#he's reading the news... cruel happenings all around no mans land... have to keep up to know where to go next and where to avoid

[ruporas]

in a mood (ID in alt)

[candycandy00]

The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 2

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering. 

Read Part One Here

This will be three parts! If you’d like to be tagged when I post another part, comment to let me know. You must have your age in your bio or pinned post and be 18+ to be tagged.  

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex. Blood. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader. This part is dark and quite intense!

You didn’t know how much time had passed when one of the shrine maidens woke you up by gently shaking your shoulder. You found yourself in Sukuna’s bed, a sheet draped over you. When you tried to sit up, your entire body was wracked with pain. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, then slowly sat up again with the shrine maiden’s help. 

“Lord Sukuna has demanded your presence,” she said. “I know you must be sore but you mustn’t keep him waiting.”

Looking down, you saw countless purple bruises covering your skin, especially on your thighs and breasts. Pulling the sheet away from your nude body, you saw a frighteningly large bloodstain beneath you. It seemed to have dried overnight, so you assumed the bleeding had stopped.

With the older woman’s help, you stood on trembling legs and pulled the sheer robe back on. There was a deep, throbbing ache between your thighs, but you’d honestly expected it to be worse. 

The two of you made your way back toward the front area of the shrine, where the dais had been, but before reaching it the woman led you to a different room toward the left side of the building. In it, you found another bath filled with steaming water and cherry blossoms. The other two shrine maidens were waiting inside, and they gently removed the robe from your body. 

“Lord Sukuna has already bathed here this morning. He instructed us to bathe you here as well.”

You looked at the water and felt a familiar heat in your body that had nothing to do with the steam. This was the same water Lord Sukuna had just been bathing in? And now you were going to use it? There was something strangely intimate about this situation. You tried to keep yourself calm as you stepped into the water, wincing as it touched your sore and injured parts. As you sank down into the water’s warmth, you felt your body relaxing slightly. 

When the bath was finished, the shrine maidens helped you climb out and dry off, then they dressed you in a fresh but equally sheer white robe. 

You looked at the woman who had spoken to you the day before and asked, “When will he kill me?”

You’d thought it would be last night, but were surprised to wake up this morning. Did he usually kill the offerings the next day?

The woman hesitated, then said very quietly, “You are the first offering to survive the night you were brought in.” She looked at the other two as if to see if they approved of her speaking to you. When neither of them attempted to silence her, she added, “Lord Sukuna has told us not to bring a new woman tonight. You are the offering again.”

Two feelings hit you simultaneously: horror at the thought of being there for another day and night, at all the ways he could hurt you in that time, and relief that your death had likely been delayed until at least the end of the night. 

The women offered no more information, silently leading you through the shrine again, this time to the front, where the dais was. When you neared it, you noticed the shrine maidens lowering their heads, so you did the same, careful not to look up as you moved around the dais to stand in front of it. In unison, the shrine maidens bowed low to the ground, and you quickly dropped down as well, ignoring the pain shooting through your body as you did so. 

You heard Sukuna’s silky voice say, “Leave us.”

The three women got to their feet and left through the shrine’s front doors. Suddenly you were alone with him again, and your heart began pounding rapidly. 

“You can stop bowing,” he said with a casual tone. 

You looked up to see him sitting on a pillow on the dais. There was a low table in front of him with several plates and bowls, and in the center, the large basket of fruits you had personally arranged the day before. 

He motioned for you to come to him, and as you carefully stood up and approached, he spoke again. 

“The shrine maidens brought this offering this morning. I don’t usually accept them during the day, but they told me something interesting. Apparently this was offered by your family.”

You looked at the basket when you reached the edge of the dais, and you felt tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Your parents must have been told that you were still alive, and this was probably their way of trying to send you a message of comfort or encouragement. 

Sukuna watched your emotional reaction with absolutely no visible emotion of his own. “You recognize it?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “I arranged the fruits myself,” you told him. 

He reached over and pulled a pomegranate from the basket. “Shall we try them?”

You blinked in surprise. His tone was so much softer today. “Can I?” you asked, wanting to be sure to have his permission. 

“Come, sit,” he said, patting his lap with his free hand. 

You paused for a moment, staring at his spread open thighs, his ankles crossed under each other. Again, that heat in your core began to spread and intensify. He patted his lap again, and you stepped onto the dais beside him, then eased yourself down onto one of his legs. You instantly felt the warmth of his firm body against yours, and you knew your face must have been getting red again. 

He held the pomegranate in his hand and squeezed, his unnatural strength crushing the outer layer and allowing the juicy seeds to pop free. He reached around you, using his free hand to scoop up a few seeds and put them in his mouth. You watched with parted lips and pounding heart as he licked his fingers clean before scooping up more seeds. You thought he would put them in your mouth this time, but again he put them in his own. 

A trail of juice dripped down his lips, and he used his thumb to catch it, then licked his hand again. You were in his lap, getting a close up view of his every action, and you thought you might simply burst. You could feel dampness growing between your legs, and you hoped he couldn’t feel it through both your robes. You squirmed slightly and his eyes sharply shifted to your face. Then he grinned. 

“You must be so thirsty. With all the screaming and crying you did last night, your throat must be positively raw.”

It was raw, and dry. You hadn’t been given anything to eat or drink since coming to the shrine. You stared longingly at the shiny, dripping pomegranate seeds scooped into his long fingers. He brought them up, but bypassed your mouth and pressed them into his again, making a show of licking his fingers, allowing a string of his saliva to dangle from them. 

Then, suddenly, he pressed two of those fingers into your mouth. You were surprised, but your tongue automatically licked the fingers, swirling around the digits, tasting his saliva and the faint hint of pomegranate juice. Without realizing it, you had leaned slightly forward as he pushed the fingers in and out of your open mouth, grazing your lips and playing with your needy tongue. 

His other hand snaked around your body and slipped under the front of your robe, groping your still bruised breast. He watched you desperately sucking his fingers and said, “Did you really think a pitiful girl like you deserved to partake of my offerings?”

You tried to shake your head no, but his wet fingers slid out of your mouth and held your face still while he pinched your nipple beneath your robe, causing you to whimper. “You can partake, but only in one way,” he said, then lightly pushed you off his lap. You ended up sitting on the dais in front of him, the table pushed a couple of feet away now. 

Sukuna pulled one knee up, causing his robe to spread open and reveal his already hard cock. You stared at it, shocked by its size now that you could see it in the brighter lighting of this room. Had that thing really been inside you last night? No wonder it hurt. 

While you watched, somewhat dazed, Sukuna reached over and pulled a peach from the table. He held it in front of him and squeezed, letting the plentiful juices drizzle over his cock. He grinned at you and said, “Now, you can partake.”

Your breaths became quicker as you looked at the glistening peach juice, at the huge erection practically in your face. But you didn’t hesitate for long. You crawled closer and bent your head toward him, extending your tongue and lapping up the peach juice dripping from his tip. It was delicious. 

You ran your tongue all over it, then took it into your mouth to suck any remnants of juice off his flesh. 

Sukuna stared down at you without emotion, then suddenly smirked. He grabbed an apple and bit into it, his too-sharp teeth crunching the fruit with ease. “If you can’t make me cum by the time I finish eating this apple, I’ll punish you.”

With that, he took another bite. 

You glanced up at him in disbelief. You’d never pleasured a man before in your life, and now you had to do it within a time limit? He swallowed the bite of apple in his mouth and took another. “Better hurry,” he said with a malicious smile. 

With a spike of alarm, you quickly wrapped your lips around him again, licking and sucking and trying to figure out what felt good for him. None of your movements seemed to get any sort of reaction, and every couple minutes you heard him take another bite, loudly, as if to make you aware of the countdown. 

Finally you decided to just give up trying to find some perfect maneuver that would please him and focus on what you wanted to do. You wanted him in your mouth. You wanted to touch him, taste him, and so you slowed down, running your tongue over his length with reverence. You took as much of him as you could fit into your mouth, licking every inch and savoring the taste of him. Your eyes slid closed as you buried your moist tongue into his tip, digging out the fluids that were beginning to leak out. 

After a while, you realized you hadn’t heard him take another bite, so you looked up. You found him watching you, the half eaten apple sitting in his hand as if he’d forgotten he was supposed to be tormenting you. Then his eyes met yours, he smirked, and took an especially large bite. 

You didn’t let that distract you from your task. You continued treating his cock like it was your favorite meal and you were starving for it, like you were blessed just to have it in your mouth. You squeezed your thighs together, but you could still feel your own arousal dripping down your legs. You let yourself get lost in your own desire, your own pleasure, as you lovingly sucked him off. 

You don’t know how many minutes, or bites, passed before you felt him stiffen in your mouth. You knew he was close, but in the next moment, you saw him sit the now bare apple core on the floor beside you. 

“Too slow,” he said in that voice that drove you mad. 

You suddenly felt a stab of panic, and started to pull away from him, but his hand was immediately in your hair, gripping it painfully as he shoved himself all the way to the back of your throat and a burst of cum filled your mouth. 

“Don’t swallow yet,” he told you, looking down at you with a cold expression, “and don’t dare let any spill.”

You tried to do as he commanded even as more cum shot into your mouth, coating every inch. There was so much that it felt like your cheeks were stretching. You breathed through your nose, struggling to keep the cum from sliding down your throat or spilling out. 

When he’d finished, he slowly pulled his cock from your full mouth and said, “Show me.”

You tilted your head up toward him and carefully opened your trembling lips, slightly extending your tongue so that he could see all the cum pooled there. 

He smiled and said, “Ahh, a woman always looks best when her mouth is full of my cum.”

If you were dripping wet before, now you were positively soaked. 

“You can swallow now,” he told you, and watched as you did so. For a few moments after, you panted to regain your breath. Then you felt him lay his hand gently on your head in a surprisingly affectionate gesture as he said, “Good girl.”

His voice was so sweet, his words so arousing, you thought you might cum without even being touched. You could feel a pool of your own fluids gathering beneath you on the dais. When you moved, he would definitely see it. You reddened at the thought, but you couldn’t stop a weak smile from spreading across your lips as his fingers softly rubbed themselves into your hair. 

“Unfortunately,” he said as he continued to stroke your head, “you didn’t make me cum before I finished the apple.”

All at once his hand was gripping your arm and jerking you to your feet as if you were a doll. You cried out, your body still extremely sore from the night before, but he ignored you. With one savage motion he ripped the thin robe off you and tossed it on the floor. Then he turned you to face the low table full of plates and fruits, and threw you face down across it. You screamed when you felt the plates cracking under your chest and stomach, jagged edges beginning to poke into your bruised and tender skin. 

Behind you, Sukuna was on his knees, lifting your hips up and pulling your legs apart. 

“W-wait, please! Lord Sukuna! I’m still-“

You were going to say you were still wounded from last night, but the sentence died in your throat when you felt his cock shove inside your sensitive, not yet healed pussy. It hurt so bad it nearly took your breath away, despite being so wet, despite wanting him to fuck you again, but only after you had completely healed. But the worst was yet to come. 

When he began his brutal thrusts, your body scraped across the broken plates, slicing your flesh. You stifled a scream by biting your own hand, and went limp in his grasp, his strong hands gripping your waist to hold you steady. Tears sprung from your eyes, and you quietly whimpered as your body was thoroughly used. 

You felt him lean over you, the silk of his robe and the firmness of his torso pressing against your back, and then his mouth was at your ear, his maddeningly smooth voice whispering to you, “Don’t hold back your screams. I already told you, I’ll allow it. Make noise for me.”

You moved your hand from your mouth and let the sobs and cries rise freely into the room. Then you were crying out words: “Lord Sukuna, it hurts! It hurts it hurts it hurts!”

Your face was pressed to the table, so you couldn’t see his expression, but you were certain he was grinning. You could hear the pleasure in his voice when he asked, “What hurts?”

“Th-the plates are… cutting me!” You gasped out the words between whimpers. 

“Oh? Anything else? Don’t hold back.” His amused tone made your tears fall harder. 

“You! You’re… hurting me!”

“Which part of me is hurting you? Be specific.”

You sobbed again, trying to form words but struggling to focus on anything besides the rough cock pounding into you. With great effort, you managed to cry out, “Your… cock.. is hurting me!”

He leaned over you again and said in a low and sultry voice, “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how it hurts.”

You were struck again by how needlessly cruel he was, how much he was enjoying your agony. You knew you had to answer him, so you forced the words out of your mouth. “Feels like… you’re ripping me open!”

He was still leaned over, his toned chest grazing your bare back as he kept thrusting. Then another whisper in your ear: “And which is hurting you most? The broken plates, or my cock?”

Your mind was turning to mush. The pain, the feeling of wetness under you as your blood mixed with sticky fruit juices and your own arousal, Sukuna’s sensuous voice in your ear, it was all too much. “You… you hurt me the most,” you said weakly, losing all strength. 

If Sukuna replied, you didn’t hear it. Instead he gave one more incredibly deep thrust, burying himself inside you, and came. After he pulled out, he rolled you onto your back and looked down at you, his eyes raking over your cut up skin and then settling on your face. 

*******

Sukuna looked over the broken offering sprawled on his table and wondered, not for the first time, why other people had to be so weak. She’d been reduced to a bloody, crying mess by a good fucking and a few broken plates. Pathetic. 

The cuts on the front of her body were shallow, barely deep enough to draw blood. They wouldn’t even leave scars. They probably did hurt though. 

He stood over her, and she looked up at him with those glazed eyes, wet from crying, her prone, naked body quivering. “What? Not satisfied?” he asked. “After I gave you so much of my cum?”

That’s when he remembered that she hadn’t yet had an orgasm today. No matter, he didn’t care about pleasuring women. Only his own pleasure mattered. 

He started to walk away, but a memory from the night before blossomed in his mind: those desperate little moans, which had a strange musical quality, that she’d made when he was stimulating her. He wanted to hear them again. 

He got back down on his knees next to the table, and the girl shuddered and tried to scoot away, but she was too hurt or too weak to move far. He reached one hand down and touched her stomach, running his fingers along a cut there. She whimpered, and though her pitiful cries were indeed arousing to him, he wanted to hear her moans of pleasure now. 

Sukuna lowered his head and ran his tongue along the bloody cuts. The girl stiffened and went completely still. Her blood was delicious, so much that he was tempted to devour her raw in that moment, but he had more self control than that. He reached one hand down between her sticky thighs and used two fingers to rub her clit, enjoying the way she gasped and arched her back. 

“Ah… ahhh… Lord Sukuna…”

There they were, those little sounds that had haunted his ears since last night. He continued licking her wounds, running his tongue over one supple breast and taking the nipple into his mouth. With a gentleness that shocked even himself, his fingers massaged her clit. He could feel his cum and her blood oozing out around his hand. 

He looked down at her face and saw that her eyes were closed. Her face was tinted pink, and those lilting moans were escaping her lips. 

“Open your eyes,” he whispered. “Look at me.” He was well aware of the effect his voice could have on people if he wanted it to, and he’d certainly noticed the effect it had on her specifically. 

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, and he stared at her while listening to her shuddering, blissful voice. “Why are you always dripping wet whenever you’re near me?” he asked in a soft tone. “You can’t be the village whore. You were a virgin last night.”

The girl shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I just.. ahhh… feel like I’m…. ah… being pulled to you… ahhhhh!”

He applied slightly more pressure with his fingers while licking her other nipple, savoring the delectable taste of her blood tinged with sweet fruit juices. 

Her body suddenly went taut, her hips rising off the table and her weak little hands gripping his arm. “Ahhh! Ahhhhhh!”

She climaxed, clutching him like she’d done before. Sukuna had killed many a woman for merely touching him without his explicit permission, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t mind these soft, tender arms around him. 

Once it was over, she passed out again. He chuckled to himself. “Such a pitiful little thing.”

He watched her bruised chest rise and fall with her breaths for a moment before standing and removing his own robe. He wrapped it around her unconscious form and carried her to his bed, where he laid her on top of the covers. 

He summoned a shrine maiden, who had no reaction to finding him standing in his room completely nude. With her eyes downcast, maybe she didn’t even notice. 

“Bandage her wounds,” he said. “They’re not serious but I don’t want her to bleed when I’m not around to watch. When she wakes, give her whatever she wants to eat or drink. She’ll need to build her strength up for tonight.”

With his orders given, he went to find another robe and relax until nightfall, thinking to himself that he couldn’t wait to hear his offering scream again.  

Tag List:

@yourmumsthings @boogeysmoth

[see-arcane]

In hindsight, the thing that really gets me about how things worked out during Dracula’s time playing host to Jonathan is that he could have been completely normal about, like, everything

Sure, sure, play up the eccentric elderly gentleman act, but just skip the whole ‘invade Jonathan’s privacy and give away the No Reflection problem followed by throwing his mirror out the window’ thing.

Maybe don’t actively entrap your nice solicitor friend who had, up until recently, been surprisingly chill with your general weirdness despite all the locals wailing at him to Beware Your Freaky Castle

How about using your own front door to go grocery and victim shopping instead of going scuttling in your lizard fashion? Or! OR! Turn yourself into mist like all your vampire lady friends can clearly do so as not to risk Jonathan seeing you act like a gecko on the cliffside

All these giveaways and his general spooky bullshit were entirely avoidable! Even being caught doing the housework by Jonathan could be explained away; or better yet, turned to his favor. Just say all the locals who were moaning about monsters are just so superstitious that he cannot pay anyone enough to stay on as staff (bar a certain carriage driver, but he does not have to live on the grounds). And he is not so feeble an old man that he cannot manage the company of his new friend, who has forgiven so many eccentricities of his already

Cue Jonathan ‘I Will Put Work and Manners Before My Own Life’ Harker immediately folding back on his suspicions like a deck of ashamed Victorian playing cards. To think he’d thought so ill of some lonely old man doing his best to keep up appearances for pride’s sake, his money only good in a faraway land because the place around him is so fearful of bogeymen! It would have flowed so easily from there--Dracula would’ve suckered (ha ha) him into redoubling on his social allowances, maybe even wheedled a proper introduction from the good solicitor on his return to England

Here is Count Dracula, who played attendant to a young man so below his station, simply for the sake of being a proper host. A noble! Taking care of the needs of a commoner just a half-step into the middle class! It’d read as eccentric bordering on endearing, if nothing else

But no. He had to pull the monster card at every turn. Had to play mind games. Had to actively fuck around and be a big obvious bloodsucking jerk about it.

Now, the obvious reason he decided to imprison, toy with, and ultimately promise Jonathan to his ladies as their new blood bag/boytoy is that the guy’s a sadist. Just plain old Capital E Evil. Just for giggles. Which doesn’t make sense when compared to his actions as a host. 

Because this is fucking Dracula. He could’ve broken every bone in Jonathan’s body but his right hand, forced all the information and paperwork he wanted out of the guy, and chucked him in his Girlfriend Cellar. The End

The fact that he does go out of his way to be charismatic, chatty, and caring of Jonathan’s needs and wants suggests something like a very warped earnestness. He doesn’t just want Harker for his plans. He wants Harker. Whether we go all the way down that homoerotic road with that want or not, it’s made clear in later chapters (and his own covetousness during the scene with the vampire babes) that Dracula isn’t just out to kill people off, he’s cherry-picking new members to add to his harem/collective/colony/Hematophagous Club

However bizarre or cruel or friendly*** he is about it, Dracula wants Jonathan in his thrall too.

Which, again, could have been done in a less obviously, pointlessly traumatizing way. Seeing as the Count is clearly not an idiot, this must have occurred to him too. So what the fuck happened, Vlad? My theory:

He might--might!--have originally planned to be much more lowkey about the vampire business. Maybe he even planned to let the dude go back to England, make his friendly intro of his good buddy the Count, and then get on with the biting. Instead, he got hit with the same impulse that will inevitably strike him when he get’s an eyeful of Lucy and Mina. Namely...

Dracula, pre-Jonathan: Okay, everything’s in order. No windows for the girls to get through, doors locked, rooms ready, kitchen full. Good, good. I’m ready to be extremely normal about this transaction.

Jonathan, handsome and winsome, warily trusting, radiating the hopeful good vibes of 1000 golden retrievers: Hi? <:)

Dracula, rewriting his entire game plan on the carriage ride back: Ohhh I can’t not be weird about this

[manjiroscum]

pregnancy diaries: teddy bear

summary: the journey of motherhood is never easy from the first morning sickness to when the water suddenly breaks. such precious yet arduous nine months deserve to be recorded for memories.

character/s: bonten!sanzu haruchiyo

warnings: f!reader, mature language, pregnant sex, attempts of sexual assault (not by sanzu), light angst, reader gets anxious a lot, pregnancy, mentions of murder, blood, canon typical violence, mentions of past drug use, sanzu keeps weapons in his house, sanzu tries to be a good husband and father, ooc sanzu (?), lots of fluff, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

masterlist

wc: 4.9k

note: this entry is dedicated to bby cat @sanzucide 😚💖

MONTH 0: WEEK 2

My dear baby peanut,

A kind old lady I met at a bakery told me to write down my thoughts about you as you grow in my tummy. She said that you might like to read my journey with you one day and I couldn't help but feel happy at the idea of it. No words can describe how excited your father and I are to see you. I was quite surprised when I found out that you’re here—our precious miracle. I swear by the stars that shine that I’ll protect you as fiercely as I can, even if it is against those who I love for you deserve everything good life has to offer. Please, please stay healthy and well inside there. I’ll do anything for it to stay that way.

I love you, my precious starlight.

Strong arms were wrapped around your trembling body. The same arms that you missed sleeping in last night for your husband went missing once you broke the news to him about your pregnancy. Sanzu Haruchiyo was—still is—a very closed-off individual since you met him. Rarely does he indulge you with his troubled thoughts or those scenarios that bother him enough to stay awake during the late hours. You figured, as his wife, he wouldn’t be so shy about sharing his fears with you.

But when it came to special and sensitive matters, like how you wanted a baby and failed multiple times, your beloved husband was sometimes a lost cause. You couldn’t really blame him for it either, having isolated himself from his own family due to his own personal reasons he dare not say aloud. Still, you couldn’t bare the responsibility alone, scared to death that he might leave you with the baby and decide not to be a part of raising it.

Yet, Haruchiyo wasn’t that cruel to do that to you—his love and the only piece of heaven in a land that reeks of death and betrayal. To do so would be akin to dying.

“Please… Don’t cry, baby. I’m sorry,” Sanzu sighed into your hair, eyes closed in exhaustion and sorrow for the stress he has caused you in the last few hours. He knows he should do more than console you through words. Beg or kneel for your forgiveness. “I’m sorry. Sorry I did that… I’m sorry I made you worry, baby. It won’t happen again. I, uh… I got so overwhelmed at the thought of becoming a father and needed fresh air—”

An angel you were. No one else could compare to your bountiful mercy and love. Normally, anyone in your situation would ask him to go. You were content to cry, two of your clenched fists banged against his chest. It never dealt much damage, unlike the tears that streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed. Haruchiyo really messed up this time. “I-Idiot! Idiot Haru! All you had to do was tell me that! Not disappear on me like that… I was so worried sick—”

“I know, baby. I know.” His arms pulled you close once again, embracing your trembling form as try and steady yourself. Your husband couldn’t help but feel anger towards his actions. He should do better—never make you cry like this again. “I’m sorry… I love you, yeah? Do you know that I love you, mhm? Baby stop crying, what will peanut think if he hears you?” At the cute nickname he gave the baby, you blinked back the tears and glanced up at him in surprise.

“Peanut?”

MONTH 1: WEEK 5

Hello, baby peanut,

Your papa is such a sweet man. You might say it is impossible to see or disagree once you’re older, but he truly is. Today, we went to check how you are and we’re so happy you’re making yourself comfortable inside. Whatever you want to eat, I’ll make sure you can taste it, yeah? Even if it is weird. Plus, your uncle Takeomi asked about you when I visited your papa at work. He might seem like an aloof man but he is good. Your papa says he is better than your uncle at everything but I can’t testify to that. What I do know is that your papa is a hard-working man. He tried to assemble your crib today and it was a funny sight. Don’t tell him that though, okay?

I love you, peanut. Keep growing!

“Are you even sure it’s gonna be a boy?”

Rindou’s question stayed hanging in the air due to Haruchiyo not listening to his colleague. The walls were recently painted in the hue of baby blue by your husband, leading the visitor to question why. Tongue stuck in between his lips, your husband was too caught up in reading the steps written on the flimsy paper about assembling the crib you two bought the other day to pay the younger Haitani any attention. Rindou must’ve realized this and sighed, shaking his head before diverting his gaze at you. You merely laughed at his curious stare.

“It might be. Haruchiyo is quite sure, though. Says he can ‘sense’ it.”

The younger Haitani couldn’t stop the strange expression twisting his handsome face at what that implied. “He… can ‘sense’ it? What the fuck does that even mean? And why name your baby after a nut?” Those purple irises threw your husband a suspicious look, slightly tilting his head to the side. “Are you… on drugs again?”

Concentration snapped into two, Haruchiyo glared at Rindou at the accusing tone. “Hey, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? I’ve been clean for two years. My mind is perfectly working.” His finger reached up to pull down his eyelid and stuck out his tongue. “You’re just jealous I can sense that my baby is gonna be a boy. What’s the matter, Rinny? Having a hard time conceiving boys like Ran? Perhaps you should fuckin’ check if your balls are broken or if it runs in the family.”

You ignored the banter occurring in front of you, content at sitting by the side. Whatever his reasons were for being able to tell his child would be a boy, it is still endearing to hear. And somewhere, deep in your heart, you wished Haruchiyo’s intuition would come true. Your hand reached down to caress your belly, mouth parting as you lightly scold Haruchiyo not to antagonize Ran’s brother any further.

MONTH 2: WEEK 7

My lil’ peanut,

I tried to convince your papa the other day to write an entry in this journal for you. He refused because he was afraid he’d mess it up which I don't think will happen. Your papa has been extra careful lately that sometimes I wonder if he is the one carrying you or me. I can’t blame him, though. You are our miracle baby.

Can you hear him humming at night? I don’t know if listening to Mozart will make you smarter and where your papa heard that tidbit from, but I just hope you like the music if you do hear it. It calms my nerves and fears of what has yet to come.

I can’t wait to have you in my arms, darling.

Tonight's dinner was flushed down the drain while you brushed your teeth. Whether it was because of what you ate or how you have been going around the house nonstop to clean the apartment that made you dizzy, your nausea got too much. Haruchiyo’s tall frame was leaning against the bathroom door’s frame, worry etched on his equally tired features after a whole day of running to and fro for another grand scheme of Bonten. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows slightly. As much as you wanted him to stay and be here with you all the time, it would be quite selfish. And yet, the thought of going into labor without him by your side would be an absolute nightmare. The crime organization didn't really have some sort of paternity leave and you were sure your husband would rather shoot himself than ask Mikey for it.

“You okay?”

Nodding at Haruchiyo’s reflection in the mirror, you then shot him a weak smile. “I’m alright. Just… tired of puking.” In hopes of lifting the solemn mood, you poked your tongue out. “I guess little peanut didn’t like the pasta.” You took an empty cup and filled it with water, about to gargle the last bit of your vomit’s aftertaste until you felt arms wrapping around your torso and a warm chest pressed against your back. Your eyes glanced up to meet Haruchiyo’s gaze through the mirror.

“Peanut should learn not to be picky about his food.”

“I was only kidding, Haru,” you whispered, leaning back on him. “The pregnancy is making me nauseous.”

Nuzzling his chin on your shoulder, your husband laughed softly, the puff of air released was ticklish on your neck. “I know, baby. I know. I just don’t like seeing you vomit since you just ate. I’m worried that you’re gonna get sick or something. Do you wanna order something? That favorite cafe of yours is still open at this hour. How about some cupcakes, mhm? Or maybe you wanna get cheesecake?”

At the mention of sweet desserts, your eyes perked up and a smile spread across your lips. “Sure, not gonna say no to cupcakes. Let me finish gargling then we can order, okay?”

MONTH 3: WEEK 9

My dear peanut,

I have to be honest… I’ve been afraid of what kind of world you’ll be growing up in. It is no secret what your papa does and I am fully aware of the possibilities that may happen in the near future. Your papa has been nothing but kind to me. He may have his ups and downs, yet that is part of being human. The people he has to deal with, on the other hand, are not so good…

Still, I swear that I’ll keep you safe. Your papa and I will keep you away from harm's way as best as we could. It may sound pointless, but as long as I live and you cannot defend yourself, I will always protect you.

I love you so much, my sweet peanut.

Iron. The smell of blood wasn’t overpowering yet it somehow invaded and assaulted your nostrils. But the scent akin to rust was not the most overwhelming thing to experience at this very moment. Fists meeting the pervert’s face with a sickening crack and the crimson liquid dripping from the man’s lips were nothing compared to the murderous look painted across your husband’s face. His heart that was hammering earlier out of worry and fear was not beating to the thunderous tune of rage and vengeance. He can’t believe someone really tried to touch his pregnant wife on his own turf, much less a nobody who was only thinking with his dick. All you could do was heave a heavy sigh and continue to look away as the man’s limp body was dragged out of the room.

The new recruit, whatever possessed him to try and touch a Bonten member’s wife, was surely regretting it now—wherever his pathetic soul is. Frankly, neither you nor Sanzu cared.

Haruchiyo never noticed your form shivering until he embraced you, his lips in a grim line while he inhaled your familiar scent he got so used to waking up that it would be torture to never be able to smell it again. Any bastard who tries to harm you and his son should be prepared to receive his undiluted wrath. That man was just an example of what he can do and a glimpse of what he can do more if anyone would be stupid enough to mess with him.

“You’re okay, baby. I’m here. No one will try to fuckin’ touch you again.”

“T-that fucker…”

You supposed you were as insane as him at this point—any mother would probably result to the same way of thinking after going through this. Images of the man burning and wailing in agony filled your mind while you clung to Haruchiyo. The unwanted touching and disgusting words that were thrown at you weren’t the horrifying part of this whole ordeal. Compared to that, the insults he hurled at you the second he saw you were pregnant made you sick. The ride to your husband’s office for a simple desire to eat lunch with Haruchiyo with that creep was a long one that was filled with suffering until those metal doors opened. The heavens definitely answered your prayers when Haruchiyo was waiting for you by the elevator, hoping to welcome you with arms open only to see you trying to push away the sicko. The rest was history.

“H-Haru, it happened so fast and I was so scared—”

“Shh, I got you. He won’t hurt you anymore,” he whispered into your hair. “Remember? I’ll always keep you and peanut safe. Nothing will harm you or the baby, okay? I’m sorry you had to experience that, baby… I’ll cut off those filthy hands and burn them. Would you like to see that, babe?”

MONTH 4: WEEK 15

My darlin’ peanut,

Your papa is ecstatic. I supposed anyone will be once the baby’s gender is revealed but your papa is beyond that. He has been busy buzzing around buying you baby clothes and toys. And yet, when I asked him if he wanted to reveal the gender to his friends… I guess I can’t go into detail about what he actually said to me. However, it goes along the lines of wanting to keep it to himself for now.

The doctor was smiling weakly the entire time we listened to your heartbeat because your papa was glaring at him until the sound of your beating heart echoed around the room. I admit I shed a few tears. Some mothers had the idea of keeping the sonogram pictures of their babies in their wallets for good luck. I’ve asked yours to be printed a lot because I know I’ll be placing them all over the house. You’ve grown quite big, peanut.

I can’t wait to see you soon, love.

Haruchiyo couldn’t stop grinning. Even when he was in the same room as Mikey and the other members of Bonten, he had to hide the curl of his lips with his hand so Ran or Rindou wouldn’t tease him. However, he can’t help it. Soon, his good mood was news to the entire staff in the building. Those who knew him well were aware of your pregnancy and weren’t all that surprised. The people who didn’t, on the other hand, were living in total fear that Bonten’s number two may have lost his mind and could go on a killing spree when provoked.

“Are you gonna tell them tomorrow?” you questioned softly. Upon hearing no reply from your husband, you glanced in the direction of pink and stifled a giggle at the sight. Sanzu Haruchiyo, the fierce second in command of Bonten who has slitted far more throats and is known for being the most ruthless one, was giggling softly at the photo of his baby’s sonogram. To say Haruchiyo was ecstatic over the confirmation that his baby was a boy isn’t enough to be a description.

He’s fucking over the moon.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?” Haruchiyo still couldn’t put down the photo, his eyes clear as day while staring at the black and white photo. He can’t take his eyes off of it. Did he and you really make such a cute baby? Haruchiyo couldn’t believe he was going to be a dad in a few more months. Will the baby look like you? Or him? Your husband’s lips stretched even more at the thought. “What is it?”

Adoring the scene, you turned back to the sizzling meal you were making for two. It will be for three in a couple of months. You couldn’t wait for that day, smiling at what that meant.

“Nothing, babe.”

MONTH 5: WEEK 18

My baby peanut,

Your room is ready and filled to the brim with things you might need. It’s almost as if you’re already here. Your papa said that if you’re not a good boy, he’ll take away all your toys and exchange them for boring posters compelling nutrition posters to encourage you to eat vegetables. He’s very funny.

The other day, we were looking to buy strollers and your very own car seat. I’m too embarrassed to go back to the store after weeping at the sight of those cute items. Your papa merely laughed so I hit him on the back for doing so. Peanut, whenever a lady cries or feels sad, comfort her. Okay?

Love you!

“Are you still mad?” Haruchiyo slightly winced at the cold expression you shot at him, instantly regretting his actions earlier. Silly as it may be, he knew your irritation was amplified due to the hormones and shouldn’t be messed with. You normally would have laughed when he teased you, but today wasn’t like those days. His hand reaching out to you was ignored when you brushed past him in the direction of the bathroom. Scratching his chin, your husband tailed behind you akin to a lost puppy while a stream of apologies ran out of his mouth. To shut the door on his face would be too harsh so you spun to face him before entering, surprising him a bit. To tease your husband, however, was another story.

“Haru, I have to be frank,” you muttered, putting on the best face you can that could be the epitome of disappointment. “I may take this as good fun, but for you to merely laugh at me earlier… it hurt my feelings.” Hands reaching up to cover your eyes that were void of tears, you could tell Haruchiyo was starting to panic. He did vow he will never make you cry again or be the reason for the waterworks. Especially now that you were experiencing mood swings due to the pregnancy. For him to see you start showing signs of weeping had your husband at the tip of his toes, hoping for you to forgive him. The last thing he wanted was to sleep on the cold couch tonight.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would make you feel sad—look, if it makes you feel better, I can buy you anything. Or maybe a massage? Do you want a massage? I’ll massage your feet and back, plus do all the dishes this month. Please—” he paused in his ramble the second the first laugh slipped past your lips. It wasn’t soon before Haruchiyo figured out you were messing with him, crossing his arms across his chest while observing you laugh with your arms around your tummy. He couldn’t believe he fell for your tricks. You didn’t even notice him leaving until you heard the door to your bedroom closed shut.

“Haru? Come on, I was just kiddin’! You were laughing at me earlier and I couldn’t help but tease you. I love you, okay?”

MONTH 6: WEEK 23

Darling peanut,

You are growing bigger and stronger inside that I can’t help but cry. The doctor said I might feel you kicking soon and your papa is looking forward to it. It still amazes me that you’ll be coming out soon and I’ll be meeting you.

I saw a shooting star the other day. Your papa was already snoring on the couch to see it while we were in the middle of watching an old film and I was slightly bored. I wished for you to come out healthy. That is all I want.

Haruchiyo took a clean towel from the nightstand to wipe off the sweat dripping down your forehead, unable to take his eyes off of your belly and the undeniable glow your face had. His free hand even refused to move from its spot on the obvious bump, rubbing on it softly. His cock twitched at the idea of getting you pregnant again, which did not go unnoticed by you since he was still inside your creamed pussy after sex. Gentle and slightly afraid he’ll hurt the baby, your husband has been nothing but the sweetest. Even after marriage, Haruchiyo was still doting. Fears of him leaving you for another woman and giving up on the relationship did haunt you all those years where nothing significant happened. Perhaps it’s human to think that way.

Your husband did not understand why you had such thoughts, kissing every worry away from your face so soothingly as if he didn’t just paint your gummy walls white that it oozed out the moment his flaccid cock slipped out of your pussy with a small pop. He was mesmerized at the lewd sight that his cock was twitching, growing hard once again. You felt it too, groaning at how eager he is. Haruchiyo was sheepish.

“Sorry, I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

“Haru, I’m tired…”

“You sure you’re not up for another round?” he mumbled into your ear, slowly grinding his cock now half-mast against your thigh. “You tend to get needy whenever I’m just about to fall asleep.” When you shook your head, he pouted. “I’m not gonna offer the same thing once we’re finished bathing even if you ask me nicely, pretty.”

Playfully glaring at him, you lightly scoffed. “Really? How sure are you?” Not waiting for a response, you got up and sauntered over to the bathroom while making sure not to hide the way his semen ran down your legs. You gave your entranced husband a glance and cheekily gestured for him to follow you. Damn your depleted energy, teasing him is always a fun challenge. “You’re not opposed to washing my back without touching me down there, right?”

MONTH 7: WEEK 26

My adorable peanut,

I hope you are well. Sometimes I get surprised whenever I feel you kick, especially when I eat. Your papa said it is silly to worry that you might be kicking a lot during meals because you didn’t like the taste of them. I can’t help but wonder about it.

Whenever you kick, your adorable papa comes running to check. He’s like a puppy, but don’t tell him that. He might worry his colleagues will think the same way. I’m just confident in writing it down here ‘cause I know he doesn’t read what I write here. Something about privacy and that this journal should be read by you. He really cares about you, peanut.

We both love you so much, baby.

“Do you think we should babyproof that room?”

Haruchiyo glanced up from polishing his katana, his eyes following your line of gaze to the one room where he kept all his guns and other dangerous things. At your suggestion, your husband couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Come on, babe. There’s no way an infant could even enter there. I keep it locked at all times, ‘ya know? Besides, once he does grow older, we’ll move to a bigger place. I’d want one with three bathrooms.”

The talks of moving once you had a kid were not strange to this household. Even back then when you were still struggling with conceiving, Haruchiyo was already open to moving out of the apartment once the kid was big enough. There wasn’t anything wrong with the current apartment, but you do wish to have more space for the child and that it was nearby a school. However, there was his job at Bonten to consider. Moving out meant he would be further away from headquarters and that might not suit well with him.

“You sure? I mean, about moving.”

Haruchiyo was back to polishing the blade, nodding at your words. “Yeah, it’s totally fine, babe. We can’t stay in this apartment forever, plus there are better apartments or penthouses out there where peanut can run around freely. If you don’t wanna live in a building, we can always get a house. It’s no big deal.” Hearing no response from you, his attention shifted to your form, and raised a brow. “What? Did… I say something wrong?”

“No, nothing wrong. Do you think peanut is gonna be such an active kid?” The grin on your face never faltered as you listened to Haruchiyo ramble away on how his son would probably be a menace if he had too much sugar.

MONTH 8: WEEK 30

Hi sweet peanut,

You’re definitely not as small as a peanut now, that’s for sure. You’ve grown so much that it is making me a bit emotional. I often hear mothers saying that children grow so fast that if you don’t look hard enough, you’ll never notice it. I’m a bit terrified that I might do something wrong, specifically in raising you. Reading books and watching videos on motherhood sometimes call me down, but experience always varies.

I don’t know about your papa and his fears. All I do know is that he might be sharing the same thoughts as I am. We both have never tried raising a kid before and taking care of someone else’s is a different thing. I just hope the two of us manage to pull it off and be the best parents we can be for you.

I love you so, so much.

Haruchiyo sighed. This was the fifth time this week that you couldn’t stop fussing around. He knew it was because the due date is dawning nearer and nearer as the weeks go by, but he was worried you might burn a hole on the carpet with your pacing. Ever since you started experiencing Braxton Hicks, you couldn’t help but grow anxious. No matter how many times he had consoled you, that these were normal as the doctor said, you can’t help but feel scared. Scared that something will go wrong.

“Baby, please sit down. It’ll be much better for you to just relax, yeah?” he said, reaching up to stop you in your tracks before pulling you down to sit next to him. Thankfully, you complied but the concern for your son was still swirling in your mind. “Hey, look at me, babe. Babe.”

“Y-yeah?” you mumbled, meeting his eyes immediately. The television playing in the background white noise in your march of apprehension that lasted much longer than the previous ones. Your gaze was then blocked by a shock of pink, your husband hugging you. “Haru, what—”

“I hate seeing you like this. Makes me feel fucking weak, to be honest.” Haruchiyo whispered, his hand running soothing circles on your back while the other was on your huge belly. Just as you were about to ask him why when he beat you to it. “I don’t know how to make you feel better. I’m not the pregnant one here, yet I understand why you’re so worried. Still, we should have fate on little peanut, yeah? And you should listen to your doctor. You should be relaxing—no, you should be resting a lot. I’ll do everything now, okay? I’m sure Mikey won’t mind me being absent. Let me do this, okay? Let me take care of you and tell me about your problems. I won’t laugh at you.”

“Haru…” As if his words were some spell, you relaxed into his chest. Eyes shut, you took in deep breaths before nodding. “Alright, yeah… I’m sorry for worrying you. Didn’t mean to make you feel this way…”

“Don’t apologize, baby. We did promise to do this together.”

MONTH 9: WEEK 39

My peanut,

This is your papa. You will probably notice due to the change of font. Your mama wanted me to write something here. I don’t know why but writing something in this journal seems… weird. Don’t get your papa wrong, but I’m used to reading the entries than writing on them. My curiosity gets the better of me so don’t tell your mama I’ve read most of what she wrote her. Ugh, it’s probably pointless ‘cause I’m sure she’ll see this. Anyway, it has been a long journey of keeping you and your mama safe. I won’t trade those days, good or bad, for anything. Your uncle and cousins are looking forward to seeing you, too. Don’t let them intimidate you.

Very excited to see you, little man. Come out soon, but not too soon, okay? Be kind to your mama.

Takeomi left the room, giving you and Haruchiyo privacy after saying hello to your bouncing baby boy now sleeping soundly in his father’s arms. The solemnity of the space lifted the moment Haruchiyo entered the room, sweat evident in his temples at the long hours he waited outside during your delivery. Hearing your muffled screams brought him on edge, wondering what was happening behind closed doors and whether peanut was alright. When the wait was over, he immediately rushed to where you and his son were. Takeomi followed behind with a small smile. It was a miracle his younger brother agreed to see the new addition to the family, although he was suspecting it was because of you.

“He’s so tiny,” your husband whispered, gently rocking the baby. “Look at his cute fucking nose and those cheeks—we should make more babies. I wanna give peanut a sister.” Ignoring the way you let out a sigh and mutter that giving birth wasn’t easy, Haruchiyo continued to coo at the baby. The smile on his face matched yours, happier than the first day you discovered you were having his baby. The teddy bear Takeomi bought as a gift sat on top of the hospital’s bedside cabinet, mirroring the unexplainable joy on both of your faces.

taglist: @bunnyjiros @chronic-claire-universe @wakaslut @ranilingus @eroscastle @tobidabio @zuuki @chloee0x0 @leavemealonebutinpink @kamisoria @keijisprettygirl @httphaitani @marism @stffychn @riszu @tokyometronetwork @festive

[dangerous-realms]

Send 😮 and I'll introduce an NPC in My Muse's life!

//Ya get two

//though technically everyone's a muse if I decide to play em

---

This guy's name is Wivon, he's 4283 years old, he stands at 6'6, and is from the race of Luret from the Uremos Realm. He is a one of the Captians in Vinupra's branch of the army and has been for quite a few centuries. He came from a line of headstrong craftsman and joined the Vinupra army after the small town he was born in was ransacked by the Pirate King and his crew. His father was killed by Pirate King after he refused to yield and submit which would have led to his life being spared.

This led to Wivon seeking vengeance for his father's death as afterwards his mother fell into depression like state an would kill herself as she was unable to cope with the death of her husband. Wivon was about 282 years old at that time. These events led to him becoming a rather stern and harsh man, expecting absolute perfection from his crew as he rose through the ranks.

About 550 years ago he came across the Eoclivar Realm during a rather long mission that was taking a few years to complete. Landing on Tevotera to give his crew a rest, the would encounter the beastly Evolinaa who is now known as Azura. Managing to convince the strange teen to join him and his crew they would take off.

Over time, Wivon would give the Evolinaa a name, Romine. Of course he made her earn her keep, after all he was teaching her how to read and write as well as many other things like how to fight with an energy blade and shoot a gun.

A few years would pass and a fight would happen. They had caught the eye of the Pirate King and he wanted their ship and whatever was on it. The rules were simple, those who submit get to live and join his crew while those who didn't got killed. Wivon chose the hard route, and the fight was bloody.

As the fight went on things were taking a turn for the worst, and in an act of desperation he would sacrifice the girl he had taken in to create an opening for his crew to flee. Slashing Romine once, once across the her abdomen and throwing her overboard was just what he needed to get the ship and crew out. Unkown to him that she had started looking up to him as a father only to be betrayed once more just like Ragnar did centuries prior.

Unknown to him, Romine/Azura would become the pirate queen. A vengeful women who's holding a deadly grudge towards the man who betrayed her and left her for dead slowly picking off those of the old crew and those Wivon loves.

---

This guy's name is Vavengra, also know as the Pirate King. He's a fallen angelic from a race of angelics that belonged in a realm that has long since been poofed from existence. He was 53 920 years old at the time of his death and he stood at 7'4. He's the biological father of Azura's first born daughter Kira and her first lover as well. The sin that made him fall was that of greed.

Vavengra was a fair man who could be cruel at times. Running a criminal empire that spaned several universe's and being the on top of the most wanted list in all of them ment he had many contacts he could go through and sell black market items for a high prices.

He had a rule when commandeering ships that he desired to have and add to his fleet. A simple rule, those who submit and join him got to live, those who didn't died. Though while it was rare for those caught in the trap to flee, it did happen. And one day it would happen in the most unexpected way, an army captain slashing and throwing overboard one of his own crew to make an opening to escape. That was something that royal pissed Vavengra off.

After collecting what he would discover to be a young teen, Vavengra would nurse the girl back to health. Noticing that she didn't like being called the name one if his crew told me that Captain called her he gave her a new name, Zaishvaer. She was rather standoffish around the other's of his crew, not trusting them or him in the slightest.

But thanks to the fact that he treated them all like family and since they treated them like family as well, he would eventually break through the cold glare Zaishvaer gave everyone. To his delight, she would start socializing with the crew and bonding with them, becoming part of the family.

Over the next good while he and Zaishvaer grew closer and eventually became lover's, she rose to the rank of first mate. Soon she would fall pregnant after a passionate night and birth their daughter, Venniinkah. A little girl with his honey blond hair and Zaishvaer's golden eye's, a cute little thing with her draconic appearance and little flaming halo.

Sadly he would never get to see his adorable little girl grow up into the proud Evolinaa she is today. Having died a few days after a battle due to major injuries. He would pass the mantle to Zaishvaer, making her the Pirate Queen. And to this day she still holds strong to Vavengra's way of doing things.

[6mommymilkers9]

If your comfortable with this, how would the four lords react to fem!reader being pregnant?

As soon as I read this, I knew I had to write it! Thanks for the request :)

The Four Lord's With A Pregnant S/O Headcannons

Alcina Dimitrescu

° Alcina is extremely ecstatic. Considering you both...lacked the necessary equipment to have a child of your own, it was planned, so it was nothing but happiness for the Lord and yourself.

° Lady Dimitrescu, having daughters of her own, knew nothing of how to care for an infant or child no more than the size of her calf. Her daughters were born from Cadou; this was something new. She won't say she was nervous, but her eyes told her lies.

° The pregnancy was a very 'on the fence' type. Life in the small village wasn't as boring as everyone thinks, so the constant excitement was a bit of a problem. Thankfully your daughters let their antics subside (The mom look Lady Dimitrescu gave them scared the shit outta them).

° With that, there were maids, of the highest order per Alcina's request, that took care of you. They had helped you walk around when your baby bump grew heavy, making you wobble. As well as with getting up the stairs and such. You never touched a single broom or dusk cleaner during this time.

° Alcina took care of you in the more intimate ways. Putting away her books and drama with Mother Miranda, she gave you her iconic smile as she helped you bathe or rub your back when it was a testing day. She always made sure you wore a face around her.

° Over all, she may be nervous, but absolutely in love with her unborn child, ready to see them any moment to spoil the hell out of them. It's mother instinct you know.

Salvatore Moreau

° Moreau, as soon as he heard the news, was scared AS SHIT! Before his mutations, he was a doctor, the birthing wasn't what bothered him. It was the part of "I'm a dad?"

° Only Mother Miranda knows how he landed you as a partner, but you carrying his child? Oh boy that was something new. Him being insecure, this made it worse, but at the same time made him happier than ever. All he ever wanted was a family, and looks like he was getting it, even if he had the personality of a wet towel.

° He would stalk up on books about parenting and pregnancy to help you at any point he physically or mentally could. Since he is physically disabled from his reactions to the Cadou, he isn't that much of help with walking around or such things of that sort. He is more than happy to help you talk your head off. Even if he can't speak well, he musters the longest conversations he could with you to get things off your mind.

° He gives you tons of offerings and gifts. If you mentioned you liked something, he would get it for you. Though, he found you much preferred to be wrapped in his coat on the large bed you two shared in the mines. He would smile everytime he walks in on you napping in his coat, his pride shows through.

° With his happiness, he worries about his child's conditions. Would they be the same as him? Would they have his same complications? With the little technology he had, he couldn't know the answer and that scared him.

° What he suffers from was preventable, he doesn't want his child to suffer from something they were born with. To him, he saw it as cruel. This ends up with you having to comfort him until you convinced him that whatever happened, your child would be loved the same. Things will be alright.

Donna Beneviento

° Well, it's the same concept with Lady Dimitrescu. It was planned with some help. Now, in contrast to Alcina, Donna had dealt with a small child, bearing her own. Do to an accident, her child passed away, which made her dive into her work as a doll maker.

° She was extremely scared. Not for you, but your baby. Her failure to protect her child in the past projected to her child now. What if she couldn't protect the baby? What would she do in an emergency? In summary, she is a big worrier.

° All the corners in the houses and sharp objects were child protected, and you were only in your first trimester! That's not the worst of it, she was always by your side. It sounds nice, but she was way too clingy. After some talking, she gave you room to breathe.

° As a doll maker, she also had a hobby of knitting clothes, making outfits for your child. They arranged from dinosaurs, to dolls, to even herbs. You watched as she knit and even tried it out for yourself. Let's just say you ended up with a deformed sleeve. You let Donna handle the clothing from then on.

°She is always there to comfort you in any way possible. If she is off for a meeting, she makes sure Angie stays with you to keep you company and help with anything you need. Angie sees you as her mother and treats you as such. She can't wait to see her new sibling.

° When you are in pain, you bet Donna is on her way to make some tea with special herbs to help with it. Her green thumb is something special in that garden of hers. You couldn't thank her enough. Better than a prescription from a doctor anyways.

°She and Angie take great care of you and make sure your needs and wants are met. You have two amazing people..and dolls by your side. Just wait until the little one arrives!

Karl Heisenberg

° He is on the fence about it, really. It's not like he doesn't want the child, but he doesn't have the best parental figures. He doesn't know if he would be a good father or not.

° Over time, he would ease up, listening to your encouraging words about your future family and events. Though he still has moments of doubt when he wanders around the factory to tend to the Soldats that were malfunctioning.

° He ain't soft and he ain't a sissy, but that facade is thrown down the drain when he would curl up behind you to wrap his arms around your baby bump and whisper to his unborn child. He isn't much of a singer, but he hums songs from his childhood against your bump, thinking the baby could hear him.

° Karl absolutely gushes over you and the baby when he can feel a kick. He can sense the strength the little one has already. "Atta champ! Just like your old man." He is going to drag for days to his machines about the strength of his child and how they will grow to be a great leader someday.

° He is overprotective as anyone could think. Especially when Mother Miranda is around. Her, thinking it's her grandchild, decided one day to pay a visit. Karl wouldn't have that, nearly tripping over his own feet to drag her ass to the bottom of hell's tunnel.

° No one is going to mess with you and he makes sure to everyone that is clear. The Soldats don't even try to bother you. In a factory of killing machines, you are the being they are most afraid to even look at. Just wait until your child is born. Those poor machines.

[prettyboypucey]

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it) 

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N 

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?) 

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something. 

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong. 

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid 

     I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

     When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

     Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

     Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

     Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

     Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

     Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

     Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

     “Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

     I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

     She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

     “You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

     “I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

     Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

     “I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

     I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

     Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

     I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

     “Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

     Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

     Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

     The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

     His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

     I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

     “So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

     I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

     “I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

     “Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

     I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

     Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

     At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

     “Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

     “Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

     Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

     Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

     “So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

     “Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

     Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

     “Um-”

     I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

     George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

     “Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

     The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

     The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

     “Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

     George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

     Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

     “Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

     George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

     I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

     “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

     George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

     Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak. 

     Weird weird weird.

     The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

     When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

     “Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

     As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

     “What did you do?”  

[sj-ficrecs]

fic rec 11!

just a random collection of what I’ve read and enjoyed lately. as usual, no specific order.

This is purely a fic rec blog, always reblogging fics I enjoy. usually Bucky x reader, sometimes Steve x reader, Chris Beck x reader, etc. So check out more I’ve reblogged on this page. :) See my past fic recs below:

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE! // Q & A

(divider by @bwbatta)

Bucky x reader:

Flashing Lights by @pellucid-constellations​ Paramedic!Bucky x reader

“Bucky’s worst fears come true when he’s called to a scene. If he’s the one with the dangerous job, then why is it your life that’s hanging in the balance?”

Operation: Freefall by @constantwriter85​ Bucky x reader

“When Bucky fell from the train in 1945, he didn’t just leave behind his family and friends. He left behind the girl he was going to marry, a girl he never stopped loving. Decades later, Bucky continued to search for her, only to find out that she had disappeared without a trace in 1955. But when Steve hands over the shield to Sam Wilson, he also has something for his childhood friend—a redacted S.H.I.E.L.D. file code-named Operation: Freefall, a file with more questions than answers. With Sam’s help and a handful of Pym Particles, the file sends Bucky on a trip to the past, trying to solve the mystery and save the woman he still loves.”

Recovery by @wicked-mind​ Biker!Bucky x reader

“After going through rehab and recovering, you move back to town to live with your mother as you sort out what to do with your life, but your mom has other plans that include hooking you up with a hot biker by the name of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes”

Teacher’s Favorite + Sharing My Sweetheart by @suitk0via​ Single dad!Bucky x teacher!reader

“You are first grade teacher and Bucky is a single dad who wants to be involved with everything his little girl - Elaine - does. He’s the dad all the parent’s and faculty drool over. You quickly become Elaine’s favorite teacher and Bucky’s just gotta meet you.”

Uninvited by @mymoonagedaydream​ modern!Bucky x reader

Reader is a close friend of Sam’s. Sam and Bucky are roommates, so reader spends a lot of time with them. Bucky becomes colder towards reader and they ask Sam about it - finding out Bucky, who is taken, is falling out of love w/ his gf because he has a crush on reader.

You Know Me Too Well by @nexusnyx​ Tattoo Artist!Bucky x reader

“there is a thin line between pain and pleasure. that line is real and palpable, except for the times when you sit in bucky barnes’ table and feel his hands holding your skin. his job demands him to hurt you, but the only problem is that you enjoy it. a lot.”

The Slip Up by @justkending​ dad!Bucky x reader

“After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things just now seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. She’s not looking for anything right now. She is just where she wants to be in life. It seems the universe has a different idea though. One called James Barnes.”

Invisible String series by @dirty-holy-things​ Bucky x reader

“You were fairly certain that landing a date through court-ordered therapy was some sort of HIPAA violation, if not just an ethical one, but you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the mysterious storm cloud of a man who you shared the waiting room with every Thursday.”

Sacrifice by @wkemeup​ Bucky x reader

“In the midst of an attack, you’re dosed with an unknown chemical and your healing ability becomes compromised.”

Purgatory by @wkemeup​ Bucky x reader

“While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.”

Behind the Storm by @wkemeup​ Bucky x reader

“On a mission, you’re hit with a spell that takes away your ability to see. Bucky does what he can to make you feel safe.”

We Were Screaming in Color by @samwlscns​ Bucky x reader, soulmate au

“james buchanan barnes was your soulmate and you were his. despite everything the world threw your way, bucky always kept his promise to make his way back home to you. even if that meant having to lose him more than once.”

Bulova by @babycap​ Bucky x reader

“In the five years between the two snaps that changed it all, life had moved on, as life is want to do. In the aftermath of that final battle, you discover that time waited for no one (least of all you), and those you loved marched forward into it without you. Sam suggests you volunteer at the local retirement community to keep you busy, keep your mind from lingering on what—and who—you lost. In giving back, you find that time can be just as generous as it is cruel. A non-canon compliant, friends-to-lovers fic.”

And They’re Roommates by @golden-barnes​ Modern bartender/roommate!Bucky x reader, New Girl au

“Your boyfriend cheats on you, and now you have nowhere to go. So when you found an ad for a shared loft, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. Come to the realization that you will be sharing it with four guys. Four guys, one of them who is extremely hot and zero brain cells between any of them. What else could you ask for?”

Keep Me Cool by @chouettedubois​ Bucky x reader

“You and Bucky are on your third undercover mission acting as a couple. Things go awry when you fall ill. Cue caretaker!Bucky to the rescue.”

Love in the Workplace by @cxddlyash​ Gardener!Bucky x Receptionist!reader

Working at the same hotel, a new gardener is recently hired.

“Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of the new gardener. 

“What is it?” Sarah asks you and you clear your throat before tearing your gaze from the man.

“Uh, nothing. I finally see the gardener that the hotel hired,” you mention while walking closer to the place.”

Dad Biker!Bucky being adorable with his kids blurb by @angrythingstarlight​ dad biker!Bucky x reader

dad biker Bucky and his kids making pancakes and breakfast for mom :)

Tap by @houseravenclaws​ Bucky x reader

“bucky never talked much. he fell in love anyway.”

Teach Me How to Love by @thefalconthatcriedwolf​ Godfather/single dad!Bucky x teacher!reader

“Natasha leaves behind her precious daughter, Yelena, and with her dying breath asks Bucky to look after her. You happen to have Yelena in your class this school year.”

To Build a Home by @buckyjamess-archive​ @buckyjamess​​ Mechanic/single dad!Bucky x single mom!reader

“a mechanic and a nurse walk into a schoolyard..both new in the single parent life, chaos arises when the two come together but they wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A Good Kind of Fire by @dolcezzasfantasy​ Modern!Bucky x reader

“Character A runs a flower shop downtown. Character B is terribly allergic to flowers.”

If I Could Fly by @ceeellewrites​ actor!Bucky x actress!reader, social media au

“Bucky Barnes is an actor with a small (just a tiny) celebrity crush on Y/N L/N, one of the industry’s well-known actress. Well, it’s just a celebrity crush, what could go wrong?”

The Rumour by @sidepartskinnyjeans​ Bucky x reader

“after a, mostly, chance meeting with Sergeant Barnes starts a rumour around the compound that soon gets out of hand.”

See the World the Way You Do by @vanderlustwords​ Bucky x reader, soulmate au

“You start to see colour when you meet your soulmate. Bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing—you get one and that’s it. His world used to be colourful once and then he lost that. He’s resigned to see black and white for the rest of his life…until flashes of colours would appear from the corner of his eye. And it seemed to happen more and more as Bucky spends time with you.”

Crawl Home to Her by @nexusnyx​ Bucky x reader

“when bucky finaly returns from his mission, he finds you sleeping in his sofa and the apartment much different than when he left. much prettier, with a touch of home. apparently, while he was away you took his advice to “do what you want with the place, doll” seriously - or as a distraction - and now he got to come home to this.bucky’s heart takes a leap and he stands there for a second, frozen in his spot.”

Signed by the Author by @wintersfilm​ Bucky x reader

“on a mission to improve his conversations with sam, bucky wanders brooklyn and into a bookstore where he finds his new favourite book and the most adorable bookseller he has ever laid eyes on.”

Seasons of Love by @constantwriter85​ Army vet!Bucky x reader, modern au

“Bucky gets a service dog, but Winter’s only got eyes for the dog across the park…and her owner.”

One Single Thread of Gold (Tied Me to You) by @pietrotica​ Bucky x reader, soulmate au

“on your sixteenth birthday, the first words your soulmate will speak to you appear on your wrist. in a world where it’s quite common to get a simple ’hi what can i get you’ or common phrases, you’ve managed to get their name. that doesn’t make it easier to find him.”

Sunday is a Family Day by @lazyangeltreemoney​ Bodyguard!Bucky x rockstar!reader

“You’re stubborn, annoying and hot as hell which seems to be an awful combo to mix with Bucky Barnes. However one day he realises he got you all wrong and now there’s a little kid in the mix that needs both of your help.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey! Could I request a fic where the reader and Bucky like each other and she has to pretend she’s Zemo’s girlfriend for the Madripor mission? Bucky gets jealous and all that jazz and they confess their feelings :)

Madripoor Muse

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky harbours feelings for you, but despite Sam’s inflatable encouragement, refuses to inform you of them. However, seeing you pretend to be Zemo’s girlfriend whilst on a mission, more so when the criminal knows what strings he is pulling at, happens to infuriate him inevitably.

Warnings | jealousy, violence, references to sex work (there is nothing wrong with it, everyone is free to do what they want or need to do to get by, angst, mentions of death, grief, smut, unprotected sex, fluff, swearing

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“I mean, if he looks like a pimp, then I look like one of his workers.” Sam snorted at your words, as Bucky’s eyes trailed down the skin that was exposed through the small piece of fabric, that in modern days, was considered a dress.

Zemo simply sighed at the pair of you, shaking his head as though the former winter soldier would understand his point. “It’s Madripoor, not an american graduation. You are not going to be clothed in long robes in this place, expression is in the body, and how it is clothed.”

“Or not clothed.” Bucky retorted, frowning at how you shuffled beneath the criminal’s gaze, crossing your arms, which definitely did not help the situation, considering that it did nothing more than make your breasts rise. Admitting defeat, you let them fall, holding them to your sides, outlining your hips, which once more, was not how you wished to be portrayed as you walked through the illuminated air, careful to keep pace in your heels.

“We all have a part to play, winter soldier.” Helmut spoke, his accent causing waves to ripple through the euphoria of lights that lay up ahead. “I am me, you are you, Sam is the Smiling Tiger, and...”

“I’m a hooker?” Once more, Zemo showed disappointment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned to you. It seemed that tonight, you, a smart and well coordinated avenger, was absolutely adoring testing his patience, but that was his trick.

He was the captive here, forced to help the forsaken superheroes that had prompted him with the idea of escaping from the government’s ensured facility. And it was without a doubt that he would mess with their minds each chance that he got.

“No, think of yourself as more personalised to one person than that y/n. Your as you people say ‘arm candy’.” He used quotations with his fingers, causing you to reach for Sam’s arm to assume the role. “Oh no, not his.” Zemo made a come here motion, making you gulp.

“You’re kidding, right?” Bucky huffed, glaring unimpressed towards the Baron, who only tutted in reply, implying that he indeed was serious. “This is stupid.”

“Stupid would be allowing this hurrah of new age super soldiers to continue their war path, don’t you think James?” Zemo asked condescendingly, holding his arm out for you to grasp onto, so that you would look more than an associate, or a serum induced bodyguard.

“Me posing as your sugar baby is stupid.” You muttered, as you walked, Bucky on look out behind you, as he glared frustratedly at where you and the mass murderer were touching.

Zemo tugged you by the arm for the comment, causing you to roll your eyes at the man that had tried his best and succeeded, at destroying your team; your family. Nevertheless, you followed his stride, well aware of the sharp eyes of the man behind you.

As you entered the club, a spectrum of blue lights illuminated your skin, as you stared around in wander. There was a variety of all didn’t people, born from different virtues, wealths and races all intermingling around in the space.

If Zemo didn’t have a leash on your arm, you’d have stared for a little longer, perhaps even gotten purposely lost in the sea of bodies that flashed with such ambition and prospect. All were designed to suit their surroundings, and you wished that you could fit in that easily too.

But you were lost, roped into this journey by the Falcon, the man that denied Steve’s wishes and passed on the shield to firmer hands, still uncertain of where you were planning on going. What you needed was a fight, a reason to keep roaming upon the earth. If you came up empty, you may have well have taken up Thor’s offer, and accompanied him with his new friends.

The avengers were disbanded, dotted with different services. You’d heard nothing from Wanda, it appeared that her phone had been cut off, leaving you gravely confused, but you understood that she needed time to mourn. But you couldn’t give yourself the same pampering, if you did so, then all purpose of life would slip through your fingers, and you’d be left vulnerable, a hero that willingly fell from their graces.

Finally you reached the bar, with the shadow of the winter soldier hovering over your shoulder, watching as Zemo’s untrustworthy hand trailed along your furthest collarbone, using it as his sway to grab your attention. He set his sights upon his touch, glaring harshly at it.

No one would question the expression that he wore, it was only natural for his reputation to be proceeded with such a dagger like gaze; he was supposed to be playing the killer that he once was after all.

“My lady, what would you like to drink?” Helmut asked, turning your gaze towards his, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forbidding you from even try to look away from his sly eyes.

“White wine will do the trick, my love.” The words felt like spew falling from your mouth, but you withheld the impulse to grimace, instead, flashing him a flirtatious smile, fanning his face with your eyelashes as you were still held to face him.

“Fine choice.” He smirked, nodding towards the bartender, who had just presented the Smiling Tiger imposter with a shot that had the intestines of a snake floating around in its liquid. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Sam hesitated to drink it for a moment, before throwing it down the hatch, treating it as an old trick.

Madripoor, for an island trapped in violence, didn’t appear that bad on the outside. That was, until the shooting began, causing the lot of you to leg it from the citizens targeting their rifled hardware towards you, running with your lives depending on it.

You had temporarily lost Zemo, as you put head your own safety, your pace and spot being just between Sam and Bucky, as the first man’s arms flailed as he insisted that he could not run in the heels that he was wearing. Huh, you’d be running in heels all your life, maybe he shoulda learned how to do so earlier, it came as a great talent.

Gunshots rang out, as a hooded figure unveiled themselves, introducing the older face of a blonde that you had once knew. It had been quite some time since you had last seen her, all having gone your separate ways to evade the law, and its cruel jurisdiction. “Sharon?” Bucky spoke, instantly recognising the woman that had aided them in the past.

Once you were all reintroduced, and met with her annoyance, which was surely understandable, she led you to her property, where you were able to part from the Sokovian, and share your distaste to the man, as well as remove the skimpy dress.

It pooled at your feet as you tossed it from your ankle, leaving you in nothing more than your underwear. As you squinted, searching for some reason that you were continuing with this foolishness of thinking that the world still considered you a hero, an echo of a knock rattled against the door. It was metal upon wood; Bucky.

“Come in.” You spoke, as you tied a spare robe around your waist, watching as the super soldier, who appeared less stoic, and more human stepped into the room, closing the door behind his emerging shadow. “You alright man?”

Bucky’s eyes drifted down for a moment, before they splintered back up towards your face, his jaw physically tensing, the notion well visible. He breathed in a long breath through his nose, as he stepped closer, his brow harsh and lined upon his forehead.

“I didn’t like Zemo putting his filthy hands on you.” He admitted aloud, the words of Sharon, teasing him for pining after someone that he had once thought of as no more than a friend of Steve’s. But now that man was gone, and so was the one that he used to be. Instead, he was left standing on his own feet, having to find balance by himself somehow.

“Neither did I.” You informed him. “It was like he was pulling back the images of his collapsing country, pouring every ounce of pain and hatred upon me, evading my mind with guilt, and the memories of what it all amounted to. None of it had been worth it, living like this. We’re treated like animals, no longer idols or heroes, people under the big thumb that keeps pressing down on us.”

“Well we’re both pressed down, limited to our rules and the outlines they want us to obey.” He nodded, raising his flesh hand to your collarbone, wanting to mark his touch upon it to remove that of Zemo’s. At his action, your breath hitched, but you allowed him to sweep his pads over the flesh, shuffling indefinitely closer so that you were chest to chest.

“We’re dangerous in their eyes. That’s a mindset they have in common with our prisoner out there.” You whispered, frowning from the thought. Two monarchies, one still whilst the other already fallen, served the same opinions, though, only one could continue to take action. Zemo was a Baron, but of what country now?

Like all, his home had been vanquished into smithereens, the foundations collapsing into rubble, the history disappearing with its lands, having thrown its dusty remnants in your face.

“I’m fine with being considered dangerous so long as I’m not alone.” He pinched your chin, tilting your head, this time though, you felt in his grasp. It didn’t belong to that of an enemy, it was one of an ally, a friend. “Tell me I’m not alone y/n.”

“I’m here James.” You stared up at him with focused pools, biting your lip as your mind went haywire over everything. “The Wakandans will come for him, you do realise that, right?” He hummed in reply, briskly bringing his metal hand to toy with the belt of the white wrap around.

“Do you think that you could show me that I’m not alone?” He nervously asked, shuffling his weight from foot to foot, as he awaited a reply. But instead of words, he earned himself the sensation of your lips upon his, collaborating in a touch starved jumble of grunts. “You’re beautiful, like...”

“Like what Barnes?” You prompted, brushing your palms onto his shoulders, easing his tenseness. Expectedly, you watched him through half lidded eyes as you leant up to plant supple kisses upon his neck, sucking his skin into your mouth, as though you were trying to thread it gently with your teeth.

“A muse.” He sighed, thinking for a momentum, before dragging your hair through his vibranium fist, lightly grinning as he heard your breath wither from the sensation. “A beautiful muse, one that reminds me to be better everyday. I want to become someone better for you.”

“You shouldn’t.” You unlatched your mouth from him, frowning lightly at the brunette man. “You should become better for nobody but yourself Buck, each day, it’s about self growth, fixing everything that you have ever been taught so that you can learn to do better next time, so that no one else will die because of your expense.”

Bucky nodded, allowing your words to sink in. His fingers returned to playing with the waist band on your robe, his eyes gazing into your own, as he fiddled with the material. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.” You granted him permission, allowing him to push the coverage from you, his eyes widening at seeing you in nothing more than your underwear. His sight traced every curve and bump and dip that was upon your shape, licking his dry lips to make his gawking less subtle.

“You’re killing me doll.” He leant his head back, as he raked his contrasting fingertips down your shoulders, all the way to the small of your back. You smirked, grasping him through his jeans, earning yourself a moan from the elder man.

“I said it’s all about self growth, didn’t I? It seems that you are taking that in quite a literal sense.” You rubbed him through the denim, finding it unsurprising as the man backed you towards the bed, your knees hitting the end sending you falling onto the mattress.

Bucky crawled his way atop of you, rutting his hips against your own. It had been so long since he had been permitted to be this free, and he knew for sure, this would be a secret that he would not inform any therapist of. This was private, the sentiment making it close to his weathered heart.

His lips returned to your own, as your hands scaled beneath your shirt, lightly tracing the scars. He wasn’t as insecure as he thought he’d be about someone touching them, perhaps it was because many of your own materialised stories were written in your skin, or that you understood what it meant to be a soldier, serving under orders.

It didn’t matter too much, he wasn’t overthinking it. Instead, he was yearning as he grasped at the straps of your bra, trying to pull it over your head, as was done with the dames back in his day, but the effort seemed more difficult. Lightly leaning away from him, you reached around your back, unclamping the contraption before tossing it out of his sight.

He didn’t care to ask what the modern day had done to the garment, he was far too focused on your pert nipples, and how they stood to attention before him. The super soldier reached forwards, running his smooth hands upon the underneath of your breasts, before interacting with the present buds, softly tugging at them with his whimsical fingers.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Released from you as a sign, instantly becoming pleased as Bucky stripped himself from everything but his underwear, leaving a nest of his clothes upon the wooden floor, as he leant his head down, capturing your left nipple within the warmth of his mouth, moaning lightly as your hands weaved through his locks, tugging lightly at the short roots. “Stop teasing Buck.”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes roll from the slowness of motions, and thus, he reached down, and snapped the band of your underwear, the ripping noise audible, as he then pulled his boxers down, revealing his bobbing cock, that was directing its tip towards your entrance.

With a glance down, he lightly drooled at the way your cunt clenched around nothing, quickly swiping his fingers through your slit, as he brought them up to his lips, humming contently at the flavour that graced his tastebuds. “Need to be in you doll.”

“Need you in me soldier.” You taunted back, digging your knuckles into his shoulders as you pressed him against you, pushing your tongue into his mouth, as he suddenly bottomed out inside of you, waiting for a moment for the pair of you to adjust to the sensations.

He was in you, filling you to the brim, as you tucked your heels into the base of his back, lightly rotating your hips up, as your tongue chased his own, sucking on it as you nipped at the end, causing him to unintentionally jerk his rigid cock into you.

That had prompted him to start moving, screwing his hands into the satin sheets either side of your head, as your bodies succumbed the others to waves of pleasure. It was a luxury, having an outlet to all the stress that your duty brought. If you could just pass the mantle on like Steve had done, and Clint was in the process of doing, you would.

But it was all you had known; the gritty route, that had spanned the entirety of your tale. And Bucky now became a part of it, as he became a part of you, unravelling your vulnerabilities with sleek thrusts into your cunt, and smooth words that had swept you from your feet and had landed you in a bed.

A bed thats structure was creaking from the strength behind the animalistic carnage that you spent on one another. His teeth pulled at your lip, opening your mouth so that you could use him as an oxygen mask. Neither one of you had noticed the door opened, and an unimpressed Sharon standing in the entry way, her agent arms crossed unamused.

She cleared her throat, which made Bucky still inside of you, and you to clutch onto his back, to cover the decency of your chest. “You let me go on the run, then you fuck in my bed. It’s like I’m not allowed to belong anywhere.”

“Sharon-“ she halted your speech by raising a finger, her eyebrows pointedly telling you not to bother trying to speak, as sweat beading down your body. Bucky subtly rolled from atop of you, quickly pulling the sheets over you both, giving Sharon views that she neither wanted nor appreciated.

That was grittiness, she was a hustler, not a once avenger. A part of you wished she would understand that, as much as it would be painful to hear, she hadn’t been the top of anyone’s list. She had disappeared, and from so, she had became unreachable, practically falling off the face of the earth.

But she had been here, in Madripoor, the island of bones and whatever else Zemo had described it to be. “You two fucked in my bed. Okay.” She remained cool headed, her eyes trailing through the various fabrics among her floor. “Thought I’d tell you to get ready, and to blend in, though you two have that part already figured out. There’s some clothes in the wadrobe, and from what I can tell, you’re going to need new underwear.”

She bothered no longer once she had informed you of what she had told the other men. Instead she simply left, only for you to brace your head back into the quality pillows, slumping, and dreading the journey ahead.

Though you seemed restless, Bucky still thought of you as a muse. His hands grasped your chin, leading your lips to his own, as he sucked on your bottom one, his right hand grasping one of your breasts, as he pulled you atop of him, your skin flushed as you steadied your weight over his tough thighs.

“Now this is a dangerous sight.” He clicked his teeth, trailing his large hand down from your jaw, surpassing the middle of your chest, to your hip, which he grasp, as he shuffled you up just a little, so that you were seated upon the base of his cock.

“I can show you dangerous Barnes.” You smirked, adjusting the both of you so you were ready to sink down on his length. Your hands softly stroked his erect shaft, as you tapped his tip upon your pussy, before pushing down, filling yourself up one more.

Madripoor was a bad place, but good things could come out of visiting the skull island. This was the job, though, breaks were prompted, and were you glad that Bucky had became your little bit of calm in the arising trouble in the world.

“Fuck.” He groaned beneath you, his balls clenching as he felt you writhe all the way down to his base, beginning to bounce upon him, the years of training that you had endorsed coming in handy as it had helped your stamina. He was a super soldier after all, you were surely going to need it.

[cinnbar-bun]

Diluc Finding Out S/O Had Their Vision Taken

A/n: spoilers for Genshin Act 2, I just my fave cuz.,,, big love for him. Also angst. Reader is not the traveler!!

He is not one to harp on you or tell you where you need to go or what you should do. He trusts you fully. You are his lover, and as such, he puts his complete faith in you. You are strong, brave, and kind. Surely nothing too grave could happen?

As much as he tries to delude himself with detached statements of how you’ll be fine, he does worry. Sometimes he worries about what would happen if he couldn’t help you.

Work and business keeps you both preoccupied, and many times you both would be estranged for many days- perhaps even months- at a time.

But he tries to assure himself. You were his most trusted spy and intelligence agent, and you are his lover now. You are more than capable of handling anything.

You informed him you would be joining the Traveler on their journey to Inazuma. You had become attached to the poor thing after helping them a few times, and you felt it invaluable to learn about the situation in the closed off Land of Eternity.

He knew of the dangers. You knew of the risks. He wanted so bad to tell you to forget that place. To tell you it was pointless, unnecessary, absolutely worthless compared to the utter horror you would have to face.

But he held his tongue. He was a man of few words, instead pressing a kiss against your forehead and hanging his ring around your neck on a chain. You did the same back. A reminder you both were connected, no matter how far.

He expected rough travels and perhaps a few scars coming back. He expected new information, your smiling face and tired yawn over how exhausting the trip was.

What he didn’t expect was to see Paimon and the traveler return to Mondstadt with anxious expressions on their face.

“Traveler. Paimon. Is something the matter? Where is (Y/n)?” He asks. His heart beats quicker. God. Please. Don’t let his nightmares be true.

“Well… you see…” the traveler begins. They can’t face him.

“Hehe… it’s um, a super funny story. Haha, you’d never believe it. Almost as much as believing that (Y/n) got their vision stolen!” Paimon awkwardly added.

“Paimon-!” The traveler hissed, frowning at them and Paimon covered her mouth.

“I mean! Um! It’s not that bad!! At least they’re alive… right?” Paimon tried to fix her slip up but Diluc couldn’t hear a thing.

“They… what?” He can’t believe it.

“It’s best you see for yourself.” The traveler took Diluc to the bar where you were sitting, a drink in hand as Kaeya and Venti were trying to tell a terrible joke.

Your eyes were faded. Dead. You looked like a zombie, a hollow shell of the person he loved. You did not smile, you did not even look at the two trying to get any sort of emotion out of you. Just as Paimon said, your vision was gone.

“Do you mind…? Please leave me. I have a terrible headache.” You murmured.

Diluc walked towards you, and Kaeya and Venti knew better and stood aside.

“(Y/n)?” He asked, unsure if this was truly you. He swallowed his pride. “My love?”

It was the first time he had ever publicly said something like that. Your relationship was shrouded in mystery and kept quiet beyond a few people.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked.

His heart shattered. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even form a sentence to respond to what you asked. Please be a cruel, sick joke. Please tell him this was a lie and that-

“I don’t remember ever meeting you. Actually, I don’t really remember anything. This young adventurer over there and their floating partner has taken me here, saying I was from here but… truly I can’t recall a thing. It’s all a haze.”

“I’m sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else.” Diluc said. He stared down before he quickly walked out of the tavern, slamming the door behind him.

How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to act with you knowing you remember nothing about him? Nothing about the two of you and all you’ve done?

He cursed the gods and everything around him. If this was their idea of a joke, he did not find it funny. Time after time, everything he loved was taken from him. Was he ever allowed to be happy and love, knowing he was cursed?

“How could he say that?! What a jerk! Who does that to someone they love?” Paimon angrily huffed.

The traveler nearly followed him out the bar before Kaeya placed a hand on their shoulder.

“Be gentle with him. He’s hurting incredibly bad. I know him very well, and he may not admit it but he’s truly heartbroken. I don’t want to hurt him more so… take care of him for all of us, okay?”

They nodded before catching up with the young lord.

“Diluc! Please! Wait-!”

“Leave me alone, traveler. I have work to complete.”

“Please-“

“This has been a complete waste of my time. I will not ask again for you to leave me alone. I do not wish-“

“I’m sorry!” They shouted, tears streaming down their face as they sobbed loudly. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

He stopped walking. He stood still for a few moments as the traveler cried and begged for forgiveness.

“You’re sorry? Sorry for what has happened to them? Truly?”

“Huh?” The traveler looked up to see Diluc clench his fists tightly.

“You think sorry will fix this? You think sorry will give back their vision, their memories, their ambitions? You think sorry can help them remember what had happened to them?”

“I-“

“You’re wasting your breath. Save it. I do not wish to hear anymore. It’s not me you should be apologizing to. You took their life. Not mine.” He glared coldly. He walked away, leaving the traveler alone as his figure slowly grew smaller.

He goes home and immediately reads the letters you sent him. Whether they were business or personal, he kept them all.

Diluc came across one letter. One that changed your relationship forever.

“I love you, Diluc. Nothing will ever stop me from coming back to you and being by your side.”

He couldn’t control himself now. His eyes watered as all his feelings burst like a dam.

God, he should be grateful you were alive. Why couldn’t he be content knowing you were back here?

The tears fell onto the letter, dampening and smudging the ink on the old paper.

Why did this hurt worse than anything ever before?

In an instant, he grabbed a match and lit it up, placing it near the letters and setting some of them aflame. Watching the letters burn sent him spiraling.

‘My lord’ ‘I love you’ ‘great news’ ‘I have been thinking of you’

The words flashed in his head before he threw them to the ground and stomped out the flame. Many were charred and burned, and he crumbled to the ground.

God. Why? Why did it have to be you? Why did it have to happen? Why did you go? Why didn’t he just say anything to keep you here?

[caelestis-composition]

killshot anon! YEAH i totally agree w/ your view on kaeya. it's so weird to me that people will blame him for his role in a situation he was forced into as a child through no choice of his own. that itself had to be traumatic, not to mention everything that happened later. i hate when people say he's untrustworthy - like yeah, he's lied, so has everyone? it's clear he does it mostly to protect himself. not to mention that (& sadism) can be symptoms of trauma. kaeya deserves nothing but happiness

take a seat folks it’s time for a “brynn should’ve been an english major” lesson! today we’re gonna learn some literary theory; specifically, we’re gonna apply psychoanalytical trauma theory to kaeya’s backstory and current character. killshot anon i bet you never thought this would result in a whole ass essay.

disclaimer one! you are allowed to dislike kaeya! i am not saying you need to like him or his character, you’re entitled to your opinion and i’m not here to change your mind.

disclaimer two! i am in no way an expert and this is all for fun! this is just my silly little analysis of one of my favorite characters as someone who’s studied literary theory and rhetoric and can also apply personal experience. seriously analysis is like a hobby to me and this is just an excuse for me to ramble about kaeya.

disclaimer three! this contains lots of spoilers! basically for everything we know in-game, general knowledge as well as stuff from his voicelines and character story. don’t read this if you don’t want spoilers.

since this is going to be filled with spoilers and is about to get really long, everything will be under a cut. for those who wanna read my dumb super informal essay: enjoy!

final note: yeah this is over 2000 words long can you tell i like analysis

⭒

let’s start by getting a quick rundown of trauma theory out of the way. to begin, what is “trauma?” in this case, trauma is going to refer to an experience that greatly affects and changes one’s life; attitudes, memories, behaviors, mental state, etc. while not all changes may be bad, per se, the overall effect of trauma is generally a negative one, which is why it’s so significant. literary trauma theory, then, explores these changes and the impact of trauma in literature. it analyzes the psychological and social effects of trauma, explaining what those effects are and why they happen. in the context of a specific character, trauma theory breaks down said character’s behaviors, feelings, and general mentality in relation to their past experiences; trauma theory hopes to explain to others the reasons for why a character may act or feel the way they do, all based upon the character’s experiences, particularly traumatic ones. our character today is the lovely kaeya alberich, with the “literature” being genshin impact. i’ll be referencing kaeya’s wiki page to ensure i get all details correct for his character story and voicelines.

it would be good to review kaeya’s backstory before delving into the actual analysis. though we don’t know much about his life before living in mondstadt, we’re told he was sent as an agent of khaenri’ah. and by “sent,” i mean his biological father abandoned him in a completely unfamiliar land to serve khaenri’ah’s interests and fullfil his mission—what this entirely entails hasn’t been revealed. mondstadt, however, welcomed kaeya “with open arms when they found him.” crepus ragnvindr took him in as his adopted son, with diluc as his adopted brother. kaeya and diluc were “almost like twins,” so close they “[knew] each other’s thoughts and intentions without a word.” he’d began a new life in mondstadt, one surrounded by friends and family that loved him; one that was completely shattered by crepus’s death. kaeya arrived at the scene of the disaster, and was led to believe diluc was the one who killed their father to “set his father free” from the effects of his delusion. there’d always been one big question in kaeya’s life: if it came down to it, who would he support? the nation that abandoned him, but he still felt loyal to, or the nation and family that took him in and really loved him? overrun with guilt, kaeya confessed his purpose to diluc, sparking a fight between the two brothers. in this fight, kaeya receives his cryo vision. though both brothers stepped away alive, they’ve never been able to make peace with one another. now, kaeya is the eccentric and charming cavalry captain of the knights of favonius; a man who gets his way by using any means necessary, regardless of whether or not it seems right.

kaeya’s not evil; he’s morally ambiguous, and that stems from what appears to be a general distrust of others. his life is one shrouded in secrecy. from the moment he stepped foot into mondstadt, he was surrounded by secrets. even now, he doesn’t talk about a lot of things, namely his past, vision, and feelings. though he’s always willing to get information out of others, kaeya never reveals anything about himself. he repeatedly tells the player they can confide in him, but whenever you try and pry into his life, he deflects your questions with some sort of witty comment or flirty remark. anything he does reveal is vague, or spoken in some sort of “code.” for example, his “interesting things” voiceline. he tells us about the owl of dragonspine, how it “seems to look right through you, while letting go of none of its own secrets,” and then tacks on a “quite fascinating, don’t you think?” it seems like an awfully accurate parallel to himself; kaeya does all he can to get information from others, but never gives anything about himself. now, this whole thing—his relationship with diluc falling apart and his need for secrecy—could have probably been avoided if he had just come clean about his mission years ago. so why didn’t he? to start, kaeya was a literal child. not only are children unable to properly tell the difference between right and wrong, but they’ll also typically follow their parents’ orders blindly. kaeya had just been abandoned, and he wouldn’t want to risk being cast out by mondstadt as well if he came clean right away. you see, there’s this thing about trauma, something that trauma theory states. traumatized people feel a sort of shame or guilt regarding their traumatic experience; they’ll keep quiet because they don’t want to cause problems or bother others with their issues. of course kaeya wouldn’t tell the truth about his past, he doesn’t want to destroy the genuinely loving relationships he’d built in mondstadt. his fight with diluc only proves what he was afraid of: if he’s honest, he’ll be abandoned again. and if kaeya’s used to all the lies, why should he bother changing?

another thing, if he’s not going to tell the truth, then why would he have initially gone along with his father’s plans? again, he was a child. he really had no choice, and was forced into a very wrong and cruel situation. there’s a good explanation for this, too, which is also stated in trauma theory; traumatized people will still do their best to please their abusers. especially if said abuser is a parent, that will drive traumatized people to work even harder to please them. although his father hurt him by ruthlessly abandoning him, kaeya still sought to make him and his homeland proud. he was willing to be used as a tool for their gain; that is, until he found people who actually cared about him. he was an impressionable child, of course he’s going to obey orders. but as he gets older, he feels torn. does he serve those who abandoned him, or those that took him in? his father—and arguably, khaenri’ah as a whole—hurt him, sure, but he still feels some loyalty and connection to his former home. instead of revealing anything, he lets the situation play out. that way, he can’t be blamed when things fall apart.

the thing about claiming he’s untrustworthy is that hardly anyone in-game believes that. he’s adored by the older folks in mondstadt, and foes and allies alike find him easy to talk to. despite seeming lazy and uninterested in work, kaeya takes his job very seriously. in fact, his story states that crepus’s death was the “first and only time kaeya failed in his duty.” the “only time” is especially important, because it signifies kaeya still fulfills his duties successfully. he’s had a total of one slip-up, and hasn’t failed since. no, kaeya is not untrustworthy. rather, kaeya finds everyone else untrustworthy. it’s not unlikely that this is a direct consequence of being abandoned as a child. although it’s been established that kaeya and diluc were very close as children, when crepus dies, kaeya assumes diluc is the one that killed him. in order to jump to such an extreme conclusion against someone he was so close to, there had to be some underlying sense of distrust. furthermore, kaeya expresses feeling as though he doesn’t belong anywhere. he was abandoned by khaenri’ah, and then worried he wouldn’t be accepted by mondstadt. he is, but there’s still that worry. if you place him in your teapot as a companion, he tells you that your home feels like someplace he belongs, following it up with a “heh, who’d have thought…” kaeya still feels as though he doesn’t belong in mondstadt; despite the fact that he’s a high-ranking knight of favonius and rather popular, he still feels like an outsider. he doesn’t trust that anyone actually wants him around, and he finds joy in testing peoples’ trustworthiness. it’s noted in his story and through his voicelines that the beloved cavalry captain has a rather sadistic nature. he likes putting people into difficult situations, to see what decisions they will make. he does this to both opponents and allies, testing to see who’s going to back out and who’ll keep fighting; in the sake of allies, who can he trust? or who will turn tail and abandon their teammates at the slightest hint of danger? i mentioned it previously, but kaeya doesn’t care what measures he has to take so long as his job gets done and he gets the answers he wants. it’s a sort of self-preserving mindset, putting himself above the safety of others. kaeya’s trying to protect himself, which makes sense with all he’s been through. he doesn’t want to be hurt, and instead finds pleasure in threatening harm upon others. it’s twisted, sure, but it’s because he can only trust himself in a world that he believes is out to get him. he’s got as many enemies—if not more—as he does allies; of course kaeya focuses on protecting himself first, whether physically or through keeping his secrets, well, secret.

his most obvious traumatic effect is definitely his alcoholism. but he uses it as a distraction, not just to wallow in self-pity. this is seen again in his story, particularly in story 3. it’s found that when his favorite drink, death after noon, is out of season, mondstadt’s crime rate is decreased drastically. at face value, this just means kaeya spends more time working when death after noon is low in supply. but kaeya doesn’t skip work to go to taverns; it’s already been established he takes his job very seriously, so this means he actually patrols and tracks down threats while off work when he can’t indulge in his favorite alcoholic drink. he doesn’t get drunk simply because he’s depressed. if he did, there wouldn’t be a drop in incidents when death after noon is out of season. no, kaeya uses both the alcohol and fighting to distract himself. after all, it’s a little hard to think about feeling sad when you’re either drunk out of your mind or fighting for your life.

despite being so secretive, kaeya gives us glimpses of his true emotions from time to time. as previously mentioned, his flirty attitude is nothing more than a mask to hide how he really feels; and kaeya is terribly, terribly lonely. that may be why he seems so extroverted. constantly being around people should, logically, drive away that feeling, but it doesn’t work like that. when he talks with the player, he frequently expresses disappointment when you have to leave. each time, though, he dampens the weight of his words with playful or flirty language. he’s lonely, but doesn’t want you to know that, like he’s afraid of asking you to stay. he takes the seriousness of his feelings, and basically bends it into some sort of lighthearted joke. kaeya hides his true feelings—negative feelings, to be exact—so that he doesn’t bother anyone. which is, again, something that happens with traumatized people. he displays that hesitance to reveal his true feelings, because there’s a shame or guilt that comes with his past. he doesn’t want to bother others or hold them back, so he puts on a smile and amps up the charisma. one other very important thing—but very small detail—i would like to note is his feelings toward family. his fell apart not even once, but twice, and kaeya still holds familial relationships in high regard. we know he doesn’t exactly care how he goes about getting his work done. he doesn’t pay attention to what’s “right” or “wrong,” so long as he gets what he needs. but one of his informants, vile, notes that the cavalry captain has one exception: he won’t work with those who threaten others’ families. in fact, kaeya claims those who do should be hunted down and destroyed. even though his own families have caused him so much pain—and he ended up estranged from both—he still understands the importance of having people who love you in your life. because he didn’t get that.

kaeya’s not evil. ultimately, as a knight of favonius, his goal is to protect others, because no one was there to protect him. and because no one was there to protect him, because he’s been hurt time and time again by people who were supposed to love him, kaeya has taken to protecting himself. he hides any and all negative feelings with a charismatic, friendly façade, because he thinks it’ll drive away his persistent loneliness. any “bad” actions of his were hardly his fault; he was forced into a life of secrecy and lies, and then abandoned by the first people who truly loved him. kaeya’s a multi-faceted, tragic character, one that toes the line between good and evil, and that’s what makes him so interesting.

[burnedbyshoto]

seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

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pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

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One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits. 

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born. 

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded. 

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors. 

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained. 

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing. 

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed… she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word. 

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew. 

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body. 

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. 

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips. 

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong. 

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch. 

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin. 

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up. 

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. 

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt. 

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

A sweet life

Fandom: DC Pairing: Baby!Batsis x Batfamily Word count: 1.2k Summary: A little excerpt of a day of baby!batsis lifes and all the sweetness Requested by a sweet, fluffy Anon: Are they requests open if so can u write a batfam x baby!batsis reader like something fluff you decide

Our story begins on a nice, sunny morning in Gotham city - a morning that had a rare feeling of peace and calm to it - and in the bedroom of local billionaire and vigilante Bruce Wayne in Wayne Manor. Only a few of the golden sunrays found their ways through the almost closed blinds and landed on the man himself, laying on his back on the mattress with one arm stretched out beside him and the other protective wrapped around the little bundle that was laying on his chest - snoring ever so quietly. Y/N Wayne, newest and youngest addition to the family, would usually be found here in the mornings, even if the evening before she was brought to bed in her own room only a few doors away by one of her family members. It was a lovable, if maybe sometimes a bit frustrating for Alfred, trait that Bruce could not help himself but take the sleeping Y/N to his room when he came home from patrol and saw her lying there in her crib. He just wanted to feel her warmth, know that she was safe and protected at his side, that he would be there to keep her away from all the darkness and the horrors he experienced everyday in this cruel world. It was rather fortunate that over all the years of training and fighting Bruce has build up a habit of staying completely still in his sleep and it seemed that Y/N had somehow inherited that, because she too was always completely still - except for the occasional wiggle - on his chest - both things that helped calm Alfred down slightly every time he thought about what would happen if Bruce turned unluckily in his sleep and she’d be crushed or thrown off the bed (not that that had or would ever happen). But, no matter how often he advocated that she had to learn to sleep alone sooner rather than later, Alfred couldn’t find it in him to actually tell Bruce to let her be in her own bed, so the routine stayed steady and Y/n always woke up on her fathers chest. Or rather that she was woken up. Because, just like Bruce who came to her at night to make sure if she was okay - only to take her with him - Alfred, who was unsurprisingly always awake first, no matter what was going on, quietly made his way into the room to make sure Y/N had survived this night as well. And, as if she could sense him coming him, Y/N’s cute half-squeal-half-yawn made him aware of her now awake state so - seeing as Bruce needed all the sleep he could get and he wanted some time with his granddaughter as well - Alfred did the same he did almost every morning and pulled Y/N out of Bruce’s embrace, exchanging her with a pillow so that Bruce wouldn’t wake up, and went with her to her own room while she was slowly waking up completely. When they had arrived in the room Y/N was completely awake and squealing in happiness at Alfred’s funny faces he pulled to entertain her a little bit. “How about we’ll get you ready and get you some breakfast after, does that sound good?” The only answer Alfred got, and needed, was your happy giggle as she clapped her chubby, little hands together. As always, Y/N (who was used to that interaction by now) tried to help as much as she could as Alfred changed her diapers and put her in a cute onesie with a bee-pattern, before picking her up and carrying her through the manner. In the kitchen he fed her, letting himself be a little more playful as he played the airplane-game with her spoon, delighted by the little giggles and the gigantic smile on her face. After that Alfred went to clean the small amount of dishes he had used to prepare Y/N’s food, thinking about what to do after, only to turn around and find her chair empty and the sound of steps that definitely belonged to a certain little demon. Sighing, Alfred shook his head but decided to let Damian have that win and get on with his daily tasks, knowing that her brother would take good care of Y/N. Damian, who was glad that he had been able to ‘abduct’ his baby-sister without her making a sound - something that he had spent weeks training her for - knew it was all worth it when she smiled up at him and raised her hand to pat his cheek. Happily entertaining her with peek-a-boo, Damian showed his softer, kinder side that had mainly developed thanks to Y/N’s presence in his life, before going to the entrance room where her stroller was standing and - like he had sensed it - Titus came padding towards Damian and Y/N with his tail wiggling happily. “You wanna take titus out for a walk?” Damian asked her seriously, even though he knew not to expect an answer, before helping her into a cute coat, shoes (even though she wasn’t walking yet) and a cute self-knitted hat by Martha Kent, strapping her into her stroller and getting Titus on his leash (which was more for the public eye than the actual use, because Titus was very well behaved with Damian and Y/N). The trip to the park was a pleasant one, not a lot of people were out so he didn’t have to worry about being talked to or someone coming to close to his sister, and Y/N seemed to be delighted by everything around her, especially once when inside the park her eyes landed on a familiar person. “Grayson, what are you doing here?” Damian asked, already annoyed at the prospect of his brother taking Y/N over. “Alfred told me you were off with the little one and I guessed you’d be here. Me and Barbara wanted to take her to buy some new clothes.” “She has enough clothes already, doesn’t she?” “Uhm..Well, I mean-” Dick scratched his neck, aware that he was caught, “-She’s going to grow bigger soon, so…” Damian sighed, aware that he didn’t have much choice, no matter how stupid Dick’s reasoning was, and rolled his eyes. So Damian said his goodbyes to Y/N and gave Dick the stroller before going back on his way to the Manor. Dick brought the little one to his car, strapped her into the baby-seat and drove to the mall where Barbara was already waiting for the two of them, happily taking her favorite ‘niece’ onto her lap as Dick took the liberty of rolling her wheelchair through the mall and through all the cute little baby stores where they bought two bags worth of clothes, toys and other baby-things for Y/N who kept on being her excited, happy self until she got tired and fell asleep in Barbara's arm. Later that day, when they had brought her back to the Manor where Cass was already waiting to watch Y/N’s favorite cartoons with her and when Tim came home in the evening he managed to win himself the right to put his little sister to bed and read her a story. And then, the cycle began again. Soon Bruce would come home from Patrol and everything would start again. All in all, Y/N’s life was pretty sweet and she herself sweetened the lives of her family in return.

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

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[5-falsehoods-phonated]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 5

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman)  Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Chapter Warnings: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, murder planning

Word Count: 2490

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

Roman was not used to feeling small.

He was used to standing out, being loud, and carrying his shoulders with a confidence worthy of the title he held and the company he was expected to keep. Wherever he went, he knew he could always hold his head high.

Staring at his reflection now, he had to fight the urge to duck his head. His face was, quite simply, a mess. The cut from Lord Howard’s ring was small enough that Roman didn’t feel the need to bandage it, but the wound was slightly swollen, and his cheek was a truly shocking shade of purple.

Swallowing, Roman picked up a small compact that had been left on his vanity. He wasn’t in the habit of applying makeup, but when the supplies for doing so had appeared in his room overnight, the message he was being sent was quite clear. He wasn’t even sure whether he was sickened or relieved by the act, at this point. In some ways, it felt like another mark of ownership; the earl wanted him as perfect and pristine as ever, no matter what happened. But on the other hand, Roman wasn’t sure if he could stand to walk about the estate with the mark on full display like a brand.

Roman winced as he gingerly applied the powder to his face. It didn’t completely erase the injury’s appearance, but if he added some blush to the other cheek and styled his hair so it hung lower than usual, obscuring the bruise from the side...it was almost enough.

It would have to do for now.

Taking a deep breath, Roman exited his room and quickly made his way through the halls. He’d told Patton that he didn’t feel well this morning (which was not entirely untrue), and so he wasn’t expecting anyone to wonder where he was. After a few turns, he found himself standing before a door that he had never actually gone through before: the door to Logan’s office.

The office’s large door glistened with fresh wood polish and gave a pleasant, welcoming smell, though the scent actually only succeeded in making Roman’s nerves worse. He knew Logan would be on the other side, working on managing this set of numbers or that pile of letters even this early in the morning. Lightly touching the bruise across his cheek he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It had to be Logan- no one else. He trusted Patton with everything he had, but there was no telling how the loyal attendant would react. He knew Patton cared about him, but as kind and caring as he was, he was hardly a good actor. And Virgil was far from a snitch, but he was so wary of any sign of trouble that Roman didn’t want to burden him with this...at least not yet.

He had to be sure...he had to know he had even half a chance before letting the others in, and to have that chance, he needed Logan.

If Roman listened closely, he could hear him on the other side of the door, muttering softly to himself as he ran through whatever calculations he was scratching out with his favorite pen. Paper rustled every now and then and Roman could tell by the coolness of the hardwood floor just in front of the door that the window must be open. He stood a moment more, letting his mind’s eye follow the thought, picturing Logan’s long hair blowing softly across his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk, glasses sitting just so on the bridge of his nose that Roman could probably reach forward and straighten them if he was quick enough.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a breath and knocked quickly, then without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open before he could lose his nerve.

Logan glanced up from his work, frowning slightly as Roman entered. His eyes widened when he saw Roman, and he stood so quickly that his chair screeched across the floor. Wincing at the sound, he smiled apologetically and gestured for Roman to take the seat in front of him.

“Roman, to what do I owe the pleasure this late in the evening?”

“I-” Roman’s throat ran dry, and his thoughts along with it. Logan was looking at him, worry etched across his brow and work forgotten, and Roman swallowed. “I need your help.”

“Certainly,” Logan said immediately. “How can I assist you?”

Sitting across from Logan now, Roman almost changed his mind. It seemed absurd to think that Logan would agree to what he had in mind...what if he had misjudged him? What if he had misinterpreted the withering looks Logan shot the earl when he thought no one was looking, what if he had placed too much faith in their budding friendship, and if Roman so much as breathed a word of his plan, Logan would be the first to warn Lord Howard?

“Roman? Are you alright?”

Logan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Roman looked up. Logan was sitting patiently, nothing but concern and quiet understanding marking his features, and Roman suddenly didn’t know why he should be worried at all. He could trust this man- he was sure of it.

“I need your help taking control away from Lord Howard.”

Logan binked once, then twice, fiddling with a pen that lay in front of his hands before setting it down firmly and leaning forward. No sound came from his mouth when he opened it at first, snapping it shut to blink a third time, slow and deliberate while he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

“I- I need your help, please Logan.” Roman leaned forward as the other man straightened back up, his attention fully caught. “The earl has his fingers in far too many pies...and I’m not even sure he remembers what all the flavors are. If last week's meeting was anything to go by he disregards anything that doesn’t directly benefit him and only him and I’m sure land isn’t the only thing he’s notoriously stubborn with. Look at the way he treats his staff, expecting them up day and night to serve him and his entertainment of the day, extending that to you and all the responsibilities he shoves to the side in his confidence that you’ll pick up the slack. I haven’t even been here for very long but I know you hardly sleep for all the work you do in his stead. He expects everyone around him to be the perfect picture of their roles to mask the fact that he cannot play his own and I cannot continue this betrothal and eventual marriage in a state of constant anxiety and silence. He isn’t...he isn’t a good man Logan.”

Pursing his lips, Logan held up a hand. “Roman, I still don’t know that I understand what you want me-”

“He isn’t a good man, Logan,” Roman interrupted. “You must see that.”

“Yes, but Roman, he- I don’t know what you’re asking of me. He has more power than he knows what to do with, true, and he certainly abuses it, but I’m not certain what you expect me to be able to do about taking it away. I manage his finances and remind him of meetings; I hardly have the reach to do anything substantial.”

“For people like him, money is his power, and you’re the one that takes care of that. How many times does he actually ask you about anything official? Does he ever want full accounts of where anything goes? You sign documents for him of all things because he believes himself too important and you’re going to sit there and say you have no weight to throw?”

“But I-”

Seeing the doubt, Roman was quick to lean forward. “What if we could control the estate? Actually control it, and make smart decisions for it and know what’s going in and out of it? Surely you of all people would jump at the opportunity to make the changes you know need to be made here.”

“Roman.” Logan fixed him with a stern look, and Roman snapped his mouth shut. “It’s a nice thought in theory. I’ve spent many nights worrying over things that truly should not be my responsibility, and have done enough research to present to the earl a myriad of solutions to his problems, should he ever decide he actually wants to listen to my counsel. But for us to be in control of the estate, the earl would have to be deceased.”

Roman stared at him blankly.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Roman that is not-”

Taking a deep breath, Roman brought up a hand to wipe at his face, the flesh colored powder smearing his sleeve to reveal the dark purple and red underneath. This time it was Logan that snapped his mouth shut, with an audible click. Horror, anger and worry flashed across his face, and Roman winced.

“It’s going to get worse. I know it and so do you. This is how it starts, especially once he has someone who officially belongs to him, and especially when that someone doesn’t just lie down and take it. I won’t. And so it will keep getting worse, and he will never be accountable until one of us finally has an accident. I am not going to let that one of us be me.”

Logan regarded him sadly, sighing as he lowered his gaze. “What you’re suggesting is extremely risky. Even if we could do something after you marry him, the fact of the matter is that this is the Howard family’s estate. And I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that the earl isn’t exactly...interested in making you an official member of the family in any capacity. If he were to pass away, the estate wouldn’t be bequeathed to you. You’d still have no control, and might honestly end up with less if his other family members decide not to tolerate your presence.”

“That’s where you come in.” Roman smirked, and Logan’s head snapped up. “I need your help to forge the will.”

--- --- ---

“Well that’s-”

“Excuse me, what?”

Roman fidgeted with his sleeve as Logan attempted to sooth Patton and Virgil long enough to allow them to explain. After getting Logan to agree to help him, Roman had immediately requested that they bring Patton and Virgil into the scheme. Roman was certain he could trust them, and Logan seemed to agree. They certainly wouldn’t be able to pull their plan off with only two of them. Getting Patton and Virgil to see the necessity in it, though...well that was the first hurdle they were trying to clear.

“It seems like a drastic measure to take, even with the lord’s uh...mood as of late.” Patton squirmed on the haystack he was curled up on, pointedly ignoring the baffled expression Virgil threw him.

“A drastic measure? You think? This is treason, Patton! We’ll be hanged!” Virgil turned to glare at the two men across from him. “We will be hanged. There has to be a better way.’

“We will have the will forged and officiated before the wedding, and then arrange it to look like his death was natural. As long as we can figure out a way to do that it’s a fairly simple process.” Logan held his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Even if we can’t find a way to make it look natural, I assure you Lord Howard has enough enemies grabbing at his various businesses and properties that it’d be anyone’s guess who tried killing him off. Half of them would end up paying investigators off just to avoid any public suspicion, it is almost guaranteed that no one would expect Roman to be the culprit.”

Virgil stared at him. “You’ve thought this through. Logan, why have you thought this through?”

Patton reached over and grabbed Virgil’s hand, rubbing soothing motions against his knuckles while humming softly. Virgil’s shoulders remained tense but he leaned against the attendant's shoulder, taking a shuddering breath as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I think...” Patton said slowly. “I think that maybe while we have this opportunity we should take it. Not that I take any pride in using you Roman!” He was quick to assure. “But- I’ve seen the way he gets...and how he is getting. People like that only worsen with age, and I’d rather not see any of us hurt...more.”

Roman touched his cheek self-consciously, trying to subtly cover up the spot where he had wiped the make-up off, but of course fooling no one. Patton glanced away but Virgil’s gaze only hardened, squeezing the other man’s hand and swearing under his breath.

“I guess....I guess all of us here- everyone at the estate really- would benefit from him not being in charge. It’s still incredibly risky.” Here Virgil glared daggers at Logan and Roman specifically. “But I think with the right people...the right poison maybe, it could work.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” Logan asked curiously.

“Not me, but I know people that might. What are we thinking the time table will be for this?”

Roman perked up as they all looked at him. “Well...it might be a good idea to carry it out a good while after the wedding. If it happens immediately after, it would look a lot more suspicious than if we waited.”

Logan frowned.  “But Roman-”

“Logan, you know I’m right.” Roman startled a bit at the sheer amount of concern he saw in Logan’s eyes, but gave him a small smile as reassurance. “I’ll be fine until then.”

“Well,” Both of their heads snapped around to face Virgil again, neither acknowledging the slight pink in their cheeks. “If we’re waiting that long that’s plenty of time for me to get in contact with my guys and figure something out. Really it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Patton made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Um, exactly what kind of guys, Virgil?”

Virgil laughed outright. “Oh, total degenerates for sure! But they’re also both idiots, and that didn’t change when they set up their apothecary, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So it’s set then? We’re doing this?” Roman couldn’t help the hopeful edge to his tone, and he immediately felt a stab of guilt.

What would his friends think of him now, so eager to take such a drastic measure? But a quick glance at their faces revealed only sympathy and determination, and he forced himself to breathe. There was a reason he’d come to these three specifically, and now he had to trust that he’d made the right call.

“Yes.” Logan said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, and Roman felt himself relax. “We are.”

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[lostandsearching]

Her Loss

Pairings: Maria Hill/Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is forever searching for her, the half of her soul that will free her form the pain in her heart. But what does she do when the roads fork into different paths and into different arms. How does she differentiate from true love and fleeting lust? Can she find the arms of her destined or will she simply doom herself and let them slip through her fingers.

Warnings: WandaVision elements used, swearing (maybe?)

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Here’s chapter 3 and we’re following our favourite little witchy! Just a shout out to @theperfectlovestory​ for being so patient and reading through my chapters. If you ain’t read her work, you’re missing out! As always, reblogs and feedback are welcome. Enjoy :)

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Tossing and turning, she shifts around in bed uncomfortably. Having been able to sleep the night before, exhaustion catching up to her, she is faced with another restless night. Her sleeping has improved over the months. The nights she cried to sleep was no longer a regular occurrence but she still had her difficulties.

The bed was always too unfamiliarly empty no matter how much time had passed. There was no weight by her side causing a dip in the mattress, no strong arms wrapped around her waist encasing her protectively and no cool body to nestle herself against. Her empty bed serves as just another reminder of everything she’s lost. The fates had been cruel to her, delivering her time and time again into loving arms only to rip them away from her far too soon.

Having accepted that sleep will not welcome her tonight, she looked towards the wall clock on her right. ‘It’s only four but I guess I can enjoy the quiet and watch the sunrise for a little while’ muttering to herself. She clambers out of bed throwing on a large dark blue jumper, his jumper, and a pair of jeans careful not to make any noise and stir the children next door.

She loves Clint’s children dearly and wholeheartedly. They accepted her, a stranger, as family without hesitation or fear of her abilities. Little Nate went so far as running to her with the widest grin on his face to proudly proclaim that he’s also named after her brother. This only brought happy tears to her eyes as she engulfed him in a hug. Yes, she loved them dearly and she couldn’t be more grateful to the retired archer and Laura for opening their home to her but sometimes it was too much.

The happy shrieks of laughing children reverberating off the walls, the gentle and loving touches between Laura and Clint, the pure love and pride in Clint’s eyes as he took in his family at the dinner table would sometimes be unbearable for Wanda. This was supposed to be the life she had with him. A home, he had secretly bought for them, in a place called Westview with two children at least. They would have dinner together as a family, watch their children grow up like no time has passed at all, even go trick-or-treating wearing silly family costumes. Her life would have been filled with love, laughter and warm embraces but he was gone, taking her dreams along with him.

Wanda quickly threw on her slippers and crept as quietly as possible out of the farmhouse, trying to avoid rousing the slumber of the ever attentive Hawkeye. He may need hearing aids but Wanda would bet anything that he wore them to bed to avoid being taken by surprise. One misstep on a creaky floorboard would have him rushing out with bow and arrow in hand, ready to protect his family from any intruder, only for her to flounder a lame excuse at her sneaking around at an ungodly hour.

Lady luck was on her side it would seem and she escaped the confines of the home without incident. She is instantly greeted by a cool and gentle breeze caressing her skin. She sits on the steps of the home looking up at the clear night sky as the sun teeters on the horizon, teasing the darkness with a warm glow. She lets her mind wander back to over a year ago, to the events that unfolded after her return from the now dubbed Blip.

//

One moment she had Vision’s lifeless body cradled against her as she sobs, only to be suddenly greeted by a strange man calling her to arms, Vision’s body nowhere to be found.

“The fate of the world needs you to come with me now if we are to have any hope in defeating Thanos” and with that he opened a portal and passed through, Wanda nipping at his heels.

She thrust herself into the chaotic battlefield, remnants of the destroyed compound strewn about, with only one goal in mind. He took the love of her life, he took her life and he’s taken her home. Thanos has taken everything from her and now she’ll make him pay.

She flew in engaging Thanos, bombarding him with all the rage coursing through her veins. Angry, red wisps encase the tyrant threatening to rip him apart but as she was within a hair’s breadth away from finding her revenge, hell fire reigned from the skies knocking her off her feet. The battle for the gauntlet waged on being passed from Avenger to Avenger in hopes of getting it to some rickety van in the distance.

When all hope seemed to be lost, the gauntlet fixed around Thanos’s hand once again with an arrogant line about inevitability escaping his lips, their one and only chance arrived.

“Stark! Now!” a sound shouts commandingly before a woman encompassed in light crashes into the purple titan throwing him back. In the few moments after the order, Tony flew into action and disabled the gauntlet remotely allowing it to fall from Thanos’s hand and to wrap itself around the ready fist of Captain Marvel.

“Yeah, I don’t think so” she retorts with a head tilt and a cocky grin painted on her face. ‘Snap’ the battlefield is once again being covered in ash but it is Thanos’s army that is falling to dust with himself crumbling soon after. Being exposed to gamma radiation in space for years and receiving power from the space stone made her more resilient to the after effects of using the infinity stones. Painful as it was, she would recover.

Wanda on the other hand wasn’t sure she would recover herself. Not only had she lost Vision and her home, in what felt like a matter of fleeting moments, she lost the chance at avenging him by her own hands. ‘He’s gone, this will have to be good enough’ she finally relents to herself.

It was only after the battle had ended, when Bruce and Captain Marvel, she later learned, had been tended to that she found out the true price of  her, and the half the universe’s return. Natasha Romanoff had given her life in exchange for the soul stone, she gave her life so the world could be set right.

The icy cold Black Widow had held her at arms-length after Wanda had entered the older woman’s mind at Ultron’s behest. At the battle of Sokovia Wanda tried to remedy her mistake and prove herself but lost her first home and the life of her brother, Pietro, instead. Clint quickly took it upon himself to care for the young witch and urged Natasha to give Wanda a chance. He believed she already paid a heavy price for her mistake, she doesn’t need to be punished anymore.

With many gruelling training sessions under the watchful eye of the Black Widow, a tentative bond slowly grew, one of mentorship and then eventually friendship. Natasha grew to care for Wanda like a younger sister, although she would never out rightly admit of her fondness to the other Avengers. Wanda learnt to appreciate that the harshness delivered in Natasha’s training had served to keep Wanda alive, to give her the tools to protect herself from their dangerous job.

She had lost another loved one, Natasha on a planet and in a time she couldn’t reach, she needed to get one of them back. She approached the only man she knew that would have the unending finances to find Vision’s body. Although she still doesn’t trust Tony Stark, his hubris being the reason for her parents’ death and then his pride being the reason she was locked away in the Raft like an animal, she believed that his intentions were only ever good, even if his methods were questionable at best. He swore on his daughter’s life, much to the surprise of Wanda only having learnt of Morgan, that he would find Vision for her. She will try to trust him once more.

The compound needed to be rebuilt and Stark needed to build another time machine so that the stones could be returned to their original time, cutting off the branches, at least that’s what was explained to her.

//

It took no time at all, considering Stark’s wealth and that the world was also eternally grateful for the return of their loved ones, for the Avengers compound to be rebuilt. Surprisingly, especially to Stark, she continued to stay at the cabin whilst the new time machine was being built. She couldn’t possibly go back to the compound with both her love and her sister being gone.

“Please bring her back, I can’t lose anyone else. I don’t know what I’d do” she pleads with her arms around the super soldier. She pulls back from their embrace, tears threatening to fall.

“I’ll bring her back Wanda, whatever it takes” Steve promises with finality and with a gentle squeeze of her hand, he steps into the portal.

Wanda stood there with bated breath, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself. She squeezes herself tightly as if holding back a terrible force and its impending explosion from within, should Steve fail. It isn’t until Bruce speaks that she tempts fate by opening her eyes, fixed on the platform once more.

“5…4…3…2…1. Ha! It worked!” he yelps, fisting the air with joy.

Wanda couldn’t believe the sight in front of her, Steve kept his word. Forest green eyes land on hazel green ones. She wasn’t too sure what happened, one moment she was standing and the next moment, she was crumpled on the floor sobbing. She finally let the tears free fall, allowing the anguish, loss and small reprieve to wash over her. ‘She came back, someone came back’ a mantra repeating itself in her mind begging to be believed.

With all the agility and grace attributed to the Widow, Natasha leapt out of Steve’s arms to engulf the younger woman in hers. As is always in the Avengers’ lives, the joy of a win is forever marred with sorrow at the cost of gaining it.

The compound having already been built, Wanda finally returned with Natasha by her side. The Avengers home was no longer filled with mirth as it once was, trauma, loss and exhaustion hangs heavy in the air. Clint had chosen to stay at the compound temporarily, with his family, to spend time with Wanda and Natasha. Tony and Rhodey chose to retire, Captain Marvel had long since returned to space but promised to visit when she was in the galaxy, Thor chose to leave the Avengers to join The Guardians in space and Vision was gone.

It was a week after Natasha’s return, a week at the compound that Wanda finally got the call she so desperately needed.

“Hey witchy, how are you liking the new digs?” Tony jokes. Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes as anger began bubbling beneath the surface.

“I am not in the mood for your jokes Stark” her thick Sokovian accent slipping past the cracks of her control.

Tony lets out a heavy sigh before responding. “OK kid, this isn’t a social call. I promised I’d find him but I don’t think you’re gonna like what I’m about to tell you” he tries carefully.

Her eyes are consumed with whirls of red while her hand holds the phone in a vice-like grip. “Where is he Stark?” she says through gritted teeth.

“I tried to get his body released to me this morning, but they refused. I could spend every dime I have and liquidate all my assets, they still won’t let him go claiming that he is government property since he signed the Accords.” frustration clear in his voice.

“I will get the best lawyers on the case but it will take time be…”

“Where” she interrupts with a bite in her tone.

“S.W.O.R.D”

//

After the events of meeting Hayward and seeing what he had done to Vision, Wanda knew she had two choices. She opted for the latter. She called Natasha as soon as she left S.W.O.R.D’s offices making her way back to her car.

“Wanda, what’s going on? You ran…” Before she could finish her questioning, she is interrupted by Wanda’s broken voice.

“S.W.O.R.D have Vision’s body and they wouldn’t let me take him home to bury him. They’re tearing him apart like an OBJECT! He gave his LIFE and they won’t even let what’s left of him find PEACE!” her anger is replaced by breaking sobs wracking through her body, ending her ability to speak any further.

“Come home now. Clint and I will fix it” She commands calmly and confidently.

Just as Wanda was the female assassin’s younger sister, she was also the archer’s daughter. No-one messes with the two deadly assassins’ family and escapes unscathed.

True to the Widow name, Natasha seduced and hacked her way into S.W.O.R.D’s data server and extracted details on questionable S.W.O.R.D activities including Hayward’s isolated server with files and data on his less than legal proclivities.

Clint, being true to his ethos, was crawling through S.W.O.R.D ventilation shafts, planting well placed audio and visual recording devices, courtesy of Stark himself.

With all the pieces at hand, Natasha only needed the perfect person for the execution. Her love for Wanda saw her doing the unimaginable for the first time. She asked for help.

“Maria, I need you to do something for me. I need you to get Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. Clint and I have all the data you’ll need to make it happen” her steady voice not betraying the pounding in her heart.

“Why would I get on S.W.O.R.D’S radar exactly?” Maria responds emotionlessly. She would have done it without question of course, but she can’t let Natasha know that. After all, she has a reputation to maintain.

“Because I will owe you a favour” Natasha retorts through clenched teeth. A pregnant pause fills the air before Maria responds.

“Send me everything you have and give me 48 hours” without another word, Maria ends the call and Natasha releases a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Maria, always a woman of her word, saw to it that 48 hours later Vision’s body was being returned to Wanda at the compound under S.H.I.E.L.D escort. Wanda may not have given her lover the death that he asked of her nor the vengeance that he was owed, but she could give him the burial that he deserved and the farewell she needed.

All the Avengers, including Rhodey, Tony and Thor, returned one last time to pay their respects, to honour their fallen ally and friend. Wanda laid to rest the love of her life and yet another piece of her heart.

//

“You know, you still aren’t as quiet as Nat” he teases taking a seat on the step beside her. “Penny for your thoughts?” he gently prods.

“Thinking about him” Wanda whispers, still unable to say Vision’s name since the funeral. “Thinking about what you, Nat and even Tony have done for me since”

He turns to look at the young woman and sees not only pain in her eyes, but a steady determination that wasn’t there before. He keeps quiet, allowing her to gather her thoughts without interruption.

“I think…no, I know I’m ready to go home Clint” she says with growing confidence. She finally turns to face the archer. She sees time, suffering and loss etched on his aging face but those are all muted by the brightness in his blue-grey eyes full of love and pride.

Wanda has survived the loss of her parents, her brother, her first home and her lover. She’s tired of surviving and she is finally ready to go home to start living.

“I’ll tell Nat so she can get a jet ready and prepared for you” and with that, they spend the last few moments together, sitting in silence and basking in the warm glow of the sunrise full of hope and gentle promises. 

Chapter Four