#so it is only fitting that she broke the window trying to escape

[dhampirslays]

*gets extreme kidnapped arena vibes from this*

this fits Jo so well

[rvp32]

Plot idea: Mina being a good best friend, comforts you in unconventional ways after a 10-year relationship break-up.

Mina being a good best friend, comforts you in unconventional ways after a 10-year relationship break-up.

“Mina!!” You said as soon as she picked up your call, you were heartbroken that your girlfriend of 10 years broke up with you.

“She broke up with you didn’t she?” Mina asked, realizing why you called her at such an ungodly hour. 

“Yes, she did and she told me that I was literally the worst boyfriend ever and that I should ever because I am too broke and can’t buy her the things she wants,” You complained, tears threatening to spill out. 

“Fine say where you are, I am coming to pick you up,” Mina said. 

Mina is your best friend someone who you have known since your childhood, both of you are close but sadly didn’t get to spend much time with each other because Mina is a busy K-pop idol. 

Soon Mina arrived, with her Aston Martin DB11. It was a car fitting of her status. She lowered the window and said, “Get in.”

Tears escaped your eyes after you got into the car but you tried your best not to cry. 

“Hey, it's okay, let it all out I am right here for you,” Mina said trying to comfort you and it did because you knew that you could always talk to her and get an objective opinion from her.

“Let’s head back to my place and talk,” Mina said before she started driving. 

“Thank you, Mina!” you said as you wiped your tears. 

Soon you both reached Mina’s apartment, which was in the middle of Seongsu. Following her up the elevator, no matter how many times you see her apartment it still surprises you. It was a penthouse apartment, filled with completed and uncompleted legos, and it was very well maintained not a single speck of dust visible. 

“Come, sit down,” Mina said tapping the spot beside her on the couch. After you sit down, Mina pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back as a way to console you. 

You tell Mina about all the things she said and how rude she was, denouncing everything that you had ever done for her. Throughout all that, Mina continued to hold your hand and rub it to show that she is there for you and that she is willing to listen. 

After letting it all out, Mina suggested that you guys watch a movie and eat ice cream, which was according to her the best way to get over a breakup.

Weirdly enough, Mina chose a romance movie to play, especially after what you just told her, but you didn’t exactly mind because it was one of your favorite movies. 

There was a romantic kiss scene in the movie, feeling a little awkward to continue watching you turned to look at what Mina was doing only to find her staring at you. 

“You know Y/N, there is another way that you can use to get over a breakup fast,” Mina said before moving closer to you, your bodies now touching each other.

You didn’t move, though you wanted to your body just wouldn’t stop Mina from coming closer to you. Both your faces were so close that you could feel her breath on your lips. Without any warning she kisses you, the kiss is filled with lust, tongues dancing and exploring each other's mouths, lips moving in perfect harmony. 

This kiss wasn’t like any of the other ones, it was electrifying and addicting. You feel Mina push you down onto the couch without breaking apart from the kiss. The room heated up, and you could feel yourself get hard, because of the way Mina was moving.

“Mina, what are you doing?” you question, after barely pulling away from her. 

“Shh, I know you are enjoying this, just forget about everything else and just pay attention to me,” Mina says, and she kisses you again. 

Following what she said you gave into the lust that you were currently feeling. When a pretty girl such as Mina tells you to do something you do it, no questions asked. 

The lust was getting to her head, she pulled away from the kiss took off her shirt, and ripped yours off your body. Mina looked ethereal, her perfectly sculpted abs, and her perky little tits in a black lace bra. 

Not wasting even a second more, you grab onto Mina’s boobs and squeeze them a little before reaching around and unclasping her bra. Mina enjoyed every single touch of yours, she continued to grind on your cock which was now hard and poking through your shorts. 

“Fuck, you have such beautiful breasts, Mina,” you compliment her as you play with and flick her hard nipples. 

“Ngh,” Mina moans. 

“Y/N I need you,” Mina manages to say in between her moans. 

You could no longer wait as well, you wanted to get a taste of her. Mina is just as impatient as you pulling your pants down along with your underwear. Your hard member pops out standing in all its glory. 

“Oh wow,” Mina says before putting your cock in her mouth and sucking it. Her tongue dancing teasing and playing with your cock inside her mouth, it was the best blow job that you had ever received. 

“Ngh fuck Mina that feels so good,” you moan as you push her head down further into your cock. 

Mina continues to suck your cock, fast and deep, playing with the head using her tongue. It was too stimulating. 

“S-shit I’m going to cum!!” You moan, but to your dismay, Mina stops completely, taking her cock out of her mouth. 

“Now now, the night is still young and I need a lot more from you,” Mina says, it was a side of her that you never thought you would see but turned you on like no other. 

She placed herself just above your cock, your tip just about grazing Mina’s drenched pussy. She was teasing you and you could do nothing but take it. 

“M-Mina please, can you put it inside please,” You ask, pleading and hoping that she will do it soon, before you lose control. 

“Aww, someone is a needy boy,” Mina says before slowly impaling herself on your cock. 

Fuck, her pussy was a lot tighter than you had ever imagined. “FUCK! Mina you are so tight,” you groan. 

“I can’t believe that I waited this long, I should have done this sooner fuck. Your cock is stretching me out so fucking good,” Mina moaned as she finally reached the bottom of your cock. 

Mina bounced on your cock like there is no tomorrow, looking at her cute tits bounce made you want to grab them, you pulled Mina into a kiss as she continued to ride you. 

The way that her pussy was gripping onto your cock was like it was made to take your cock it was a perfect fit, and you were hitting spots that Mina didn’t know existed. She moaned into your mouth as you kissed her. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you put Mina’s right breast into your mouth, sucking it and playing with the nipple. She must have sensitive nipples because her pussy pulsed every time you nibbled at her nipple. 

“Fuck, Keep doing that I’m going to cum,” Mina warns and you oblige, nibbling at her nipple and using your other hand to pinch her free nipple. 

“Oh Fuck, I’m cumming, I am cumming on your cock! Ah,” Mina moaned before she lifted herself off your cock and squirted it all over your stomach, some of it even getting in your mouth which you didn’t mind, it just made you wish more had gotten in because of how tasty it was. 

As soon as Mina recovers a little from her orgasm she pushes your dick back into her and rides you again, this time her movements more sloppy, almost like she was chasing another orgasm. 

“Fuck Mina, I’m gonna cum,” you warn, trying to hold on as much as possible. 

“Yes! Just cum inside, I wanna feel your warm cum inside of me,” Mina screams, after getting her permission, you hold Mina’s hips and start moving her to your pace. 

“Holy fuck, Yes! Yes! Yes!” Mina screams. “Just like that fuck, paint my pussy white, cum deep inside by my pussy please I need it! I need it so fucking bad!” 

“Ngh,” you moan and cum inside Mina, feeling your warm cum shoot into her pussy Mina’s 2nd orgasm soon follows yours

Mina gets off you, your cum slowly dripping from her pussy. She’s lying on top of you still recovering from your session. 

After a few minutes, you break the silence to finally address the elephant in the room, “Mina, we should talk about what just happened.”

“Shh, we can talk about it tomorrow. I am too tired now,” Mina says before putting her head on your chest and closing her eyes. 

You soon followed suit and fell asleep with Mina on top of you.  

Still in between sleep and consciousness, you heard Mina talk to herself, “That was money well spent, that bitch never deserved you, after all, she left you for a meer 100k, Nobody can have you, you belong to me, and only me! My precious baby.  

if you guys like this type of stories then keep sending me more asks like this and I can keep writing these kind of short fics

[fairylights-throughthemist]

Eddie Munson as tracks on The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift

Fortnight

Exhusband!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Tortured Poets Department

Friends to Lovers to Strangers with Eddie

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Toxic!Mean!Eddie x Reader

Down Bad

Protective!Mafia!Eddie x Reader

So Long, London

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader have spent lots of time in London during their relationship. Now that it’s ended she never wants to return.)

But Daddy I Love Him

Dad’s Best Friend!Eddie / Older!Eddie x Reader

Fresh Out The Slammer

Ex-Con!Eddie x Reader

Florida!!!

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader’s [now ex]boyfriend cheated on her, she went to Florida on vacation to forget about him. At a local bar she meets a certain rockstar touring the country with his band.)

Guilty As Sin?

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie broke up with you, yet you can’t stop thinking about him. Not even with another man in your bed.)

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader just made their relationship official and his fans can’t seem to keep their mouths shut. Haters online compare you to other women he’s been seen with, they make comments about your body and they don’t think you deserve Eddie.) (This description also fits for Delicate from Reputation.)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Mafia!Eddie x Catholic / Virgin / Good Girl / Shy! Reader

loml

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Situationship!Mean!Toxic!Eddie x Reader

The Alchemy

Hockey player!Eddie x Reader

Clara Bow

Rockstar!Eddie x Actress!Reader

(Reader always getting compared to other actresses, everyone wants her to be bigger and better than anyone before her. Eddie being the only one able to comfort her.)

The Black Dog

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

imgonnagetyouback

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Albatross

Virgin!Eddie x “Slut”!Reader

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie becoming addicted to drugs, reader trying to help him but giving up when he cheats on her.)

How Did It End?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(No one caring about how you’re doing, only asking about Eddie and asking what happened.)

So High School

Best Friends to Lovers, Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader playing Kiss, Marry, Kill while high, Reader naming people when it’s Eddie’s turn, one of them being herself, leading her to ask “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me?”)

Read the fic here!

I Hate It Here

Eddie x You

(Yes you. We all know you read to escape reality.)

thanK you aIMee

Eddie x Reader

(Based on the title, not the lyrics)

(Think All Of The Girls You Loved Before, Reader thanking one of Eddie’s exes for contributing to the amazing man he is now.)

I Look In People’s Windows

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Prophecy

Eddie x Reader

(Post Vecna…)

Cassandra

Toxic!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader watching Eddie’s show in the pit and getting sexually harassed / groped by some creep. Not wanting to interrupt the show or cause a scene, she keeps quiet. Anxiety and stress leading up to a breakdown, Eddie being high out of his mind asking if everything’s okay. You snap at him and tell him about the incident at his concert but he doesn’t believe you. The day after your breakdown, Eddie asks you what happened last night, after a quick recap of the events your petty boyfriend chooses not to believe you.)

Peter

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Similar to Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me. Eddie being ignorant and giving half assed advice like “Just ignore it”. He doesn’t show how much he cares due to his newfound love for drugs.)

The Bolter

Eddie x Reader

(Reader being afraid of relationships and attachment. Her trying to bolt from Eddie’s love but he doesn’t let her. Steve and Robin being supportive of Reader and Eddie’s relationship, they felt the need to tell him about her attachment style before it was too late.)

Robin

Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

The Manuscript

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing anything so please be nice !!!!

[redskull199987]

Maybe Mike with a reader who works at the daycare Abby goes to and he has a crush on her, when Abby, shows him who her favorite teacher (?) / daycare worker she likes fem reader pls

Heat Above

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request: Word Count: 1.2k Warnings:all fluffy basically. there is literally nothing to say here Summary:You never thought about becoming a daycare attendant, but here you were. Drawing together with a small girl, who told you all day long about her brother. Until you finally got to meet him… Masterlist

You never thought, you’d end up where you were right now. It hadn’t been your dream, nor had it been the thing you thought about when you were younger. It was just never on your page.

But here you were. A daycare attendant in a small dozy city, no one had ever heard of. It had never been your desire, but over the years, you had learned to adore the children who came in while their family couldn’t watch them. You had learned to appreciate the small things. For example when a child told you that they enjoyed playing with you, or that you were their favorite attendant. It always put a smile on your face, to see so many kids being delighted by the simplest things.

And those things often included drawing and sketching with the children. But one kid in particular always asked you to draw with her. The young girl you had come to known as Abby Schmidt always came running into your arms, the second she stepped foot into the daycare. And you always knew you were going to spend the rest of your day drawing with her and other children. Abby often told you about her friends and you loved to ask her questions about them, letting her come up with the most imaginative stories you had ever heard from a child.

“You know, you should meet my brother sometime.”, Abby mentioned one afternoon, while you sat with her on a small table by the window. She had been doodling for a while, but not wanting to show you what it was.

“Yeah?”, You asked with a small smile,”What’s he like?”

Abby looked up from her drawing for a second, figuring out what to say:”He sleeps most of the time. But he’s a good guy. He always protects me and is there for me.”

“You’re right.”, you agreed with her,”He does sound like a good guy. An awesome brother on top.”

“Sometimes he’s annoying.”, Abby said nonchalantly, without looking up from her drawing,”But I think he would like you.”

“You think so?”, you asked with furrowed brows, trying to remember what her brother looked like. You were pretty sure, you had seen him bring her in once or twice.

“Yeah.”, Abby nodded,”I like you, so he’ll like you too.”

You could only chuckle at her answer and lovingly ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it all out of place. Abby gave you a short look of annoyance, before her face broke and a fit of giggles escaped her.

“Now, You finally wanna show me what you drew there?”, You asked, a smile still present on your face.

She nodded strongly and pushed her pens away from the drawing before handing it to you. Your heart bloomed with joy as you realized that it was a drawing of her and you on the small table you were currently sitting at. Both of you were drawing on the picture, a big smile on your faces.

“This is beautiful, Abby.”, You smiled. Abby beamed up at you, before getting up from her chair and walking over to give you a hug. You quickly embraced the small girl, but nearly got a heart attack when she screamed into your ear.

“Mike!! You’re here already!”, Abby shouted happily. She quickly entangled herself from you and you watched how she ran over to a young man, probably your age. When You saw his face, You knew that you had seen him before.

So this was the ominous brother. 

You just looked at the two of them for a second, while Abby hugged her big brother, telling him of her day. You watched her rambling on with a smile on your face. But then you realized that Mike wasn’t looking at his sister. He was looking at you. His low gaze lingered on your face for a second longer, before he realized that he had been caught. 

You swiftly looked away too, an unknown heat rising to your cheeks. What had just happened?

Your thoughts were interrupted, when you heard Abby, calling you over to her and Mike.

You quickly got up and walked over to them. Your gaze was on Abby first as she gave you a wide grin, before you finally looked up at Mike, only to realize that his big chocolate brown eyes were already looking at you.

“Hy.”, You said shily, holding your hand out to him. Mike looked at you a bit perplexed for a second, before he seemed to break out of his trance, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Hey.”, he smiled,”I’m Mike, Abby’s brother.”

“Yeah, I've heard quite a bit about you already”, You chuckled bashfully.

Mike gave you a timid look:“Only good things I hope”

“Well, basically just that you sleep a lot.”, You mumbled, looking to the ground.

“You two are insufferable.”

Both You and Mike looked at each other for a second, before turning your heads to look at Abby with furrowed brows. The small girl looked back and forth between the two of you, before an annoyed groan left her lips:”And? Will you go out with each other?!

You immediately felt the heat rising back to your cheeks and you looked away from the two of them for a second. You could see that Mike wasn’t doing any better. His cheeks were clearly reddened and he nervously brushed a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry. S-She doesn’t know what she's talking about…Miss…?”, Mike tried to explain his little sister.

“L/N. But Y/N is fine.”, You explained with a small smile. You didn’t know what came to you, but in a boost of confidence, you turned around to Abby:”Why don’t you go grab your jacket, Abby? While the grown-ups talk a bit.”

Abby gave you a knowing grin before she nodded and took off to get her stuff.

“Once again, I’m sorry about her. She really doesn’t know when to shut up.”, Mike mumbled. 

“It’s alright”, You smiled,”And besides, she isn’t wrong.”

Mike looked at you perplexed, but you only grabbed his sleeve, pulling him to one of the tables. He didn’t protest and you took that as a good sign. You grabbed a small piece of paper and swiftly scribbled down your phone number, before handing it to Mike:”You know, in case you need a babysitter…or someone to meet up with.”

Mike gave you a soft smile, while he put the paper into his pocket:”Do you have time this weekend?”

“I’m off at five.”, You answered, as the two of you walked towards the exit, where Abby was already waiting.

“I’ll call you.”, Mike uttered. You could only nod at him, as you reached Abby. The small girl grabbed Mike’s hand and with a few small goodbyes, the two of them were out of the door. 

You looked after them for a second and while Abby was already rambling on again, Mike turned around once more, giving you a gentle smile and a wave. You quickly waved back at him, before they reached his car.

With a rapidly beating heart, you finally close the door of the daycare. You couldn’t believe it. You had a date on Friday.

[neptunesnxpple]

Benimaru Shinmon x m! Reader

18+ only

Pairing: benimaru shinmon x m!reader

18+ only no minors please

Summary: You're Chapter 7's secretary and Central issues out new uniforms. I wrote this over a year ago, no proofreading

Tags: NotSFW, m x m, reader in a skirt, handjobs, cumeating, vanilla and gentle, there's a bit of a build up

“Central is issuing new uniforms,” Maki handed you a small package, “they said that even though you’re not going out on missions, appearance is an important part,” she gave a reassuring smile at that, but it did little to soothe your unease about the situation. Part of why you picked the seventh was the lack of adherence to company policy or standards. They were a little more liberal in their application of those mandates, but it seemed not even you could escape the crushing hand of central. You thanked Maki, shutting the door to your small home and tearing into it on the table. You doubted it would be as comfortable as your loose pants and soft shirts but there was no point in fighting it.

Benimaru rarely had time to sit around the station, he had his morning routine, part of which included checking in on the townspeople and making sure nothing was out of the ordinary. If he had the time he’d settle in for a cup of tea and a light breakfast, maybe some light training. Today he was a bit ahead of schedule, sitting in a spare room and window watching. There was still some paper work that needed to be filled out about the most recent incident, but he had to wait for you to get here in order to submit it officially. Ever since the first sent over a Secretary his days had been peaceful, all that loathsome paperwork was no longer his problem.

You unlocked the front door, taking careful steps and trying to stick the landing with each one. The package included tea party heels, something you’d never tried before. You turned on the lights and began opening the blinds as you went from room to room, the station was always quiet in the morning. Guessing from the time, you still had half an hour before the young master Benimaru would be in. Your estimation was dashed when you opened the sliding room to your ‘office’, a spare room that overlooked a small garden,

“Young master,” you greeted, surprised, “did you already finish your morning walk?” Benimaru gave you a thorough look, stopping back down at your thighs. expressionless.

“What are you wearing?” It came out harsher than intended. You shifted self consciously.

“Maki stopped by to drop off the central issued uniform for secretaries. She assured me that this was the correct one,” you responded, watching him carefully for a response. Aside from the heels you were in a short mini pencil skirt with matching slits in the side, so high up you had to find new a pair of boxer briefs that wouldn’t peak out from under it. A well fitting button up that had ruffles lining the button column. The fabric laid smooth over your flat chest. You supposed male secretaries were rare, and were on the fence on sending a message to central asking for an alternate outfit. A heavy silence fell over the room and you wished you had. “I could ask for a replacement if you would find that more acceptable.” Benimaru finally broke his state, turning towards the window and setting his tea cup on the table.

“That won’t be necessary. This one should do the job just fine.”

You sighed in relief at that sign of approval and finally set foot in the room itself, setting your bag next to the table and checking the filing cabinet for yesterday’s unfinished business. You sat across from him, working quietly, enjoying the gentle breeze and fresh air for the neighboring window. It was beautiful outside. You’d have to take your lunch outside. Every now and then you felt a pair of eyes on you, drinking you in, but whenever you looked he’d be focused on something else. Must have been your imagination. Perhaps an hour into your shift, the young master left.

Several hours later you were wrapping up, setting aside your current stack of documents and stretching back. With all the destruction, you had a lot of filing to do. Notification of damages, repairs, associate costs and outcomes. You had to attach dated photos and make sure to send a copy. But for now, lunch. As if on cue Benimaru appeared in the doorway,

“Are you taking your lunch break?”

You nodded, holding onto the table as you struggled to stand. You almost got a handle on the heels on your walk over but after a long time sitting down you had to get readjusted. You legs wobbled with each request forward, struggling to stay upright as you bent over to pick up your bag,

“Yeah, I think I’ll sit outside today. Do you need me for anything?” You shakily adjusted your bag over your shoulder, reaching the edge of the table and spreading your hands out as you walked in case you needed to catch yourself. Benimaru watched you, amused with the scene in front of him. By the time you got to the door, you felt as if you had just ran an entire yard. Not the small stretch of a room. You gripped the wall.

“No, I think I’ll go out with you.”

“Oh, cool,” you said, not really listening. It took all your attention to focus on staying upright. You wobbled on ahead, hand on the wall, before hearing an exasperated sigh. And suddenly, your feet were off the ground.

“By the time you get outside, your break will be over,” a deep voice explained. You felt the rumbling of his chest vibrate against your back, warm and soothing. You tensed, holding your bag on your stomach like an otter and not trusting yourself to say anything for fear of your voice cracking. He set you down on a partially shaded bench like a sensitive house plant. This was a much gentler side that you rarely saw. You cleared your throat to regain some composure,

“Thank you,” you smiled, hands shaking slightly.Your legs warmed in the sun, not used to getting this much exposure and finding that you quite liked it. The heels could stay too if that meant your young master would carry you from place to place.

“Don’t mention it. Mind if I sit with you?” He was sitting before you could answer, spreading out as if on habit alone, before noticing you scrunched to one side and reeling it in. He scratched at the side of his head, “so this is the new secretary outfit then?”

“Mhm,” you muffled between bites of rice and veggies.

“I won’t tell if you choose not to wear this. You should know by now that we don’t play by central’s rules.”

“I know, but I don’t want to cause anymore trouble for you guys. You already have enough on your hands, and I doubt you could find a secretary as flexible as me.” You definitely picked up way more of the report writing than was required, but Benimaru made up for it where he could. He’d bring you food, mostly, and if he saw you working too hard he’d send you home. Even though you technically worked for central and not just the seventh, he was a pretty cool supervisor.

“That’s why I want to make sure we keep you around. Seriously, you don’t have to wear... that.” You rested your utensil on the edge of your lunch box.

“If you don’t like it, I can change. I don’t mind either way.”

“No! - no it’s not that, I just thought,” he trailed off, leaning away from you now. You usually didn’t see him so impassioned. Or uncomfortable. Desperate to fix the situation you offered your lunch to him,

“Would you like a bite?” You held out your chopsticks, the sharp look of surprise on his face making you wish you didn’t. This was just getting worse. This look was something completely different and unknown, he seemed almost- flustered? You felt the heat rise to your face. With you leaned over your skirt had ridden up further, exposing the bulk of your thighs. You watched as he looked down at the food, catching sight of your thighs, and eyes widening. You blushed, pulling the skirt in vain as the fabric remained taut and unchanged. You gave up, accepting it for what it is. To your surprised he leaned over and took the bite you offered.

The rest of your lunch was eaten in silence, and when it was time for you to wrap up he lead you carefully along the stone path back to your office. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, there was no additional reports to submit so you spent it on some housekeeping. Organizing the space, tidying up lose ends. By the end of the day, you propped yourself up on the edge of the table and took of your shoes, feet throbbing. This new uniform might take some getting use to. The warm orange glow of the sunset cast a loving light on the room and garden in front of you. You enjoyed the peace while you could. You straightened when you heard the door slide open, Benimaru stepping in. He took pleasure seeing you wrapped up in the golden light, propped up against the table. He stepped forward.

“You’re free to leave,” he stated. He tilted his head when he noticed your shoes on there floor, your feet dangling free.

“I’m a little sore,” you explained, shifting to slide off the table. Before you could finish the movement you were cut off by his large body in front of yours, towering over you. You froze in place.

“For all you work you shouldn’t have to walk home in pain,”

“Its really no problem, I’m sure I’ll get used to it,” you smiled, already aware that the young master wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Still you were startled when he dropped to his knees, taking one of your feet in his hands and beginning to rub deep circles into your arch. Once again you stiffened. Before melting completely on the table, slouching and reaching your foot out more for his ease. After the day you had you weren’t going to complain. He repeated the process on your other foot, and then began worked on your calves. Rubbing the muscle and relaxing the tense tissue into something more malleable. You laid back on the table, closing your eyes. Maybe this uniform wasn’t so bad.

He rubbed his hands over your meaty thighs, giving a test squeeze and enjoying the way his fingers dipped into the soft flesh. He was thankful you were on your back to avoid so you didn’t see the excited gleam in his eye. He stood up, settling himself between your legs. His hands ventured up from the sides of your legs to the side of your stomach, pressing in and massaging circles on your stomach with his thumbs. You shuddering, and without much thought you felt yourself get hard. You arched off the table when one of his hands pressed against the small of your back, the buttons on your shirt straining to hold. You couldn’t resist hooking your calves around the back of his legs, pulling him closer and slowly shifting against him. To your pleasure you felt him beginning to grow excited as well, a breathless gasp escaping his lips. Embolden you pulled him in tighter, pressing your erections together firmly as you rocked against him. Bravely you reached out, running a hand over his clothed abs and feeling the muscle definition underneath it.

He hooked his arm under your back and pulled you upright, reaching his free hand under your skirt and playing with your cock through the thin almost sheer like boxers underneath. Your fingers dug into his back, unable to avoid gasping and a small moan spilling out. Your legs tightened around him, hiking your skirt up more and allowing him to slip your cock out of your boxer briefs. He wrapped his other arm around you fully, supporting you and keeping you from wriggling.

Your threaded your fingers in his hair, dipping him down for a kiss. You felt his breath on your cheek, hot and needy, intoxicatingly so. Reluctantly you separate your mouth from his, pressing your foreheads together and fumbling to get your hand in his pants, a deep hunger settling over you. Too hazed to figure it out you made a noise of displeasure,

“Help,” you pleaded.

You felt him let out a hushed, amused laugh. He let go of you for the first time since his entering the room, slipping his thick penis out of his pants. Embarrassingly, you felt your mouth water, feeling the weight of it in your hands and the soft skin. He nestled back between your legs, feeling at home between them despite being a new sensation all together. The two of you felt each other, stroking in unison and nuzzling into the crook of the others neck. A comforting warmth settled over you, feeling his dick throbbing in your hand and his grip on you tightening as he came on your thighs. Not long after you came into his hand, moaning and body jerking to life under his guidance. The two of you stayed, stilled and holding onto one another for a lengthy amount of time. When you finally let go, you heard a groggy, gravelly voice speak up,

“Sorry about the mess,” he gestured to your thighs.

“Oh, uh, don’t wor-“ you choked on the last word as he returned to his knees, licking the cum off the insides of your thighs. You let out a pathetic whine, overstimulated and your half hard cock twitching with interest. You allowed him to lap up his mess before pushing him back, flushed, “I don’t think I can take anymore,” you admitted. He nodded, a softness in his eyes. On wobbly legs you hopped down, this time there was no heels to blame. You really didn’t want to shove your aching feet back into that tight shoe, even after the massage. Sensing your hesitation, Benimaru picked up your shoes.

“I’ll take you home. Or, you could spend the night in the station. With me.”

The idea of not having to leave sounded enticing, and after considering it you gave a nod,

“I think I will,” you lifted your legs and he scooped you up, taking a lesser travelled path to his small captains room, and setting you down in the entry way. It wasn’t decorated beyond what was needed. Dark blue sheets and bedspread, a dresser, just the essentials. Still it looked inviting and you found yourself curled up in his bed before you realized what was happening. You made a mental note to expand your work wardrobe.

[mjsdiana]

𝙷𝚒𝚍𝚎 & 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚔

1988

Neverland Ranch

Word Count: 7.5k

𖧷 Fem!Reader, Pregnancy 𖧷

The house was alive, practically humming with the sound of laughter. It echoed off the vaulted ceilings and danced through the hallways, filling every corner with the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that comes only from shared moments of true happiness. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm, golden glow that wrapped around the family like a comforting blanket. The living room, strewn with toys, books, and the scattered remnants of a day well spent, had the kind of coziness that only comes from years of love and memories.

Your children’s laughter—high-pitched and uncontrollable—was the loudest. It filled the space like music, those small giggles and breathless squeals that made your heart swell. They were rolling around on the thick, plush carpet, their little bodies wriggling and kicking, hands clutching at their bellies as they tried to catch their breath, but failed miserably because Michael—of course—wasn’t letting up.

Your son, with his bright, wide eyes and face flushed pink from laughing so hard, was trying his best to keep up with his older sister, who had long since surrendered to her giggles. She was sprawled out on the floor, curls in a wild halo around her head, legs kicking in the air as she squealed, “Daddy, stop!” in between gasps.

Michael, ever the jokester, stood tall in the center of the room, towering over the chaos he’d created, and the grin plastered on his face was one of triumph. After ten years together—five of them married—you thought you knew every side of him. But there he was, effortlessly slipping into a spot-on Mickey Mouse impression that had you—and the kids—crying with laughter.

“Daddy, stop!” your daughter hollered again, her tiny hands still gripping her belly. “My tummy hurts!” she gasped, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of giggles overtook her.

But Michael was in his element. With that grin of his, he leaned into another Mickey impression, his voice rising to that perfect high-pitched falsetto that you never could’ve guessed he could pull off so well. You were doubled over, breathless from laughing, the sight of him—your husband, the man you adored—playing the role of Mickey Mouse with such dedication, making you laugh harder than you had in ages. His playfulness had always been one of the many things that made you fall for him, but even now, it surprised you just how much joy he could bring with such simple, silly moments.

“Just one more!” Michael declared, mischief sparkling in his eyes as he strutted over to the piano in the corner of the room. With a flourish, he grabbed a pair of Mickey ears from the top of it—who knew how long he’d been hiding those—and perched them proudly on his head. The sight of him, standing there with his boyish grin, Mickey ears slightly crooked, looking absolutely ridiculous, was almost too much to bear.

“No, Michael!” you wheezed, trying to get a hold of yourself, but still laughing despite your protests. Your sides ached from it, and your cheeks were hot and sore, stretched from grinning too wide. “That’s enough, baby. I can’t… I can’t anymore!” You stumbled forward, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

Michael pouted, sticking his bottom lip out like a little kid, his eyes wide with faux innocence. “Aww, why not?” he teased, his voice still tinged with the faintest hint of Mickey Mouse, knowing full well what he was doing to you.

You shook your head, gasping for air. “Because my stomach, Michael! I can’t keep laughing like this!” Despite yourself, you broke into another fit of giggles, your words barely escaping between breaths.

Michael, unable to hold back his own laughter anymore, snickered, his shoulders shaking as he finally relented. His deep, hearty laugh filled the room, blending with the softer giggles of the kids, and for a few long moments, the only thing that existed was the sound of your family, wrapped in this bubble of shared joy.

Eventually, the laughter settled down, leaving the room in a warm, glowing silence. You wiped a tear from your eye, your breath finally evening out. Michael pulled the Mickey ears off and tossed them back onto the piano, then sauntered over to where the kids had collapsed in a happy heap on the floor. Your daughter reached out, grabbing your hand with a soft tug, her big brown eyes—Michael’s eyes—looking up at you with that innocent, playful glint. She pulled you down, insisting you join them on the floor.

You sat down next to Michael, your back leaning against the couch as you let out a contented sigh. Your head naturally found its place on his shoulder, the familiar weight of him grounding you as you snuggled closer. His arm looped around you instinctively, pulling you into the warmth of his side. The kids were still sprawled out, your son’s arm draped across his sister’s stomach as they lay on the carpet, both of them worn out from laughing.

Michael looked down at them, his voice soft and full of affection. “So,” he said, “anything you two want to do today?”

Your son, always the first to speak up, immediately perked up. “Can we go swimming?” he asked, his voice full of hope, eyes wide as he stared at you both, waiting for the answer he wanted.

Michael chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, buddy. The pool needs to be cleaned. But we’ll go soon, I promise.”

Before your son could protest, your daughter sat up, her curls bouncing as she looked between you and Michael with that determined glimmer in her eyes. “What about hide and seek?” she asked, her voice rising in excitement at the prospect.

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “In the house?” you teased, raising a brow. “It’s way too crowded in here for that, baby.”

But she wasn’t deterred. She shook her head furiously, her loose curls swaying with the motion. “No, Mommy, outside!” she said, her big brown eyes locking onto yours, knowing full well that neither you nor Michael could say no to that face.

You glanced at Michael, catching that familiar playful shrug he always gave you when he was about to go along with something mischievous. His grin, subtle yet full of warmth, seemed to ask, Why not? There was something so easy about moments like this with him. The afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long, golden beams of light that filtered through the trees, wrapping the backyard in a soft glow. The thought of playing hide and seek in that serene light, with the laughter of your little family filling the air, felt perfect. It was one of those simple pleasures—nothing extravagant, just you, him, and the kids, lost in the joy of being together.

“Alright,” you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you watched your daughter’s eyes light up with pure excitement. “Hide and seek outside it is.”

In an instant, the kids’ faces lit up, their smiles as bright as the sun that bathed the room in warmth. Without another word, they were off, their little legs moving as fast as they could, racing each other toward the door. Their giggles, like wind chimes in a breeze, echoed through the room, filling the air with their boundless energy.

Michael, watching them with that familiar mix of amusement and fatherly responsibility, shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. But then, his expression shifted—still soft but more authoritative as his ‘dad mode’ switched on.

“Hey, wait a minute now!” he called out, his voice firm but gentle as he stood up, his broad frame moving toward the front entrance with that easy, confident stride. The subtle shift in his tone was unmistakable—this was the side of Michael that always made you smile. The way he could balance being playful and responsible, loving yet firm. “Go change your shoes first, then we can go outside,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at them with that no-nonsense look only he could pull off.

The kids skidded to a stop at the base of the staircase, turning back to face him with wide eyes. “Okay, Daddy!” they chorused in unison before scampering up the stairs, their giggles trailing behind them as they hurried to their rooms.

Michael stood by the door, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching them go with an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him—the way he fit so seamlessly into this role of loving father, protector, and partner. His presence was solid and steady, like an anchor for your family.

You stood up, crossing the room to where he was, and without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his, leaning into him. His warmth immediately enveloped you, the familiar scent of him—clean, earthy, comforting—instantly soothing. You rested your head briefly against his arm, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing as you looked up at him.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing, “you’re pretty cute when you go into ‘dad mode.’”

Michael’s lips curved into that easy smile that always made your heart flutter. His eyes, warm and full of affection, found yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a heartbeat longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I just don’t want them dragging dirt into the house,” he said with a chuckle, his voice dropping into that familiar, gentle tone he used when explaining things. “The staff already do enough cleaning around here.”

You smiled at that, knowing how much he cared about the little details, the way he always thought about others—even in moments like this. “I know, baby. You’re right,” you agreed, your voice soft as you leaned into him a little more, feeling his warmth, his strength.

But then, a flicker of something crossed your mind, a small seed of worry that had been sitting quietly at the back of your thoughts. You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before speaking up. “Also… I need to talk to you about something later,” you said, your tone a little more serious now, your eyes searching his for reassurance.

Michael’s smile faded ever so slightly, his brow furrowing just a bit as he caught the shift in your mood. He turned toward you fully now, his hand resting lightly on your hip, his gaze focused on yours. “Is it bad?” he asked quietly, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

You shook your head quickly, your heart fluttering slightly at his worry. “No, no, nothing like that,” you assured him, though the slight nervousness in your voice lingered. “At least, I hope you don’t think so.” You looked up at him, trying to offer a reassuring smile, though the weight of whatever you needed to talk about was still pressing lightly against your chest.

Michael studied you for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours with that quiet intensity of his, as if trying to read your thoughts. But before he could press further, the sound of your kids’ excited footsteps thundered down the stairs, breaking the quiet moment.

“Ready!” your son shouted triumphantly as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his little face glowing with excitement. His smile—wide and infectious—was a mirror image of Michael’s, and the sight of it instantly lightened the mood. You watched as your daughter came bouncing down right behind him, her curls bouncing wildly as she giggled.

Michael’s smile softened as he took in the sight of your kids, their joy so pure and uncontainable it seemed to spill over into everything around them. His eyes flickered back to you, warmth radiating in the shared understanding between you both. Whatever was on your mind, whatever conversation loomed, could wait for another moment. Right now, there was laughter in the air, sunlight on your skin, and a game waiting to be played.

He walked over to the front door, turning the key in the lock with a smooth twist of his wrist. The door creaked open, releasing the kids into the glowing late afternoon, and they were off, practically bouncing down each bricked step with the kind of energy only children possess. Their laughter trailed behind them, filling the warm breeze with a melody that made you smile without even thinking.

Michael’s hand found yours, his grip firm yet gentle as he led you outside. The sun was starting its slow descent, casting everything in a golden, almost magical hue. You felt the warmth of his touch seep into you, grounding you in the moment as the two of you followed the kids down the front steps toward the waiting golf cart. The scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the distant sweetness of blooming flowers from the garden up ahead, and everything felt so peaceful.

Letting go of your hand, Michael reached down and scooped your daughter up with ease, her little arms immediately wrapping around his neck as she giggled. He hoisted her onto his hip, walking toward the golf cart as she clung to him, her curls bouncing with every step. You couldn’t help but smile at how naturally fatherhood fit him, how easily he made moments like this feel special, even when they were simple.

You followed suit, bending down to pick up your son. His small arms wrapped around you tightly, his giggles vibrating against your chest as you held him close. The weight of him in your arms was familiar, comforting. As you made your way to the golf cart, your heart felt full—full of these little moments that seemed so small but meant everything.

Once you settled into the cart, your son perched on your lap, you watched as Michael gently placed your daughter on his. His arms wrapped protectively around her small frame as he reached for the steering wheel, starting the cart with a quiet hum. The breeze stirred around you as the cart began to move, a soft rustle through the trees, the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle filling the air as you made your way toward the garden.

The path leading to the open field was lined with blooming flowers, their vibrant colors a stark contrast against the soft greens of the grass. In the distance, the garden opened up into a sprawling field dotted with trees, hedges, and a few statues—perfect hiding spots for an eager game of hide-and-seek. The light filtering through the leaves made everything look like it was touched by magic, golden and alive.

Michael slowed the cart, steering it off the path and parking it on the edge of the field. The moment the cart came to a stop, the kids jumped off your laps, their excitement palpable as they sprinted across the soft grass, their laughter filling the space like music.

“They’re eager to play today, aren’t they?” Michael mused, his voice low and amused as he watched them dart around, their legs moving faster than they could probably handle.

You nodded, leaning back in the seat for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun wash over you. “They’ve been cooped up inside for the last week,” you reminded him softly, turning your head to meet his gaze. “It’s hard when you’re away on tour.” Your voice trailed off just a little, the weight of those words lingering in the air between you, though there was no accusation there—just a truth you both lived with.

Michael chuckled, the sound deep and reassuring as he shifted in his seat, his eyes still following the kids as they zig-zagged through the field. “Just know,” he said, glancing back at you with a small smile tugging at his lips, “you’re all coming with me next time.” There was a quiet promise in his voice, one that settled any lingering worries.

He stepped out of the cart and made his way to your side, offering his hand as he helped you out. The contact sent a familiar warmth through you, his palm steady against yours as he pulled you up, his fingers intertwining with yours as you both made your way across the field, hand in hand. The kids were up ahead, their little bodies a blur of motion as they chased each other, already caught up in their own game before the official hide-and-seek had even begun.

You smiled, your heart light as you called out to them, “Alright, who’s counting?”

They skidded to a stop, turning to look at you and Michael with wide, expectant eyes. Your daughter, always the first to speak up, shouted, “We want to hide!” Her voice was bright and eager, her curls bouncing with every nod of her head. Your son quickly echoed her, his big brown eyes pleading with you both, already anticipating the fun.

You exchanged a glance with Michael, the two of you silently sharing the same thought: These two were expert hiders. This was going to be a challenge.

“Alright,” you conceded, laughing softly as their faces lit up with excitement. “Go hide. Me and Daddy will count.”

Without another word, they were off, their little legs carrying them deeper into the field, disappearing behind the tall hedges and trees as they searched for the perfect hiding spots.

“Don’t go too far!” Michael called after them, his voice carrying through the warm breeze, though the kids were already too caught up in their game to respond.

You both turned your backs, facing away from the field as you prepared to count. Michael’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close to him as his body pressed gently against yours. His touch was firm yet tender, grounding you in the moment as his warmth enveloped you. The two of you began to count together, your voices low and soft, blending seamlessly with the rustling leaves and the distant sound of your children’s laughter.

“One… two… three…” you both whispered, the world around you slipping into a quiet hum, as if even the trees and wind paused to listen to your soft counting. The air was warm, a soft breeze brushing against your skin, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers and earth. With each number you spoke, the closeness between you and Michael seemed to tighten, his presence unmistakably warm and grounding against you.

At “ten,” you felt his grip on your waist shift, just slightly, but enough to send a ripple of awareness through you. His hand, firm yet gentle, held you close, the subtle tightening of his fingers against your side making you acutely aware of the playful intimacy hanging between you. His breath fanned softly against your ear, a quiet warmth that stirred something deep inside, despite the innocent nature of the moment. Even in the middle of counting, surrounded by the vast, open field, it felt like it was just the two of you, cocooned in this brief, stolen moment of closeness.

“Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty,” you both finished in perfect unison. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. Michael’s arm lingered around you, his hold neither demanding nor rushed—just a steady, comforting presence. You could feel his chest rise and fall in sync with yours, the solid warmth of him grounding you in the here and now, while your heart fluttered with the quiet tension between you.

Then, as if the world resumed, you both broke away, the game back in focus. With a quick shared glance, you both darted off into the field, splitting in opposite directions as you began your search. The field, with its tall hedges, trees, and statues scattered throughout, felt like a small labyrinth. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting playful shadows on the ground, as you moved quickly, eyes scanning for any sign of your mischievous children.

You darted behind a large oak tree, peeking around its thick trunk, expecting to see little feet or hear stifled giggles—but nothing. The kids were good, too good, their tiny frames nowhere to be found. You bent low, checking under bushes and peering behind the elaborate stone statues that dotted the garden, but still, no sign of them. The field was silent except for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of insects. The quiet was almost eerie, given how noisy the kids had been just moments ago.

As you made your way deeper into the garden, you spotted Michael approaching from the opposite side. His broad shoulders moved with ease as he navigated between the trees, his expression a mix of amusement and mock frustration. He let out a long, exaggerated sigh as he reached you, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “They’re too damn good,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a soft drawl, a hint of his Southern roots peeking through in his frustration.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his tone, your heart swelling with affection for the man standing before you. “Well, they get it from their own daddy,” you teased, poking a finger playfully at his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. The corners of your lips curled into a smirk as you watched his expression shift, his eyes darkening just a little, amusement giving way to something else entirely.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a second, the playful game of hide-and-seek took a backseat. Michael’s smirk grew into something more mischievous, his eyes glinting with that familiar look of challenge. “Keep going and see what happens,” he teased back, his voice dropping to a hushed, intimate tone, just low enough that only you could hear. There was a warning in his words, but one laced with the promise of something thrilling. His lips curved into a soft, knowing smile, one that sent a small shiver down your spine despite the warmth of the afternoon.

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, but you didn’t back down. Instead, you leaned in closer, closing the small distance between you, your heart beating just a little faster. “I’d like that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The space between you seemed to shrink as your lips brushed against his, teasingly light. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as Michael leaned in, his hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction closer.

He captured your lips in a soft, fleeting kiss, just enough to spark that familiar heat beneath the surface, yet he held back, aware of the playful eyes that might be peeking from their hiding spots. The kiss, though brief, carried with it the weight of affection, but there was something more just beneath it—an undercurrent of deeper emotions, unspoken words hanging in the air between you. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a reminder of the connection that thrummed constantly between the two of you, an acknowledgment of all that was shared and all that still remained to be said.

As he pulled back, his forehead came to rest gently against yours, and for a second, the world narrowed down to the warmth of his breath fanning across your skin and the steady beat of your heart. His hand lingered at your waist, his touch firm and comforting, grounding you in the moment.

“Let’s go find those two, come on,” he whispered softly, his voice threaded with playfulness, but his eyes told you he was still lingering in the moment, a sparkle of affection shining in their depths. He stepped back, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, breaking the spell between you just as the faint laughter of your children drifted on the breeze.

You smiled back, the warmth of his presence still lingering on your skin as you both turned toward the field. The soft rustle of leaves overhead seemed to carry their distant giggles, hinting at where they might be hiding.

“You heard them, right?” you asked, your voice quiet but filled with amusement as you listened for another sound from your children.

Michael nodded, his expression shifting from soft to mischievous in a heartbeat. Without warning, he bolted forward, his long legs carrying him across the open field with ease, the wind catching his dark curls and sending them bouncing as he ran. “Baby, come on!” he called back, his voice light with laughter as he moved, the excitement of the game overtaking him.

You took off after him, though with a little more caution. You couldn’t push yourself too hard—not with the news that had been stirring inside you, news that would soon change everything for your little family. You watched as Michael darted through the field, his body moving with an ease and energy that seemed boundless.

Ahead, Michael stopped at a tree—his tree. The Giving Tree, as you both affectionately called it. It had been his favorite ever since you moved here, a towering oak with thick, low-hanging branches perfect for climbing. You caught up to him, slightly out of breath but still smiling, your eyes following his as they scanned the branches.

And there they were—two small pairs of feet, dangling from a perch high up in the tree, their giggles barely contained.

Michael held up a finger to his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief as he motioned for you to stay quiet. You watched as he moved with the same quiet grace he always had, climbing up the tree steps without so much as a sound. His movements were careful but quick, his body fluid as he approached the spot where your children sat, completely unaware of their father sneaking up on them.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. Even in something as simple as this, he was so present, so involved. Then, just as he reached the perch, he leaned in close and whispered, “Boo.”

The response was instant—a chorus of shrieks and giggles as your daughter and son jumped in surprise, their faces lighting up with laughter. “Daddy found us!” your daughter cheered, her voice bright with joy, her laughter echoing through the garden.

Michael chuckled, his smile wide as he gave them a mock-serious nod. “I did, didn’t I? Now, come on down, and be careful—I don’t want anyone falling,” he said, already climbing back down the steps, his feet hitting the ground lightly as he came to stand beside you.

Your son hopped down first, running straight to you and wrapping his little arms around your waist. You bent down to hug him, his small body warm against yours as he nestled close, his excitement still buzzing through him.

Your daughter, though, wasn’t quite as lucky. As she began to descend, her foot missed a step, and before you could react, she slipped. You gasped as her knee scraped against the rough bark, her body tumbling down a few feet before landing on the ground with a painful thud.

“Shit!” Michael shouted, his voice filled with sudden alarm as he rushed to her side. Her cry pierced the air, loud and filled with pain, her small hands clutching at her knee as blood began to trickle from the scrape.

You and your son quickly followed, your heart pounding in your chest as you knelt beside her. Michael was already there, his face a mix of concern and tenderness as he scooped her up into his arms. Her tiny hands clung to his red sweater, her face buried in his chest as her sobs wracked her little body.

“Let’s go inside,” Michael said, his voice a mix of firmness and tenderness, every ounce of his focus locked on your daughter. His arms scooped her up gently but securely, her tiny legs immediately wrapping around his waist as if it were the safest place in the world. She pressed her tear-streaked face into his chest, the dampness from her sobs seeping into his shirt. The sight tugged deeply at your heart, each tear she shed pulling at you, knowing how much she trusted her father’s embrace to make it all better.

You followed close behind, the weight of your son still clinging to you, his little arms fastened tightly around your waist as though he needed reassurance too. You carefully lifted him into your lap as you settled into the golf cart, his head resting against your shoulder. Michael climbed in beside you, your daughter nestled against him, her body tucked into his chest like a bird seeking shelter in a storm. His hand instinctively began to rub soothing circles on her back, his touch gentle yet full of purpose, trying to ease the pain he couldn’t fully take away.

Tears continued to stream down her flushed cheeks, her face buried in Michael’s chest as she whimpered, “It hurts, Daddy.” Her voice, so small and fragile, quivered with the weight of her pain, each word a dagger to your heart.

“I know, babygirl,” Michael whispered, his voice low and calming, like a balm over an open wound. His free hand continued its tender path along her back, his thumb tracing slow, comforting patterns over her trembling shoulders. The lines of worry etched across his face were unmistakable, yet beneath them lay a quiet strength. It was the kind of strength that said, no matter how bad it hurt, he would make sure she was alright.

As the golf cart hummed quietly down the dirt path toward the house, the sound of the engine blending with the rustle of wind through the trees, the atmosphere shifted. The wide, open field that had once been alive with laughter and sunlight now felt heavy, weighed down by the sorrow of your daughter’s tears. Yet, even in this quiet sorrow, there was an unmistakable calm in the way Michael held her, as if his presence alone could absorb her pain.

When Michael finally parked the cart near the house, he wasted no time. In one fluid motion, he turned off the engine, swiftly climbing out with your daughter still secure in his arms. His long strides carried him up the brick steps, the door creaking open as he hurried inside. He knelt, slipping her shoes off with careful hands, before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you and your son at the entrance.

You lifted your son onto your hip, his little body still clinging to you as though the world outside had unsettled him too. His small fingers dug into your shirt as you ascended the steps, each creak of the wooden boards beneath your feet echoing in the quiet. Once inside, you carefully locked the door behind you and knelt to remove his shoes, placing them next to his sister’s in a neat little row.

“Mommy,” he said softly, his voice muffled as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Yes, baby?” you murmured, your hand smoothing over his soft curls as you made your way toward the stairs.

“Is sissy going to be okay?” His question was laced with worry, his eyes wide as he looked up at you.

You gave him a gentle nod, trying to reassure him. “She’ll be fine, sweetheart. Daddy’s taking care of her,” you said, offering a small smile as you carried him into his bedroom. The familiar scent of his favorite stuffed animals and the gentle light filtering through the curtains made the room feel like a sanctuary.

“You know Daddy always takes care of your boo-boos,” you whispered, helping him settle into bed.

He nodded, his eyes drooping with the weight of sleep. “He kisses to make it better,” he mumbled, his little voice full of trust.

You tucked him in, pulling the blanket snug around his tiny body. “That’s right, baby. Now get some rest. Sissy will be here soon.”

“Okay, Mommy,” he murmured softly, already clutching his plush dinosaur to his chest. You stayed for a moment longer, watching as sleep claimed him, a soft smile playing on his lips. The sound of his light snores filled the room as you stood up, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before quietly slipping out, leaving the door open just a crack.

As you descended the stairs, your fingers grazed the smooth wooden railing, the weight of the evening settling over you. The house felt still, quiet except for the distant murmur of Michael’s voice from down the hallway. You followed the sound, your footsteps light as you approached your bedroom, the double wooden doors open wide, a soft light spilling out from the en suite bathroom.

Inside, you found Michael crouched beside the tub, your daughter seated on the counter as he carefully cleaned her scraped knee. Her cheeks were still streaked with tears, though they’d slowed, her small hands occasionally brushing them away. Michael’s face was focused, the tension in his jaw giving away the concern he tried so hard to mask.

“He’s asleep,” you said softly, leaning against the bathroom doorframe as you watched them.

Michael glanced up at you, nodding briefly before turning his attention back to your daughter. “There’s something you wanted to tell Mommy, right?” he asked gently, his voice full of encouragement.

Your daughter’s eyes flickered between you and Michael, her expression a mix of worry and hesitation.

“Go on, baby, tell her,” Michael urged softly, reaching into the first-aid kit and pulling out a pink bandage dotted with tiny hearts.

Her voice was small as she finally spoke. “Mommy, can I…?” She trailed off, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

Michael chuckled softly, his deep voice a soothing sound that filled the room. “She wants your stuffed monkey that looks like Bubbles.”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “You want it?” you asked, your voice light.

She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up despite the tears.

Without a second thought, you crossed the room, your steps soft against the hardwood floor as you reached the bed. The plush monkey lay in a crumpled heap near the pillows, its worn fabric familiar to your touch as you picked it up. You turned it over in your hands for a moment, your fingers tracing the stitching of its little limbs, a fond smile tugging at your lips. You returned to the bathroom, where the air was thick with the faint scent of lavender soap and the warmth of steam from the bath Michael had drawn earlier.

You knelt down beside her, handing her the monkey with a gentle kiss on her tear-streaked cheek. Her curls, damp from the remnants of tears and sweat, were soft as your fingers combed through them, smoothing them with the same care you gave her when she was just a baby. “Take good care of it for me, okay? Daddy gave it to me for our anniversary.”

Her entire face lit up, a smile so wide that it seemed to erase all traces of her earlier pain. Her arms wrapped tightly around the stuffed animal, her little fingers gripping it like a lifeline. “I will!” she beamed, the pure joy in her voice tugging at your heartstrings.

Michael stood beside her, his tall frame radiating a protective energy that you had come to depend on over the years. He smiled softly, his eyes filled with pride and tenderness as he watched his daughter’s mood shift. With a touch as light as a whisper, he wiped away the last tear that clung to her cheek with the pad of his thumb, his calloused hand moving with surprising gentleness. “What do you say to Mommy, babygirl?” His voice was low, soothing, almost musical in its cadence.

“Thank you, Mommy.” Her small voice held a sweetness that made your chest tighten with love, her little arms reaching out toward you with the kind of trust only a child could give.

You knelt again, your knees pressing into the cool tile, and pulled her into your embrace. The warmth of her small body against yours filled you with a sense of peace, grounding you in the moment. You pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, breathing in the faint scent of baby shampoo still lingering in her curls. “You’re welcome, princess,” you whispered, your words a quiet promise.

Michael stood there, watching with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The dim light caught the edges of his face, casting soft shadows across his features, making him look almost ethereal in his calm. Though your daughter was his mirror image, every inch of her was laced with your spirit—the fiery, unyielding attitude that had gotten you both through so many hard times.

Michael’s voice broke the silence, his tone gentle yet firm as he cradled her close. “Ready for a nap?” His arms held her with the same protective strength he had always shown, though his touch was featherlight as if he feared breaking her fragile peace.

She nodded, rubbing her eyes with a tiny fist, her voice barely a whisper. “Me tired, Daddy.” The sleepiness in her voice was endearing, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way her words slurred together, her exhaustion overtaking her.

“I know, baby girl,” Michael murmured, his voice a soothing balm. He shifted her weight easily in his arms, holding her close as he handed her the plush monkey, its soft fabric cradled between her small hands. “You need your rest.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips warm and reassuring against your skin. There was a quiet understanding in that kiss, a promise of love and unity. With your daughter nestled securely against his chest, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, his footsteps barely audible as they echoed down the hallway, carrying her toward her room for her much-needed rest.

Alone for a moment, you glanced at the mirror, your reflection catching your eye. You pulled up the hem of your shirt, revealing the small, barely noticeable swell of your stomach—a tiny bump that marked the beginning of a new life, just over four months along. Your fingers instinctively brushed over the curve of your belly, marveling at the thought of another little soul growing inside of you, another precious addition to the family you and Michael had built together.

The sound of footsteps brought your attention back to the present, and you turned just in time to see Michael re-enter the bathroom. His head was lowered, his attention seemingly on his hands as he rubbed them together absently, but when he looked up, his eyes immediately met yours in the mirror. For a moment, everything else faded away—the soft light, the quiet hum of the house, the lingering scent of lavender—and it was just the two of you, connected by something deeper than words.

Michael’s gaze softened, the weight of his focus shifting from your eyes to the small curve of your belly. His lips curved into a slow, gentle smile as if the reality of what he was seeing was just sinking in, a quiet awe settling over his features. The subtle swell of your belly, barely visible but unmistakably there, seemed to captivate him, pulling him into a moment of reflection. His eyes shimmered with the kind of love that spoke volumes, the kind that made you feel seen, known, and deeply cherished.

“Baby…” he murmured, his voice hushed and filled with emotion as he crossed the room toward you. Each step was deliberate, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “When did…?”

The question hung in the air between you, unfinished yet fully understood. You smiled softly, turning slightly to meet his gaze in the mirror, your hand instinctively resting over your growing belly. “I was going to tell you soon,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with the emotion that came with finally sharing this secret. “But you’ve been so busy, and I wanted to wait until I saw you in person.”

Michael let out a breathless chuckle, the sound filled with disbelief and joy. His eyes fluttered, brimming with unshed tears as he struggled to keep his composure. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with wonder. He moved behind you, his warmth instantly enveloping you as his arms wrapped protectively around your waist. The weight of his presence grounded you, his chest pressing gently against your back, and for a moment, everything else melted away. It was just the two of you, standing in this intimate, quiet moment, the future unspooling before you.

You nodded, leaning into his embrace, your heart swelling as his strong hands gently caressed the small curve of your belly. “Yes,” you whispered, the word filled with all the emotion you’d been holding inside. “I wanted to tell all of you, but especially you.”

Michael’s hands stilled for a moment, and his brows furrowed slightly as he processed your words. “Wait, I thought you were…” He trailed off, his voice filled with confusion and hope.

You shook your head softly, your gaze meeting his in the mirror, the reflection of your shared happiness glowing back at you. “I stopped taking it,” you confessed, your voice filled with a quiet certainty. “Especially when you said you’d be back for a few weeks.”

His reaction was immediate—he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, a gesture so tender that it made your breath catch. “We’re really going to have a big family, aren’t we?” he murmured, the awe and excitement palpable in his voice.

You smiled, a playful glint in your eyes as you turned your head slightly to look back at him. “We’re stopping at five, though,” you teased, your tone light but filled with affection.

Michael chuckled, the sound deep and rich, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms tightened around you protectively. “Fine with me, baby,” he replied, his voice low and intimate, his breath warm against your ear. “The more kids we have, the more touring I’d have to do—and you know I hate being away.” His hand, still resting on your belly, moved in slow, soothing circles, as if the simple act of touching you connected him even more deeply to the new life growing within you.

You turned your head fully now, your lips just inches from his as you gazed into his eyes. “I know, baby,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and love. “But at least I know I have you and the kids. That’s all I’ll ever need.” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, the connection between you as strong as ever, built on years of love, trust, and shared experiences.

Michael’s eyes darkened slightly, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you as he closed the small distance between your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion.

“I love you more,” you whispered back, the words tumbling from your lips with ease, like a vow you’d spoken a thousand times but meant just as deeply every time.

The kiss that followed was deep, slow, and filled with the kind of love that transcended the moment. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that was both familiar and electrifying, his hands still cradling your belly as if to hold not just you, but the future you were building together. The kiss spoke of years of devotion, of the kind of bond that only grew stronger with time and trials, the kind of love that wrapped around you like a warm embrace on a cold day.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting gently against yours as you shared a quiet, intimate moment. His breath was warm on your skin, and you could feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he regained his composure.

“Shower?” he asked softly, his voice filled with the same tenderness that had threaded through the entire conversation. His hand rested on your belly, the warmth of his palm a constant reminder of the life growing within you, of the family that was expanding beyond your wildest dreams.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but filled with a deep, contented love.

Michael kissed you once more, his lips lingering on yours as his hand continued to gently caress your belly. In that moment, with the promise of a bigger family and the love you shared, everything felt like it was exactly where it was meant to be.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA PART 5

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, sort of DD/LG dynamic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, injury, drugging

She/her pronouns for Reader

---

You clap out of the morphine night of your slumber to hear Will Graham's voice, low and, hoarse at the other end of the room.

"What happened?"

He stands, flushed from the outdoors, the tip of his soft nose pinkly cherubine, staring at you with the uncertainty of his having not yet slipped into the role he always assumes in this house.

Will is vulnerable, in such moments, suspended between the reclusive criminal profiler known to the public, and the often cruel, sensitive, complex creature shown to you, a character in continuous change.

He glances to Hannibal for reassurance, an answer, perhaps, permission to enter this space with him. There cannot be fire without the flint to strike it, after all.

"Dr Lecter," says Will, sharply, with a ridiculous formality, for the intimacies they have shared in your body. "What happened? Her leg is in a cast."

"Indeed it is," says Hannibal, congenially. "I put it there myself. As for what occurred to produce such an injury— it is only fitting that our errant charge tells you herself."

The doctor swills a glass of some dark liquid, and glances pointedly towards the boarded window. Will turns, unthreading his scarf from his neck; the pallidity of his white throat compells you with the ease of which you might cut it, were you not weak, had you kept a shard of glass from your escape.

His face stills, mouth drawn tight as he examines the planks over the shattered window, rather spoiling the aesthetic of the room. Will's eyes—large, glossy with alarm—harden as they return to you.

There is a pause held between the three of you, the reverence of cathedral quiet.

Your blood pounds in your temples, and every instinct has you craving the darkness of hidden corners where the hands of neither man can find you.

Hannibal says, "I will prepare dinner. The two of you may discuss this alone."

"No!" you say, quickly, and realise that Will has uttered the same word in blackly comical tandem: you, with a loathing to be boarded with the dog that bites, and Will in alarm at being left to rely on his own judgement, which he little trusts at the best of times.

"Our ward must foster an individual relationship with each of her guardians," says Hannibal, resolutely. "I will return presently. I trust that you will get along without me."

He retreats into the kitchen with a smile at his lips, all easy satisfaction.

You and Will look at each other, his gaze crawling down your body with the quickening venom of disappointment.

You are trapped by the weight on your leg, the shackling pain; you cannot flee this room, can do nothing but lie half-upright against the cushions, thinking of Will's dream, the wind-surge of leaves, and blood in the rain.

"The window," says Will, at length. "You broke it. You tried to leave. Don't bother denying it; the guilt is all over you."

You don't reply, beholding the cosmic uselessness of it.

"Dr Lecter chose not to give you your medication this morning," Will continues, with a tone of rising accusation. "You went out of your way to spit in his face by damaging his property and abandoning your treatment. Abandoning us. My question is, why now?"

The question comes with a suddeness you cannot easily respond to.

"This isn't the first time you've been unmedicated, alone in the house," says Will, jumping at your silence. "So why today?"

"You scare me," you admit. "Both of you. I'm scared of how far you're going to take all this."

Will scoffs, his soft looks soured with derision.

"That's nothing new. But you had a pretty good idea of what would happen if you were caught. What made you think you'd ever get away?"

His eyes are Byzantine stone in the low light, catching the lamp in such a way that their colour is magnified, unbearable in its focus.

"I... I didn't," you falter. "But I had to try. Because..."

Will's arched brows, scathing, provoke a rush of honesty.

"Because I don't want to get better," you say. "I never wanted to go to therapy; my family made me. I don't want help. And I don't want you."

You anticipate anger, but the smiling coldness with which the younger of your captors replies curdles your very blood.

"I don't think you're telling the truth. Not anymore."

Swallowing, you glance away, your eyes rooted to the broken window, the nails like malignantly winking eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Will."

"Don't pretend you don't remember whose bed you climb into when you have nightmares," he says, coolly. "Who you crawl to, begging for reassurance when one of your sessions with Dr Lecter gets too much for you. You could disengage entirely from all of this, if you wanted to, but you don't. You're responding."

A smugness rounds Will's words, a confidence unusual to him. You wonder how much of it is him carrying out his role and how much is really him, the man that murders in sweet slumber.

"At this point, you need us," he continues, "and you know you do. I'm stunned that you'd insult us by even entertaining the notion that you'd last even a day out there alone before skulking back, like a dog hit by a car."

"I could make it," you mutter, petulantly. "I'm not a baby."

Will laughs aloud, a short, unhumorous sound.

"At this point, you might as well be. You're so sick that you can't be trusted for two hours alone. We know you broke the rules, the other night. Foolishly decided to be lenient. Clearly, that can't happen again."

To your dismay, you find yourself hanging your head, chastised.

"If we let you leave, what do you think would happen?" asks Will, relentless in his path to grind you down. "I'm curious. Did you really strike out without any plan at all, or did you intend to starve yourself to a marty's death just to prove a point?"

"I'm a human being," you protest. "An adult. I deserve my freedom."

"You can't be trusted with it."

"It's my choice to make. Mine."

You're almost shouting, ashamed of so loud a voice in a house that seems to be made only for respectful murmurs.

"You haven't been listening," says Will, sneeringly. "You don't get to decide that anymore. Not until you're well again."

His makes no attempt to conceal his lack of faith in this reality. It occurs to you that you should be insulted by such judgement from a madman, but you are hurt, deeply so.

"I guess you have nothing to say to me," says Will. "You're such a disappointment. And now I have to decide what to do with you."

A rod of fear flowers down your back, and you regret that you cannot run, cannot defend yourself in any way against him.

"I'll have to be careful," says Will, ponderously. "Wouldn't want to spoil Dr Lecter's impeccable handiwork."

"Will," you say. "Don't. I'm sorry."

Will's lips draw back from his teeth in disgust.

"You're sorry you were caught, is all."

He pauses, his hands in his pockets, thoughtful.

"You're sleeping in Hannibal's room from now on," he says, suddenly. "Privacy is a privilege you haven't earned."

Your bedroom had been a reprieve, a respected space in which it was understood you were to be left alone; there is no question as to where this change in arrangements will lead for you.

"But my leg," you protest. "I need my own bed."

"You can sleep on one of the chairs," he says, dismissively. "They're comfortable enough, though that's not my main priority right now."

Suddenly you're on the verge of despair, comprehending exactly to what end you have consigned yourself through your foiled venture.

"Why are you doing this?" you blurt out. "Why? To impress Dr Lecter? To make him happy?"

It's dangerous to interrogate the rules of the charade, yet you cannot prevent yourself, cannot exist here without treading deeper than the shallows of sex, and its hold on the three of you.

"Please answer me," you say, as Will tenses, the stillness that comes before a lapse in control. "You would never do something like this on your own. You... you try to be a good person, right? So why are you playing along? Is it like I said?"

Will is silent for so long that you regret having spoken.

"You're right," he says, at last. "At first, it was about Hannibal. I was curious how far he was willing to go with this; I wanted to understand him through you, even though what I saw and what I was doing made me uncomfortable. I was waiting for a revelation, like panning some dirty river for gold."

Will steps forward, closing the distance between you.

"The thing is," he says, "that what I found is that it's not just about Hannibal anymore."

You glance up at him in trepidation.

"So what it is about?"

"Family," says Will. "Blood has nothing to do with it. There's a bond, now, and responsibility, beyond the treatment."

Shocked, you say, "We're not a family."

Will lunges forwards, his flattened hand jolting you back against the couch.

"Careful. Thin ice doesn't even begin to cover your situation right now."

His touch, the magma of danger in his eyes; you stare into the trench of pupil and find the rational adult in you towed down into the deep.

"Daddy," you whimper, and you feel the quiver through him of want, of grudging affection even your running away has not made a meal of.

Will clenches his hand on your shoulder, staring at his knuckles as though astonished that he has the stomach to touch you.

"So now you're calling me that? Think I'll go easy on you?"

His face is so near to yours that you spin the same air into a flax that joins you together. His breath is odorless, yours rank with wine, with fear, with want to end your noxious attachment to one another.

"You were bad," says Will, coldly. "And this is what bad girls get."

Ridiculous language, the stuff of poor quality pornographic films, is made by him into an idol of darkness.

He pulls up the dress you're in, finding you bare beneath, peach-slick, and yearning for attention; his fingers open you to him, and you feel yourself descend to their invitation.

Will's breath comes in soft snarls at your neck. His free hand is at your breasts, your hip, his every grasp a tender and fumbling violence. Your back rises from the sofa cushions like a doubled belt, and you sob as your leg aches, and Will cracks pleasure from your rigid body as though you are but honeycomb to be so broken.

"I shouldn't even be touching you right now," he growls. "I''m giving you exactly what you want."

He kisses you in a sloppy bite that carries the wildness of terror, the dread of having near lost you, of having being driven to some abandoned, primitive cruelty.

"You'll never leave us again," he says. "Say it."

You turn your face against the back of the couch in misery.

"I can't!"

"Do it, or I swear I'll get you close to coming and leave you there. You know that I can. And will."

Pleasure between your thighs, pain parring your broken leg so that you cannot tell where one sense ends and the other begins. Will's thumb grazes your clitoris so lightly that you wish you'd snapped your neck jumping from the window, death a pleasantly beckoning alternative to this intelligent evil.

"Say it," says Will, again, and the crack in his voice is all possession, and broken need. "I have to hear you say it."

His kisses find your mouth, and the moon-silk of dolorous joy braids your middle with a giddy silver. Always his kisses are the catalyst to undo your resistance, for they come when the gauze between Will and madness is at its thinnest, when his desideratum is the same as yours.

"I..." you falter, and Will's fingers withdraw against your thigh, tracing the pearlescent matter of your pleasure in clawing arcs across your skin.

You don't want to be touched, yet you know the terrors that bask in every hour alone.

"I'll never leave you again," you whisper, and Will's expression is a child's drawing of relief, the overlarge eyes eating up his face.

His fingers rejoin your flesh in a messy dance of eagerness to make you come, to make you see how vacuous a mannequin you are without him and Hannibal to possess you with their desires.

You grip the sides of the settee and shiver through a guttural cry as your climax gloves Will from finger to wrist; the after-twinge of the ache in your leg forgotten in it.

He looks down at you, tucking one of his wayward curls behind one ear.

"That's better," he says.

Rather than elaborate on the statement, he kneels beside the couch and lowers himself to the tea-musk of your acquiescent orgasm to taste it.

Hannibal emerges, suddenly, in a doorway, his face slightly misted from the kitchen, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow. He looks upon the scene before him: you, raddled with exertion, Will lapping a lake of his own building.

"I was about to suggest that we move this conversation to the dining room," says Hannibal, lightly. "But I see that you have already started eating without me."

[ditzyredrobin]

(Don’t) Leave Me Alone -

This could fit into Shrike!verse but I decided to make it its own thing for now. She’s Shrike verse adjacent, maybe a touch of something that could possibly be a thing. Part two and the big reunion with Jason and Dick coming soon. 💜

Also! Also also also! Thank you so much for all the love of my other snippets. Shrike!Verse chapter one should be out soon. I’m still working out a couple of kinks but it’s close.

-

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, just leave it the fuck alone for once?” Jason raises his voice, clenching his busted up fists. “I don’t need your constant fucking motherhenning, from either of yet.”

He made a point to look between the both of them. A white line formed along Dick’s jaw from where he was clenching his teeth.

Tim…he just didn’t know what to say.

The little green flecks in his eyes shone a little brighter in those vivid blue eyes, sending a chill down his spine.

The last time he had encountered the lazarus green, he had ended up in the hospital for a month and a half. His leg still ached at the thought.

“No, Jason, I’m not going to just let it go.” Dick snaps back. “Neither is Tim. We’re worried about you. You’re not acting like yourself and partners don’t just let it go.”

Tim inhales slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth.

It doesn’t help, rinse and repeat.

“Did you hear me? I don’t need your help, Dick.” Jason came back, heated. “And if Tim wants to talk, he can talk for himself. Can’t you, Babybird?”

Tim grimaces.

FIghts like these weren’t uncommon. They just weren’t a staple in their relationship anymore, at least--in the time they’ve been together, there’s only been a few fights that have amounted to this level. Jason and Dick, for as compatible as they were, still had a tendency to butt heads, on and off patrol. They tended to work as a well oiled machine, able to have a conversation in one look, but even machines malfunctioned now and again.

Neither party gave him a chance to respond before going at it again.

“This isn’t about Tim,” Dick’s voice was even, with an edge of violence. “This is about you and what happened on the mission. It’s okay to not be okay but you don’t get to shut us out.”

The mission in question wasn’t one Tim had been on. Dick and Jason had been sent undercover together and had only just gotten back, already at each other's throats.

They hadn’t talked, at first, the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. But one slip of a glass and all hell broke loose leaving Tim on the sidelines, trying to keep track of the blows.

Hoping the verbal blows didn’t actually turn physical.

“You know what? I don’t need to hear this from either of you. You need me? Don’t.” Jason snaps at Dick, grabbing his helmet off the dining room table. He doesn’t even look at Tim this time. His eyes are only for Dick, who’s jaw has a white line from clenching so hard.

“Fine, fine! Run away like you always do, Jason.” Dick bites back but Jason is already out the window and down the fire escape.

They stand there for a long moment, Dick clenching and unclenching his fist in the kitchen, surrounded by the remains of the offending glass. Wonder Woman posed with hands on her hips with her golden lasso at her side was scattered across the hard wood in pieces.

They don’t speak, he just watches Dick from the far side of the room. After a long moment Dick sighs, releasing his clenched fists. Not all of the tension leaves his body, but his shoulders drop.

He turns back to Tim smiles weakly, “Look…I, I’m sorry, Tim. I know this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go but you know how Jason gets sometimes. I just can’t be here right now. Can I take a rain check and tomorrow we can go out to that new Vietnamese place you’ve been talking about?” His voice sounds low and strained and he can’t meet his eye.

Not trusting his voice, Tim smiles and nods.

“Thank you,” Dick leans down, wrapping his arms around him in a quick hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of his hair, and then he’s out the window and down the fire escape.

Tim stands there in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was, and can’t shake the feeling that all this is his fault. The sound of the glass shattering echoes in his ears, on a loop repeating over and over.

The physical contact should have helped, it always did, but this time it left him feeling uneasy.

Is this my fault?

[selmasemlan]

Promises Made

Summary: A tense evening unfolds as Luna's deep anxiety leads her to urge Marcel to take extreme precautions before a dangerous meeting, fearing for his safety and their future together.

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: Yes, I´m not following the plot of the show, cause it did not make sense. Here is what should have happened with the addition of my OC

Warning: Marcel and Luna being a healthy couple and some hurt in the end. more hurt in part 2

Word count: 1249

Series Masterlist

Part 2

Promises Made

Luna sat on the couch, her fingers absently tracing the floral patterns on the cushion beside her. Her eyes were fixed on Marcel as he moved about the loft, his figure a striking silhouette against the warm glow of the setting sun filtering through the windows. He was getting ready for a meeting, and as he adjusted his black suit, the sharp lines and tailored fit accentuated his confident and powerful presence. Normally, she found the sight irresistible, but tonight, an uneasy feeling gnawed at her.

"Marcel," she called softly, her voice betraying her anxiety. "I have a bad feeling about this meeting."

Marcel paused, turning to face her with a reassuring smile. His eyes, dark and intense, softened at the sight of her concern. "Luna, I understand you're worried, but Klaus will be there. He won't let anything happen to me."

Luna's worry deepened, her brow furrowing. "That might not be enough, Marcel. The lengths the Mikaelsons will go for each other... it's dangerous. Elijah might hurt you."

Marcel shook his head, dismissing her fears with a calm confidence that only made her more anxious. "Elijah won't hurt me. This is about family, and despite everything, he respects that."

Luna stood up abruptly, her heart pounding so hard she felt it in her throat. She took a hesitant step toward Marcel, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and desperation. Her voice trembled as she spoke, barely above a whisper. "Maybe you should take the serum, just in case."

Marcel's face was a mask of calm, his expression unreadable as he met her gaze. He remained silent, and the tension between them seemed to stretch endlessly. Luna's anxiety spiked at his lack of reaction. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice quivered as she tried to make him understand. "I know what I’m asking might sound extreme, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Please, Marcel, I’m begging you. I don’t want to think of what might happen if something goes wrong."

She stepped closer, her hands reaching out as if trying to bridge the gap between her fear and his calm resolve. "I know you’re strong, and I know you can handle yourself. But the Mikaelsons... they’re unpredictable. Elijah, especially. What if he does something unexpected? What if... if something goes wrong? I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I need you to come back to me."

Her voice broke, the weight of her words and the fear for his safety overwhelming her. "I’m not trying to be dramatic. I just—" She swallowed hard, her eyes pleading with him. "I need you to take every possible precaution. I need you to promise me you’ll do everything you can to stay safe."

For a moment, the loft was filled with a heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken fears. He didn't say anything, didn't show any reaction. Instead, he walked over to her, his steps measured and deliberate.

When he reached her, he cupped her face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the single tear that had escaped her eye. He leaned in and kissed her, a slow, tender kiss that conveyed everything he couldn't put into words. The taste of his lips was a mix of reassurance and promise, a silent vow that he would come back to her.

As he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers, the depth of his love and determination reflected in their dark depths. "I will be back," he said, his voice steady and sure, making it sound like an undeniable truth. "I promise you that."

Luna nodded, her throat too tight with emotion to speak. Marcel gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. He kissed her again, a lingering kiss filled with love and regret, as if trying to savor the moment before stepping into the unknown.

He turned to the door, his hand resting on the handle. Before leaving, he looked back at her, his eyes softening with a rare vulnerability. "When I come back, we can finally start planning that trip to Italy."

A small, tremulous smile curved Luna's lips as she nodded, trying to cling to the hope in his words. "I'd like that."

Marcel gave her one last reassuring smile before stepping out of the loft, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Luna stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, her heart heavy with a mix of love, fear, and anticipation.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, Luna's mind raced with thoughts of Marcel and the dangers he was walking into. She knew the Mikaelsons well enough to understand that their family dynamics were complex and fraught with peril. Elijah, with his unwavering loyalty to his siblings and his ruthless sense of duty, was particularly unpredictable.

Luna sank back onto the couch, her mind drifting to the countless moments she and Marcel had shared. She remembered the first time he had taken her to the rooftop garden, the city lights twinkling below them as he had held her close and whispered sweet promises in her ear. She remembered the laughter they had shared, the quiet moments of comfort and understanding, and the way he always seemed to know exactly what she needed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft chime of her phone. She picked it up, hoping for a message from Marcel, but it was only a reminder about an appointment she had forgotten. Sighing, she set the phone aside and tried to focus on anything other than the gnawing fear in her stomach.

The loft, usually a haven of warmth and love, felt cold and empty without Marcel's presence. The silence was oppressive, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound breaking the stillness. Luna stood and began to pace, her mind replaying their last conversation over and over.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. The image of Marcel lying lifeless by the river, his heart torn out, haunted her thoughts. She knew she had to trust him, to believe in his strength and his promise to return, but the fear was relentless.

Luna found herself wandering into Marcel's study, the room filled with books and artifacts from his long life. She ran her fingers over the spines of the books, seeking comfort in the tangible evidence of his existence. Her eyes fell on a framed photograph of them together, taken on one of their rare, carefree days. They looked so happy, so in love.

A sudden wave of determination washed over her. Marcel had faced countless dangers before and had always come back to her. She had to believe in him, in their love, and in the promise he had made.

As the night wore on, Luna's anxiety ebbed and flowed, the minutes dragging by with agonizing slowness. She tried to distract herself with reading, with music, with anything that could take her mind off the dread gnawing at her heart. But nothing worked. The only thing that could ease her fear was seeing Marcel walk through the door, safe and whole.

Hours later, the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolted her from her restless thoughts. Her heart leapt into her throat as the door to the loft creaked open. For a moment, hope and fear warred within her, and then she saw him.

[casitafallz]

LTRL AU | My family. Your Family

Isabela sat nervously as Abuelita seemed to move around the kitchen until she was done and put the water on for boiling but Isa kept her eyes down. There had to be a reason for this implication; she hadn’t even decided to go and she certainly didn’t let slip or...hint about leaving. The fact Abuelita was very confident was uneasy.

“I know you’re thinking about leaving, Isa” Abuelita spoke, her tone surprisingly soft. “Your Tio came around last night with a vision.”

Isa’s head shot up to look at her in alarm. “Tio Bruno?”

Abuelita nodded, gently sitting down. “I’m not angry with you.”

Isabela stared at her for a long moment because she was sure that was not the correct response to this knowledge. She fully expected more…emotion than this calm demeanour. Abuela would throw a fit!

“You’re not?” Isabela checked cautiously, “Why aren’t you mad?” Given everyone would throw a fit about her leaving or worse, saying she was leaving to escape the rest of her punishments… she hated that notion but she knew that would be the first on anyone’s mind.

Abuelita sighed deeply, her hand coming to her shoulder with gentle concern. “I want you to…explain yourself first before I decide how I react.”

Isabela eyed her for a moment, not trusting herself to find the words even. This was not what she expected to start off with this morning. Isabela looked away, her fingers trailing over the bandage on her arm for a moment.

“I….haven’t decided yet if I was going.” Isabela opted to go for, the safest option.

“I know you…leave with Señorita Lopez but also… a certain papa-to-be who’s been hiding out.”

Isabela’s head turned to face her in surprise. “You know!”

“Relax, nieta.” Abuelita’s hand came to her arm. “I only found out last night about him too.”

Isabela let out a heavy breath. Though she felt nervous but… she could feel that…if Tio had come here and had a vision; she was leaving. She had…favoured towards it but it was odd to feel like her fate was already decided before she had. Made her feel a little spiteful about that but…spite wouldn’t keep her baby safe…or Mateo for that matter.

“I can’t stay in Encanto,” Isabela admitted quietly. “Mateo…he can’t stay. Not with his sister about. He’s leaving regardless…but…I think it makes sense that I go with him so...the baby has better chances as well.”

Abuelita sighed softly, moving to sit beside her than in front of her. “You’re worried about Sara getting to the baby?” Her arm pulled her softly into her side with assuring strokes to her hand

“Sara plays the long game. I can’t… risk something so small and innocent with someone like her.” Not when the woman was trying to get through to Abuela and making her think she was a good person. If Abuela was falling for it, everyone in her family would. “I’m…I’m not leaving to get out of… my situation.”

“I know.” Abuela sighed. “Your Tio did assure me that you find a safe place. Since we already know the baby is born healthy, then I’m…satisfied.”

“You’re…not mad you’re going to…miss out on him?” Isabela gave her a weary peek.

“If it means he lives to grow up, then yes.”

“What?” Isabela looked at her sharply. What was that about?

Abuelita’s face morphed with a second of regret, “Your...reservations on staying have merit.”

Isabela stared for a moment before it clicked. “You know the baby is at risk if I stay?” The hesitation alone was her answer, “Fuck!” she groaned, her hands coming to her face with a heavy exhale as she missed slight movement by the shutters. Yep, she was defiantly going if there was a real chance now. No fucking doubt about the possibilities.

“That’s it…. I’m leaving for sure! Any other town will be better than this!” Isabela rambled, jumping to her feet to the coffee table where the vision table was set up but Luisa’s voice broke the second before Abuelita could speak.

“You’re leaving?”

Fuck.

Isabela paused in motion towards the echo, only to see both her sisters in the window frame both their gaze wide and shocked at the news before Luisa’s form just… dropped in posture, holding the gift box she had in her hand to her chest and walked off without a word.

“Luisa, wait!” Abuelita called, swiftly hurrying to the door to catch her before the sound of the door echoed in the deadly silence between them.

Mirabel stared before a wash of genuine anger washed through her face before she downright clambered up and through the window into the living room with severe motivation. “You’re leaving?!” this time Mirabel spoke; her tone was nearly festering with anger as she clenched onto the wrapped gift she had in her own hands to her chest.

“It’s not….” Isabela started, feeling very dry-mouthed as she spoke at this sudden turn of events. This was not supposed to happen; they were not supposed to be a part of this conversation! “It’s not an easy decision. I need to leave.”

Mirabel swallowed thickly with a leering edge of disbelief. “No, you don’t! Your family’s here! Your son should be born here with his family like the rest of the Madrigals.”

“My son isn’t safe here, Mirabel,” Isabela spoke back, though she couldn’t help but reflect a rise of anger directed at her; turning more defensive from this sheer ignorance her sister had to jump to this conclusion. “I’m not staying for the convenience of the family when I need to keep him safe and out of this unhealthy town.”

“He is safe with us.” Mirabel insisted, “And we… we’ve all been looking forwards to meeting him! You…” She fell at a loss with her words before she shook her head before a quick look of realisation crossed over her face which seemed to light anger through her posture again as she turned and gave her a look. “You’re just taking the easy way out of this whole mess, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Isabela recoiled in offence at the blatant remark that was very unlike Mirabel.

Mirabel scoffed, “You think you can’t handle the family much longer? Are…are we really that much of a lost cause to you?” her hands shook as she spoke.

“It’s not about them.”

“No? Then why haven’t you spoken to Mama properly? Abuela? You know they want to talk to you but you’re not giving them a chance to apologise and explain and make up their mistakes to you.”

“Oh, don’t go there, Mirabel.” Isabela snapped. “This isn’t just about them. They’ve had months to do that and it shouldn’t come down to the basis that I’m pregnant or… hurt to suddenly start caring.” She raised her bandaged arm to make her point.

Mirabel’s annoyed and angry face turned a few shades darker. “Did you just…” Her voice faltered a fraction, “Don’t you ever use that excuse. Not. To. Me.” Mirabel seethed, hands clenching again into her skirt. “They. Care. About. You!”

“Not for my sake!” Isabela huffed, her hands coming to her hips.

Mirabel’s eyes twitched a little at the sudden movement.

“Everything is about the baby. All they want to see is the baby. All the gifts are for the baby. Why are you even here?” Isabela pressed, giving her sister a solid look though the brief falter in Mirabel’s face was enough and how her eyes flickered to the vision on the coffee table for a split second seemed to tell her as much to know she was right. “You didn’t even come to see me. Don’t think you’re any different because you’re just like the rest of them.” Isabela moved off, grabbed the tablet from the table surface then held it out. Why not give her what she wants?

Mirabel didn’t take it or look at it, even as she pressed it into her chest.

“I thought you changed, Isa.” Mirabel scoffed. “I thought you wanted to try. I know you’ve been hurting but that doesn’t give you the excuse to go off on your assumptions on our family. You’ve not been living with us for two weeks. We know Camilo’s the reason you’re not coming back but that shouldn’t stop you from trying to help! We need you!”

“I won’t keep repeating to you why I won’t.” Isabela huffed, folding her arms across her chest and adjusting the vision so she didn’t drop it. “Changed or not, I know what I need to do.”

Mirabel took in a cleansing breath, clearly trying to stamp down her bubbling rage but Isabela couldn’t stop herself because she was so fucking done with all of this.

“You deal with your family, Mirabel. I’ll deal with mine.”

Mirabel gaped at that. “That’s it?!”

“What do you want from me, Mirabel? An apology?” Isabela gave her a look, “I know where I stand.”

“We are your fucking family!” Mirabel finally snapped, surprising her all for a second with her choice of language which showed she was at her tether.

“No!” Isabela snapped, bypassing her own surprise quickly. “No, none of them have been my family for ten months and I won’t be part of it for their convenience! You all pushed me away and villainised me!”

“You almost killed me!” Mirabel yelled, stepping into her face with her glasses flashing in the light. “Just because I forgave you doesn’t mean I will forget it! Nor I will let you walk all over me again! You did a bad thing to me, Isa. You paid the price of that, regardless that now they knew there was a better way for it. But it wasn’t just the murder attempt, but the years of shit you put me through before that. The remarks, the looks and the fact you saw me as an inconvenience to you. You never apologised to me about all of that. ”

Isabela flinched back at that, the words stabbing straight into her ribs.

Mirabel wasn’t done, a gate had clearly opened and now everything was flooding out in her ragged breaths. Isa didn’t notice Abuelita slip back into the room either, wide-eyed but focused to Mirabel.

“Of course, it wasn’t just you but don’t you think I deserve a little more of an apology that has nothing to do with your attempt on me?” Mirabel continued

“I didn’t mean to—“

“I’m not done!” Mirabel interrupted, “You don’t get to walk away from our family when we’re trying so hard to reconnect with you! Nothing is coming to you on a silver platter anymore and no matter the fact you are pregnant because not even the baby will simply fix our family. You need to put the effort in yourself.” Mirabel spat, shaking off Abuelita’s hand on her shoulder. “Don’t touch me!”

“Mirabel…” Abuelita pulled her hand back immediately.

“No! I’m done with all of this defence crap you’re doing!” Mirabel fired, her attention turning to Abuelita. “I’m sick of it! She can fight her own battles, not you. I can’t fight you too!” She sniffled a little. “Let me have this.”

Abuelita moved, stepping in between them. “I know you’re angry, but there is more to this than you know, Mirabel.”

“I don’t care on what I do or don’t know, Abuelita!” Mirabel backed off from Abuelita, “She’s giving up on us. I’ve done my best to defend her from everyone! From…from our parents, Abuela and even down to Luisa and Camilo! A thankless job but I have tried…so hard, Abuelita. To get through all my fear and pain to actually try with Isa and now? It’s for nothing!”

Mirabel stepped back again looking genuinely hurt, her hand coming to her chest to clutch at the collar of her shirt. “Ten years of crap was far easier to deal with than what I’ve had to in the last year alone!” Mirabel’s voice broke, her shoulders shook as the tears finally fell from her eyes, her other hand grasping her skirt too tightly and threatening to tear the fabric as she shuddered for breath.

Silence lapsed between them for a moment.

“Me leaving isn’t about your feelings.”

“Isabela!” Abuelita warned, her eyes alarmed as she turned to face her. “Don’t.”

Mirabel scoffed distastefully. “You started it!”

“And now I’m ending it!” Isabela snapped and did the only thing that came to mind as she dropped her hands from around herself; hurdling the vision of the baby to the floor at her feet. Contact with the floor wasn’t what damaged it but the force throwing into its motion rippled through the emerald and the vision cracked into pieces and danced across their feet and settled along the carpet.

Isabela didn’t even wait as she stormed past the shocked duo and out, not giving Luisa who stood in the street a glance on her way out, ignoring all others who had stopped and were staring.  Though her face was of thunder, she didn’t get more than a street away before she was met with a less infuriated Fran who nodded her way towards the direction of their pond.

Their safe space.

-

Vera sucked in a shaky breath, her heart thumping rapidly in her chest as the silence echoed mostly between them, aside from Mirabel’s breath before she looked down to the floor.

“Oh no…” Mirabel’s voice was soft and quiet, her tear-streaked face also facing downwards before she knelt down to start picking up the pieces.

Vera grabbed the nearest bowl of fruit and threw the content onto the table and swiftly began to help.

“Let me, your hands are shaking.” Vera waved the sixteen-year-old hands away from the vision shards before the girl could accidentally cut herself on them then began collecting up the green pieces and putting them into the bowl instead, despite her own shaking hand.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Mirabel apologised, her shoulders slumping down.

Vera resisted stroking the girl’s back given how Mirabel had been against her soft comfort like that.

“Are you okay?”

“No…. how can she think that’s okay? To leave us?” Mirabel croaked, her hand coming to wipe at her eyes.

“It’s not…simple, Mirabel.” Vera spoke, “I know this…wasn’t what you expected to overhear which…we’ll circle back to at some point but this isn’t a black-and-white situation.”

Mirabel sniffled, “How is it not? How are you on her side here? You won’t get to see the baby!”

Vera tittered a little. “It’s not—I would rather she left and had the freedom to come back. Bruno saw her future, leaving is her best option.” She spoke, “I… I won’t go into details. Not when you’re this upset.”

An emotionally charged Mirabel wasn’t ready for this talk.

“Abuelita…”

“No.” Abuelita put her foot down. “I want you to go home, relax and calm down. I will inform your parents about what Isabela’s planning today. This isn’t your thing to tell and right now, the last thing Isabela needs is her whole family trying to force her into a situation that she won’t live in.” Vera though already dreaded this; what this could mean. A few days wouldn’t be it. Tonight, simply if Isabela was motivated enough and this was the spark she could see the girl would use to pack up and be gone before dawn. She had today to fix this to get Isabela to wait for a few more days.

“What?”

Vera set the last piece of the vision into the bowl. “Go back to Casita, calm yourself down and then come find me and we can talk properly.”

Mirabel’s lip wobbled, “Okay…Abuelita.” She rose to her feet before she headed towards the door.

It took a second before Vera get herself back onto her feet, her joints complaining in the process and she swiftly picked up the bowl but followed quickly.

“Luisa,” She called, just before her middle granddaughter could follow her youngest, “why don’t you take this to your Tio? He can help fix this if you ask.”

Luisa’s eyes lingered on the broken shards, deflating a little as she took it. “This…of him?”

Vera nodded, her hand coming to pat her arm. “It is. It’s nothing beyond repair; all of these are big enough to stick back together.”

Luisa look sadly into the bowl. “Okay, Abuelita.”

-

Fran didn’t speak.

At least, not first before Isabela calmed down and grumpily sat on the bench, watching the few fish swim about under the pond’s clear water though her mind mulled over and over Mirabel’s brazen outburst with distaste on her pallet.

“You okay?” She asked after a moment.

“How fast can you get a donkey and wagon together?”

Isabela felt her gaze shift to her with an edge of surprise, “You’re actually gonna leave?”

“My Tio saw my baby dying if I stayed so… Si.”

Fran’s face froze. “Fuck.” She hissed, “Then I’ve got more news you’re not gonna like.”

Isabela groaned softly. “Will it affect us leaving?”

“No, just means shit’s gonna linger after we’re gone.” Fran wrinkled her nose. “Your moody-weather Tia’s looks to be best buds with Sara Marquez.”

“Ugh...” Isabela groaned. More mess that…wasn’t going to be easy to clear up. Fuck…. “First my Abuela, now Tia Pepa….fuck. She’s really making her way through my family.” Even more, the reason why she knew she wasn’t safe here.

“The only silver lining is…we won’t be around for that.” Fran offered, earning a sharp nudge of her elbow. “Ow. Rude.”

“Look…. I’ll tell Abuelita she can…sort that shit out later.” It was the only way she could…actually be comfortable about leaving; giving her a chance to know how far Marquez had gone in…god knows how long. She had no idea Tia even knew the girl; let alone be on friendly terms. Perhaps it was a recent development? Early enough that Abuelita would get onto Tia about… “I just…want out.”

“I got the money and everything that was in the box Mateo set up. Your all-hearing cousin is…kinda in my good books.”

Isabela gave her friend a look, “You good books? Your own sisters aren’t even in that.”

“My sisters are parent-pleasers. I am not. Back to topic, she probably knew you wanted out….or at least Mateo out and got a map ready so…I think we’re in good hands.” She patted her bag. The chink of coins echoed within. “Mateo’s stuff, we’re gonna need.”

“We can steal them from his house. Both his father and sister aren’t home yet, his window faces the back alley which people don’t tend to go down but I wouldn’t stay too long collecting everything.”

“How about I just buy him new clothes here? I’ll get a list from Mateo of what he’ll want from his place. The rest, you can steal from his house.” Fran decided.

“Me?”

“You have a magical and versatile gift. I’ve seen Mateo’s injuries first hand.”

“I’m the pregnant one here,” Her hand came to her belly in concern. “The baby will be at risk…”

“But he won’t. Your Tio saw him born healthy in the future.” Fran nudged her softly. “Look, simply get in with your vines, barricade the door to the rest of the house, grab his stuff and you’re all done. I’ll keep watching and if need be, I’ll carry things from the window and cover for you.”

Isabela rubbed her face again but…she could see Fran’s annoying point here. “I never thought I’d be encouraged for breaking and entry here…” not to mention…using her gift as well outside of her permission zones…unless she counted it as an emergency? Isabela was sure she could reason it out anyway. “Wait, who clothes had Mateo been using the last few weeks?” Isa realised after a moment because surely he must be using other clothes than the bloody ones he came to her in, right?

Fran paused awkwardly. “Well… my Papa’s.” She scratched her cheek. “Couldn’t wash Mateo’s without questions so…his old set is under my floorboards.”

Isabela sighed heavily. “I want to go within the next twenty-four hours at the least.” Better she was gone; she didn’t want to be at the end of another Mirabel argument. She hated that…Mirabel had heard her…or overheard her at the least but…thought the worst.

Sure, she had a lot to make up for with Mirabel…she could write her apologies when she left. Maybe Mirabel could understand…maybe she wouldn’t but… Isa wasn’t going to wait around to see any longer.

[nhstadler]

A/N: I hope you’re up for some moody James S. P.. I actually wrote this bit before I wrote the scene in James’s bedroom on New Year’s Eve. I needed to figure out his motivation and thoughts and I can only do that by writing stuff down.

I did make some adjustments because there were some things in there that would have been spoilers for the main story. It’s a bit messy but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. (This takes place at the end of chapter 26)

W H I T E S   A N D   G R E Y S   A N D   P A L E   B L U E S

The glass is cold against my skin. It’s not exactly pleasant, but there is some comfort in it; in the blur of whites and greys and pale blues that passes by the window, like one of those depressing oil paintings Aunt Hermione spends hours in front at the British Museum. I watch the colours bleed into each other as the train picks up speed, taking us through mountains and valleys and forests - through the middle of nowhere. 

I’m not used to this; to having no control over myself - over whatever it is that she’s doing to me - and it’s absolutely terrifying. I fell off my broom once when I was thirteen, practising the surf-jump in our backyard, and I remember that, even as I knew I was going to hit the ground and that it was going to hurt, I wasn’t afraid. 

I broke four bones and Lilly was crying and Mum was shouting and Dad was freaking out and I still wasn’t afraid. But Seth Woodley scares the shit out of me.

Maybe it’s a good thing that she hates me now.

“Yo, James!” 

A paper ball hits my chest and I turn my head away from the window, letting it fall against the upholstered backrest. We’re only one hour into the journey and our compartment is already a mess; bits of crisps and wrapping papers coat the floor and a random snitch is hovering above our heads, thunking stupidly against the glass in regular intervals like it might yet escape. It’s annoying and I wonder how Augustus can sleep like this. He has rolled up into a tight ball in the corner as soon as we were out of London, only stirring occasionally to pull up his coat which he has draped over himself like a make-shift blanket.

“So?” Benji asks like I’m supposed to know what he’s talking about, and I frown at him as I try to pretend that I haven’t just been staring out the window like a brooding teenage vampire.

“What?”

“That Ravenclaw sixth year.” He’s slouched down in his seat, sorting out his static hair and barely registering that Freddie almost chokes on his mouthful of cola. "Are you a thing?”

It’s an innocent enough question - casual, really - but it feels like my heart spasms for a moment when I think about the crumpled red dress on the floor; about Seth in my bed. “No.”

Freddie makes a throaty sort of noise next to me but I fully ignore him. He doesn’t push it, though, because he knows. Because I can’t do this. Because she didn’t mean it. Not really. 

I thought she might. For a delusional moment I let myself believe that she might actually want me. But she was drunk and upset and her family just told her that they’d found her a husband. I’m a fucking plot device, nothing more. 

“Why?”

Benji shrugs, then yawns and sinks still deeper into his seat before pulling a chocolate frog box out of his pocket. “Just curious. She’s fit, though.” 

I watch him idly unwrap the sweet that wriggles ferociously in his grasp and then pop it into his mouth before studying the card that fell out of the packaging.

“I’ve got your Dad. Again,” he says, flipping the card around in his hand so that I can see the image. The slightly younger version of Dad frowns at me, arms crossed in front of his chest and wand in hand. I can vaguely remember how they had him dress up for this in fancy robes and how proud I was that my dad was going to be on the chocolate frog cards.

“Oh, give me that.” Freddie leans across the compartment, snatching the card from Benji’s hand, and I frown at him. It’s not like Dad isn’t in every second of these.

“What for?”

“I’ve been collecting them.” He shrugs, the usual mischievous grin in place. “I’m making a collage for Uncle Harry’s birthday… to hang up in his office.”

He’s not even joking and I snort and shake my head as he carefully slides the card between the pages of his Divination book. “Oh, he’ll love that.”

The train rattles and the snitch bumps against the roof of the compartment like a disoriented bird. There’s fog outside now, clinging to the soft curves of the hilly landscape, and I let my head drop back against the window again, trying to focus on the view. I don’t want to think about her anymore; about the phone box, and her freckles, and what it did to me when she called me James. 

This just won’t end well. For neither of us.

Freddie’s shoulder bumps softly against mine and I turn my head to look at him. Across from us, Benji has fallen asleep as well with his arms crossed in front of him and the empty chocolate frog wrapper on his stomach.

“Do you know what I think?” Freddie whispers and I roll my eyes at him because, of course, I know. He’s been relentless ever since I told him about almost kissing Seth at Slughorn’s Christmas party.

“I do. And you’re wrong.”

“I rarely am,” he says, shrugging, and I snort and shake my head. 

“Bullshit.” My voice comes out a little too loud and Augustus stirs in his foetal position, almost falling off the seat.

“Then say it.” 

“What?” I try to laugh but it sounds fake, even to my own ears, and Freddie sighs.

“Mate, look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not in love with Seth Woodley.”

I’m shaking my head again, but I can’t look at Freddie. Instead, I look up at the snitch which has resumed its futile fight against the window, tapping the glass in a steady rhythm now. It’s pathetic, really. And a little sad. 

“This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Freddie arches an eyebrow at me but I ignore him. Because this is complete nonsense. Because he doesn’t understand. Because I’m not in love with Woodley.

I’m not. 

I can’t be.

“Fuck this,” I growl and push myself up, catching the dumb snitch in mid-air before it can throw itself against the glass again. It’s still flapping in my palm - frantically - its silver wings scratching my skin like a feral cat, and I press my fingers against it a little harder until it finally gives up. Until it goes completely still.

[thegoodsinblog]

Brooklyn's Journey [3]

Summary: This story centers around a woman, Brooklyn, in her mid-20s who enjoys the company of others and lives her life as she sees fit. One day, she decides to explore her sexuality after having several not-so-satisfying experiences.

In this chapter, Brooklyn and Charity discuss their roommate and her not-so-great behavior.

Word Count: 1,040

Reading Time: ~4m

Warning: None

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Chapter 3: Clingy Much?

Charity took a deep breath before she began her story. “Well, as you know, Sarah was in town for a few days, so naturally, I wanted to spend time with her. It’s rare that I ever get to see her, you know.”

 I nodded.

“So, we made plans to go to that pub you like on 17th. I told her it was the Brooklyn hotspot,” she giggled. “Anywho, Sharon asked me the other day if I wanted to go bowling with her the same day I planned with Sarah. I told her I couldn’t because I already had plans to spend time with a very dear friend of mine. 

“When I tell you she was visibly upset ….” Charity shook her head. Without interrupting her and wanting to hear more, she continued, “Then she was like, ‘She can come too if she’d like.’ And I was like, 'No, we’ve already made plans to go out. We’re actually going to a pub.’ Then she said she’d tag along.”

“But you didn’t invite her,” I stated. 

“Right,” Charity answered.

“And she thought she could just invite herself and third wheel? So typical.”

Charity nodded. “I told her I just wanted it to be the two of us because it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and I really wanted to bond with her and make the most of this visit. Brooklyn, she was so mad. Like, so upset.”

“Girl,” I began, “don’t pay her ass any mind. You just do you. I don’t know why she is always up your ass. Maybe she likes you.” I laughed.

“Honestly, I think she does. Why else would she act that way? It’s becoming too stressful and unmanageable at this point. Like, being around her is just taxing now, and I’ve noticed that I try to avoid her when I can.”

Oh, this was getting bad. At first, I thought Sharon and Charity were close. They always took walks and hung out together. Then, a couple weeks ago, Charity said something about Sharon always wanting to be in her space even when she needed alone time. She and I were the same regarding our alone time, so I understood how important it was to her. So, I knew Sharon was clingy and loved being around Charity all the time, but I did not realize the severity of it. I gave the universe a quick thanks that I did not have to go through this.

“Have you said anything to her? You know, sit her down and tell her that you need space?”

Charity exhaled. “I’ve tried, but she gets so defensive. I just try to ignore her. It’s the only thing I can think of since being an adult about this isn’t working.”

“I mean,” I started, “she’s definitely not the most mature person, so I figured she’d be upset when you mentioned it, but I thought she would at least respect your boundaries. Oh boy!”

We were silent for a moment as we continued to eat our breakfast. The faint sound of Sharon and her boyfriend of the week climaxing made its way to our ears. I looked out the window and saw the neighbor’s cat, Stinker, sitting on the porch looking at us. Then I noticed the sun shining brightly outside and the birds chirping. It was such a beautiful day.

“Do you work today?” I finally broke the silence.

“I don’t, actually!” Charity said cheerily.

An idea came to me. “Would you like to get away for the day? Maybe just chill out somewhere. You know, just a little escape from …” I trailed off as I looked toward the stairs.

Charity caught my drift and nodded.

“Cool! Maybe we could go to Monique’s and see what she’s up to,” I suggested.

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe she is off. I could be wrong, but that’s the vibe I got from her post this morning,” Charity said. “I’ll text her.”

Charity:

Hey Monique! You workin' today????

Monique:

Naw gurl! I’m chillin' today. What you up to, boo?

Charity:

Brooklyn and I wanna get away from our crazy roommate for the day. We may want to see your face, too. Whadya say? 😉

Monique:

I’m down

Charity:

Cool! We’ll see you in 30. Your place.

Monique:

Bet

“Monique is off. I told her we’d be there in thirty minutes.”

“Fabulous!” I was excited to see our friend. “I’ll throw on something comfortable yet presenting, and then we can head out.”

“And I will put the dishes in the dishwasher and change as well,” Charity said. 

We had to make haste since it was only a matter of time before Sharon would notice we were gone. Usually, if her company spent the night, she’d like to get one more romp in before they left. I rushed, assuming it was their last romp before his departure. I put on my Maryland University sweatsuit, grabbed my pink mini-cat backpack and keys, and ran to the stairs. As I descended the stairs, I could hear Sharon’s bathroom door open and the sounds of kissing. 

I went to Charity's room and gave the door a quick knock before I walked in. I didn’t bother to wait for a response. We were friends, after all. 

“They just exited the bathroom,” I spoke into my wrist like a secret agent. “We maybe have ten minutes before the temp boo thang leaves. Then, the ambush. 10-4!”

Charity giggled at me as she tossed a shirt over her head and slung her arms through the sleeves. Then she spoke into her wrist. “Uh oh! My slow ass! I think I can make it, though. 10-4!”

“Copy that! Over and out!” I said.

“Over and out!” said Charity.

We laughed at each other as Charity searched her room for her bag and keys. 

“Alright! I’ve got everything. We taking my car or yours?” Charity asked.

“Let’s take mine,” I said. “I feel like I ever use it to go to work and back.”

Charity and I made haste to the back door, and as we closed the door behind us, we could hear footsteps descend the stairs. 

“Looks like we missed them by a hair,” I said with a grin.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Author's Note: No smut this time around! Maybe next time. 😉 Thank you for taking the time to read this, and as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are welcome.

[supersodapop]

This is just a vent about family, feel free to ignore.

The older I get the more I come to terms with the fact my one sister totally abused me both physically and mentally. The reason why we have such a strained relationship today is because of my childhood with her. Doing a read more for this vent, because it has to do with some of the stuff and she did both physically and mentally hurt me across our childhood - and the mental stuff continues even today.

So, growing up I was always told that siblings always fight. It was part of growing up. That sometimes, we will get physical and say things to hurt one another.

The only problem was, I grew up in a family with four kids. My sister closest to me in age always went out of her way to do things to me that, at the time, I dismissed as normal sibling things. Of course, even now, some if it I still think was just us being kids - but then when I started to discuss things with people more outside of my family I’ve come to realize that my sister stepped out of line multiple times. Even discussing it with my parents as an adult, they felt guilty because they too felt she went out of line but I want to make it clear: I don’t really have any frustrations towards my parents for this. All of these actions are my sister’s own actions that she still tries to do even today.

When we were kids my sister would call me fat, she would constantly talk about how I was worthless. She’d tell me I was adopted (though I want to stress there isn’t anything wrong with adoption! I want to someday!) and my sister would use that as if it were a negative saying how I don’t fit in with our family. She’d pull my hair, hit me until I would bleed or bruise and constantly try to pin the blame on me. There would be days where I just would try not to speak to her, and she would come into my room - my safe space - and physically hurt me. One day when we were home alone and my dad stepped out to go to the bank, she threw me onto the floor where my head almost hit the corner of a piece of furniture, and pinned me on the ground by neck and was screaming at me to die.

She’d steal things of mine, destroy them, tell me that someone like me doesn’t need toys. When I started playing video games as an escape, she’d always stand in the doorway and mock me. She’d go outside and bang on the window of the room I was in and yell slurs and threats if I didn’t stop playing on the machine. Once she came into the room and managed to knock over the furniture the TV was sitting on, nearly breaking the TV and proceeded to say I did it.

What hurt the most to deal with was the constant bombardment of comments telling me I’m worthless and the invasion of my personal space. Sure, siblings and family tend to sometimes go beyond that boundary, but my sister went way beyond what normal siblings would do. She’d go into my room when I’m doing homework or just trying to read, pin me in a corner, rip up the paper I was using, and yell into my face. Sometimes she’d even continue hitting me until I was crying on the ground. The only time the physical beat downs would stop was when I was finally old enough and taller than her - when I could physically defend myself but after years and years of torment and bullying from my sister the one time I did it, I broke down crying alone afterwards because I didn’t felt freed as long as she would continue to be around me.

I say my sister went well beyond the stages of normal sibling fighting and rivalry because I had two other siblings older than the both of us who acted normal. Yeah, I got into arguments with those two siblings all the time, but neither of them ever choked me or beat me until I was nearly knocked out. Neither of my other two siblings would torment me and call me worthless or not part of the family. Neither of my other two siblings would sit there and try to make my life a living hell. They’d tease me and sometimes roughhouse, but at the end of the day we could always discuss our differences. My other sister isn’t like that. She even as a 30 something year old continues to try and make my life a living hell any time I try to interact with her, then she loves to feign ignorance like she’s never done a single thing to me in our entire lives. 

This is so frustrating, because her first husband meant the world to me. He was a brother to me, a true sibling who treated me with kindness and respect. He’s a role model of mine who I often think back to who encouraged me to finish my undergraduate degree. Without him, I would have quit college. He always stood up to my sister to defend me. Even though he did love my sister, he never let her treat me badly when he was around. She never really liked that, but the relief when he was still alive and I was able to be treated like a human being whenever he was around. It’s such a twisted feeling - because he seriously felt like family to me. He felt more of a sibling than my sister ever could be. It’s such a complicated frustrating feeling, because he ended up marrying my sister - the person who tormented me. But I felt like, as long as he were around, then maybe there was hope that my sister and I could manage to work out our strained relationship. He passed away. Ever since our relationship has gotten worse and worse. Even after I spent years trying to help her get back on her feet after the loss.

Now as an adult who can stand up to myself, I don’t usually let my sister’s actions slide. I even tried for years to try to develop a relationship with her only to now realize she was just mentally abusing me the whole time. I would go out of my way to help her - so much so that I put my life on hold for two years while she wallowed in her own self pity. I helped raise her first kid for a while with the help of other family members and it took so much time out of my life that I missed out on a good couple of years just because I was trying to help her because she was family. I wasn’t really asking for anything in return, I loved her son as if he were one of my own. My nephew and all my other nieces and nephews are special to me because they are family and I adore them so much. But if being around them means I have to constantly hear my sister tear me down about my life, it unfortunately isn’t healthy for me to continue being around them constantly. All I hear from my sister nowadays is her radicalized republican viewpoints and how I’m just wrong about everything I’m doing in my life. Because I didn’t make the same choices she did, because I went to graduate school I am wrong. I’m apparently, yet again, a lazy and worthless individual who is now SELFISH because I chose to do something for myself and further my education. Any time she gets to talk to me for more than five minutes now, she always gaslights me and continues to beat down my beliefs and choices in life. She constantly threatens me saying how making choices to better myself is selfish and how I need to focus on our family. She always uses family as the excuse as to why I can’t move away for my own well being or why I can’t go further my career elsewhere. It’s always, “you’re going to abandon the family if you leave,” and quite frankly, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of acting nice for family, and I’m tired of trying to be friends with the constant negative person in my life who has done nothing for me unless she was forced to by our parents. I’m done giving favors to someone who truly doesn’t appreciate the time, effort, and love I have tried to give them.

Just because a person is family does not mean that I have to continue to suffer by listening to the harsh words that they have told me for decades now. I’m tired of my life being a living hell when I’m around my family and it literally being caused by only one person. Nobody in my family who is ever around is willing to stand up for me - my parents think we can talk things out when I’ve tried and we can’t. My oldest sister tries to be a peacekeeper, but knows our sister is a lost cause yet she refuses to call her out on it when she knows our sister is in the wrong, and my brother MOVED away because he couldn’t stand the constant nagging our sister gave to him on top of our parents’ expectations of him. I’m often left alone to fight my own battles with her and quite frankly, I’m done putting up with it. 

[mongayakai]

I broke into a corporate "fundraiser" buffet thing a few months after 9/11 where they were celebrating their plan to make a skyscraper taller than the twin towers combined. I was part of a group and I went in first, pretending to be one of the party goers but actually snooping through everything imaginable. Went to the bathroom and they had a weird employee plexiglass window that had a little slit between it and the counter. I couldn't fit through the slit, so I climbed onto the counter to get a peek above the wall. Turns out, the walls are set up like those diy buildings where it's just a big warehouse with dividers everywhere. I went to grab food from the buffet but they ran out of plates and only had coffee filters and tiny bowls. Somehow with all that knowledge, my group and I managed to crash the celebration and take everything that was worth taking, including evil blueprints.

Years later, the head if the entire corporate operation, the big boss lady, found me and took me into her custody. I was her prisoner but legally she made it seem like I was her ward. I had to play along Cause she had the power to and threatened to hurt my friends. She said she wanted me to work for her. She said skills like mine would be very valuable to her company and her son. Her building was like a pirate ship but also a tower. My friends tried to storm the tower but since all of them are dumb and loud and didn't send in a scout first cause I'm the scout, they ran in without a plan and ended up getting captured. The big boss lady had convinced me she was human and we bonded like a pseudo-parent son relationship. But my friends were still captured so I went to see them in the buildings jail, let them free, talked them through a plan to escape. They wanted to make it a big heist like always, so I pointed them in the direction of the valuables vault. I made sure at least one of them knew how to pick locks because the boss lady gave me a key but if I gave it to my friends and they got caught she'd know it was me. They were also dressed in Halloween costumes. One of them was avocado on toast. I returned to the big boss lady's apartment cause she expected me to stay there for as long as possible. The layout was door leading into the living room, kitchen to the right, between kitchen and living room is a hallway that leads to bedrooms, personal vault, and the fire stairs that coincidentally connect the entire building including the jail and vault. The boss lady and her son were waiting in the kitchen to talk to me about something important. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen able to see the end of the hall. As they talked I noticed my friends at the end of the hall running to her personal vault, but again they're loud and dumb, so it's not the quietest thing in the world. The boss and son don't seem to notice though so I pretended not to notice either. The boss lady said that she now considers me part of the family and the son says I'm like his most loyal friend. As my friends go to exit and they're extra loud, making things shatter and crash as they leave laughing. I couldn't pretend to not hear it, so I acted confused on the noise saying "did you hear that?". The boss lady said "it must be the Help" until they looked down the hall and saw my friends just about leaving. I acted confused as to why they were out. The boss lady and son didn't make any efforts to stop them, so when avocado toast runs up to try taking me with them, the lady stands between us and avocado toast settles for just sticking their tongue out and mocking her before running away to escape with the group. She didn't stop them.

Years later I am part of this corporate family and pledged my life to the lady's son as she passed away for her final wish. I'm the guys bodyguard/servant/friend now and he tries to move into a new place to pursue higher education but I'm supposed to live under this bridge like thing, make a home, and stay there when he's at school. I get attacked by giant slime monsters that won't go away until I go to sleep because game logic. I rearrange my stuff as I slowly manage to make a cozy home. I have a mental breakdown because I can't put a proper cushion on an armchair or else it won't be comfy when the guy comes over and I'd be a shitty friend for not ensuring his life is absolutely perfect like I had promised his mother.

[multific]

What If…

Michael Myers x Reader

Summary: What if Michael wasn’t in his sister’s room to stare at his own reflection?

  Other’s could only speculate, make up scenarios and even if they didn’t make any sense, they tried to somehow fit it into their own narrative.

Michael was a legend in the community, every Halloween, people gathered to talk about their encounters with him.

You just sat among them, listening and softly laughing at how pathetic they all were.

They didn’t know anything about him.

Nothing.

But they spoke as if they did. Trying to empower one another to help and move on. How silly.

They spoke a big game, trying to make it seem like they had any chance against Michael if it came down to it.

They had no idea what he was capable of. They spoke as if they knew, but they had no clue at all.

And their latest theories included why Michael liked to stand in that specific window so much.

Someone said to look at the people he was going to kill.

Someone said he was thinking or planning.

Then another said he was looking at himself in the reflection, seeing pure evil.

But none were correct. No one knew the truth.

At that time, not even you.

He was there to look at the girl living across the street. From his sister’s room he could clearly see her every day.

Sitting in her room reading, brushing her hair or listening to music and dancing to it.

Michael watched her, she was the only person who was kind to her, she was the one to help him up when others bullied him in school.

He was too young at the time to understand what that meant. You were too young at the time to know better. He was your only friend, even if he barely spoke.

Even now, he had no clue.

But every time he was able to go home, he looked at the house across the street, trying, hoping to see her pop up in the window, but she never did.

But you never did.

After your abusive father finally managed to make your mother leave, he had no one to hit anymore but you.

One Halloween, you head about Michael’s escape, you sat in your window, trying to even just see a glimpse of him.

But your father arrived earlier.

He started trashing up the place and yelling as he usually did. You locked yourself in your room, but he broke the door down.

You assumed Michael saw you from the window. Because after a couple minutes of struggling, yyour father was on the floor chocking on his own blood.

So, how could you ever hate Michael when he saved you? He did what no one else could, he got rid of your father.

He saved you and you loved him for that.

Someone started yelling that Michael was outside in their car, everyone started grabbing weapons.

How cute you thought as you finished your drink.

They have no chance against Michael.

You knew he would go home. So, while they chased whatever was in that car, you headed back home. You knew that a gay couple was now living in Michael’s old house, so, you expected him to deal with them first.

And while the people in town chased a ghost, you knew better.

And sure enough, there he was standing at the window, looking right at you. You gave him a small smile and just stood there.

Then you heard the engines, the cars and the people as they all arrived to kill him.

Fools.

You watched as he killed them all, one by one.

And you were happy, happy to see him free. Happy that he was finally with you. And once he was done with all of them, you just waited and he came, he stood right by your side, where he belonged.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow​ ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

[witch-hazels-musings]

nightmares

Includes: Childe, Albedo, Xiao

Warnings -> STRONG emotional images (panic attack, spectral hands grasping at character, feeling of overwhelming fear and dread) -> leads to comfort

Synopsis: Nightmares plague the characters sleep and they wake up startled - the reader comforts them 

I’m a SUCKER for painful things man - I want to put them through hell just to pull them back up again ... 

Anthology

Childe

He was drowning, suffocating by the thousands of hands pulling him deeper into the terrifying darkness he ran from. Their nails dug into his skin, pulling it back to reveal the horrors laying underneath. The thousands of vile acts he had done in service of the Tsaritsa, for the Fatui, now pouring from him and feeding the hunger of the hands, urging them to dig deeper into him until there was nothing left. 

He reached out toward the distant light, gasping and desperate. 

Childe...

The light called to him, speaking his name as if he were worth more than being a simple tool, a means to an end. The dirty hands grabbed at his face, he struggled with every ounce of his strength to get away. The fear of seeing what lay beyond the reach of the light spurring his determination. He screamed and nothing came out, instead his mouth filled with bloody fingers. 

Childe violently awoke, lurching forward with incredible force and urgency. He was drenched in sweat and fiercely forced air into his lungs. When he felt a hand on his arm he jerked away stumbling from the bed in heartbreaking distress. 

“Childe …” he heard your voice, saw your hand reaching out to him, saw how you looked at him as if he were some wild animal: fearfully.  “It’s me … do you see me.” he watched as you moved the sheets from your legs. “You’re safe, it’s okay.” you moved toward the edge of the bed, “Put the knife down.” He looked down into his hand and saw he was gripping onto the knife which he kept in the nightstand. His fingers wrapped so tightly around it that they had turned a painful shade of white. 

The beating of his heart continued to race even as he straightened himself out, even as he rubbed the sweat from his forehead. 

“I’m okay …” he spoke the words more to himself than to you, like a montra he recited every day. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay. 

He heard the bed creak and, returning his attention to you, he saw you making your way toward him, hands open in an attempt to show him you didn’t mean any harm. 

“Is it okay? Can I come to you?” the words are covered in honey, and he knew you were trying to cover up the hesitation of your steps. He placed the knife on the windowsill and nodded, making sure you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

The feeling of your arms wrapping around him was akin to a drug. You provided him with comfort he’d never known, the sensation of your face resting against his chest, he reveled in it. Your voice had this magical power of reaching him no matter where he was, or what he was. 

“Your heart is beating so fast. That must have been one intense dream.” your lips connect with the space over his beating heart. 

“You can’t imagine,” he breathes into your hair, resting his face in it’s wild locks. He lets your scent fill him up, and this connection helps to calm him. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” you shift your head making him lift his own, you stare at one another in the moonlit room before he finally answers your question. 

“I don’t want to make my fears your own,” he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m pretty tough, I can handle it.” you squeeze your arms around him in a playful manner which elicited a chuckle from Childe. “But, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll always listen, if you ever change your mind.” 

His heart rate slowed, thanks to the proximity of your own giving it the ability to match it’s pace. 

“Thanks,” He scooped you up and led you back to the bed, and once you got settled in between the sheets he slid down to rest his head against your chest. There he was able to drift back into a peaceful sleep by the rhythmic thumping of your heart and the movement of your fingers in his hair. 

Albedo

There was a long hallway, incredibly long, unending. His footsteps echoed off the walls and when he glanced upward he couldn’t find the ceiling. A child was laughing further down the passage, and he followed after it until he reached a blinding light, without hesitation he stepped through it. 

On the other side was a bustling city filled with laughing citizens weaving between one another, going about their day under the warmth of the sun. As he walked through the streets, he noted how the citizens didn’t seem to mind him. A woman stumbled before him and he reached out his hand to help her, when she turned to thank him her face contorted into uncomfortable, inhumane shapes. She screamed causing Albedo to stumble backwards and, in unison, every citizen stared at him, their mouths open, screaming. Their voices culminated into an unholy sound which unraveled his soul. 

Suddenly, shackles appeared around his wrists, his ankles, his neck. Their icy touch seeping into his skin. When he touched them the screaming only grew louder which caused him to cover his ears, tears falling from his eyes onto the stones below, which were now covered in snow. He looked up and saw burning buildings. Screaming families desperately trying to hold onto their children as the walls crumbled around them. He looked onward, and without warning the ground beneath him opened up and swallowed him whole. 

Albedo, in a hysterical fit, pushed himself off of his chest and onto his knees. His arms extended to keep him from the mattress and he watched how it became damp from the sweat dripping off of him. His heart was beating way too fast, he couldn’t breath, his chest felt tight and it began to make him panic. 

“Albedo?” a voice called to him, but the beating in his ears made it impossible to hear. He felt a hand slide along his back and it caused him to sit up suddenly, smacking the hand away from him. When his eyes saw you in the darkness he wondered what face he must be making based on the way you looked at him. 

“Albedo …” you called again. He grasped at his chest hoping he could find a way to pull the invisible weight off of him. His breathing still erratic. “Hey, look at me.” you told him, and when he looked at you he saw you were now sitting closer to him, your hand extended to his chest. The warmth of your fingers broke through the chill smothering his body and he watched as you pulled his hand to your chest. 

“Do you feel my heartbeat? Feel my breathing.” and he did. The even in and out of your chest, the steady thump of your heartbeat. He felt them. “That’s it, match my rhythm.” You placed your other hand on his shoulder, which provided him another way to ground himself. The images started to fade from his mind and were replaced by the outline of your frame, illuminated by the soft light from the bedside table. 

You looked at him and gave him a warm smile. “Keep breathing, I’m here.” You stroke his face and that’s when he learns he had been crying. He pressed his face into your palm, breathing in the sweet smell of your skin. “I’m here, and I’ll be here until you’re ready to sleep again.” 

You stayed with him even as the sun started to fill your room and birds chirped out morning salutations. 

Xiao 

An epic battle raged around him, the sounds of victorious and pained screams mixing with the clashing of swords and heavy claymores. He was running quickly through the mass of bodies thrusting and flying through the air. His mind focused and clear, it had to be if they were expected to win. 

To his left he saw the flash of red fabric, to his right he heard the booming voice of another and when he found the source he smiled to himself. It seemed that even through all of this the yaksha’s were able to relish and live. He felt his heart move at their elegant movements, how they used the strength of one another to quell the mania of the world. Xiao continued to run, his movements turning into a blur at the speed. In fact, he ran so fast that time seemed to move with him until he came skidding to a stop in an open field. 

He looked behind him confused as to how he got here, wondering if he had passed through some portal or door. He was alerted to a shriek and turned forward only to feel a sharp stabbing sensation pierce his chest. It propelled him backwards and as he fell, red strings claimed him. They wrapped around him, completely enveloping him and held him suspended. Again, there was a shriek. He turned his head and wished that he hadn’t. He saw the face of his kin pleading and begging to another before being struck down violently. Their body ripping in half before him. The yaksha decorated in purple garments turned and with a great thrust of their weapon impaled another. Xiao watched as their body, bathed in blue light, went limp and with the flick of the wrist were tossed into oblivion. 

Xiao writhed and pulled at the strings capturing his limbs, he spat and yelled but couldn’t escape. His head shook violently, unable to deal with the scene in front of him, and unable to do anything to stop it. He closed his eyes letting his angry tears drop into the black water slowly rising over his body. 

“Xiao,” a voice called out and when he opened his eyes he saw the dangling bodies of his yaksha family impaled against the nothingness which drowned him. 

He awoke in a fit. He felt the scream spill from his throat as he lurched upward. Around him things began to fall to the floor, toppling back to the ground as if a huge gust of wind had picked everything up all at once. Before his eyes a piece of paper fluttered past him before slipping under the trunk next to the window. Something touched his shoulder and in a second he had the perpetrator in a tight hold, one hand viciously wrapped around their wrist and the other gripping onto an arm. 

“It’s me, it’s me!” his eyes were clouded, but he knew the voice. “Come back … it’s me.” The breath in his lungs was hot, almost as if he had been standing next to an active volcano. His mouth was heaving in an attempt to grasp back to reality, to still his overworked mind. The sound of humming filled the room, it’s soft, slow tone pulling him in. He focused on it, taking the tune in as if it were a lifeline, the only light in the dark space which surrounded him.  After a bit, his eyesight began to clear and when he saw you, eyes closed humming to him, and his hand digging into your wrist he quickly let go.  

“You’re back,” you whisper, sending him a soft, ‘i’m relieved’ smile. 

He crawled off of the bed and made his way to the window, desperately in need for some fresh air, and an escape. 

“Whatever you saw in your dream, must have been very frightening.” your voice stilled his movements. “I’ll be here when you decide to come back,” he looks back at you, your legs crossed, hands resting in the blanket. The moonlight illuminates the space there, casting white shadows along your chest and face. You look like an ethereal being in this moment, and there is a call in his chest to return to you. 

His heart is still so heavy, and even though his breath has returned to a normal state, buzzing energy continues running through his veins. He looks at your wrist and can see a bruise beginning to form. He can’t risk letting his energy out with you near him, it’s too dangerous. Even though he feels the stab in his chest, he slips out the window and into the night sky. 

In the morning when you wake up you find qingxin flowers resting on the table next to the bed. You lift them and inhale their scent. 

“How did you sleep?” you turn to see Xiao perched in the window, his eyes downcast. 

“Alright,” you sniff the flowers again, “you came back.” 

He huffs at you and looks back out the window. His back resting against the windowsill, one leg bent so he can rest his arm on it, the other dangling over the edge. Sliding out of the bed you make your way over to him, taking up the space at his side. He looks at you and you can see he is looking at the bruise on your wrist. Placing his head in his palm he reaches down and grabs onto your wrist with the other. His fingers brush over the darkening skin. 

“Welcome back.” you whisper into the wind.