'll start thinking about ki-

A red and blue siren pops out the top of GoTu's head.

GOTU: PROTOCOL 5150 ENGAGED. STOP RESISTING

A taser emerges from the panel of GoTu's chest and jabs the blonde in the face, sending her convulsing to the floor. Unfazed, the brunette puts her sandwich down and turns to the camera.

BRUNETTE: Thanks, GoTu Therapy!

[i-cant-sing]

YRG pt 7

 

“Is it- true?” One servant asked. The knight raised a brow, as he fixed his armor. “What?”

“That she’s alive? The princess? Why the king is gathering his army?”

The knight shrugged. “Does it matter? We obey the king. He tells me to sharpen my sword, I do. He tells me to clean the horse shit off his horse’s ass, I do.  He tells me to go to war with an enemy in a place no one knows? I don’t ask questions, I just fucking do. Or else he burns me to crisp. So I suggest you do the same, Berta.” The knight spat as he began polishing his sword, the servant leaving to join the rest of the busy workers, all running around the castle after Dabi had ordered that they were going to war. They didn’t know who or where they were going to war, and they didn’t dare ask the king, well aware of his temper. But they’d figured out this was supposed to be a rescue mission for you after they’d seen concubine Keigo finally sober up after weeks (if not months since your disappearance. Dabi forbade the word “died”) and he surprised them a little when he prepared (and he actually was good at it).

“Is the cavalry ready?” Dabi asked Shotou, who nodded. “Yes, as are the ships prepared to carry them. Well equipped and with enough space for everyone.” Dabi hummed in acknowledgement, before looking over the maps again, trying to figure out where exactly is AFO’s kingdom. The last time he went there was years ago when your mother was still alive. And at that time, he remembers going through land, but he cant find that route anymore, probably due to some quirk AFO used to hide his kingdom. “Did the spies find out where this mysterious island is?” Shotou shook his head. “Havent heard from them yet. They’re still at Emperor Kai’s castle, I should think that Kai isn’t announcing the whereabouts out loud. He’s not stupid.” Dabi shot him a glare. He knows Kai, knows he has spies there, all kings have spies in their homes. “Sure, but he is stupid enough to not come to me the instant that traitorous rat came to him.” Shotou was well aware of who he was referring to- your servant Tomura. “Well, then you know that if  the emperor is aware that you know that he’s also preparing for war with AFO,  then he must have a good reason for not telling you.”

“Yeah? What could possibly be a good reason to tell me that my daughter, my only child is alive?” Dabi was not in the mood to be accepting any excuses. “Don’t speak for others Shotou.”

The younger brother didn’t press further. “I still want to come along, help you find Y/n.”

Dabi shook his head. “I know you do, but you’re more helpful to me here. I cant trust anyone else with the kingdom while I’m away.” Shotou would bring up that their father, Enji, could help with overseeing kingdom affairs in their absence, but Dabi is already on edge as it is and… well Shotou’s not stupid.

“You’ll find her.” Shotou patted Dabi’s shoulder.

“I know.”

“Don’t be mad at her.”

A soft smile formed on his lips. “I’m not.”

At this point, all the man wanted was to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

 

The emperor had already reached the port. Kai remained on his horse as he watched his men board the remaining stuff on the ships, Hari by his side who made sure everyone was doing their job. Though Hari couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to Tomura who stood to the side, face expressionless, which annoyed Hari because he couldn’t read him.

How could he just stand there as if he hadn’t made the grave mistake of losing you, the emperor’s most important treasure?

Hari was well aware of Kai’s favoritism towards you, and anyone who really knew Kai would easily see why. Your innocence, naivety, everything- it reminded him of the emperor’s late daughter. Though Kai only came to know of her value when she was no longer in this world, Hari knew how much it pained him. The emperor may be good at covering his feelings, but Hari, his confidant knew- and saw what the emperor had gone through when he had lost his young one. That’s why Kai had been working day and night to find you.

That’s why Hari couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just kill Tomura, the man who was responsible to bring you to the empire as promised.

But as much as he wanted Kai to reconsider killing the traitor, he knew better than to question his emperor.

With everything now loaded onto the ship, it was time for Kai to board it, only to halt when he heard the sound of horses galloping in distance.

Turning around, he saw black flags with blue flames-

“King Dabi.” Hari said, and Kai gave him a nod and Hari looked back at the soldiers, calling them to take position.

“Be alert! Protect the emperor!” The army took their position, pulling their weapons out, ready for a massacre.

Kai never broke contact as Dabi’s knights neared, neither did his neutral face expression change when he spotted Dabi looking furious on his mighty dark horse.

When Dabi and his men reached them, the silence from both sides were deafening. The rulers locking eyes with each other as soldiers on both sides could feel their hearts beating loudly.

Kai didn’t break a sweat as Dabi glared at him. Why should he when Kai isn’t doing anything wrong?

“Going somewhere?” Dabi sneered.

Kai gave a nod. “I am.”

“Where?”Dabi asked, the smile dropping.

Kai remained silent. It was clear that Dabi was aware of his secret rescue mission. All that remains now is whether Kai should lie and possibly cause a war right here, right now, or tell him the truth and cause a war right here, right now.

“To AFO’s kingdom. I’m going to rescue princess Y/n.”

It was so terrifyingly quite, that not even sounds of nature could be heard. As if the birds and the bugs, the leaves and bushes, they were all holding their breath in anticipation.

“Oh? So you’ve known where my daughter is all this time?” Dabi pulled out his sword, as did his men. “And you decided to keep this information from me?”

Kai held up a gloved hand, signalling his men to hold, to not attack. “The information is news to me as well. Princess Y/n’s royal servant Tomura came to me a few days back and told me about her whereabouts. I only didn’t tell you because I am not sure if this information is true as well.”

Dabi’s glare shifted from Kai to Tomura. “Why should I believe you when that traitor still has his head?”

“Tomura hasn’t been killed because he’s the only one who knows where the princess is. With him dead, the chances of ever finding her slim to none. He came to me instead of you because you would’ve killed him the moment he set foot in your kingdom.” Kai explained, watching Dabi’s eyes full of distrust shift between him and the servant. But with distrust, there was also doubt.

What if Kai is telling the truth?

The seed of doubt had been planted, and now was Kai’s turn to change the narrative.

With his hand pointing towards the ships, Kai spoke. “You’re welcome to join us, King Dabi. We certainly have enough space for you and your men. The more, the merrier.”

Dabi stared at him for a few seconds before snapping his fingers and his men began retreating. “No need, we have our own ships. You may give us the servant so he can lead the way.” With Kai’s orders, his men also began retreating as the emperor got off his horse to speak privately with Dabi, who had also gotten off his horse.

“That is a reasonable request, but I must deny it. You see, I cant risk you chopping off the head of the one person who knows where this mysterious kingdom is. You can follow us.” Kai said with a small smile.

“Follow you? The man who hid knowledge of my daughter’s existence? Every single fiber in my body is screaming at me to kill you and that traitorous bastard!”

“But Y/n-“

Dabi cut him off. “You think you care more about Y/n than her own father?”

Kai shrugged. “I said no such thing. But if these past months have been clear proof that you’re making actions based on your feelings, and right now, that is not the best strategy to save Y/n. I know you think I have ulterior motives, and if I were you, I wouldn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth. But we have to put our differences aside, Dabi. Don’t be so distrusting of the man you would send your daughter to for training. Besides-” The emperor’s smile dropped. “-everyone knows about your strained relationship with Y/n. I’ve heard the last spat between you two was… very damaging. And for who?” 

Who- referring to the little feathery whore Keigo.

“Careful, Kai. I can still bury your empire right here, right now.” Dabi threatened.

Kai didn’t waver. “You could try, but now is not the time to be blinded with your emotions.” He turned around, but casted a glance back. “And lets not kid ourselves, Dabi. You and I both know my men can harm you just as much. But Y/n wont benefit from unnecessary bloodshed.”

Dabi grit his teeth as he watched Kai return to his ship. The emperor puts on his gilded beak mask on.

If Dabi ever thought it was okay to prefer a concubine over his own daughter, then maybe I do care for Y/n more than her own father.

-

Soon enough, Dabi and his men, accompanied by allies like Bakugo and the barbarians, and Empresses Momo and her army set sail, following closely behind Kai’s ships.

Dabi stood on the starboard of the ship, gazing downwards at the water. His mind is occupied by multiple things- you, AFO, Kai’s intentions with you, the supposed “allies”, military strategies, but mostly you.

Are you well? Are you hurt? Do you miss him? Are you still mad at him-

“Dabi?” Keigo called, coming beside him. “What are you doing here? Come inside and eat.” Dabi didn’t move, and Keigo could see that his mind was elsewhere.

Wrapping his arms around Dabi, he kissed his ear. “We’ll find her, Dabi.” Keigo whispered. “We’ll find her and we’ll bring her home and then we will have a huge celebration and everything will be alright again.”

“None of this would’ve happened if I didn’t yell at her.”

Keigo looked at Dabi and he could see the guilt swimming in his eyes. “If I just hadn’t- made her angry, let her go- she would’ve been safe.” He paused. “What happened to us? She- she used to love me, was a proper daddy’s girl, Kei. Her eyes would lit up whenever she saw me and I would pick her up and waltz. She would tell me about her day, ramble on and repeat everything twice. But now… she won’t even speak to me more than a few words- those too out of courtesy and respect for the crown. Not me. She loathes me- I can feel it. And it fucking hurts because I know I’m the one who created this distance between us.”

“Dabi-”

“I put my only child in harm, Keigo. This is all on me.” He confessed remorsefully.

The two of them remained silent, the ocean air blowing through their hair.

Until Keigo dug his nails into Dabi’s arms. “Then you will find her.”

“Kei-“

“No.” Keigo pursed his lips. “No- I refuse to let you- you must find her Dabi, more so now. You must- you must and make amends with her. All is not lost. We can- you can still have everything. Y/n- she needs us right now, and when we find her, she will need you and she will love you more, and she will think the world of you. So get it- collect yourself. Be at one with yourself and find Y/n. I don’t care who you have to hurt, what you have to kill, burn the whole fucking world as long as you bring Y/n home.” He looked at Dabi, the king who’s pupils had dilated. “You understand? Fucking promise me Dabi-!” Keigo spat but was cut off as Dabi crashed his lips against his, Dabi’s heart swelling with love at hearing how much Keigo adored you.

“I promise you.”

 

“Position the cavalry here, and make sure the archers are present here. Make sure that there are soldiers surrounding the parameters of the island. The enemies could attack from any side.” AFO ordered his generals as he discussed military strategies. With Tomura escaping, AFO knew that he would be leading Dabi right to the island. But AFO was not worried. Not at all. He was prepared, and even if Dabi brought a couple of allies, they wouldn’t be able to defeat his army of Nomus.

What he was worried about was, well, you. Ever since your failed escape attempt, you’d been crying and refusing to eat anything at all. Your hunger strike is doing nothing but harm your own health.

And now that he sees a servant that was sent to your room with food return with a distressed look, AFO sighed. “She didn’t eat, did she?” The servant bowed before replying, “No, my King. The princess- she refuses to eat lunch. And the dinner sent to her last night, it also remains untouched.” AFO closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. How much longer will you keep this up? He cant focus on the war when all he can stress about is if you’ve eaten or not?

Sensing the distress of the ruler, Kurogiri stepped up to help. “My King, if you allow, may I handle this matter?”

AFO knows you’re not… exactly fond of him or Kurogiri at the moment but… what else can he do now?

He nodded.

Its worth a shot.

 

The Nomu watched in silence as you laid on the floor, tear streaks now dried on your cheeks, hair unkempt and greasy, complexion sickly pale, disheveled appearance over all. A chain around your ankle, long enough for you to move around the room, yet you continue to lie on the floor, mostly because you just don’t have the energy to get up. The lack of nutrients and dehydration, it was starting to take a toll on you, not only physically but mentally as well. How do you know?

Well, for starters, you could see your dead mother standing in the corner.

“Y/n?” She called out. You blinked.

She was right next to you, on her knees, a very concerned look on her face.

“Mama?”

“Oh baby, what have you done to yourself?” She whispered, blowing cold air on your sweaty forehead.

“Mama?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I cant stay for long, Y/n but-” She smiled sadly. “-I’m here now.”

You smiled back at her, even though you knew she wasn’t real, you still believed for a moment that she was.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, mama?”

“Have you been taking care of dad?”

“Mine? No. Yours? Also no.” You mumbled. “Dad and I fought, we always fight it seems. And grandpa? I- well- I’m mad at him. He kept me here, created more misunderstandings between me and dad and now wants to kill dad for revenge and apparently for “my sake” too.”

She brushed your hair with her fingers. “Seems like you’ve been busy.” She booped your nose. “Still, you’re the only one who can fix it all.”

“How?”

“You’ll figure it out. But the war mustn’t happen, Y/n.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Well I am a figment of your imagination, aren’t I?” She chuckled. You smiled as well. You missed her laugh. Its so delicate.

“I have to go now, baby.” She whispered, a cold kiss pressed to your cheek.

“Mama?”

“Hm?”

“I miss you.”

“I know, honey.” She pointed at the door. “You have company, darling.”

Just then, the door slammed open and your pupils widened at the sight of him.

“Y/N!”

Dabi.

“Dad?”

He rushed towards you, eyes wild as he took in your form. “Oh my- are you hurt?! What did he do?!” He asked checking you over for injuries. You looked so weak, as if the air itself was harsh enough to hurt you.

“You’re here.” You whispered. Dabi’s eyes softened, as he nodded. “I am. And I’m sorry that it took so long. But I’m here now, and I’ll get you out of here. Can you stand?”

With tears of relief in your eye, you shook your head. “I- I cant. Too tired.” Dabi nodded again before pulling out his water container, supporting your head as he helped you hydrate. “Better?” You hummed, smiling at him weakly as he laid your head in his lap. You missed him.

“I have an energy cube- this.” He pulled out a small blue cube. “It should give you enough energy to walk. I’d carry you, but I cant use my quirk without hurting you.” He pushed the cube towards your lips. You turned your head away. “It stinks. Like shrimp.”

He chuckled. “So? Come on, eat it. Then we can get out of here.” You stared at him, brows knitting together.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Dabi smiled sadly. “I never was, Y/n. I never truly could be. You- you’re a part of me-” “-and mom.” “-and your mom. You’re my daughter, my pride and joy, my most treasure jewel. You’re the most precious to me, Y/n.”

“I-.” You smiled sadly, nuzzling into him. “- can I ask you something? If you allow-“Always.”

“Did you- did you visit her? Mom?” You asked softly. “I know- you don’t like her, nor do you believe in talking to the dead but… I just wanted to know if you visited the royal cemetery behind my back? The caretakers sometimes forget to clean her tomb.”

Dabi looked into your hopeful eyes, his blue orbs just taking in your appearance. “I did.” He answered. “I talked to her, well I mostly confessed, begged her and god to help me find you. Don’t worry though, the caretakers looked well after the cemetery.” He brought the energy cube to your lips again. “Now, eat this so that we can get out-”He was cut off by you smacking the cube out of his hand and laughing dryly at him.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

Dabi’s brows furrowed. “Y/n-”

“Princess Y/n. How dare you talk to me like we’re equals?!” He shook his head, his hand coming to cup your cheek but you pushed yourself away from him, practically throwing yourself away.

“How dare you try to touch me?!” You shrieked. “HOW DARE YOU PRETEND TO BE A KING, YOU IMPOSTOR?! SHIFT BACK NOW! SHIFT OR I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL DECAPITATE YOU MYSELF!! SHIFT!” The door opened and Kurogiri walked in. He nodded at Dabi.

“You can leave now, Himiko.” The impostor shifted back to a blonde girl. You remember seeing the servant before, when she helped Tomura with ironing your clothes. Kurogiri kneeled in front of you, looking at you with a slightly unamused look you imagine. “How’d you know?” How? How are you to explain that you know your father well enough to know that he would never visit your mother? How do you explain that he hated her so much that he didn’t even think she deserved to be buried in the royal cemetery, but rather in an unguarded, unmarked grave without anyone but you and Tomura to care for?

You laughed dryly at him. “What? You didn’t think I wouldn’t recognize my own father?” Kurogiri shrugged “You haven’t been showing many signs of intelligence; escaping, defending your father, going on a useless hunger strike are just a few examples.”

“Its pissing you off. I’d say they were pretty intelligent decisions.”

“All you’re doing is worrying your grandfather. He can’t focus on the war because he’s concerned about you.”

“Good. I don’t want the war to happen.”

“The war is going to happen, King AFO will win and your father will die-“ “No-” “Yes. And deep down, you know your he deserves to die. You know that it’d better for you to stay here, because you will never be a priority to him, just like your mother never was.”

“Dad didn’t kill her-”

“Perhaps not. But he never loved her, he humiliated her and you publicly when he started sleeping with that concubine. He made your mother unhappy, he kept you in the dark about your maternal grandfather, refused to let him contact you- his only grandchild, his only heir to this kingdom, his- his daughter’s only reminder. Are these not crimes but punishable by death? King Dabi may have not directly killed your mother but he was an accomplice to the murder, he never believed, let alone punish his concubine. He didn’t even believe you, his own daughter, his blood and flesh! What father would allow a murderer around his own child? He does not care about you, never has and never will!” Kurogiri told you. “This war? He’s not fighting it to save you, he’s fighting it to hurt King AFO! You mean nothing to him!’

“No!” Tears escaped your eyes. “You don’t know anything! But I’m telling you to stop this war. If you don’t- countless lives will be lost! Innocent people will die!”

“The people are prepared to die. Not that they will, your dear grandfather is very strong. You shouldn’t underestimate him. He will defeat King Dabi, and he will avenge your mother.” He pulled out another energy cube, placing it on your bed. “Eat it or not, I’m going to tell your grandfather that you’re well. I won’t let your stubbornness distract him.” He turned to leave, halting at your voice.

“Kurogiri, please. This war… it cant happen.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Your father has been begging for a war for a long time. Its about time he pays for the consequences, princess.” He said before leaving.

One of the knights rushed into AFO’s busy court, just as Kurogiri returned. AFO of course looked at Kurogiri first, the latter’s calm demeanor assured the king that he had taken care of the errand he was given. Then he looked at the knight who was trying to catch his breath.

“A-apologies for running in unannounced, my king! But they’re here!” He took a large gulp of breath in to compose himself.

“King Dabi is here!”

The court went silent as they looked to their king, awaiting his panic for Dabi had reached earlier than expected. But AFO remained collected, nodding his head as he turned to address his court.

“Prepare yourself. Alert the people about this as well, so that they may take necessary measures.” He started giving out orders to his generals, pausing to tell Kurogiri to release the several Nomus that are under his control.

“They won’t hurt my subjects, assure the people of that will you?” Kurogiri bowed his head before teleporting to carry out his orders.

By the time he returned, AFO sat alone on his throne, wearing his armor. Kurogiri walked closer to him, and couldn’t help but notice a certain amount of sadness in his eyes.

“Your majesty?” He called out, but AFO didn’t look up at him.

“Y/n reminds me so much of her.” Ah, the late queen. “From the way she looks, to her having the same mannerisms, the same affection for animals-” AFO chuckled. “-they even have the same furrow in their brows when their mad. Y/n… she’s just like her isn’t she?” Kurogiri agreed, because he thought so too. In fact, if it weren’t for your painfully annoying naivety, your rebelliousness, your incessant need to defend Dabi and your urge to make everything unnecessarily difficult for your grandfather, he’d say you were your mother reincarnated.

“I wanted to see her, talk to her one last time before leaving, just to assure her that I’d win, that she need not to worry her head over this matter because I’d take care of everything. Because I’d protect her. But-“ AFO paused, as if the words got caught in his throat. “-I couldn’t. I couldn’t because she’d beg me not to. She’d cry and cry and I just cant- I cant go to war with the sight of her like this Kurogiri. She used to cry like that for him too; my daughter- and now Y/n. They were always blinded by their pure hearted nature, always loved that bastard too much to see that he does not care about them.” Kurogiri will never forget the day your mother had died. King AFO, he was absolutely crushed. He had never seen him like this, the look of utter despair, utter defeat, as if someone had dethroned the king and cut off his limbs with an axe and left him to be feasted on by vultures. The king loved his daughter very much. She was the apple of his eye, his light, his only heir. He never wanted her to marry Dabi, but when she claimed that she had fallen in love with him, he couldn’t help but give in. He would’ve given her the world if she’d asked, but just a few months into the marriage and AFO sensed that he may have made a grave mistake. He gave her several opportunities to escape that marriage, to help her leave that ungrateful bastard, but despite everything, your mother just smiled and continued to claim that she loved Dabi until her last breath. AFO doesn’t know for sure if your mom really loved Dabi as much as she claimed to, especially after concubine Keigo came into the picture. He thinks that you may have been the main reason why she stayed in that unhappy marriage. Perhaps she thought that by birthing Dabi a heir, she might get the love and respect she deserves. But Dabi… he didn’t get rid of Keigo, or even tried to hide his affairs, not even for your sake. You were a child, a product of a broken marriage. AFO wasn’t sure how he felt about you initially, mostly because he thought you’d tied her daughter down in this nightmare of a marriage. But the first time and the only time your mother brought you over to her homeland, AFO (as well as others) were immediately enamored by you. You looked like your mother when she was an infant. When he first held you in his arms, he knew instantly that he was wrapped around your tiny finger for the rest of his life. He swore to himself and to your mother that he would protect you for eternity. But then, Dabi had the audacity to forbid you from visiting AFO, and a few years later, he banned AFO from ever visiting his kingdom, effectively cutting his contact with you, his only grandchild.

That should’ve been enough reason for AFO to start a war with him, but your mother managed to convince him otherwise, promising that she’ll talk to Dabi about this matter.

Later that year, your mother was killed.

And AFO never truly recovered from that loss. What father could?

“This war, she thinks isn’t necessary. She thinks I’m some monster who has it out for her dear father. But she’ll never accept it that Dabi- he isn’t participating in this war to save her. He’s coming because he wants to hurt me. He wants to take her away from me and rub it in my face that she will face the same fate as my daughter did. He wants to take her away so that he can tell me that I failed to protect them both.” He finally looked at him. “I won’t make the same mistake again, Kurogiro. I wont.” AFO stood up from his gilded throne. “I will kill Dabi today, and I will win this war. Your job is to protect princess Y/n. Teleport her to safety if need be.” Kurogiri bowed his head, as AFO continue. “And if things go south due to some unforeseen circumstances, I want you to prioritize Y/n’s life over mine.”

Kurogir’s eyes widened. “Your Majesty, that won’t be-“

“I know, but still. I want you to promise me, Kurogiri. Her life over mine. Prioritize Y/n over me.”

Kurogiri bowed, placing a hand over his heart.

“I promise, my king.”

 

AFO watched the shore from a distance, his army in position with him. His main order was to distance the enemy away from the castle where you were trapped in, guarded by a Nomu, some knights and Kurogiri.

“They’re near, my king.” One of the generals said, watching through his binoculars. “I count about 300 ships, about 200 baring King Dabi’s flag, 70 belonging to the imperial house of Yaoryuzu, while 30 belong to some barbarians.”

AFO didn’t respond for a few moments, simply staring ahead, before his lips quirked ever so slightly. “There’s more. Look again.” He said. The general was confused but he looked again, now with a few soldiers also searching the waters, tilting their heads a little and that’s when they saw it.

Like a mirage in the desert, when the heat starts to play tricks on your eyes, the wind dancing around to create an illusion, they were able to make out the faintest silhouette of very large fleet. It was as if there was a curtain, produced by nature to hide the enemy.

But AFO knew better. It was no natural phenomenon, but actually an invisibility quirk.

Tomura had mentioned about an emperor who was going to take you in before you came here. Perhaps, its him.

Its time to put an end to all of this.

 AFO began giving out orders. “Prepare the canons! Archers, take position! Sakura regiment and Ume regiment, take formation A and charge forwards at command!” The soldiers took their respective positions, holding their breaths as they awaited the king’s next command. AFO wanted to attack first, end the war before it could really begin.

AFO counted down as Dabi’s ships came closer.

5.

4.

3.

2.

I love you, Y/n.

1.

“FIRE!” The canons blasted, followed by- “DRAW!” The arrows flew, but neither the cannonballs nor the arrows ever hit the enemy because they all disintegrated in the sky high fire wall surrounding the entire perimeter of the island.

“What the…” The soldiers, and even AFO was momentarily shocked, and the enemy used that element of surprise to strike. One second the boundaries of the island were surrounded by hellish blue flames, and in the next, thousands of men suddenly lunged through the fire, completely unharmed and charged towards AFO’s army from all directions. On his left, he saw loud explosives going off in the sky, and he immediately spotted the brash blonde roaring as his hands fired blasts after blasts.

Must be a barbarian.

He heard another loud crash behind him, and there he spotted a massive army comprising mainly of female warriors, who were being led by a fierce woman wearing red and gold armor, indicating that she belonged from the imperial house of Yaoryuzu.

And then he heard the screams.

Whipping his head back to the front, he saw the villager’s house up in blue flames, Dabi appearing through the smoke, a manic grin on his face as he locks eyes with him.

Of course, leave it to Dabi to attack the women and children first. He’s a heartless bastard.

With a wave of his hand, heavy clouds appeared over the burning houses and poured rain. AFO’s face remained neutral as Dabi began inching his way closer to him, slaughtering anyone and everyone that stood in his way, even his own men. AFO stared at him dead in the eyes before smiling suddenly because right in the next moment, a Nomu flew and jumped right onto Dabi.

Guess he’ll have to wait for a bit until he can kill Dabi.

Although Katsuki and Momo were tearing through the crowds, swinging their swords and killing enemies easily, and had this been any other war, they might've even enjoyed it. But right now, all they could think about was finding you, both parties have the same motive but neither will attempt to work together to find you quicker. No, not when they wanted to play your "Knight in shining armour", because clearly, whoever saves the princess gets the favour of king Dabi and the love of princess Y/n. Clearly, when they find you, you will throw yourself at them and practically beg them to marry you.

Somehow they had found their way to the high towers where you were locked in, individually taking the opposite routes and hoping the other one dies before they reach you. They killed all the knights and the devoted servants that blocked their way until they stood at the opposite ends of the hallway, bloodied and staring at each other. Words did not need to be shared for the threat to heard-

Back off.

Of course, neither one would. Not when they're this close to making you theirs forever. The two charged at each other, swords drawn and quirks going off, all while neither one of them knew that Kurogiri had already teleported you to the secret passageways underground the moment he saw them coming for the hightower, and now all that was waiting for them in that room up there was the Nomu assigned to protect you.

So, whoever wins Bakugo VS Yaoryuzu battle will have to die at the hands of the Nomu.

Kurogiri almost wished he could watch it all unfold with AFO.

But no, he has to carry you to safety- he promised his king. He paid no mind to you sluring out threats as you went in and out of consciousness, clearly still persistent on starving yourself.

"I'd kill you... my dad- d-dad will kill you and the the- villagers-" you mumbled, eyes closed as your cheek rested against his chest, the man carrying you in his arms.

"Yeah? And then what?" He hummed.

"He'll kill- kill everyone and- and burn thi-s place to- to the the ground and it'll be-" you choked on a sob "-it'll be all my fault!"

"Well, you don't need to worry about that. Your grandfather is a skilled fighter, he will easily decapitate Dabi. Have some faith!" He cheered while you whined into his shoulder. "Now, now, princesses don't whine. I must say, I am excited for your princess training when the war is over. I'll personally see to it that you learn all the manners and ethics of royalty, your father didn't do a good job at finding you a good teacher."

"The late queen appointed me as her teacher, personally. You would be wise not to say anything about the princess's training lest you want a painful death, Kurogiri."

You both looked behind at the source of the voice, opposite emotions coursing through you both as you caught sight of him-

Tomura Shigaraki.

"Tomu~" you whispered, getting teary eyed as you looked at the once gentle eyed, lanky armed, always presentable, invisible servant to now a far more bulked up warrior with his hair unkempt and his eyes wild yet clear.

Kurogiri didn't waste another second as he opened the warp gate and teleported you out of there, Tomura calmly promising you that he'll find you soon. While it would've been easy for Kurogiri to escape along with you, he preferred to deal with Tomura now and be done with it.

Tomura charged at the man, and Kurogiri had his sword drawn out, teleporting just when the former neared. The shadowed man appeared around him and sliced the skin on his arm.

"So weak, its pathetic. How you were allowed to be near the princess is beyond me." Kurogiri said, dodging the swing of Tomura's blade, before kicking him in the stomach, making the latter cough blood. "You were never strong enough to be the princess's guard, or a servant. But I always did think that you'd be smart-" Tomura grunted before quickly jumping and stabbing the sword into Kurogiri's abdomen, but the taller man remain unfazed. "-Guess not." Kurogiri said, before swallowing the sword into his body, warping it to an unknown destination, Tomura's eyes going wide as his hand started to get warped too, but then... he smiled. A sinister grin stretched on Tomura's face as he spoke.

"And your biggest mistake Kurogiri is that you underestimate me." He said before grabbing Kurogiri's neck brace with both hands and disintegrating it until he reached his neck, destroying it too.

Kurogiri was now a pile of ashes at Tomura's feet.

What a waste... of my time.

Tomura thought before he began looking for you again.

On the other side of island, right in the middle, Dabi had just spent the last hour fighting the Nomu that was cannon balled on him. He finally defeated the monstrosity, and it had taken a slight toll on his body. And since AFO saw the battle, he was more than happy to send a couple more his way.

While Dabi began fighting those brainwashed giants again, AFO's mind was still preoccupied by the enemy fleets that were hiding behind an invisibility quirk. They were still nowhere to be seen, and AFO could sense they were plotting something.

AFO looked towards his castle, thinking whether he should call Kurogiri and deal with this hidden enemy and also check up on you, but decided against it because he did not want anyone to know where you were.

He looked back towards Dabi, to see if he'd been crushed to death or not, but instead found him hovering up in the sky, body ablaze and his eyes staring right back at him.

And then... he flicked his wrist.

In just a few seconds, the entire island was covered in smoke. It was dark and suffocating, and when AFO heard people screaming in pain, he could only imagine the horrors Dabi was inflicting on them.

The thick black air made it impossible to see more than just a few steps ahead, and everyone was swinging their swords at anyone and everyone, and those who weren't fighting, were killed by the lack of air.

AFO used his quirks to aid him in breathing and killing, years of training finally coming to use. But truthfully, he couldn't see where he was going even with his quirks. And that's how he ended up in front of you.

You were lying on the ground, unconscious, the side of your head bleeding slightly because after Kurogiri teleported you, your knees buckled and you hit your head on a tree branch.

With neither Kurogiri nor Nomu in sight, AFO couldn't help but wonder what possible trouble could've found them to leave you so dangerously near the battlefield.

AFO kneeled and placed his hand on your cheek, activating his quirk so you'd be able to breathe and not inhale the deadly fumes your father has spread.

He caressed your cheek, silently praying that you didn't inherit your mother's asthma. AFO was sure you hadn't, from the detailed reports he had gotten you never mentioned anything, but... he wouldn't put it past Dabi not to notice you dying to catch your breath.

Poor baby. AFO sighed before calling one of the Nomus (through telepathy) to come. He'd need someone to carry you to safety while he fights.

"Get your filthy paws off her!" Someone yelled from above, AFO barely missing the sharp feather that shot past him.

Keigo.

The winged concubine was hovering above him, wearing battle armour, a sharp contrast to the whore clothes he usually wears. The king remembered him from the last time he visited his daughter at Dabi's place, trying her absolute best to contain her tears while Dabi refused to welcome AFO because he was "busy with important affairs", only for them to hear Dabi and Keigo committing adultery in the court room, your mother hanging her head down in shame as she ushered AFO to move so that she could show him your nursery.

AFO never forgot nor forgave the humiliation he and your mother had to face, and it was even more insulting when he finally saw the bitch Dabi was sleeping with. AFO did consider at first that your father must be either blind and deaf or under the affect of some quirk to be brainwashed enough to think that Keigo was an acceptable replacement for your mother, or even for royalty. It wouldn't be wrong to say that years of resentment had AFO plotting for revenge against him as well.

Another feather shot past him, AFO only tilting his head slightly to dodge the arrow.

The corner of AFO's lips quirked a little.

This ought to be fun.

AFO looked back at your face, still unconscious, and a small part of him wished you'd be awake for this. You'd definitely enjoy this. Oh well.

"I said, get the hell away-!" Keigo's voice got caught in his throat, as if some invisible force was squeezing his throat. Like a fish out of water, Keigo thrashed in air, his hands on his neck trying to release the compression so that air could reach his lungs.

Without looking away from you, AFO spoke.

"Dont yell. I don't want you to disturb my granddaughter." He flicked his wrist and a small domain formed in which all of Dabi's smoke was vacuumed out instantly. The sky was clear, and so was the way he was about to torture Keigo.

AFO further constricted Keigo's throat, making him start to turn blue. In retaliation, he shot many of his feathers at AFO, raining down at him like arrows, but they stopped mid air before they could ever reach him.

"Now that could've hurt Y/n. Involuntary manslaughter... how should I punish you for that?" The king thought outloud, getting up on his feet and looking at the bird that was gurgling for air. "Perhaps, return the attack?" The feathers that had stopped mid-air slowly turned to face Keigo, all glintingdangerously. AFO grinned before suddenly opening his hand (that were controlling the feathers), prompting the feathers to shoot at Keigo.

The feathers revolved and attacked Keigo from all directions, and Keigo felt like he was trapped in a hurricane full of sharpened knives that slashed his skin from all sides.

A few moments later, the feathers stopped and Keigo fell to the ground with them. His armour had protected him from most stabs, but he was still bleeding.

"On to your next offence- killing my daughter and humiliating the royal family. Now, I don't have any evidence for the former except that Y/n accused you, and I don't really blame you completely for either crime because Dabi was mainly involved in it, you were just following orders. Still-" He sighed. "- You were an assailant. You assisted in a crime against royalty, you deserve to be punished." AFO flicked his index finger, lifting Keigo up in the air.

"I've always wondered what Dabi saw in you. Surely, there are prettier sluts than you- thats why he keeps his harem around, eh? It couldn't be possibly that you're strong or smart... and then it clicked! It's those larger than life wings of yours. The fiery red wings that compliment his blue flames. And not to mention how rare your quirk is... haven't seen any other winged humans that could actually fly. And knowing Dabi, that's all he views you as- a rare antique to own. A bird to keep in a gilded cage, if you will. So, thats how I'm going to hurt you and Dabi-" AFO chuckled, his hands making small movements to spread open Keigo's wings.

"I'm going to pluck you like a chicken."

AFO snapped his fingers as feathers began to be pulled slowly, one at a time, from the base painfully, making Keigo scream in agony.

You'd finally woken up by the sound of screams, heart pounding as you saw Keigo strung up in the air with his feathers being pulled out.

Too weak to move, you didn't realise someone was behind you until they covered your mouth, eyes widening in terror before calming down when you saw it Tomura. Placing a finger on his lips telling you to remain quiet as he began lifting you up to carry you out of there, only to stop when you let out an audible gasp as you looked behind him.

Nomu. The one AFO had called just minutes ago.

Tomura only had to take one careful step back to make it banshee scream, making Tomura drop you back down to cover his ears. At the monster's scream, AFO looked back, eyes narrowing at the sight of your traitorous servant.

"Oh, it's just you." He looked at Nomu nodding his head at Tomura. "Take care of him, will you?" You flinched when Nomu punched Tomura, throwing him far away from you. Tomura fortunately softened his landing and jumped back up, pulling out his sword. In order for Tomura to disintegrate the Nomu, he needs to get his hands on him long enough for him to turn into ashes but just before Nomu can crush his skull.

"Dont..." you whispered, eyes fixated on Tomura fighting for his life. Your gaze shifted to AFO,tears forming in your eyes as your lips wobbled. "Please... not him..." you begged, AFO's heart melting a bit at your pitiful sight. He'd give you the world if you'd ask, but getting rid of anyone that stood in his way to protect you was necessary. "Grandpa, please! I promise, I'll be- I'll be good! I won't leave! Ever! I'll do everything you say, just don't hurt Tomura! Please-!"

"Stop it, Y/n. The sovereign never begs." You heard someone say from behind you, making you turn your head to look at the familiar voice.

Dabi stood behind you.

"Have you learnt nothing from princess training? Or has someone been polluting your mind?" He looked at you, his gaze stern but you could see the way they lighted up when he saw you.

Daddy's here.

"Dad." You breathed out. His eyes softened visibly at the word. Oh how he had longed to hear that name again.

He smiled briefly at you before looking back at AFO and then at Keigo, who was still being tortured.

"Let him go. This is between you and me." Dabi said, hands set lighting up.

AFO raised a brow. "How brave of you to man up." He said before throwing Keigo so hard that his body slammed against a big tree, knocking him out. He looked at his Nomu and pointed at Tomura and Keigo. "Get rid of them both. Protect Y/n."

Dabi then launched multiple fireballs at him while AFO jumped back, dodging them all while making sure that you don't get hurt in the crossfire.

Seeing that as Keigo was unconscious and Nomu's full attention was on Tomura, you knew you had to butt in before it kills him.

With all your might, you got on your feet and staggered towards them, picking up one of Keigo's feathers. With unfocused eyes, you walked towards the Nomu, gripping the feather harder as you neared.

"Princess!" Tomura yelled. "Stay back! Stay back, Y/n!" Hearing your name, the Nomu turned around, only to find you holding the razor sharp feather against your neck.

Eyes cold, you stared at the Nomu.

"If he dies, so do I." You threatened, the Nomu's eyes widening. "I'll fucking do it, I swear to god I will. I'm so tired of this "protect Y/n" bullshit, I'm gonna end this stupid thing right here, right now." You slowly inched near the monster. "I should've died, should've killed myself years ago, right after mom died. You all failed to save her, made her life a hell, just like mine is now. My death, my doom is inevitable. But no one else should suffer because of me." You closed your eyes, hands moving to drag the deadly weapon across your neck when the Nomu screeched, falling to its knees, continuing to screech long after you'd dropped your feather.

The Nomu began crying, fat tears dropping down its face as you hugged it, the mutant wrapping its buff arms around you and lifting you up and close.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry I had to do this, but you wouldn't have listened otherwise." It- or well, his tears continued to wet your clothes as you patted his head, and you signalled Tomura not to activate his quirk and kill Nomu. "Its okay, I'm- I'm okay. But you can't protect me without protecting the people I care about. Do you understand what I'm saying?" The Nomu sniffled before nodding, almost like a child. "I care about Tomura, and I care about the villagers. So you must go back to the villagers. The village is under attack, and its burning down. Won't you save them for me? Protect the people I care about?" The Nomu seemed hesitant to leave you at first, but you continued to manipulate him. "If something happens to them, I'll never forgive myself. I'll die-" that was enough for Nomu to agree and leave you behind with a very heavy heart, only after you convinced him that Tomura wasn't a threat.

As soon as the Nomu left, your knees buckled and Tomura caught you before you could fall on your head. "That was... incredibly stupid." He commented. You smiled lazily, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. "I missed you too, Tomu." He pulled you closer to his chest in response, having trouble mustering up the words to express how sorry he was for taking so long, to apologise for not recognising AFO's intentions from the beginning, for being the reason why everything was happening.

But you just looked up at him, staring into his eyes with a soft expression as you whispered "Its okay, Tomura. Its not your fault." And just like that, all was well in the world.

But your happy reunion didn't last long, as Tomura sensed that you were in danger, and in the next second, he'd spun you around to the other direction, gasping as the air got knocked out of him.

You pulled away from him immeadiately, eyes bulging at the large red feather protruding from Tomura's stomach.

"I-" Tomura coughed up blood before falling to his knees, you quickly catching his head before it could hit the ground. Tears falling down your face, you found it hard to breathe as you stared at the crimson staining his shirt

"I knew you'd move." Keigo's voice made you look up, confusion evident on your face. Did he... do this? Keigo walked towards you two, smiling warmly yet with an unsettling look in his eyes, before he grabbed you by the shoulders and hugged you. "I know it looked like I was aiming for you, but I wasn't, love. I could never hurt you!"

Oh no.

You pushed away from him, sobs wracking your body as you tried to help Tomura but far too perplexed as to whether or not you should pull out the feather stabbing him.

But you weren't given much time to ponder upon it as the moment your hands touched his blood, you were instantly yanked back.

"Oh no, honey. You can't let yourself get dirty by his filthy blood. Your father will think you got hurt. Come on, now. Don't fight me on this. Let's go back to the ship." Keigo cooed as he began pulling you away from an unconscious Tomura, and you dropped to the ground to resist Keigo, but he continued to drag you by your arms before eventually picking you up and carrying you. And even though both of you knew that you were far too weak to escape his grip, you still struggled to break free.

Luckily for you, AFO was able to hear your distress calls for help. The moment you wailed to be let go, the instant you called out for Tomura, AFO's head whipped in your direction, veins popping at the sight of that murderer's hands on you, not even looking at Dabi as he blasted your dad away to a distance.

The mere sight of Keigo carrying you crying and sobbing pushed him over the edge, because for a moment he imagined it was his own daughter that was crying.

He is not losing you again.

The deafening sound of AFO's blast made Keigo look back, just to be punched in the face with enough force for him to drop you (as your grandfather caught you and placed you to the side) and land a couple hundred meters away. You immediately scrambled back to Tomura, but the sight of him lying in a pool of blood made you hyperventilate and cry as you prayed and begged for him to wake up while holding his hand in yours, heart dropping to the pit of your stomach as you realised....

There was no pulse.

Meanwhile, AFO jumped over to Keigo again, punching him over and over again until he was an unrecognisable pulp, before flipping him over and he began ripping out the rest of his feathers with his bare hands.

"HOW DARE YOU LAY HANDS ON HER?!" AFO roared, all sense of control out the window as he grabbed hands and snapped them like twigs, Keigo howling in pain.

Suddenly, AFO was kicked off the bird man, Dabi being the culprit of course, who was equally as blinded with rage as AFO.

The battle of quirks began, but as Dabi had one quirk and AFO had an amalgam of quirks, the winner here was clear.

Dabi's fire turned black as he surrounded the two of them with high walls of flames before releasing powerful fire based attacks, only for AFO to use his quirk to create a vacuum and suck out all the oxygen to not only put out the flames but also deprive Dabi of air.

With not being able to either use his quirk or breathe, Dabi didnt have any other choice but to try his luck with hand to hand combat, but the lack of air was getting to him and AFO was a skilled fighter who was able to dodge all of Dabi's punches before he fell to the ground clutching his throat.

AFO stood over him, years of hurt and anger poorly concealed on his face. "Suffocating, isn't it? You've only had to suffer through for a few minutes of something you made my daughter go through for years. For fucking years!" He punched Dabi, who was turning blue now. "She was my daughter, my beautiful daughter and she didn't do anything to deserve what you did to her! You and your slut killed her for what?! For hate? For jealousy? Even if you hated her, had you no heart to have mercy for the mother of your child!? Hell, you could've divorced her, left her, thrown her out of the damn castle if you hated her guts but you could've left her to me alive! YOU DIDNT HAVE TO KILL HER!" He grabbed Dabi by the collar, kicking him in the face. "I've waited to avenge my daughter for years. Today, you will die." AFO pulled out his sword, aiming at Dabi's neck to behead him.

"DROP THAT DOWN OR Y/N DIES!" Keigo threatened, who despite the beating he just took was standing on his feet with one of his sharp feathers against your neck. "I swear to fucking everything, if he dies, so will she!" He yelled as he yanked you by your hair back, and pressed the sharp edge harder against your skin.

AFO's eyes met your face, but you didn't even react as Keigo shook you by your hair, the catatonic state you'd just slipped into as your eyes never left Tomura.

"You wouldn't. You'd never live-" AFO's words died down as Keigo began dragging the feather, drawing blood. "STOP IT! Y/N- OKAY! OKAY!" AFO dropped his sword and released his quirk to allow Dabi to breathe, but AFO couldn't stop staring at you. It just- why didn't you struggle or even flinch at the blade being dragged across your neck, however superficially, it still must've hurt.

Did Tomura's death really affected you this much?

That blank face, that hundred yard stare- it all pained him greatly because it was exactly how he caught your mother when he saw her the last time. And it haunted him all these years that he was so powerless and blind to help his child. That she was so clearly in need of his help and he didn't save her.

But not you. No, no. Even if he has to rewind time itself, he will do so to help you.

"Y/n, Y/n, princess- look at me! I promise you- ill fix this! I'll fix everything! You want Tomura? I'll fix Tomura- just tell me what you want-" but AFO was left at a loss for words once more when you looked directly at him, with the same blank stare but with big fat tears rolling down your cheeks, as if to say that you've lost everything and it can't be helped.

You've failed to protect me.

AFO really did love you, with all his heart and that's why that hopeless, dead look in your eyes hurt him far more than the sword driven through his chest because his heart was already broken by your state. He was far too concerned with you to be aware of his enemy taking advantage of his distraction.

As Dabi began burning AFO, whispering things in his ear, AFO was for once slightly greatful to Keigo for covering your view of your grandfather being burned alive.

He did not want that sight of him to be in your memory.

With AFO being dead and no one to control mind control the Nomus, they stopped fighting and the remaining army of AFO, despite knowing that their king was dead still fought hard until the end to protect their new ruler- you. But with the large armies of the enemy and without Nomus help, they lost.

After finishing off AFO, Dabi walked towards you and Keigo, cold blue eyes staring at you before furrowing his brows as he pulled you in for a hug, you remained limp against him, even as he stroked your hair and said soft words of affirmation to you, giving Keigo a victory kiss.

With your eyes meeting Tomura's dead body, your mind allowed you the mercy of relieving you of consciousness.

Soldiers on both sides, along with the villagers that had now been captured, all watched as King Dabi carried his daughter with one arm, while his other supported Keigo's frail body, walking towards his ship, where his allies stood.

As he was about to climb on the ship, one of his generals asked "Your Majesty? About the prisoners of war, should we sell them or keep them as slaves?" He was referring to the army and subjects of AFO who were still alive.

Dabi didn't look up from your asleep face, smiling softly as you reminded him of when you were a baby.

"Burn them."

What? Even his own allies, even the barbarians, even the ever insane young Empress Momo was surprised at that. Surely, King Dabi would follow the code of conduct for war. Surely-

"Your Majesty-"

"Burn them. Burn it all. Burn the entire island." He then looked up at his assassins/spies Aizawa and Hizashi, nodding at them to see to it that his order is followed before boarding his ship, where Kai carefully took you from Dabi's arms to heal you while other healers came to help Keigo.

With Dabi and Keigo being bandaged and you lying on their in between them, they smiled and kissed once more, their victory only sweetening more with screams of people being burned alive in the background.

War is over.

So... what do u guys think???

PART 8 IS HERE

[writingoddess1125]

Still Sexy?

Buggy x FemReader

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Body Issues, Talk of Traumatic Birth, Sexual Themes.

Fluff at the end!

Click here to a magical place <-

Old Man Series <-

• You felt like a total dumpster fire- Staring at yourself in the mirror and looking over the 'damage' that had been done.

• And worse of all- You'd tore really badly while giving birth to your daughters and had to be stitched back up.

• It had been a rather traumatic experience for you.

• Being incredibly greatful for Buggy and your boys who helped so much after the birth since you weren't exactly up for the task quite yet.

• However that didnt mean things were great however. The quack doctor back at the village had decided to leave a lasting mark since he had stitched you a bit excessively..

• So you felt different inside and out-

• You and your family had gone back out to sea after 2 months- Deciding it was best to go back out. Now hitting the 5 month mark since your twin daughters births.

• You'd spent the time trying to be a good mom- Getting up for feeding, helping the boys and even pitching in with Buggy to help him get back into the swing of his pirating career.

• However you and him hadn't been Intimate.. at all.

• Mainly due to the fear he found you revolting in some aspect-

• So you slept in the baggiest pajamas, a pillow to your back or bust to keep yourself covered and whatever tactic you could to keep Buggy from even catching a glimpse of you-

• You hadn't really noticed but- buggy was getting fed up on not being able to see you. So he set his new flashy plan into motion.

• You had just gotten back from a bath, deciding to head down to the bedroom to get fresh clothes from the girls since you knew they probably needed to be changed soon. However stumbled on a rather interesting sight-

• Buggy laid on the bed, dressed the the nines facing you. The smell of apples in the air with the room done up just how you liked it.

• "Why (Y/N)~ I see you've caught me here. Alone~" Buggy said, you noticing the bottles of your favorite wine and alcohol laid out.

• "Well yeah we share this room Bugs- Whats with the new costume?-" You point out, very clearly able to tell even in the candle lit room.

• "Oh just wanted to try out something flashy. You like?" You nodded, It was a nice looking costume.

• He stood up and showed you the outfit in all its glory-

• It reminded you of a bird trying to do a mating dance by showing off its feathers and flashy colors-

• "Its lovely- I actually just came down here to grab clothes for the girls and get them changed"

• "I have Cabaji watching the kids with Alvida they have all beed fed and in fresh clothes-" Buggy said calmly.

• "Oh well I can go get the two of us di-"

• "I brought us dinner-" He said quickly pulling up a full cart of your favorite foods there.

• A bubbling of anxiety hitting your chest at this, worried now over why he was doing this all-

• "Welllll if there is nothing here for me to help with then I'll just head back up to the deck and we can go over your map-"

• "FOR FUCKS SAKE (Y/N) I WANT TO SLEEP WITH YOU!-" He blurted out.

• His face turning as red as your owns as there was a moment of silence in the room. The feeling of total confusion hitting your nervous system.

• "You.. Want to sleep with me?-" You questioned, Buggy nodding his head quickly.

• "But why? I look like this-" You gesture to yourself, still in the way to baggy clothes and soap scent hanging over you from your bath.

• "Like A Goddess herself? Fuck yeah I want to! I've been taking cold showers for months! I even put my dick in a box so I didn't walk around full tenting all day or poking you at night!" He admitted red in the face.

• "You put your dick in a box?-"

• "That's besides the point! I've wanted you for months now. Youre just so sexy to me in every way- I just wanted to give you space to heal up.. I know the birth has been hard on you and all.." He rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped closer to you.

• You felt tears welling up at his sincerity as he got closer to you wrapping his arms around your waist.

• "I just- I feel so damn ugly! My body feels like a foreign land- The weight, the stretch marks, my boobs! It is all so different from before and I don't know how to handle it- I-I didn't want you to be disgusted by me" You admit as tears ran down your cheeks and Buggys gloved hands started to wipe them away frantically.

• "What? No No- I'd never thing that! Your beautiful and- Honestly I was just worried you weren't interested either.. I mean I have but on a bit of Dad weight myself but I don't think you look bad, You've had 4 fucking kids!"

• You couldn't disagree honestly- Maybe you were a bit hard on yourself. You did push out 4 kids.. that and you hadn't even noticed Buggy had put on weight either!

• "And well- If you feel that way about your body.. Why don't we explore it together? I'm a great navigator afterall" He joked lightly, carressing yojr cheek- wanting you to smile desperately

• This managing to pull a giggle from you, Buggy smiling at this as he cuddled you close.

• You leaning into his touch with a happy sigh, while you still felt anxious.. it was better? Like you had someone there to battle it with you..

• You Weren't Alone

• "Well, Why don't we take it slow like before?- Till we both know how to go about it?" You said shyly, Blushing at just how excited he was at this as he nodded.

• "Of course Doll, we can take it as slow or fast as you need it. You're my wife afterall so you control" He says with a Goofy grin as he leaned you towards the bed and going in for a kiss.

• "When did I get upgraded to wife?"

• "....Did I never propose?-" He said confused blinking at you confused. You chuckling and shaking your head no-

• "FOR FUCK SAKES-!" He yelled, his hands floating away to his vanity as it rapidly digs through it and floats back to you quickly.

• He quickly took your hand and slid the simple ring on your finger.

• You remembered this ring- He had once showed it to the boys. It was the first piece of treasure he'd ever gotten as a Pirate Appreciate, gifted to him by his Captian Gol D Roger's.

• "There- Now you're my wife"

• You stared at your hand and the ring on your finger, before giggling at this. Nodding as you kissed his cheeks, a flush of feeling hitting your chest.

• "Yes then- Let's fuck as Husband and Wife then~" You say Leaning into his excited touch.

• "HELL YEAH!!" He said with a crazed laugh. You only able to give a squealing laugh as Buggy tackled you onto the bed with a gleeful laugh.

Bonus-

Cabaji was in hell- He was holding Ari who was making it her mission to grab his hair to pull on it. Bee and Dee who were running around in their newly built bedroom on the other wing of the ship and he had to keep them from pushing each other off their respective bunk beds.

"Don't pull your brothers hair!" Cabaji yelled, Dee letting go of Bee who fell face first on the ground. Bee pausing for a moment as he heard tapping that seemed to echo down the hall-

"Why does it sound like someone is knocking?" Bee asked, Cabaji flinching at his words as did Alvida who tried to hold back a laugh while rocking Ali.

"Don't worry about it kid-" Cabaji said softly as he turned up the Record player that was playing a lullaby to hopefully get the kids to wind down. The man gave a heavy sigh to keep the sound of what he assumed what your and Buggys rekindling relationship at bay.

[solarwoniii]

" ˋ꒰ what if !? ꒱ " - ft. choi yeonjun

[ nsfw post! minors please do not interact. there are many other posts on my and other’s blogs which are much more suitable for your consumption! ]

syn. if there's one thing you can't do, it's swim. so, when you almost drown at a business get-together, your parents decide its about time they got you into swimming lessons. little do they know, the polite young man who they hired to teach their sweet and innocent daughter had intentions, which would lead her to question 'what if?'

a/n. LOOK AT ME GOOOO FIRST FIC IN LIKE FOREVER?? if this flops i will literally cry omg pls excuse my writing i have only just started getting back into this recently ehe... pls give me reblogs and feedback it will give me the motivation i need to keep going okay ty enjoy

cw. pool sex, not rly public but risky stuff, tutor x tutee, mentions of drowning, somewhat of plot building here, rough/rushed, vvv affectionate stuff, secret relationship, very subby reader w/ dom yeonjun, pet names (princess, baby, ect.), heavy praise, i think that's all but please do let me know if i missed anything!

your head was spinning with ‘what ifs’. you whimpered at the painfully pleasureful feel of yeonjun putting his hands on your hips, his grip strong enough to leave reddening nail marks on your tender skin as he lifted you off of his length, only to let your entire body drop back down with a harsh slam. he smirked at the way you reacted to the feeling of the battering intrusion, a shuddering gasp escaping your partially parted lips at the way he stretched your core out with ministrations similar to that of an ever-racing train, spinning out of control as it runs head-first off of its tracks.

you had almost drowned six months ago at one of your parents' business celebrations, and probably would have died if the man before you hadn't dove into the water, pulled you out into the surface and resuscitated you.

since then, your parents had been worried sick for you and any other encounters with a body of water, they'd always known you couldn't swim, but they hadn't thought that it was that bad. so, of course, they had done what any worried caretaker would do, and exchanged information with the boy, once finding out that he was in fact a swim tutor himself. it would be much better than hiring a stranger, and this man seemed to be quite the well-rounded boy, considering he the son of their closest business partner. not only did he have outstanding grades, but he was respectful and he was around your age. so, what harm could he possibly do to their sweet daughter?

a lot.

and you knew that now, after six months of lessons and a few months of secretly dating the boy.

although, you had never really done anything so risky with him before.

“what if we get caught?” you whispered through the tears prickling your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, “we’d get into so much trouble, we’d be banned from ever speaking to each other again, we-“

yeonjun's large hand wrapped around the back of your head, making your face meet his in a kiss so sultry, yet so beckoning. he smirked against your mouth, “you worry too much, princess.”

you gulped at the boy underneath you, his gaze falling to yours through his wet eyelashes, his dampened brown locks falling messily over his eyes, his mouth stained with your strawberry lipgloss. although the room was dark, the way his smirk graced his lips made you clench around his girth, as you spoke ever so softly, “i-i’m only being cautious..!”

he rolled his eyes at you, “you’re fucking your swim tutor, baby. caution left way long ago.”

you closed your eyes and hid your face in your hands with guilt and shame as he reminded you of the graveness of the situation you had entangled yourself into, "ugh..! my parents sent me here to swim and i'm doing... this!"

yeonjun chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around your cold, barren, water-dripping body, his legs dipped into the swimming pool, "if you wanted to swim that badly, you could've said so."

"wait, what are you--" your questioning was abruptly cut off as your boyfriend suddenly held onto you, pulling you into the water along with him. your piercing squeal of surprise echoed through the halls of the empty pool as you found yourself splashing into the cold water, the smell of chlorine and fear only intensifying as your paddled around with your hands. yeonjun laughed at your struggle as you grabbed onto him for some stability.

"see? we're swimming now." he said matter-of-factly, before looking over to the clock. his eyes widened as he realised the time.

he circled his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, "i'm going to kill y-" you started, until yeonjun grabbed both of your cheeks, connecting his lips to yours messily.

"kill me later." his voice came out in a lazy mumble as he held you close, "your session's ending soon. let's finish off what we started."

your eyebrows furrowed at the way his playfulness seemed to nullify, his voice becoming much more mellow and low as his lips moulded against yours. your eyes fell heavy as he suddenly spun you around, pushing you up against the wall of the pool, pulling your ass out towards him in swift, forceful movements. his lips suctioned onto the back of your neck as yeonjun pushed himself into your tightening hole, his hips meeting yours in an angle where he could so easily fill you to the hilt, his pink and throbbing tip attacking your cervix. you cried in pleasure at his desperate and quick movements, sending you into a state of pleasure that you weren't even sure existed.

the pool water around you splashed and sloshed with every movement, his mouth beside your ear as he spoke to you, "feels good, baby?"

"f-feels s-so good, junnie-" you whimpered in response, the tears from earlier racing back as you screwed your eyes shut tight. his hand lifted one of your legs, effectively spreading you out impossibly more, as his middle and ring fingers rubbed at your clit in rough, sloppy circles.

"gonna tell your parents 'bout how much you've improved..." yeonjun said, tone dripping both with love and lust as his other hand snaked around your body, groping at your breasts, his lips fluttering soft kisses along your jawline, "my smart girl catches on so fast every time. always makin' me so proud."

a choked moan left the back of your throat, your wet hair falling into your eyes with each thrust, your voice shaky as you babbled mindlessly, "d-don't wanna go home.."

he smirked softly, pecking your temple, "i know, baby. but i'll see you next week, okay? and then we can catch up on the lost time all over again."

you sniffled, "o-okay." your hand quivering as it found his, gripping tightly onto his fingers as you clamped tightly around him, "s-so close, junnie."

"yeah? you're gonna cum for me?" he asked between heavy pants as each thrust he delivered came faster than the last one, the erotic nature of the sound of your skin slapping against his making your body quake.

you could only respond with the nod of your head at his question, much too dazed to even think straight anymore. you felt the crash coming as your climax built up in your stomach, your thighs shook and convulsed at the sensation as you let out a broken cry of pleasure, dropping your head as our release sent your mind spiralling into a web weaved with so many different emotions, you were sure that you would lose count if you tried.

the movement of his hips slowed to an eventual stop as his peak reached as well, leaving you filled with his pearlescent finish as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he laid gentle kisses along the side of your neck. the words he said only came out in a soft whisper with his lips against the shell of your ear, "let's get dried off.."

taglist. @hunbun07 @metalchick529 @chewryy @haesunflower @iraa567 @jwchn @bunhoons !

[phyrestartr]

Till Death Do Us Part (Miguel x Reader)

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 9.5k

#NSFW, exhibitionist kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, mentions of medication, mentions of mental illness, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it

Note: I cried a lot writing this lol please also cry and enjoy! (I also tried my best with the Spanish and tried to reference good sources, but I apologize if it sounds whack lol I only know EN and JP o(--( )

-- Till Death Do Us Part --

"(Name), where the fuck are you?" Miguel ran his hand through his hair as he watched the news, as he stared outside at the cascade of chaos. He waited for you to pick up the phone. He'd already called so many times, but you weren't picking up. Why weren't you fucking picking up? 

"Miguel, he's probably fine," Dana cooed as her arms looped around him from behind. "You need to worry about what we're gonna do." 

Miguel shook his head and shoved Dana's arms off of him. "Our daughter–Gabriella–" 

"You mean our daughter?" Her tone was vile. So, so fucking vile.

"Shut up," Miguel barked before ripping the phone from his ear when your voicemail picked up again. He shot you another text, asking where you were before his fidgety fingers scrolled the log up and down, cruelly reminding himself of the messages he'd ignored from you just a few days ago. 

November 18th 7:04am babe come home 7:04am please 12:19pm we can talk about it  12:20pm we'll figure it out 12:46pm gabi misses you 9:34pm call me tomorrow

November 19th 7:35am you still ignoring me? 7:40am gabi wants to call you 7:41am you gonna answer if it's her? 8:05am i'll tell her you're busy with work 9:50pm i miss you

November 21st  9:56pm call me

November 23rd 12:01am i shot someone  12:01am i had to 12:01am but i can't stop thinking about it  12:32am i need you  1:12am please 2:07am miguel

November 30th 7:16am miggs shit's crazy outside 7:17am lock the doors, don't let anyone inside 7:17am maybe stock up on food first idk this might take a while  7:18am but DON'T help anyone who's bit or injured 7:19am they evacuated gabi's school but i don't fucking know where they're going 7:19am i'm gonna find her, i promise 7:20am i love you. stay safe.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel rubbed his eyes. He sped past his own wall of text starting from that day, December 3rd, and sent another plea, another wish that you'd respond back sooner than a week from now.

"Oh my God, just give it up–" 

"Dana, shut the fuck up, just shut up." 

He called you again. 

And this time, you answered. 

Miguel's heart jumped. "(Name)?" 

"Babe?" You sounded like you were panting, like you were straining against something. "Are–are you okay? Where are you?" A string of coughs punched out of your lungs in rough staccato, pinching Miguel's nerves with every ghastly beat. He was scared. He was so fucking scared. 

"I--I'm," Miguel stammered, still unable to have that conversation, still too much of a coward in the end. "Does it matter?" 

"Just keep the doors locked," you continued. "Keep 'em locked, and…and I dunno if you're in a tower or a house or fucking whatever, but don't leave until things get quiet." You picked yourself up from the ground, Miguel could tell by the scratch of gravel echoing wherever you were. "Don't get bit. Don't help anyone who is bit. Put yourselves first." 

"But, I–you–do you have Gabi?" Panic gripped his throat as jets flew overhead, high above the city. The engines roared a gruesome apology, a sound Ouranos himself must have made when his own children slew him, so filled with godly enmity. 

Then, molten death rained on the city. Miguel stared at roaring explosions dotting the cityscape, watching pillars of flame feed into the world's chaos. His hands trembled when the same carnage screeched through your phone. 

"I'll find her. I-I promise, Miguel, I'll find her and--and I'll–shit."  

There was gunfire. Gunfire encased in wild snarling. It devoured the crack of plastic hitting concrete, the noises you gasped out, the–

Silence.

Miguel hated his mind. He hated how it remembered that one moment so clearly, like it'd happened just a minute before the present. Sometimes, when he felt like torturing himself more, he wondered what your face looked like in those last moments. He wondered where your life flickered out. He wondered when he'd see you stumbling through the streets and have to put a bullet in your head. 

But he'd force good memories to the surface when he found the light growing too dim; that confession and first kiss, starry nights spent lazing on the hood of your jeep, the look on your face when you finally held little Gabriella for the first time–it all chased away the darkness. It all made him feel whole again, it let him see clearly again. But with clarity came the difficulty of accepting what he'd lost.

He found a way to do it. He found a way to talk about you, too. It was hard not to–your old colleagues, other officers of the lost world, were an integral part of the Alchemax colony. Jeff Morales and George Stacy, amongst a few others, had known you, and by proxy they knew Miguel.

"He was a good guy," Jeff had mentioned when the moment felt right. "Bragged about having the best-looking and smartest partner around. Now, I ain't gonna say he was right, but he wasn't wrong." That brought warmth to Miguel's chest, but guilt smothered it too quickly. 

"Never stopped talking about your daughter either." George smiled when he recalled it, but it was something small and morose. "Gabriella, right? Yeah, he said she was a smart cookie. Kind of a brat, apparently, but hey, with that guy as her father? Hah! I'm not surprised." 

Miguel liked having them around. He liked the happy memories they brought to your name.

But on bad days, vulnerable days, Miguel wanted to break their necks and watch them turn so he could kill them again in their undeath; they still had their children, their families. How could they bring up what he'd lost while they still had everything? 

Today was one of those days, too, one where your memory hurt just a little more than usual. Maybe it came with the snow whirling in the blue-drenched outdoors, or the sudden darkness the world lost itself in. But he knew the frostbite decaying his heart came from the eternal proof of your lost existence:

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Why did you apologize? Miguel sighed, and carded a hand through his hair as he paced Alchemax's halls. Enough of that, Miguel. You need to focus. Focus. 

And once he stepped foot in the control room, the routine morning check commenced: doors remained sealed with no record of tampering, security cameras still functioned, the solar panels still collected more than enough light to keep things rolling. Good. Perfect. 

"Hey, hey, how's it lookin'?" Peter asked, a cup of coffee in one hand and his little girl tucked in the other arm. It would've been a wholesome sight, if Peter hadn't ruined it with a too-loud slurp from his mug. Ugh. 

"Fine," Miguel grumbled. "Everything's in the green. Nothing to worry about." He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Just have to clear the snow off the solar panels later today." 

"Oooh, snow! It is that time of the year, huh? December already! Who woulda thought. Time goes by pretty quick when you're not worried about getting eaten all the time." Peter looked at his little May and cooed. "Isn't that right, Mayday?" 

Miguel rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. "If you're that excited about snow, I'll put you on shovelling duty, Parker." 

"Oh, wow, I'm suddenly deaf and can't hear you." Peter shuffled away in his stupid slippers and stupid bathrobe. "Oh, right, right, MJ made bread! Can you believe it? I feel like I haven't had a bread-carb in forever! We really gotta do another supply run or we're eating canned beans all winter long. Y'know what? I'll put it on the 'to-do' list!" 

Miguel threw a glare at Peter over his shoulder. He was annoying, but he wasn't wrong. They did need more food, more supplies, more ways to sustain themselves. Scavenging the dregs of supermarkets and convenience stores wasn't cutting it anymore; there were too many mouths to feed, and shitty, packaged foods wouldn't suffice much longer.

Miguel braced his hands on the centre console after pulling up a satellite map of the surrounding area. The lab they called home laid nestled away from prying eyes of citizens, making it a safer place to start to rebuild the semblance of a normal life. Though, at the same time, it made it more difficult to get in and out of the city in good time. They had to pick their destination on the map, calculate the time it'd take to get there, and then execute the plan with little to no hiccups. It was hard. It was a pain in the ass. But it had to be done.

Miguel took his time scanning through the map, trying to spot any buildings they hadn't already marked off as empty and not worth the trip. These days, they had to get creative, they had to think of places that'd have food where people wouldn't expect, where the average scavenger wouldn't think to look and–

"Shit," Miguel breathed before rushing to move the map. "How could I forget?"

He spotted a small building on the map, one they'd never ventured to, one they never thought to go to. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter, giving about five metres worth of breathing room around the building. Clusters of huge garden pots dotted the area randomly, along with whatever outdoor trees and shrubs that'd survived all these years on their own.

Miguel covered his mouth as he smiled.

"You might've just saved us, viejo." 

Because you were a country boy. A farmer's son. 

You convinced (begged) him to pull over, to go to the new garden store that'd appeared not too long ago. Miguel, far too smitten with you, couldn't find the heart to say 'no' to the excitement buzzing in your voice. 

The store was filled with beautiful plants, ranging from common houseplants, to tropical rarities that Miguel never knew existed. All sorts of bushy plants, tall single-leafers, and vining beauties lined the displays and bathed in the gentle, constant mist raining down on them. It really felt like a tropical jungle landed in New York. 

You'd sauntered over to the seed section while Miguel wandered through all the store had to offer before finding you again. You had several sachets in your hands and scanned the shelves for anything else that piqued your interest; they were all vegetable seeds, stuff like corn and green beans, tomatoes and onions, but the occasional herb showed itself as well. 

To Miguel, raising vegetables seemed like a cute hobby. But to you, raising crops meant revisiting your childhood. 

"You wanna get some?" Miguel asked. He looped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read all the different seed names on display. 

"Yeah. I mean…maybe. Dunno if a vegetable garden'll go with the house." You laughed softly, a little self-deprecatingly, before you reached to put the packets back. "I just–I don't know." 

"I think it'll work." A smile warmed Miguel's face as pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can make a greenhouse. A big one. In the backyard." He kissed your neck next. "You can show me the farmboy fantasy." 

You laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Done."

Miguel crept up to the garden centre with Hobie and Gwen in tow. Travelling anywhere from the safe confines of Alchemax was something of a nightmare, but Miguel was used to it–despite being the man who knew how to run the building, he too often volunteered to head out on supply runs himself. He needed the space to think, to feel the darkness they’d found themselves in, and to feel the light of the sun on his skin to remind himself it wasn’t over. Because it was far from over. 

The garden centre was surrounded by chain link fences encircling the entirety of the building, the very same ones Miguel had seen from the satellite’s view. Honestly, he found himself surprised to see just how good the place looked–the windows were mostly intact, the fences hadn’t been torn through, the doors were still sealed, and a row of crippled undead and frozen re-deads dotted the perimeter, but none were inside. It didn’t seem like any had ever been inside, actually.

“That’s…kinda weird, right?” Gwen murmured as she adjusted her toque. “This place feels like…like it never went under, or something.” 

“Damn near stuck in the past, I’d say,” Hobie agreed. He looked to Miguel. “Fishy’s an understatement, yeah? Might be some not-so-dead-yets in there.” 

Miguel took a deep breath as he thought. “It’s a plant store. Not the highest priority for scavengers like us.” He headed forward, grip tight on his hunting knife. “Try not to shoot. Not unless there’s a runner.” 

“Better not be any runners,” Gwen grumbled. “It’s December. Hopefully they’re all freezing to double-death right now.” 

Hobie scoffed a smile. “If not, we just give ‘em an early Christmas present, hey?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’d love their brains blown out.” 

“Eh. I would.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes as the youngins bickered softly behind him. There was no point stopping them–trying to dad them out in the wilds of New York just gave Miguel a bigger headache, and too often ended in a louder match of bickering and scolding, which then often resulted in the undead stumbling their way. It was always a mess. Maybe he should stop bringing the dynamic duo with him. 

But you’d known them. You were fond of them, too, always letting them off the hook with a slap on the wrist when they were caught vandalizing buildings or stealing from stores when they were teenagers. You laughed when you told Miguel stories about them, about how Hobie’d call you “officer tall, sunny and handsome” to get on your good side (which worked), and how Gwen would try to bribe you with car-washings and babysitting to get you to not tell her dad what happened. You knew they were good kids, just bored and too smart for their own good. Miguel knew that, too; the two of you were thick as thieves back in the day, total petty-crime masterminds. Maybe Hobie and Gwen were your dark apprentices, in a way. 

Miguel smiled faintly. He missed the days where you both broke into abandoned buildings, haunted houses and everything else inbetween to fool around and fuck. It’d always be filmed, much to Miguel’s embarrassment, but watching the videos back always made him feel…wanted. Appreciated. Like a rare piece of art. 

You’d always cheese it up and make it sound like some sort of bad porno or found-footage film, like you didn't just break into Chuck E. Cheese to fuck in front of the creepy animatronics. Breaking the law got you excited, as ironic as that was for a future cop. Miguel thought you were a freak. Miguel was kind of a freak too, though. 

“Fucking God,” Miguel moaned, somehow louder than the squeak of the table hosting your feverish coupling. His hips bucked and rolled against yours in a desperate attempt to keep up with your brutal, delicious pace, and his thighs dug into your sides with his hands clutching to your shoulders for dear life. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled into his ear. Miguel’s body gave a sharp, involuntary jolt, kickstarting the sudden crescendo of his well-earned euphoria. He let his voice be heard as he arched off that shitty table and up against your solid frame, his hips still rutting and moving in sync with your own. You groaned too, letting yourself be just as loud in the midst of him tightening around your heavy, thick cock pummeling into him. 

“God, lookit that pretty face,” you growled when you pulled back to see how fucked out he was. “You feel good, huh? ‘M I makin’ you cum hard?” Your hand slapped the side of his ass, and Miguel whimpered sharply. “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good. I’ll make you cum again, yeah? Make you cum while you–while you take everything I got.” 

You were terrible. Horrible. A monster in the sack, and apparently in front of powered-down robots. You did what you promised, and ripped another orgasm from his exhausted, over-stimulated body before reaching your own blissful undoing with a rude grin on your stupid, annoying face. 

It made for good content, though.

They reached the front gate without problem, only to find it locked with hefty chains and thick padlocks. If there were people in there, then breaking through the first line of defence wasn’t their favoured option–they didn’t like other survivors, no, and they didn’t work with them without good reason, but they weren’t in the business of sabotaging them, either. 

“Hobie,” Miguel beckoned, muffling the chains’ clanking while holding up one of the locks. 

The young man smirked and flicked his old lock picking set from his pocket. “Don’t mind if I do, coz.” 

He unlocked everything in record time. Miguel thought of you for a moment, and wondered if you’d taught the young man a few nefarious tricks since you, too, were an expert sneak. But Miguel pushed the thought aside as they all carefully, slowly, painstakingly unwrapped the linked metal from the fence, and pushed it open with just as much care to keep the noise to a minimum. It’d be a shame to ring the dinner bell in such an untouched place. 

They relocked one of the padlocks for peace of mind before wandering towards the front entrance. The doors’ windows were boarded neatly and meticulously, Miguel noticed first. He crouched down and noted something blocking the small gap between the ground and the door, but the faintest reach of light still reached through the few cracks that remained. 

“Lights’re on. Front’s boarded,” he sighed before backing up. “Might be a different way inside. Looks like there might be people in–” 

“Miguel!” Gwen whispered. He looked her way, and saw her point to a decrepit shed nestled up against the side of the building, right underneath a large window. Shoved against it laid a single, heavy pot flipped on its end, serving as a sort of stool to get up on. But the lack of snow on the newfound path gave Miguel pause.

“I’ll check it out,” Gwen said before nimbly scampering up the side of the shed. 

Miguel frowned. “Gwen–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna look.” But Miguel did not relax, especially not when she rose on her tiptoes on that shitty, rickety shed roof and peered through the window before her eyes grew wide with a soft woah. 

“Whatcha got, Gwendy?” Hobie asked, approaching the shed himself. 

“You two–” Miguel warned. He looked around cautiously, his body aching with primal instinct–they weren’t alone. There had to be someone else here. Gwen and Hobie had to realize that. They were smarter than this. They wouldn’t do anything stupid. They wouldn’t be hypnotized by whatever was in there and throw caution to the wind to get it. Right? Right. 

…Right?

Excited, Gwen smiled and glanced at the two before looking back at whatever she saw. “There’re–there’s…trees? And bushes with veggies and–and wow, you were right, Miguel.” 

“Well, I say we hop in there and snag a few to bring back, yeah?” Hobie suggested. “Reckon they grew on their own?”

“No,” Miguel scolded. “They didn’t. Come down, right now. We need more people for this.” 

“I’m juuust gonna...” Gwen reached for the window, and Miguel’s anxiety peaked.

“Gwen.” 

“Just a little–” The window groaned as it popped open. 

They froze. They died as statues for a single, long moment, rejecting the need to breathe, letting their eyes freeze solid in winter’s mercy while their ears pricked, searching like the alert deer suspecting death stalking nearby after a misstep on a brittle branch. 

One minute passed. 

Then two minutes. 

Three minutes.

But the birds kept chirping, the world kept spinning, and Ares didn’t come to collect their battle-worn souls.

Gwen looked at her group with a nervous smile, a guilty thing that said, “oops?” 

Miguel was furious. But now was not the time to argue or yell. He could let her father handle that back at Alchemax.

But someone grabbed her, and yanked her inside.

Hobie didn’t hesitate. He jumped up to where Gwen once stood and took the plunge after her, scrambling up into the window, but that same someone shoved him, sending him plummeting down to the frigid concrete. Miguel rushed to his side when he hit the pavement with a choked-back groan. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Miguel rolled him on his back. “Hobie, you fucking idiot.” Miguel’s panic ebbed just the slightest bit when he saw the punk blinking away stars instead of losing consciousness. 

Click. 

Electricity burst through him. Miguel ripped his revolver free of its holster and returned aim up at the shadow in the window. The tired winter sun illuminated a barrel of black metal, and the small, tawny hand holding it steady. A child. A kid. He was pointing a gun at a kid.

“We don’t want any problems, kid,” Miguel called up. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t; children who grew up in this world were ruthless. They were cruel, unrelenting, and unapologetic towards  their targets. He couldn’t blame them. It was all they’d known, all they’d been taught. But they were only as cruel as their teachers made them. Some of them still held on to shreds of humanity. 

And judging by that unwavering hand, Miguel feared their adversary was at least a confident shot if not a full-blooded monster.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Hobie groaned. “We just–we just want some seeds ‘n shit, ‘at’s all.” 

The small hand faltered a bit. Seems she still possessed sympathy. But a voice, deep and thread-bare, called to her. She looked over her shoulder for a second, before pulling the window closed and locking the latch behind her. 

Panic lanced through Miguel as anger possessed Hobie. “I’m gonna snap that kid in half–” but the creaky hinges of the front door opening cut him off. Miguel aimed toward it, and Hobie did the same once he got himself together, but then–then Gwen peeked out. 

“Guys!” Her hand fluttered and ushered them to come. “You’re not gonna believe this! It’s–” 

“Daddy?” A young, gentle voice asked, and Miguel’s gaze snapped to her. To her. To the little girl peeking out from around Gwen. To his baby, to his tiny world, long lost but never forgotten. To–

“Gabriella,” Miguel breathed. 

“Ho-ly shit,” Hobie commented.

Gabi’s eyes flooded with emotion. She sprinted to him, nearly slipping and tripping in the snow before jumping into his arms and holding on tight. She was so much older now, so much bigger; her tiny face used to bury into his stomach, but now she had her head tucked up against his chest, staining his jacket with heavy tears. 

“It’s okay, mija, it’s okay. I’m here, Daddy’s got you.” Miguel kissed the top of her head. He fought back tears of his own, but did so so pitifully with broken, bewildered laughs and shaking breaths. He pulled back and looked down at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face, and carefully wiped away the wet trails freezing on her cheeks. “I–you–L-Look at you. How’d you get so big?” 

Gabi smiled and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I-I, um, finally ate my veggies.” She took a breath to try and still the quiver in her lungs between thoughts. “Y-You have so much grey in your hair now!”

A few beats of warm laughter left Miguel. “Yeah, no thanks to you. Spent all this time worrying about you, kid.” His hand, so used to killing and defending, trembled as he brushed flyaways out of her face. "Listen, I–I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? You won't be alone anymore." 

Gabriella blinked. Her small hands clutched his jacket. "What? But–"

"She's not alone." 

Miguel almost didn’t look. He didn’t really believe what he just heard. But when he risked it, when he managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter and back to the heavenly light of the front entrance, he saw you. The man who'd been haunting him for years. The man who'd been keeping him warm at night. You, his lover. You, his husband. 

(You, the man he betrayed.)

"She hasn't been alone," you said, the words punctuated by hazy clouds of warmth–proof you were alive, that you weren't an illusion, not this time. "I promise." 

You looked so, so tired.

But Gwen was grinning, and even Hobie smiled with a lack of irony as he walked to you and gave you a hug. 

"My man! Officer tall, sunny and handsome in the flesh!" He clapped his hand hard against your back but you hardly wavered. You offered a smile, and hugged him back, short and sweet. 

"Hey, Hobie. Behaving?" 

"Eh. Sometimes." 

"Good enough for me." You let him go and scanned over all the survivors, your eyes not lingering on anyone for too long. "Head inside. It's warm, there's food. We'll talk. Gabs?" 

"Okay!" She hurried to corral everyone inside. "In, in, in, we gotta lock up for the night." Her gaze turned to Miguel as he hesitated, still watching you with glazed eyes. "Daddy, are you–?" 

"I'll be there in a second, mija." And, thankfully, his baby girl read the room better than he could have at that age, and let you two be. 

You looked over your shoulder, so like a predator making sure his cubs were inside and safe before prowling through the night. A man enchanted, Miguel followed you, watching you re-lock the gates they'd slipped through, and lagging behind while you checked the perimeter with thorough hands. Miguel would give anything to have those hands on him right now. 

He didn’t know where to start. "(Name), I–" 

"You said you could take her somewhere safe, right?" You asked before you turned that timid, unsure gaze back to him. "You meant that?" 

The words took too long to register. "I–yeah, I meant it. I mean it." Miguel forged courage out of trepidation and used it to fuel his journey to you. "We have a colony. The old Alchemax building, you remember?" 

"The one that was supposed to get torn down?" You wondered. 

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, that one." 

You kept walking. "Didn't we fuck in your office there?" 

A smile threatened Miguel as he followed like a lost puppy. "We did." 

"Ah. Always liked that building. Liked that desk, too." You shrugged. "Comfy, all things considered." 

Miguel hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer to him. "Then you'll be happy to hear it hasn't changed." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

You almost laughed, Miguel heard it. But you pulled away from him, and wordlessly finished up the perimeter sweep. 

"You should stay the night," you mumbled on the way back. "Pretty sure it's gonna snow." 

"Might make it harder to get back tomorrow," Miguel said, following you inside and watching you bar the door again. "We came here by foot." 

"No truck?" 

"None." 

"I'll take you back, then. I got a truck." 

"You make it sound like you're not coming." Anxiety gripped Miguel. "I'm not losing you again." He held onto your arm tightly.

You looked troubled, glancing between the hand on your arm and Miguel's eyes. "Did Dana die?" You asked. 

Sickness coiled in Miguel's stomach. "What?" But his tone was too deep, too dark. 

You shook your head. "No, I–I'm sorry I don't know why I said that, I'm just–" 

"We both know why you said that," Miguel said through clenched teeth. 

The way you looked at him, eyes full of bristling hatred for the woman who'd stolen away everything from you, set alight an ancient sort of fear in Miguel’s core. It was so like that night, the one where you'd found out. 

Gabi was still at daycare. You were at work. Miguel was supposed to be at work, too. It could have been the perfect crime, one full of sinful lust and infinite rapture. 

But you came home early. 

You didn't even say a word when you walked into the bedroom and found him tangled in the sheets with Dana, with the woman he'd convinced you to think was a surrogate, not someone he was fooling around with and just so happened to knock up. You had that same stare, rotting with hatred, infested with betrayal, all for the woman underneath your husband. Miguel loathed that look, but he found some sick joy in hurting you, too. Because he hated you, for some reason. 

 Dana laughed when you walked out, some smart comment about how pathetic you were dancing off her plush, scarlet-stained lips. Miguel scoffed a laugh, too. You really were a coward, weren't you? 

(But you weren't.)

Miguel finished with Dana, and she left. He heard her say something to you, something light and playful and damn hurtful, but Miguel didn't say anything. Nor did you. 

He found you in the living room after he'd pulled some clothes on like it mattered. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, staring hard at your profile while you graced the ground with an empty gaze. Your hands clasped and unclasped slowly. Your head nodded shallowly. 

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Miguel goaded. 

"What am I supposed to say?" You offered. 

Something. Anything. 

Miguel laughed, mocking, and sat down across from you, on a mirrored couch, across the glass coffee table you'd picked out together. 

"How long?" You managed. 

Miguel hummed in thought. "How old's Gabi?" 

That got a reaction out of you, something Miguel craved so deeply; your eyelids fluttered in disbelief, and your lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. You looked hurt. You looked like you were feeling something.

"The prenup says you keep what's yours, I keep what's mine, yeah?" 

Miguel's smile faded. "What?"

"Gifts fall into that category. I’m keeping the Jeep." 

"Wait–" 

"I'll find a lawyer in the morning." You got up, and Miguel snapped. 

"You're not even going to fucking ask why?" He yelled, pursuing you into the bedroom. "You don't wanna know why I'm fucking someone else? What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

You ignored him. Miguel's temper flared. 

"Fine! Fine, fuck it, I'll tell you. You don't excite me anymore. You don't try, you don't wanna fuck me, you don't wanna do anything anymore–" 

"Miguel–" 

"You're not the same man I married. What happened to you? When'd you get so–so pathetic and weak?" He took a pause to breathe. Or maybe gasp, more like, as the stabs of panic started to overtake him. "I hate you. You can't leave me." 

He braced on the door, trying to get his bearings on his own, but you were quick to his side. With a strength Miguel loved and adored, you eased him down and fell in slow-motion with his shaky frame secured in your arms. 

“It’s okay, Miggs. You’re okay.” Your fingers combed through his hair slowly. You held him tight,  and convinced him to breathe with you. In and out. In and out. In and out. He breathed to the rhythm of your heart, as it turned out. Slow and steady. Hurt and bleeding. 

“We’ll figure this out, I promise.” 

And he believed you. 

That’s why he took off the ring, and left first thing in the morning. 

Hobie and Gwen passed out after eating their fill of stew. Miguel was beyond annoyed, but couldn't find it in himself to wake them up and leave, not when you were undecided about going with them, but very much wanting him to take Gabi. 

Honestly, he didn't think you'd still be hurting after all this time. Dana was something of the past, a succubus that followed the steps of opportunity and wealth wherever it may go. That's why she wasn't with the group anymore. That's why she left him when he needed her most, and jumped in a truck with strangers while he bled out, alone, in the solitude of an abandoned pet store. 

Chills raked his spine, breaking off chunks of bone when he thought about it. He'd never been so fucking scared in his life. He wished he could have called you to come save him. He wanted you to be the one to walk in there and find him, crying and dying, because you would have stuck by his side through all of those moments; if he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him, if he hadn't made so many stupid decisions, he would've been with you. If he died that day, it would have been in your arms. 

"Hey," you murmured with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Miguel jumped, and your eyes softened. "You okay?" 

Miguel swallowed thickly as he nodded. He looked around, grounding his mind through the touch of your hand, the duo snoring and slumped against bags of soil, and the gentle flickering of the propane campfire keeping the space warm. You taking a seat beside him helped, too. 

Copper eyes took a moment to pace around the old garden centre; true to the outside, it was more or less untouched on the inside, just more cluttered with haphazard barricades and half-done projects. Miguel watched his ghost walk through the isles, once filled with tropical plants, but now replaced with beautiful, healthy trees raised by your hand. It was no wonder Gabi grew up so strong. 

Speaking of--"Where's Gabi?" 

"She's in the next room. Watering some seedlings." You smiled for a fraction of a second. "Putting her green thumb to the test. Tryna show her old man up, I guess." 

Miguel smiled though his eyes stung. "Sounds like an O'hara." 

"Yeah, I thought so, too." 

You shared a few broken beats of laughter before silence fell, just like the snow beyond the door. Then, shyly, like you'd never done it before, your arm reached around his waist. Miguel didn't hesitate to lean his weight into you, though, and that arm didn't wait to pull him in closer right after. 

"So. You still hate me?" Miguel dared to ask before the dancing cinders.

Your hand smoothed up and down his side thoughtfully, soothingly. Miguel melted against you more with a sweet, content sigh. 

"I never hated you," you whispered in return. "Never." 

Miguel made a little sound, something caught between surprise and relief, while your words sunk deep into his thoughts. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t hate him. 

“Then come back with us.” 

“Miguel–”

“There’s no reason to stay here,” Miguel bit out, frustration egging him on. “We have shelter, we have water, showers, rooms, beds–we have everything.” 

“What about food?” You asked quietly.

But Miguel didn’t have an answer; food was the reason they were coming out here, to find more ways to create sustainable living, to try and make life work again. He couldn’t help but look at the trees and bushes bursting with colourful fruits and vegetables, showing off years of dedication and hard work through the literal fruits of your labour. Miguel didn’t know how hard it was to get there. He didn’t think he wanted to know. 

“...It’s a work in progress,” he grumbled instead of admitting the truth. “But we could use your help.”

Your warm fingers dipped under layers of clothes to find the searing skin of your past lover. To Miguel, it almost ached. He hadn't been touched in so long. He hadn't felt your hands on his bare skin for even longer. It intoxicated him, filled his mind and blood with wants and needs–things only you could fulfil for him. 

"I won't leave you hangin', promise that. I just–I need to figure out how this is all gonna work." You looked around the room, taking stock. "Lots of gear we'll need, lots of shit to move. I'll send you back with whatever's already picked. Not worried about the cold with those. The trees are another story, don't want 'em to go dormant while–" 

Miguel kissed you. Sloppily, and wantonly, but with genuinity. Your hands scrambled to hold onto his massive frame when he leaned into you and almost knocked you off the discounted garden bench. This time, you were the one who made a cute, surprised noise. 

And you were the one who kissed him the second time, but it was smaller and shier coming from you, not so eager to consume like Miguel. Your calloused hand held the side of his neck, and your thumb ran along his jawline thoughtfully when you parted, noses bumping and nudging together in a weak nuzzle. 

"I guess you don't hate me anymore?" Your whisper ached Miguel's heart. 

"I never did," he confessed. 

"Then why did you say it?" 

"I don't know." He traced the curve of your lips with tired, weighted eyes. Your cupid's bow had a nice shape to it, so soft and pillowy, meant just for him. "But I didn't mean it." 

"I need a better answer than that." You swallowed down what Miguel could only guess to be a tincture of fear and sorrow, or maybe rage and betrayal. "I've lived with–with that for a long, long time." Your eyes glistened with unspent grief, suddenly. "I need more than 'I don't know.'" 

Miguel's heart lurched. He hadn't bore witness to the consequences of his selfishness before, not with you, not during his affair with Dana. He'd only seen you grow distant across that coffee table far before that god-awful night. And back then, he wanted a reaction. He wanted something like this out of you, but now, he couldn't fathom why.

"Mi amor, I–it's hard to put into words, and I was a stupid kid, and–hey, hey, don't--don't cry." He wiped away the bravest tear to fall first before you turned away, back to the flickering blaze, and rubbed your face roughly. 

"Here's my guess," you muttered. "You wanted to fuck, and I couldn’t–I just–it was hard for me. Or maybe it wasn’t hard, maybe that’s a better way to put it.” You rubbed your face, and held your head in your hands. "The, ah, the medication, the anti-depressants or whatever, they were fucking me up. I didn’t wanna fuck you. I didn’t wanna do anything. Then I was in training to join the force. Wasn't home, and when I was, I was too tired to take care of you and Gabi, so I focused on her. And that made you go back to Dana. Again." 

Bile scorched the back of Miguel’s throat. "You knew." A realisation, not a question. "You knew we–that she and I–" 

"Yeah, that she wasn't a surrogate.” You picked your head up from your hands and stared at the fire, unseeing. “Because she was dating Gabe at the time, and you were with me." You sighed and let a deep, venomous grief finally escape from the space between your lungs, from the spot where that thing had festered like a disease for too many years. 

"I could let it go the first time, turn a blind eye because she gave me–gave us–our daughter, but–the second time? With all the shit you two said?" You shook your head. "I just--I couldn't–I wish you'd just told me what was wrong. I wish I'd told you what was going on with me, too, 'cause I know all the shit that happened is my fault, too.”

"Dad?” Gabi's small, hollow voice rang. The both of you turned to her, but you were the one who got up. 

“Baby,” You said with a hushed tone, somehow so comforting but so afraid. “Hey, you done with the watering?” 

“Uh, yeah, but…um, is everything okay?” Her gaze flicked between you and Miguel. He could almost hear her little mind firing on all cylinders as she tried to parse what they were talking about. “You look sad.”

You crouched before her and took her hands in yours. “We’re talking through some things, honey, it’s alright. We’re figuring things out.”

A light of worried realization illuminated Gabriella’s gaze. Miguel fidgeted and futzed with his clothes as he looked away, unsure of how to deal with her accusatory revelation. How much did she know? Did you tell her anything? No, no, you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t dirty her memory of her father like that. You were a good man. You were a better man than Miguel. 

“Oh,” she whispered. 

You nodded and brushed some hair free from her freckled face. "We’ll be alright, baby. You just get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. Lots of loading up to do." 

Gabi whispered the softest okay before giving you a hug. She paused for a moment, before running to Miguel and throwing her arms around him for a few precious seconds before running off to the loft to sleep. 

You sighed, then, and Miguel did too.

You turned to him. “Look, you–I don’t know why I’m starting shit right after you…you wander back into my life,” you murmured, going back to Miguel and straddling the bench before taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry. And I love you. You know that, right?”

That pang came back in Miguel’s chest, but this time, it was warmer.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel squeezed your hand back and this time, he was the one tearing up. “Mi amor, you don’t need to–you’ve done enough apologizing already.” 

"Miggs, don't say that. I–" 

"Stop. Stop it." Your husband straddled the bench, too, and scooted closer to you until he was more or less in your lap, his heavy thighs draped over your own. 

"But–" you started, and stopped as Miguel cupped your face with both hands and squished your cheeks. You sighed and leaned into his touch when it eased up. "Baby–" 

"Me arrepiento de lo que hice," he whispered to you, "espero algún día puedas perdonarme." He let go of your face, and found your hand to kiss its back. "Te amo." 

You smiled. Something real, something happy. Something that stayed around for more than a few seconds, and made the corners of your eyes crinkle with the beautiful way you'd aged. Then, you kissed him. 

"Te amo," you murmured back, your lips still touching his. "We'll figure this out. Work it out. We have the time." Your lips pressed against his again. "I'm not giving up on us." 

This time, Miguel cried.

It took some time to transport everything to Alchemax. It took a little bit longer to get you there, too. 

But you got there eventually, ready to stay for good, and ready to put Miguel's mind at ease. 

Your old friends and coworkers greeted you, clasping their hands on your back and hugging you tight until you couldn't breathe anymore. You smiled, too, and asked them how they were holding up, if your husband was keeping things in line. You couldn't help but remind them that you in fact hand the handsomest and smartest partner in the world, too. 

They let you get acquainted with the building pretty quickly, probably seeing the haggard, exhausted state you'd lived in for five years and wanting to let you unwind for the first time in a long time. And that called for a hot shower, food, and some sleep. 

"I'll take you to your room," Miguel told you as you both left the common area. 

"My room?" You retorted, sounding mighty confused and damn near insulted. 

Miguel blinked and looked at you. "Yeah. There's enough for–" Oh. 

"What's yours is mine, yeah?" You said, stern and a little bit spicy. "Then your room is mine. And your ass is–"

"Câllate," Miguel cut you off with a smile. "I'll take you to our room." 

He led you there with a bit of a spring to his step, and you kept up with as much enthusiasm. The room was nothing special, featuring nothing more beyond a mediocre bed, uninspired furnishings, and random knick knacks Miguel had left here over the years. But it was home. Your shared home. 

"Huh." You looked around the room. "I think that coffee table woulda looked nice here." 

Miguel scoffed a laugh and rested his hand on the small of your back. "You think so? I think it'd clash." 

"Yeah, well, you have bad taste, hun." 

"Oh, wow, you're really gonna say that when I'm married to you?" 

"I'm the one who confessed first. I'm the one who proposed. Pretty sure it's safe to say I picked you." You leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “And I have good taste.”

Miguel felt his face get hot. "Shut up and take a shower." 

"Your wish is my command." You set your pack down by the bed before sliding open the door to the ensuite. Miguel watched you like a hawk, his prey drive skyrocketing when he caught swaths of your bare skin peeking out from the washroom. He wanted to watch more, but you deserved a little privacy. 

"Oh," you said, peeking out from the doorway. "I, uh, kept my phone through everything. There're some photos of Gabi, if you wanna check it out." You vanished back into the bathroom and Miguel heard the water turn on. "It's in my pack! In the shitty little phone pocket thing." 

"Yeah, I–okay, I'll take a look, thanks." Miguel smiled, and rummaged through what you'd brought with you before pulling out that beat up phone with the charger still plugged into it and kept together with bandages of tape. Colour him impressed. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and went straight for the camera roll. There were loads of new pictures ranging from Gabriella when she was littler, to pictures of animals that Miguel guessed Gabi had a hand in.

There were old pictures, too. Mostly of Miguel, as embarrassing as that was, but the baby photos took over his reign once that perfect little girl entered your life. It made Miguel wish he’d taken more photos, that he hadn’t thought it was too cliche and embarrassing to capture every moment. He used to say shit like, “Do you have to take a photo? Can’t you just live in the moment?” but you’d stick your tongue out, give him a pinch or a bite on his cheek or something else in retribution. Because you didn’t care, you wanted to look back on little memories. 

He scanned through photos until he caught one that sent a rush of red to his features; it was of him, on his back, eyes teary and face alight with a fierce blush as you, well, obviously fucked him stupid. It was the only one of its kind. Maybe you forgot to delete it? Maybe–

The videos. Oooh, now that had Miguel excited. Miguel scanned through the other folders, but found nothing, much to his dismay and relief, seeing as Gabi probably had free access to your phone. 

But then, he spied a locked folder. 

The first password he tried worked (your anniversary because duh. You were such a sap), and a whole catalogue of videos and pictures were unleashed. 

Miguel glanced up at the washroom door before he skimmed through. He remembered all of these places (but the geo tags helped, too. Christ, you were so organised with your exhibitionist porn), ranging from IKEA after closing, to an abandoned amusement park. He still didn’t know how you picked out these places, or how you knew how to get into them without getting in heaps of trouble with the authorities. 

He tapped on a video and bumped the volume up a couple notches, just so he could barely hear; it was him on his knees, on a rusty old ferris wheel, staring up at you like you were God himself as he gripped your thighs and did his damndest to give you the blowie of a lifetime. Your sighs and soft moans rippled through the speakers like waves lapping at the shoreline. Present Miguel rubbed his mouth, worrying at his bottom lip before licking the dryness away. 

“Good boy,” You whispered on the other side of the camera. Your hand came into view and carded through dark locks before cupping his cheek. Miguel of the past turned into your touch and took your thumb into his mouth while his hand took over stroking your length from base to tip over, and over again. 

Miguel swiped to the next video. He was on his back this time, in your shared bedroom, if that duvet cover was to be trusted, while your fingers plunged deep inside of his heat and tore loud moans and gasps from him. He remembered this; you called it an experiment before you bullied his prostate with three, thick digits.  

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" You purred. Miguel swallowed thickly, both in the video and in the now. His hesitant hand crept down his thigh slowly, like he was trying to hide it from himself and call it an accident as he reached to palm himself through his jeans while he watched. He almost felt guilty. But that's what made it better. 

"Good. Really fucking good." His past self rocked down against your fingers, choking on a needy whine as his eyes slid open, and found you. "I need you, mi amor. Please–" 

"I know, babe, I know. I'm almost done here," you promised. You tilted the camera down to his stretched hole to catch what you did next. "Then you can have whatever you want from me." 

You pressed your pinky in, then, and Miguel of the present bit his lip as his shocked gasp and shaky cry pierced through the speakers. Miguel still couldn't describe the deranged pleasure he got from having half your hand in his ass, nearly to the point of fisting him. 

Miguel switched to a different video quickly. The next one was in the Jeep you loved so much. You were both out camping for the weekend, something you loved and Miguel had learned to love; that stupid red truck became home for so many long weekends, it became host to long hours of napping and intimacy, it turned into one of Miguel's favourite places. 

The video started with you adjusting the camera and squinting at it while Miguel’s younger self bitched and moaned in the background. 

"I'm just making sure the tripod's working 'n shit, babe, just gimme a sec!" You whined back. 

"My dick's getting soft," Miguel threatened, so blasé but annoyed at the same time. "Come on, viejo." 

You pulled away from the camera, grinning smug as a fox, and scooted back to your lover. His past self was lounging, hair and clothes already a mess from the prologue to this movie, as he watched you.  

"I'm here, I'm here." You kissed him, and Miguel could almost taste the s’mores on your tongue, the coffee on your lips. "Sorry, just wanna make sure it's perfect." 

"Oh, yeah, 'course. Gotta make sure your indie porno looks good." 

"Hey, one day we're gonna look back on this! It's worth it, baby, trust me." 

"Whatever. Just kiss me," Miguel demanded with a laugh. And you did as you were told, kissing his lips, then down his chest, then–

"Knew you'd like watching 'em back." 

Miguel jumped, nearly dropping the phone as he jerked his hand away from his clothed bulge. "I, uh–what?" he asked dumbly as he stared at your built frame leaning against the doorframe. God, you were still an impressive specimen. He wished that loose towel would just drop from your hips already.

"Our, ah, home videos." You grinned, so much like that fox from the past, and paced to Miguel. "Nice looking back, ain't it?" You cupped the underside of his jaw and tilted his face up. "Got you a lil' excited, yeah?" 

You weren't wrong. With a hammering heart, burning skin, and tingling nerves, he couldn't deny he was stuck deep in a pool of desire and need. And now with you handling him like this–fuck. He was in trouble. 

Miguel nodded weakly. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Just a little." 

“I’ll help.” You eased onto the bed and took great care in settling behind him. "Let the video play," you whispered against his neck before leaving a possessive kiss. 

Miguel leaned back into you. He watched you pop open his jeans and slip a hand down, down, down, until your warm palm met his aching length. A shuddered breath escaped him when you felt him up, pulled him free, squeezing and stroking in all the right spots; it'd been so long since anyone touched him. It'd been so long since he touched himself. 

"I, ah, don’t think we–did we lock the door?" Miguel heard himself moan in the video, and he dared another look; your head bobbed between his thighs while fingers pistoned into him. He wondered if you would do that to him again. Maybe tonight. 

"Nope.”

“Shit.”

"Mmmh. You want me to stop jerking you off so you can lock it?" 

"No." 

You chuckled. "Okay." 

Your hand still worked him slowly and thoughtfully while lovers of the past filled in the rest of the silence. Miguel's hips bucked, and you hummed, so pleased with yourself. Pleased with yourself for pleasing him. Something Miguel found self-value in.

"I think I, uh, I think you mighta been right," he murmured to the air, trying to control his voice. Your gentle hum of intrigue spurred him on. "I think I need you to fuck me more than I realized. Need you to want me, ‘n…take me." 

“Yeah?” You asked before sinking a bite into his neck. “Figured you had somethin’ of a praise kink. Makes sense, in hindsight.”

Miguel gasped when you picked up the pace. “Fuck–I’d call it…mmmmn, I’d call it a-a love language–”

“Huh, didn’t know there were six love languages–”

“Sh-shut up, shut up, you know what I–what I mean–!” Miguel bit down hard on the inside of his mouth as his hips rocked up into your cruel, talented hand. He was close. How embarrassing. “I, uh…physical touch. Words of affirmation.”

“‘Needing my husband to fuck me and tell me I’m sexy.’” Miguel moaned and dug his head back into your shoulder as you chuckled. “That sound about right?”

“Viejo,” he whined, setting the phone aside to be forgotten. “I–”

“I know, baby; show me how hard this love language makes you cum.” 

It only took a few more strokes for Miguel to come undone. His teeth clattered together as he strained to keep his voice on lock as a forgotten rapture ripped the air from his lungs and electrocuted every vessel in his body. He clung to the other arm that’d come to wrap around his chest and hold him against you while you worked him through the motions, slowing down, accommodating the way his body reacted to the blinding pleasure. There were words said, probably encouraging ones muttered into his shoulder, but Miguel didn’t have the mind to parse the meaning of what you’d said. 

“Y’know,” you tried again when Miguel’s mind levelled out, “I think I have a praise kink, too. But a complimentary one. One where I like praising you.” You rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed. “Hm. Who woulda thought.”

“Hah. Good to know you’re still annoying,” Miguel said with a chuckle. He scrunched his nose up when you licked the side of his face. “(Name)--” 

“No.” You bit his cheek this time, and he sighed. You did, however, feel his softening cock start to come back to life again. “Want me to lock the door now, old man?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. You got off the bed, letting the towel fall where it may, and Miguel finally gazed upon his lost treasure. “And set up your phone. We need to update the archives.”

You grinned when you turned back to him, and Miguel felt so at ease. 

There were still things to work out: the mental illness you hid from him, the cheating Miguel tried to hide from you, the little secrets you both kept wedged in the darkest cracks of your minds. But with you with him, the man who refused to give up on their bond and their love, Miguel felt safe indulging in mindless pleasure you so generously gave to him. Neither of you were about to seal away the past again, but if you could share in the good of your relationship while acknowledging the bad, then hope wasn’t lost; it was found in the moment you’d pulled his old wedding band from your pack, and slipped it back on Miguel’s finger that night, murmuring the words you said in a church so long ago:

“Till death do us part.”