#that it was better to kill than be separated from her children

[1eos]

i was just thinking abt beloved heating up my pizza when i see a literal pro shipper say sethe is wrong for killing her child and that she should have just gone back to the plantation. and its an interesting desensitization to the horrors of slavery where you see being treated as chattel to be worked, beaten and sexually assaulted as a sensible choice over death. like 'oh just go back to the place where you were beaten nearly to death and assaulted by a bunch of men that's easy!' and its funny bc both that fucking idiot and the characters in the book have more revulsion for sethe than for the perpetrators of the other option. there was a high chance beloved would die at the hands of a slave master anyways like toni morrison isnt saying killing your children is the solution its that slavery is also death! it's death of the soul! and oftentimes death of the body! and the book doesn't even think sethe is noble like she suffers for her pride MULTIPLE ppl say this outright while also acknowledging the horrors of slavery. there is no 'right' answer there is literally no lesser evil......bc its fucking SLAVERY LIKE ARE U SHITTING ME RN

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[aereasrage]

The Favorite.

summary: Alicent has always loved her youngest daughter most. Too much, perhaps. — This is intended to focus on the relationship between Alicent and daughter!reader but will eventually dive into some Jace x reader (maybe some Baela x reader too idk yet) and platonic!yan green family in the following parts.

cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship, mentions of childbirth, pregnancy, alicent is on some weird shit about her favorite child, platonic!yan!alicent

notes: reader is said to resemble alicent, as in her hair and eye color.

word count: 2.7k

When Queen Alicent ended her labors, exhausted, delirious and filled with an anticipatory dread she’d come to know was unavoidable; she heard the maester say, “a healthy princess, my queen.” She had grimaced then as the child’s cries filled the air but the babe was pushed into her limp arms which almost refused her. There, laid upon her breast, was her daughter…with features so like hers. It felt unreal, she had been prepared to bear another princeling with a smattering of fuzzy silver hair to form his crown. To remind her of whom their sire was. But as you laid against her, cooing irritably at the noise in the room and squinting at her with those eyes she knew so well, she fell in love. Weakly, in her milk of the poppy haze, she thought on the moments of her pregnancy where she’d felt so uncomfortable, so ready for the babe to leave and return her body to her. It could be said that in that moment it was the rush of hormones and the dregs of milk of the poppy still ravaging her system but suddenly, regretted those feelings sorely. No, she should have cherished the time when you were safely tucked away for herself. When you were more hers than you’d ever be again.

She held onto that for years. The ache of separateness she’d never felt for any one of her children before. The love for her other children had always come so late in comparison. With you, it was so easy.

Until it wasn’t so. You hadn’t yet flowered but you’d grown so fast. The ache intensified, the stirring need to have you back where you belonged, closer to her heart — very nearly killed her every time she saw you. Even so, she would still rather be with you than your siblings. She couldn’t be with you as much as she had when you were but a babe and she could take you anywhere in her arms without scrutiny. She was preoccupied with the needs and antics of your elder siblings who always seemed to be in need of something they could not or otherwise would not give themselves. It was exhausting. The ache was a reprieve in itself from the monumental exhaustion of dealing with your, though beloved to be sure, very high maintenance siblings. It was pleasant. Everything about being a mother was as tender as a wound, it could never be wholly pleasant. But there was something so addictive in it when it was you. She never felt so close to the Mother as when she held you.

In your chambers just after you’ve bathed and dressed in your nightgown, she arrived at the side of your bed to kiss your forehead gently, a gesture reserved for you. “Tell me what you’ve learned from your Septa today,” she softly instructed, stroking your hair. It has gotten so long, so soft and so lovely to twirl about her fingers. It’s a habit she developed. “Did you practice your letters?”

You nodded, looking up at her. “Yes, she says I’ve gotten much better.”

“Good job,” she praised, a soft smile on her lips. “Perhaps I don't have to read to you nearly as much now.” A lie. She'd read to you until the end of the world, even if you no longer needed her to, so long as she can be near you. Her eyes slipped shut momentarily, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as her hands continued to stroke your hair in a lulling rhythm.

You pouted slightly, in a way she might've reprimanded you for, had you been your elder sister. "But I like you reading to me."

You feel her arms wrap around you, folding you into her embrace, unable to resist. “Would you like me to read now?” she murmurs, kissing the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed, still slightly dampened hair.

"Yes, please." So pleasing and charming you were when you said it. Oh, she could hardly get your siblings to simply mutter the words meaninglessly!

"Very well," she said softly, but the warmth in her voice made it more than a simple 'yes', her other children would never know she could offer anything but a resigned, "here" that came with an exasperated sigh. She settled in next to you.

"What shall it be tonight?" She asked, her thumb stroking your cheek, her voice holding a level of patience that could only come from the love she has for you. "The Seven Pointed Star?" You hummed your assent.

She opened the tome, her eyes scanning the words for a moment before she begins.

"The Seven Who Are One…" Your mother's voice sung out in a soft lilt, the words soft, the pace measured and gentle. As she speaks you feel yourself relaxing, and falling deeper into her embrace. You could lose yourself with her. Your eyes closed as she read on. Her words fell into a rhythm and her voice carries a soothing tune. You feel drawn inward. The world is just you and your mother.

Alas, she’d had to leave you after you fell asleep, to check on her other, more tumultuous children. It was a mournful fact that because you were her youngest and regardless of being her most beloved, she was still forced to give less of her time to you. But she returned before you woke and when you opened your eyes, your mother was there sitting beside you in your bed. “Good morning, sweetling.” she said, and she snuggled you in her arms, just holding you. She gazed at you, studying your face. “You slept for a while, it is already late morning, I wasn’t sure if you would wake.”

“Good morning.” You rubbed at your tired eyes. “I slept deeply, I suppose…” you muttered.

Alicent knew this. Of course she did, she was watching you for a while. “You've always slept heavily. Even as a babe, you would fall sound asleep with just a bit of rocking.” A small smile curled at her lips, her voice soft and motherly. “I used to worry that you’d never awaken, when you were a babe. I could never tell the difference between your sleeping and your death.”

That earned her a small, dreamy smile from your lips. “You were fussing over me even then?”

Her ensuing laughter was rich, and her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, my sweetling, of course I was.” Her tone grew more serious then, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I worried for you every single day.”

“You worry now.”

“I know. And I know you think me foolish, but I do.” Her voice held the weight of her heart, the weight of years of anxiety. She strokes your hair, her hands gentle as they run through your locks. “I know you're nearly a woman grown, but I cannot help it. You are my daughter, my youngest. My little one.”

“I would not wish to leave your side,” you tried to assure her.

She sighed. “I would be wroth to see you ever leave my side. I cannot stomach it.” She kisses the top of your head. “I don’t know how I will do it if you are wed outside of our house. I feel my heart break just thinking of it.”

“Mine as well.” It was true, you truly could not imagine being away from your mother’s side. You did not particularly desire either of your silly elder brothers but the idea of marrying them held a certain comfort as it meant you’d get to stay with your mother. You were certain to die if you had to leave her behind.

“They tell me not to dote upon you, and to prepare you for life. But I can only see you as my child. I suppose I will forever.” She looked at you with a somewhat haunted expression, and her hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I enjoy you doting on me. Your company is a comfort.”

"I am glad," she smiled, her fingers threading through your hair. "When I'm not around, I worry that the world will be harsh to you, that it will swallow you whole and break you. I did not have…my mother with me when I left my home for good. But you have me. You are mine, and I wish to keep you safe."

She bit her lip before continuing. “I would have kept you in my womb until we turned to dust, would that I could. I know it is foolish but I miss it terribly. There we had nothing to fear. I protected you from the outside. You lived in a realm of safety, of comfort. No one could ever touch you there. No one could ever hurt you."

The concept intrigued you. The life you led, of scrutiny and pending obligation, could leave you feeling so exposed, a wound open to the air. “The world is much too loud now that I’m in it. I do miss being so close to you.” You obviously couldn't remember, not like she did, but you could imagine. You could imagine yourself curled into her, held by her, never needing anything but that...and the thought was an enticing one.

“I miss it more,” Alicent whispers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know it is foolish of me, but when I see a woman with a child in her belly, I cannot help but be reminded of you, I cannot help but envy her.” Her voice was sullen, her gazed fixed on you. “I miss those kicks against my womb, and I miss the way you would curl into yourself. I wish I could bring us back.” Revising history is something the queen has gotten quite good at doing, she cannot recall— or at least won’t admit to, those same feelings of helplessness, lethargy and slight dissociation that had returned with each pregnancy. All of it has been replaced, memories tinged in the feeling of yearning she carries now.

“It would be just us two,” you whispered, your chest tightening slightly with an unfortunate longing to return to her.

"Forever. That would have been a very good life, my sweetling. A peaceful one." A tear trickled down her cheek, this time, though, she did not even try to wipe it away. You reached out to wipe her tear away, delicately with your thumb and the gesture was so soft, she thinks. Softer than any touch she had ever felt. It overwhelmed her to the point of trembling.

“Thank you.” Her voice was slightly raspy. You are truly beautiful to her in the candlelight, and even though you are a girl almost grown, she still sees you as the babe you were when you were first pushed into her arms, so many nights ago. “You have a very soft touch."

“Of course, I learned from you,” you said easily and Alicent had to look closely at your expression to be certain you aren’t just being jovial at her expense. But she was relieved and vaguely ashamed to find that you are entirely sincere without a hint of irony in all of your being.

She was speechless for a moment. Alicent was no longer gentle, she didn’t think she had that in her anymore. Her whole being felt sharp, ready to bleed. Even with her own children, she was seldom the mother she’d have imagined herself to be before she was married, especially with Aegon who she so struggled to even want to be gentle with. She’d forgotten that all the gentleness she possessed was not lost but had simply been redirected into you. It shamed her, it relieved her.

She decided that it was true, even if later she’d be deep her self loathing and rebuke the notion. For now, your softness was owed to the kind of mother she’d been to you. “That is true.” She laughed softly, feeling the high of your praise overwhelm her wariness. Her hands returned to playing in your hair, wafting the scent of soap and the warm musk of your skin toward her. Oh, that scent…When she come to visit your chambers just after you left them, she’d smell your pillows, your sheets, unable to help herself. It always unlocked some beastly sort of satisfaction inside her. She had even saved a little gown of yours from when you were a babe, unwilling to part with the scent of your skin. Back then, she’d attributed it to you being so young, to the bodily mysteries of a mother still fresh from labor but it had lingered. “You have such a sweet smell, my girl. I have always loved your scent.”

“I know. My handmaid told me you used to smell me a lot when I was a babe.”

So her strangeness had not gone unnoticed. “That I did. The smell of your sweet skin…” You could tell she got lost in a memory for a bit, and her face grew nostalgic. “I loved your scent so much. There was nothing like it.”

“Every day, I would smell your skin. I would kiss your cheeks and your little fingers…” Her words trailed off as she smiled, remembering. “You still have the same scent now. I would know it anywhere.”

“You were enamored with me,” you said, grinning as you stretched out in bed like a lazy cat.

She laughed softly. “I really was. You were a beautiful babe, so perfect and delicate in my eyes. I never wanted to let you out of my sight.” She remembered her father admonishing her for refusing to leave you with the maids, her near in tears trying to make him understand that this was different and him simply not willing to understand how the love of a fourth child, a girl, could have driven his daughter so utterly mad.

“I know. Grandsire says you took me everywhere with you.”

“That I did,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “I did not want anyone else to hold you.”

“Why not?” You had yet to truly address the severity of your mother’s preoccupation with you. To you, it was only love. You could not understand its implications or its logic.

“Because I did not trust anyone else with you.” She whispered. “I could not bear the thought of even leaving you with a maid, not for long anyway. You are my child, and I did not want anyone but me to care for you or see to your needs.”

“Oh, but it must have been such work!”

“All children are work, a lot of it,” she insisted. “But you were— you are a good kind of work. You gave me something to focus on besides all my other obligations. You were my little princess, always with me, and always wanting my attention. It was tiring, but I would not have had it any other way.” You made her feel the kind of love her first chance at motherhood should have brought her. You made her feel like a mother in the way the gods intended.

“That is very sweet.” It was more than sweet. It warmed your heart to hear from your mother that the work she has put into raising you, into keeping you — she saw it all as worth the trouble.

“It’s the truth. I have never loved anything more than you.”

“I’m glad for it. Glad to be deserving of it.”

Oh, your sweet little heart! Her hand cupped your face, and her fingers stroked your soft, delicate cheek, her eyes meeting yours. “You are far greater than deserving. You were perfect when you arrived, and you only became more beautiful as you grew older.”

You looked down, slightly bashful. “You’re beautiful too, mother.”

Your words bring on the fiercest of longing. Tears of joy and perhaps bitterness trickled from her eyes. "You are the sweetest daughter a mother could ask for. I love you so very much."

She is near breaking into a fit of sobs, breathing deeply to calm herself, blinking away her tears before she speaks again. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, and have those days again. The days where we could be wrapped up in each other, and the world was just us two."

And as your eyes light at the words, she cannot resist anymore. She brings you into her arms, your head resting against her breasts and her leaning down to kiss your head, breathing in your smell yet again. In a few years at latest, she’d wed you to one of your brothers and keep you safe within her watch. Then everything would be alright, you’d be safe only when there was promise you could stay with her forever.

“No matter,” she murmured against your hair, trying to soothe herself back into dignity. “Mother will protect you even now.”

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 3

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N looks forward to the next time her and Feyre go to the Night Court. Choosing to stay out of the way in the Spring she is visited by the High Lord and threats are made. Few months of learning how to read and Feyre finally warming up to the Night Court, the next time they return to the Spring Y/N is caught of guard and chaos ensues.

Content Warning: 18+ brief depictions of abuse, Tamlin being a dick, Ianthe appearance, unwanted groping (Not from any of our beloved night court folks or Spring court), blood, separation.

Word Count: 5.6k

chapter 2 Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit sped up but I simply could not bring myself to write more filler chapters! I hope you enjoy!

After my argument with Feyre, I locked myself in my room for the three weeks. Feyre had tried to come apologize and she tried to come in, but I had made sure my door was locked. I didn’t really move from my chair other than to change and sneaking into the kitchen late at night to eat. To avoid running the High Lord, Lucien or my sister.

There had been a continuous warmth on my tattooed wrist, Rhys’ reminder that I wasn’t alone. On the bad days where sleep evaded me, I tried to send back a wave of appreciation, unsure if he could feel it. Chances were he we were sleeping when I sent so he probably didn’t even know, but I did appreciate him.

Feyre and I have never had many fights and it was even rarer that the fight had resulted in us not talking and working it out. The last time was right before Tamlin took us away.

Feyre slammed her bow on the table. “You should have been here. What were you thinking going out there?”  I scoffed as I dropped the wolf carcass on the table, facing my twin whose eyes flared with anger and a hint of fear. “You could have died!”

The door creaked open, and I glanced to see Nesta and Elain emerge from the bedroom. Their eyes went wide taking a look at the beast on the table. Our dad remained near the fireplace not acknowledging that Feyre and I had returned. Not like he noticed when we left. “Feyre, you could have died to. I have just as much skill at hunting like you, we work better together, and it worked out look at what we caught.” I held out my arm to show the wolf. “I love you, and I didn’t want you going out alone tonight. I’m glad I was there to help you take this beast down.”

Feyre blew up, “I could have killed you! I didn’t know you were there!”

I gave her a doubtful look and cross my arms, “I have been able to sense your presence since we have been children, you definitely knew I was there.”

Feyre ran her fingers through her brown hair not caring if she got blood in it. “Maybe I wanted to be alone, figured Nesta would give you some good quality time. At least she doesn’t despise your presence.”

My mouth dropped and quickly recovered, “Are you fucking serious, Fey? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Girls,” Our father croaked from his spot in the fireplace, only then that I noticed he was carving something in his hands. “That’s quite enough. Y/N your mother and I have taught you better than to use that type of language.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say.” I grit out and was about to push past my sisters when the door flung off its hinges and a beast with emerald eyes locked his gaze with mine.

A knock caused me to jolt from my seat and the book I was attempting to read on the table next to the chair, “Go away,” I yelled trying to conceal the fact the knock on the door frightened me.

The sound of the lock turning, and the door opens causing me to jump out of my chair, to see Tamlin strolling in. He shut the door and made a spectacle of locking the door. His eyes met mine and his eyes held nothing but cold and controlled anger. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He drawled and I tried not to shiver as fear locked up my joints. He slowly approaches me with his hands clasped behind his back, “You’re breaking Feyre’s heart you know. Locking yourself in here.” The sun from the window hit him and in any other situation I would have found his beauty mesmerizing, but his beauty looked sinister.

I crossed my arms and Tamlin takes notice of my tattoo decorating my skin before its tucked away. Feigning indifference, tucking the fear deep down and lifting my chin. “What do you want, Tamlin?” Shifting my weight back and forth.

Tamlin closed the distance, and I took a step back, “You’re coming down and having dinner with us tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, and I could hear the growl in his chest, “No thanks, as you can see, I’m quite busy here.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, “That wasn’t a request,” he took another step toward me.

“I don’t care,” I muttered and made the error of trying to step around him and in a flash, he gripped me and pinned me against the wall his muscled his hand moved from my arm and moved to my hip his free hand clamping down over my mouth. His gaze turned feral and crazed, letting his anger unleash and I could only produce a whimper through his hand.

He brought his face closer to mine and I could see the pure ire in his eyes. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to clean up, put on a pretty dress, come downstairs and apologize to Feyre for causing her stress and pain. Then you are going to eat in silence you will be seen and not heard.” I tried to yank my head, but he has my face in an iron grip, and he gripped my hip in bruising force keeping me pinned to the wall, “Like the good little human girl you are.” He released my face.

I quickly spat in his face, “Fuck-“he clamped his hand back over my mouth and I lashed against him.

Tamlin tsked, “No, no, the only thing I wanted to hear from you at all is ‘Yes Tamlin.’ And an apology to my soon to be wife.” He gripped my hip so tightly I gasped, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Tamlin kissed it away, the gesture going against his words. He met my eyes again his grin anything but comforting, “Blink if you understand, Y/N,” my name almost a snarl against his lips. I slowly blink and more tears fall. He lowers his face to kiss my forehead and I thrash my hands trying to push him away, but I couldn’t move him. He pulled away and released my body giving my cheek a not so tender pat, “Good Girl. Now go clean up there will be a dress on your bed,” he turned and made his way to the exit.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and I noticed Tamlin paused, “Oh and Y/N,” He turned his hand still on the handle, “Make no mistake if you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair. Feyre’s happiness is important to me I will do anything to keep a smile on her face.” With that he left, and I let the emotions of the interaction fully take over and slide down the wall and bury my face in my knees to stifle the uncontrollable sobs. I barely notice how warm and tingling my tattoo is through the tears.

Cassian’s POV

I sat in the lounge of the townhouse with Rhys, there was a throbbing in my chest that caused discomfort. I rubbed my chest, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it felt like my heart was aching. I creased my eyebrows sadness consumed me and I rubbed that spot tighter as I closed my eyes.

“Cass, you alright?” Rhys’ voice pulled me from the wave of emotion overtaking me.

“I just have this weird feeling; my chest feels tight.”

Rhys gave me his full attention, his glass of whiskey forgotten. “Do you need me to get Madja?”

I shook my head, “No, just feels like something is wrong.” Another wave overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath to neutralize myself. When I opened my eyes, my brother had a painful expression on his face. He was gripping his glass tightly his knuckles were white. “What is it?” I asked.

Rhy formed his lips into a tight line, and he clenched his hands into a fist, “Something is wrong over there,” he gritted through his teeth as he rubbed his left arm, causing me straightened I didn’t need him to fill me in. “She is sending utter turmoil down the bond.”

I grimace, “What kind of male torments their partner like that. To cause that much dread.”

Rhys shook his head, his eyes meeting mine the stars winking out, “It’s not Feyre, Cass.” My grip on my own glass tightened, “It’s Y/N’s.” Rhys stood and downed the rest of his drink.

Rhys began to walk out, and I called out, “Where are you going?”

“It’s the beginning of the new month, brother.” Rhys turned and winked at me, and darkness consumed him as he winnowed out of town house.

Reader’s POV

After a bath and getting the tears to finally stop I walked into the bedroom, taking a look at my hip fortunately there was no bruising from Tamlin’s grip. A lilac dress was laid out for me. The gossamer fabric chaffed my skin. The skirts were heavy against my hips, the spot where Tamlin squeezed still tender, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and my wrist tingled. I looked down and grazed my tattoo calm washing over me, “Thanks Rhys.” I whispered.

I walked over to the door and opened it to find Feyre on the other side biting her nail, a nervous habit she started when we were kids. Her eyes widened as she saw what I assumed is my puffy eyes from crying, and in turn I saw how her eyes looked bruised and I know she has still not been sleeping, “Hi.” She whispered.

I drifted my gaze to my feet, “Hi.” I looked back at her and look at her thin frame and her sunken cheeks and Tamlin’s words flooded my brain.

You’re breaking Feyre’s heart.

Guilt racks through me as I lightly pull her hand from her mouth, “Feyre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

Feyre squeezed my hand, “No, I am sorry. I know that this transition has been hard on you. I should have been more considerate to your feelings.”

I gave her a small smile tears pooling in my eyes again, “Let’s just put it behind us,” I patted her hand with my trembling one.

If you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you’re trembling like a leaf. Do you want to lie down I can tell Tamlin you’re not-“

“No!” I blurted, causing Feyre to step back stunned. I composed myself, smoothing my skirts willing my hands to stop shaking, “Let’s just go have dinner with our…friends.” Feyre beamed at me referring to Tamlin and Lucien as friends as I tried to keep the bile from creeping up. We made our way to the dining hall. The closer we got the more nervous I became even the comfort of the tattoo felt vacant. I was trying to keep my hands from shaking by keeping them clasped.

The doors opened as we approached and Lucien and Tamlin were standing in their seats, snarling at something and as we got deeper into the dining hall to find Rhysand his hand tucked into his pockets. Feyre stilled and I fought every instinct to run and hug him. “Fuck you, Rhysand, we are to have a nice dinner. You can’t just take them.”

“Per our agreement it doesn’t matter when I come pick them up in the month.” Rhys spoke with cool indifference. “But I am a reasonable male,” He turned to us, “Ladies, I’ll give you the choice you can enjoy the meal with the High Lord and his loyal pet,” Lucien scowled, “Or we can go right now.”

Feyre moved to her seat by Tamlin Rhys tracking her entire movement, “I would like to have a meal before being whisked away.”

Rhys pulled his gaze away from Feyre and met mine. For a moment, I looked at Tamlin and could see his lips move the message clear Sit down. I met his gaze to his and hoped he understood what I was trying to convey with my eyes as I began to move to the seat next to my sister.

Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Don’t go.

Rhysand meandered to a seat on the opposite end of the table as Tamlin growled the claws peeking from his knuckles, “They want to have dinner, you can come back when their done.”

Rhys pulled the chair and plopped in it kicking his feet up as if he owned the place. “Where’s your hospitality, High Lord? I think it’s best I stay and join you. I’m sure Feyre and Y/N wouldn’t mind.”

Feyre scowled and I just lowered my gaze, finding the skirts of my dress very interesting as I took a seat. “Fine.” Tamlin grumbled and food appeared on each plate filled with lavish meats and cheeses.

I looked at the table and Tamlin’s fierce gaze met mine, “Y/N, so wonderful for you to finally join us tonight, care to say anything to Feyre.”

“Tamlin, leave her be she already apologized to me.” Feyre scolded her hand gripping my thigh with a gentle squeeze.

Tamlin bristled and I shifted in my seat under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well I’m glad she apologized. Let’s try to have a meal together with everyone present moving forward.” I looked to Lucien who avoided eye contact with me...Coward.

Feyre gave a small smile, “Sounds great.”

I moved my food around with my fork, not having an appetite. I felt a prickle in the back of my mind. You need to eat. I tried to reign in the shock of Rhys’ voice in my head.  You BOTH do.

I looked at him, to see he was eating the food, but his eyes were locked on me and Feyre, I looked to my sister, and noticed she was doing the same thing. Looking at the High Lord of the Spring and his emissary, the two were engaged in their own conversation eating paying us no mind. I took a few bites of my food and out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre following suit.

One the meal was finished Rhys stood and Feyre rising from hers, Tamlin reached to grab her hand and she casually moved her hand. I made a note to ask her about it when we’re alone. Feyre gave him a small weak smile, “We’ll see you in a week.”

A hand lightly gripped my shoulder, I looked up and met Rhys’ gaze, “Ready to go?”  I nodded and rose from my seat. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my hand. “Feyre Darling,” Her gaze met his as he held out hiss free hand for her to take. She approached him with less fury than the first time we went to the Night Court. When she places her hand in his we are consumed by the darkness, and we are back in Rhys’ home.  Feyre looked at me, “I’m going to go to bed. You are coming?”

Rhys gave Feyre a comforting grin, “She will be there in a moment. I need to talk to her real quick.” Feyre to my surprise give him a silent nod and her lips curve slightly upward and I swore that Rhys stopped breathing for a moment. “Good night, High Lord.” She said and turned and headed back to our shared room.

Rhys turned to me, and I averted my gaze to my hands that were interlaced.  “Y/N, look at me,” I refused and kept my gaze on my hands, look at me, please his voice echoed in your mind. I sighed and met his gaze, “What happened? I felt an unnerving turmoil earlier today through,” he grabbed my arm with the tattoo. “It was like you were screaming down the bond.”

I slipped my arm from his grasp, and he let me, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I murmured wrapping my arms around myself, “I doubt you would believe me anyway.”

Rhys scowled, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t ever say that I wouldn’t believe you. The pain I felt today was real your pain was real.” Rhys’ face softened, “Just don’t bury this down and forget about it, it will eat you alive, okay?”

 I gave him a nod and he turned to leave probably to head to his own room, “He pinned me against a wall,” I blurted, and it caused him to still, he turned, and I could feel the tears building up as I placed my trembling fingers over my mouth, “He clamped my mouth so tight I thought he would break my jaw and he gripped my hip to keep me pinned to the wall.” I sobbed and Rhys in three strides made his way back and without saying anything else wrapped me in his arms and I let the sobs take over and buried my face in his shirt. A comforting hand placed on back of my head and he rubs my back in almost a brotherly way. “I tried to push him away and I couldn’t,” whether he could understand the words and tears just wouldn’t stop. “He told me I needed to remain silent except to apologize to Feyre for locking myself in my room. He said that he going to tie me to a chair and force me there.”

Rhys arms were the only thing keeping me upright, “It’s okay.” He whispered pressed his cheek atop of my head, as my sobs racked out of my body. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you.”

There was a calm emotion that slowed down my sobs slowed, I take a deep breath, “Can you help me not feel as weak and powerless as I felt today? I never want to feel that way again.”

“Yes, you will never have to feel that way again.” He pushed away and looked at me, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I can train you.” I nodded in agreement as exhaustion began to take over my body. “It’s been a long day,” I gave him another nod, “Want to go to your room?” He gripped one of my hands, “I can take you there.”

I shook my head and his brows furrowed, “Can I go to the library?” He smiled and gave the top of my hand he held a kiss.

“Of course, you can, let me take you.” I gave him a small smile and sniffled as he led me to the library. The small journey was quiet, but the door opened, and the books came into view. “Tomorrow, we can start your reading lessons I’m hoping your sister will want to partake as well.” I turned to him, and he held hope in his eyes that Feyre would be willing. “We can start training whenever you want, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

He released my hand and began to walk away. I grabbed his hand again and he looked back at me, “I don’t know what I can say. What I can do to repay for your kindness.” And I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Rhysand.”

He returned the embrace, “You don’t need to thank me.” He pulled away and cupped my cheek, “Have a good night, Y/N.” He places a chaste kiss to my forehead and heads deeper into the hall. I walked into the library and the fireplace lit and I welcomed the warmth as I sat on the large chair. Sinking into the cushion I laid my head back and in the comfort of the library my eyes shut, and sleep overtook me.

Cassian’s POV

She looked beautiful and peaceful on the library chair fast asleep. Rhys had casually let me know she would be there and before I went to bed after a long day in Windhaven, I stopped by to see if she might have needed anything and found her sound asleep. Rhys didn’t tell me what happened in Tamlin’s court, but he had mentioned that she was interested in training. The red around her nose and the smell of dried tears told me she had been crying and my mind only went to the worst-case scenario of what happened.

Leaning off the door I tucked my wings to not have them drag across the floor I approached, Y/N’s sleeping form, the way her neck was angled she would wake up in immense pain. I lightly scooped her in my arms trying my best not to wake her, she only stirred to move her head and leaned it against my chest and the sweet smell of Jasmine and lilacs flooded my nose. She smelled as beautiful as she was. I walked over to the couch that was placed right in between two bookshelves against the wall and lay her down making sure her head pressed against the pillow. The house placed a blanket in my arms and in no hesitation, I placed the blanket on her. She snuggled against the softness of the blanket and let out a content sigh.

I smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sleep well, Sweetheart.” And with that I left the library and went to my room.

Reader’s POV

The next morning, I woke up and found myself on the couch in the library, and there was a blanket over me. I remember falling asleep on the chair, but don’t remember moving. The scent of leather and Sandalwood lingered in the room and was a comforting embrace. Feyre opened the door her eyes frantic, “There you are! I was so worried!” She donned a peach dress that fitted her figure with sheer sleeves that had rhinestones on it. Her hair was pinned back to the side, and she looked beautiful even though the dress looked like it was wearing her.

I stretched and smiled at her, “Sorry, Fey, I fell asleep in here. I like it in here.”  I sat up and put the blanket to the side, “I’m hungry.”

Feyre nodded, “Well go change and we will go get breakfast.” I nodded and went to the bedroom to change into a purple top with sheer puffy sleeves that showed a little more cleavage with matching pants and put my hair in a simple braid and made my way to breakfast.

At breakfast Rhys broke the news to my sister that we would be learning to read, write and shield against Daemati fae, which he explained to me is how he was able to speak to me in my mind. That went as well as I anticipated but with some coercing, she joined me in the office to get our first lesson. “I don’t understand why you care about our education.” Feyre grumbled.

“Oh, are you saying having this ability wouldn’t have been useful under the mountain?” I stilled at his question and Feyre went pale and silent. “We don’t know what the future holds, its in my best interest to have you two, well versed and ready for anything.” 

He explained to us how to put up mental shields that we worked on, and we spent an hour writing the ridiculous phrases that made Feyre roll her eyes and mutter, “Insufferable,” causing me to chuckle. After an hour of Rhys scolding us for keeping our shields up and checking our work, he released us for the day. Feyre and I went back to the room and fell into a comfortable silence and that evening I went back to the library and grabbed a book to practice my reading.

The rest of the week was spent that way shielding, reading and writing and towards the end, Feyre was eating more and smiling more to Rhysand which I swore the High Lord soaked in her smiles like sun rays. When we returned to the Spring Court, we both spent some time together reading and despite my utter disgust I would join for meals to appease Tamlin and keep his temper at bay.

Months went by and fell into the same rhythm. Rhys threw in a few fighting lessons, but we started with balance and stretching. He said he would only show me the basics but when his General came home that I would start training with him for more intricate training. I wanted to ask Rhys what Cassian’s role was in his court or just even to learn more about him, but I refrained, I didn’t want to pry, and he never wanted to divulge in the members of his court.

I could tell after Rhysand dropped us off that both Feyre and I were feeling better and stronger as Feyre was begging Tamlin to go out and hunt and help the people in town and met with stonewall refusal. So, she would dive into reading with me, but her face was fuller, and light shone back into her eyes, the color in her hair was vibrant again. Turns out that verbal sparring with Rhys was doing something for her.

Dinner that night after Tamlin told Feyre he didn’t want her hunting, Tamlin was utterly sweet, to her and to me. I welcomed the change even if Ianthe had graced us with her presence and her saccharine grin making my skin crawl. It felt as though things were finally falling into place. I drank the wine that Ianthe had poured for me and when I went to my room, sleep overpowered me and I moved to my bed my head landing on the pillow as I slipped into unconsciousness not even realizing that I had left my door wide open.

I awoke with a start as the warm breeze caressed my bare skin, I sat upright my surroundings spinning but trees surrounded me, I was in the forest. Someone had put a sheer nightgown on me my hands were bound behind my back and female laughter caused my blood to chill. I turned my head to find Ianthe there. “Ianthe, help me please.”

She approached me and gone was any warmth in her features and cold viper took her place as she crouched to meet my eyes, “I’m under Tamlin’s orders. To take you far away from the manor”

I gritted my teeth, “Bullshit, he wouldn’t hurt my sister that way!” I sent panic down the bond in hopes that Rhys would be able to answer my call.

Ianthe stroked a finger down my cheeks moving to my neck and down to my clavicle, “Unless we tell her you ran away.”

Fear ran down my spine I masked it with indifference, “You think she would believe that I would abandon her like that.”

Ianthe traced her finger right above the swell of my breast and I jerked away from her, “Well we could also say that you were influenced by the Naga lured out by a lesser fae and with your fragile human body you couldn’t resist.” I bit my lip, and she smirked knowing she would believe that as she held a dagger and sliced quickly above my clavicle, and I hissed, refusing to scream. Though she sliced off one of the straps to my night gown. She placed a kiss to my cheek before she murmured, “I’d run if I were you. Won’t be long before the monsters that live in these woods smell your blood and come looking for you.” And with that she vanished.

I gritted through my teeth as I rose to my knees, ignoring the pain of twigs and rocks pressing into my knees as I rose to my bare feet and began to run. I wasn’t sure which way I was running and there was minimal moon light to help but I just kept running and sending my fear down the bond. Even opening my mind:

Rhys, help. Please help me!

There was no response, but I kept pushing, kept sending waves of fear down our tattoo and shouting my thoughts in hopes he would hear. It felt like hours I was in there before I tripped over a stump I didn’t see and fell hard on my back. My vision blurred as my head collided with something hard, but the silence was palpable in the forest. My breathing was labored, and I could feel the warmth trickle of blood running down my face. I knew my feet were cut up, but I still rose to my knees and willed myself to try and stand. Dizziness dropped me back to my knees and a sob raked out of me. “Rhysand, please.” I whispered.

A low chuckle echoed behind me, and I began to tremble. “What a delicious treat we have brother, a human girl” The sound of slithering made me want to vomit but I forced the bile down and kept my head down. The slithering halted and the images of the Naga Feyre had painted flooded my memory the serpent-like creatures with talons and vile creatures.

Another low sinister voice followed, “What a pretty little thing and tied up just like a present.”  A sharp finger moved my hair away to look at my bleeding wound. I looked up and met yellow eyes and a pink serpent tongue sticking out. The hand that moved my hair gripped the back of my neck and I whimpered as the Naga licked the trail of blood from my forehead. The free hand groping my exposed breast, the beast hummed in approval, “She is delicious.”  The Naga gripped my hair and I yelped in pain as he approached, bringing his mouth closer to mine but keeping my head in place so I couldn’t move.

Rhys, I think I’m going to die. If I do, it was an honor being your friend.

I could have sobbed when Rhys’ voice came into my head.

No one will be dying tonight.

There was a slash of metal and the howl of the Naga who was gripping me as he was yanked away a flash of blue propelling it back. The sound of wings booming above and a thud on the ground. I couldn’t see my savior’s face only that blue gems blazed in the night as he approached the creature that put its hands on me with a blade in his hand.

The creature’s brother tried to slither its tail around my waist only to be met with steel cutting in clean off. A blast of red power forced the beast back against the tree. The Naga was about to approach again ready for a fight when a dagger flew and landed right in between its eyes, and it slumped back against the trees. The clouds parted and moonlight was able to help me see but a hand grabbed my shoulder and a jerked out of the grip turning slightly to meet familiar hazel eyes. His eyes held fear and he held his hands out palms open, “Y/N, do you remember me?” He whispered.

I nodded, “Cassian,” I whispered my voice hoarse and dry.

Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Good, Can I untie you?” I nodded again and he took another dagger and made his way behind me to cut my ties as the other winged male approached. My hands were free, and Cass took my hands in his and began to massage my wrists to bring the circulation back into my hands. “Is this, okay?” he asked, ignoring his friend who had just approached. I nodded again words not forming.

The other male knelt and gave me a small smile, his eyes a similar hazel to Cassian’s but just like Rhys and Cassian he was utterly beautiful, “I have heard a lot about you, Archeron.” His voice was pure honey, “I’m Azriel.”

I give him a small wave. Cassian released my hand and slid off his jacket sliding it over my shoulders to cover me. I slide my arms into the sleeves. “We have to get going before more come.” Cassian whispered to me, “Will you let me carry you?”

I nod but force myself to say, “Don’t bring me back to the Spring Court.” I whisper as my eyes met his and pain flashes in those eyes. “Please.”

“You are not going back there, Sweetheart. We’re taking you home.” Cassian scoops me up and holds me close to his chest, where the scent of sandalwood and leather fills my nose and my eyes widened, was he there that day in the library? Did he move me over to the couch? My thoughts whirled but the dizziness caused me to lay my head on his chest. “You alright?” He murmured the words thrumming from his chest causing warmth to spread through my body.

“I hit my head, and a little dizzy but I’ll be alright.” Azriel rose nodding to his friend and gripped Cassian’s arm as darkness consumed us until we emerged into a house I had never seen before.

Rhys was in the hall his eyes frantic, “Mother above, Is she alright? Where's Feyre?”

Tears welled up at my conversation with Ianthe bubbled to the surface of never seeing Feyre again, “I'm alright” I croaked, “They’re going to make her think I’m dead.” I whisper and tear slips from my face. Cassian’s grip tightens on me his thumb rubbing circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face letting his scent soothe me.

"Who is?" Cassian asked.

"Tamlin and Ianthe." I whimper as pain erupts from my head. I pressed on, "They are going to tell her I abandoned her."

Rhys sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, “Cassian go take her to one of the rooms upstairs and have Madja come take a look at her.” I could hear his footsteps and a hand was on my arm giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll check on her in the morning.”

You didn't abandon her and when she sees you again she will know that Rhys' words in my mind brought me comfort as I heard his steps walk away with what I assume was Azriel's not far behind.

With that Cassian took me up the stairs and into the room I took a look around there were two twin sized beds and he laid me down on the one farthest from the window, He looked at the wound on my head, "I'm going to go get our healer, I'll be right back." He got up and I on instinct grabbed for his hand, hissing at my fast movement.

"Stay. Please don't leave me." I whispered.

He bit his lip and he nodded he looked off into the distance for a long moment and then he grabbed the chair from the small desk and brought it by my bedside. "Rhys, is calling for our healer." He sat letting his wings dip slightly as he grips my hand again and rubs the top of my hand. The soothing motion lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @Tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieoo

[ryescapades]

❝ [ say (no?) yes! ] ╰┈➤ of the same thread (kaiju no. 8)

— v. to love is to fight.

genre/warning: narumi gen x lil sis!reader, bf!hoshina, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mention of injuries and blood, fluff, a bit of goofiness in the end, some canon-divergence plot, lots of time skips/scene changes(?)

a/n: pls accept this as my apology for that previous part kwkjdsfds also i listened to jk's stay alive while writing the first half of this. really loike the vibes :>

2.9k wc | mini series masterlist

in all his life, narumi gen has always believed in luck.

it was luck that he was still alive after everything he used to call home was razed to the ground. it was luck that he even got transferred to an orphanage. it was luck that they noticed his achievements despite not acknowledging his hard work. it was luck that he was born with such tremendous power to kill a kaiju without any training whatsoever. it was luck that shinomiya isao had decided to take him— and you— in to become soldiers.

"captain narumi, sir! apologies, but... i'm here to report about your sister,"

and it was the absence of luck that separated you and him. narumi was angry— furious, even. why did it have to be you? out of all the possible outcomes, why did it have to be his sister's life being taken away from him?

he's angry at that godforsaken kaiju for killing you, at hoshina for not protecting you when narumi himself couldn't, at you for being too selfless and wanting to save those reckless children, at the world for taking away one of the extremely few good things in his life, at himself for being so helpless.

the hollow, aching misery bemoaned in his chest as he quietly carried your limp body into the mobile medical unit. he didn’t even bother to stay in the vehicle. narumi knew a certain vice-captain would do so in his stead anyway. too consumed by his grief, he went to take out his anger on the last few monsters.

they did not stand a chance against him. not when he was feeling so much, grieving so much. at the end of it, only dust, corpses, blood, the smell of rotten flesh and gunpowder and his own sorrow remained.

"y/n-san, she—"

but this... this was no luck. it was a miracle.

"she survived, captain! your sister is alive!"

narumi didn't care whatever gods existed up there but he has never prayed his gratitude this much ever.

he pauses in his steps, knees almost buckling as his heart pounds wildly behind his ribcage. placing a finger on his earpiece, he finally speaks for the first time in the last few agonizing hours, "where's she now?"

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

through the clear glass, narumi studies your lifeless figure laying in the hospital bed, an oxygen mask worn with various needles, wires and tubes connected to your once battered body.

"vice-captain hoshina detected a minimal chest movement a few hours after her heart stopped beating. we believe it was the work of her remaining unleashed force that had pushed her suit to carry out the resuscitation. she was immediately rushed to the nearest med-bay after that and was transferred here as soon as her condition was stabilized there." the military doctor beside him explains.

"she's in a comatose right now, but i have full confidence she will wake up soon, captain. and when she does, i assure you that you'll be the first to know. she's your sister, it's only natural that she's also a real strong fighter. just like you, sir."

and now, it's been weeks since that.

narumi, amidst his busy schedule of attending meetings, finishing his reports, training and carrying out missions, has been visiting you as much as he possibly could.

he'd just sit there beside your bed, listening to the stable beep of the heart monitor and switching between playing games on his switch, or resting with his back hunched, his arms acting as his pillow or staring at you with an undecipherable look on his face before grumbling at you to better wake your ass up right now, you brat.

he sort of never said anything other than that, really. because he knows hoshina has been coming to the hospital to see you as well from the amount of your favourite flowers he keeps seeing on the nightstand in your hospital ward, and your boyfriend's the one who has been doing all the talking.

guess narumi can cut you some slack by not annoying you while you sleep (he doesn't know you’ve only ever found your brother to be annoying, albeit in a fond way, but never hoshina).

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

...

it's dark.

it’s deadly silent.

you feel like you were drowning in murky waters. deep, deep, deep down at the bottom of it. you hear voices too. they all sound familiar, but you could never place a finger on which one is whose.

it's been like this for god knows how long. weeks? months? it felt like years, even. but all you know is that you've been trying to escape from this darkness since then. were you really dead?

you remembered the kaiju, the excruciating pain from that fatal blow on your vital area, the expression on your boyfriend's face and the trembling of your brother's hands, the warmth of his tears on your skin.

how long has it been since you last saw gen cry, you wonder. or was that the first time? but one thing for sure, you never wanted to see him like that again. you never wanted him to be sad, ever. as the strongest, gen has shouldered enough burdens of the people to be in such a state. he deserves everything that is good in this world. if it were up to you, you'd have given him the whole universe itself.

and soshiro— oh, your beloved soshiro. in a room full of all kinds of living souls, you'd always choose him every single time. no one has ever made you feel so loved, so appreciated, so seen. every second you've spent merely thinking about him is a testament to how intensely you hold him dear to your heart. you would've devoted your whole life just cherishing him, if only he'd asked for it.

so why are you here, trapped and stuck in this endless gloom when you should be there with the most important people in your life?

stay alive, stay alive, stay alive, your mind chants repeatedly, like a desperate, haunting piece of a broken record.

and you did. you stayed alive.

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

hoshina's body jerks up.

he doesn't know if he's hallucinating or not— he can't even recall when was the last time he's had a proper sleep— because he swears your finger had twitched just a second ago.

straightening up from his position on the chair beside your bed, hoshina gently grabs your hand, holding it in both of his own. he calls out your name hesitantly, wanting to confirm whether you really did move just now or was it all in his head.

his heartrate quickens when he finally feels it, another twitch of your finger. "y/n, dear, i'm here. can ya hear me?" his grip on your hand tightens slightly, hoping that he could urge you to make any form of a reply.

a dull silence greets him.

"y/n?" he tries again, but no response. you're still there, all stillness and tranquility in your sleep.

his shoulder drops, head hanging low as he clenches his jaw with a heavy heart, disappointment settling deep in his gut. he's in the middle of slowly letting go of your hand to put it back where it rested on your blanket-covered body when a faint, breathy voice enters his ears.

"s-soshiro...?"

hoshina has never snaps his head up so fast in his life but when the sight of your eyelashes fluttering, eyelids heavy but they're opening to reveal that pair of eyes he's always been drawn to, and they're meeting his own brightening irises, he doesn't care how many whiplashes he gets.

because you're finally waking up.

the violet-haired man rushes to the intercom system nearby, "call for captain narumi. now! officer y/n is awake," he orders, not bothering to wait for a reply from the other side before he turns back to you.

panic surges through him when he sees you already trying to sit up. "hey, hey, slow down, sweetheart. why dont'cha take it easy, hm?" he says, helping you maneuver yourself into a sitting position, back against the pillows. once seated, he stares at your steady form on the bed, mouth opening and closing as if in disbelief.

“i...“

"you're crying," your first whispered statement snaps him out of his daze, startling him with the realization that he is, in fact, crying. bringing his hand up to wipe away the tears, he can't even bring himself to stop the small sniffle that comes out of him.

your lidded eyes soften. "come here," you croak, a hand weakly reaching up to motion him into a hug. your boyfriend complies without a word, his arms carefully wrapping around you to hold you close.

"you're here... gods, you're here. i'm so glad you're back, baby, you—" his throat constricts from the emotions he tries to hold in. hoshina buries his nose into the crook of your neck, indulging himself in your scent and brushing a few kisses on your skin. you freely bask in his affection, noting the tinges of happiness, relief, concern and regret, all in one from the hug alone.

suddenly, the door opens and you can't help the frown on your face when he eventually pulls away. you both turn your heads, seeing your appointed doctor walking in with a clipboard in his hand.

after a few minutes of checking up and getting you up to date with everything that has happened, the doctor deems you safe to be discharged in a few days, though you're not allowed to do any heavy work yet lest you put a strain on your body. the injuries you've suffered were way too detrimental to be taken lightly, even when you've recovered.

your boyfriend is back at your side the second you two are alone again. he sits quietly, holding your hand in his with his thumb tracing back and forth on your knuckles.

"i'm sorry," he mutters, voice low with a hint of remorse. you tilt your head to the side. "what for?" you ask, confused. you almost, almost pull your blankets away and lunging at him for another hug when hoshina looks up at you with such anguish in his eyes.

"if i had been there earlier, you wouldn't have been in this situation," he says, causing your breathing to pause for a second. has he been feeling like this the whole time you were asleep? who the heck put that absurd idea in his head?

"no, it's not your fault, soshiro. it never will be. it was my action, and it's a consequence i bear on my own. don't ever put yourself to blame for what i did," you press, gripping tight on his hand.

"but you almost died, y/n. i could've lost ya, i swear to god i'd never forgive myself if that ever happens. narumi was right, my sector was so much closer to yours. it was my fault, i could've reached there faster, could've saved ya from that kaiju and—"

you don't let him finish, grabbing his face to crash your lips against his in a desperate attempt to stop his rambling. his hand goes to your neck to keep you in place, your lips melding perfectly with his like they were meant to be. his body shudders with both regret and passion.

a ragged sigh then leaves him when you pull away. "i love you, soshiro but shut up, please. it hurts me when you keep blaming yourself for something that was out of your control... also, remind me to smack the hell out of my brother when i see him later," you murmur, planting a few tender pecks on his lips as reassurance.

he rests his head against yours as a comfortable silence envelops you both. hoshina's head is muddled with too many thoughts, but one thing is clear. so clear he straight away voices it out loud.

"marry me," he rasps, so lowly you almost didn't hear it.

your eyes widen, pulling back a little to look at him properly with shock evident on your face. "...come again?" you gape. the love of your life stands his ground, crimson eyes sharp and gaze transparent as he repeats, this time louder and clearer for you to hear.

"i know this isn't exactly a good place, nor it is a good time for it. but i can't bear to see ya like this again, love. i can't bear the thought of losing ya while knowing i could've done so much more to make you happier, safer. i've long sworn to myself that if i was to die one day, i would go down with my soul completely bound to yours, y/n," he vows.

your eyes glisten, the words stuck in your throat as you try to get them out. you've wanted this for so long, wanted him for much longer. only god knows how many nights you've spent hesitating to bring up such heartfelt topics with your soshiro, afraid that it would never work out, that it could only stay as a pipe dream, nothing more. and so, you utter out the one and only answer you would ever give.

"yes!" "no!"

hoshina falters. "wait, what?"

you also falter. "...what?"

instinct tugs at the both of you, causing you to swivel your heads towards the entrance of the ward.

and there your brother stands hunches, breathing heavily with his hands braced on his knees as if he had ran a marathon just to get here (he certainly did). your eyes widen at the sight of him just as narumi wheezes before lifting his head to glare at the other man in the room.

"i said no, you dumbass!" he snaps at hoshina, causing the vice-captain to frown. "captain narumi, glad to see you're finally here," he trails off, glancing at you.

this time, you don't pay your boyfriend any mind as you call for gen, voice small and timid like you were back to your child self crying out for her big brother.

"nii-chan..."

that is all narumi needed to hear before he dashes for you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

"i'm here, kiddo. you're okay, you're fine," he mumbles into the side of your head, stroking your hair as you bury your face in his chest, clinging onto him like he’s your very own lifeline. just as you were his.

hoshina smiles at the side, looking away to give you two some semblance of privacy.

you don't know how long you stay in your brother's arms but when you move to pull away, you can't help the next words that come out. "i still wanna marry soshiro, though," you mutter and just like that, the bittersweet and wistful atmosphere comes crashing down.

narumi freezes, and hoshina suppresses his growing simper, which doesn't go unnoticed by the former. "the hell you're smiling at, you bastard?! did you threaten her or something?" he sneers before turning to you. "y/n!! listen here, did he do anything to you? drugged you to say yes??? this place has a lot of that shit, after all. i swear to god if he so much as touches you, i will—"

you sigh exasperatedly. "he didn't. none of those things whatsoever. you're being overdramatic, gen. besides, did you say to soshiro that whatever happened to me was his fault?" you narrow your eyes at him.

narumi immediately scowls, throwing a dirty look at your boyfriend while avoiding your eyes at the same time. "fucking snitch," he hisses. hoshina only rolls his eyes before approaching you, not caring that he's deliberately pushing narumi to the side.

your brother's offended squawk is lost to the wind as hoshina dives in, giving you a chaste kiss on your lips. "thank you for making me the happiest man alive. love ya, baby," he quietly whispers. you hum lovingly, reciprocating your own words of affection against his lips.

the both of you completely ignore the obnoxious vomiting noises from somewhere in the room, too lost in each other’s touch.

narumi exaggeratedly trembles in disgust, "someone needs to pay me for all the times i've had to watch some lowlife with a stupid bowl-cut freaking demolish my sister's face.”

"and someone needs to pay me more for having to deal with your ass every single day. you almost made me crash the car so many times on the way here, narumi." the first division's vice-captain makes his appearance, his figure towering at the doorway.

your brother startles before he turns his head, "hasegawa?! you're supposed to wait at the reception! i told you not to come up!"

your brows furrow in aggravate. "i'm confiscating your console for that, gen." you state, knowing he definitely has the device right now in his uniform somewhere. narumi snaps his head back towards you with a glare.

"what was that? who gives you the right, huh? i could steal all your meals later and the doctor wouldn't even notice," he challenges, harshly whispering the last part as to not let the other two men in the room to hear.

with crossed arms, you throw him a smirk. "considering i'm still a patient here, shouldn't you be treating me properly? like how a big brother should?" you drawl out patronizingly.

"oh yeah? how about you watch this big brother sock you in the face—"

hoshina sighs. "hasegawa-san, i think we should get outta here,"

"you're right. i guess i can send officer y/n a proper regard at another time as i have other matters to attend to. narumi can find his way back on his own."

don't we all love a silly happy ending

--

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Aphrodite Headcanons: And She Took That Personal! (Greek Mythology)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am finally back with a new God/Mythology Video! This one is of Base Yandere Aphrodite from Greek Mythology!!! Please enjoy this!]

(DISCLAIMER: This is Based on Aphrodite from Myth, she most likely is not Yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine. Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!)

-Base Yandere Headcanons with Aphrodite, From Greek Mythology-

.Aphrodite is the Goddess of Sexual beauty. 

.There is not a man she cannot get, there are also a lot of women she cannot get. 

.She can easily invoke lust and desire. 

.Then there is you, the second human to steal her heat. 

.You are different from the human man that she fell in love with all those years ago. 

.You are a stunning creature beyond words! She needs to have you as hers and hers alone. 

.She is beyond smitten with you and knows that you and she will have fruitful children, may you be a uterus owner she will get the best godly sperm for you. If you are in the possession of balls she will bear your seed. 

.Either way, you and her will have godly offspring. 

.She is also going to do what it takes to woo you. 

.Very romantic outings with you, where she makes her desires for you very VERY clear. 

.She of course knows you will want her, I mean come on she is the goddess of beauty, sexual love, pleasure, and fertility what more could you want? 

.She like many other gods, is obsessive and possessive. 

.She would not want to share you at all! 

. Especially with no mortal. 

.And with Aphrodite if you were with a mortal woman? She would take that as a personal insult. 

.She is the Goddess of love and beauty and pleasure. What could some mortal woman give you that she cannot? 

.She is also one of your more vain and jealous goddesses. This is one of the biggest reasons that the whole Trojan War was started. 

.So she would take you being with someone other than her, male or female, but especially female as the biggest insult. 

.But do not worry you are her sweet little pet, she would never take this anger out on you! 

.Your lover though? Well remember all the things the Greek gods have done to women and men but mainly women (Yeah she is going to make your lovers suffer beyond words) 

.Turning them into horrific things and maybe even getting animals involved. 

.She does not care she is not sharing with any rivals, she is your Goddess and you will be hers and ONLY HERS. 

.She is particularly aggressive, petty, and vengeful with her female rivals, making them suffer the biggest humiliation and pain! 

.She has to shatter them. 

.She would confess to you after probably killing her rivals taking you close and kissing you. 

.If you kiss back and accept her love well you will be made into some immortal and will stay by her side for the rest of time. 

.If you turn her down? She will have to kidnap you and punish you, you should not be better than to turn down a literal Goddess, especially when that Goddess has given you her heart! 

.Do not worry she will break that spirit of yours and teach you that she is all that you need and that you will be much happier with her. 

.Whether you wanted it or not! 

.She would also use sex as a way to tame you, manipulating her skills in the bedroom. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Another chapter is done! I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[redroomreflections]

Not Easily Broken Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

1/10

Note: Yes, it's getting finished besties.

W/c: 2.2k

“Emma has ballet classes on Tuesday and Thursday nights,” Natasha breathes nursing her mug steaming with whatever tea flavor she’s decided to drink this month. She avoids your gaze letting her eyes focus on the steam rising steadily from the cup. She sips waiting for you to answer.

“Okay,” You sigh rubbing your sweaty palms against the leg of your jeans. “I can take Wednesdays with Ryan if you can do Thursday nights with Emma and then we trade Tuesdays?” You suggest looking over to the woman on the other side of the counter.

“No, I have training with Steve on Thursday nights,” She declines.

“Since when?” You ask your eyebrow raised.

“Since forever.” She answers simply. “Besides you are much better at interacting with the other dance moms. Emma will want you there too.” She reminds you.

“Okay,” You say again. “What about carpool? How is that going to work if we’re in separate places? Do we keep them every other night? Switch off on weekends?”

“No, Emma’s finally gotten through her sleep regression we can’t change that now.” Natasha shakes her head. She decides she doesn’t want the tea anymore turning her back to empty it into the sink. She leans against it heavily with her arms folded gazing out of the casement window.

“Nat, we’ve been at this for an hour already,”

She turns to glare at you and if looks could kill you’d be dead.

It’s dark here in the kitchen beside the light illuminating from the stove. You’re both tired and utterly destroyed but you need to do this. You don’t want to put your children in court. Custody battles could get ugly and you want this to go right. Looking at Natasha and the frustrated expression she sports you can tell she’s tired of this too. You glance over to your bags packed and waiting for you to take them. For you to leave. You both agreed you wouldn’t stay during the night anymore only keeping up appearances for the children until you’re ready to tell them. Until Natasha is ready. She notices your looks clenching the edge of the counter.

“Have somewhere to be?”She raises a brow.

“What? No.” You roll your eyes. “I’m just wondering if we’re getting anywhere with this. If we’re doing the right thing.”

“If we’re doing the right thing?” She asks incredulously. “Only one of us has made this decision. Only one of us is working to break up this family.”

“Nat,” You warn. You really didn’t want to go there with her tonight. You can feel the splitting headache at the base of your neck. There’s tension there and you reach up with your right hand to massage the spot. You can practically feel the knots under your fingers.

“Don’t call me that,” She practically spits.

“Fine, fine.” You sigh again. “I’ll take whatever day you want. Just send me their schedules and I’ll try to keep up with it.”

“There’s no try, y/n.” Natasha scoffs. “Either you’re there or you’re not. It’s not so easy to just hop in and out of your children’s lives when you want.” She returns to a defensive stance looking at you challengingly. “Then again I forgot who raised you.”

How dare she? Your jaw clenches slightly as you try to rein in your emotions. Your father was a deadbeat dad who only spent time taking advantage of your love for too long. He would come and go as he pleased only bothering to spend time with you when he wanted to look like the father of the year. You were nothing like him. Nothing like him! As you look into those forest green eyes you can see the dare there. She wants you to say something back.

“I’m not playing into your games,” You shake your head. “There’s never a moment where I haven’t loved our children less than the day they were born. I would never.”

“And yet you’re spending more and more time at the office,” She tilts her head. “Your paperwork sees more of you than they do.”

“Natasha, that’s unfair.” You ball your fists on your side. “You know things at work have been hectic. They know that. I-I try to be there as much as I can. Besides, I distinctly remember you being gone for months at a time for missions when they were young. I don’t see you getting any awards either.”

“Hmm,” She hums. “Seems we both have something in common then.”

“What is this really about, Natasha?” You ask. “Because there’s not much left for us to say or for us to do.” You stand walking over to your bags. You slip your cell phone inside of the carry-on and turn back to her.

“Right, run away like the coward you are.” She mutters.

“What?” You’re taking steps closer to her this time. You don’t realize how close you are until she’s pressed against the counter. Your breaths are practically intermingled and this is the closest you’ve been in months you realize. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Natasha says nonchalantly. “It’s just you have a tendency to run away from your problems. You run when times get hard.”

“And you don’t?”

“Like I said we have a lot in common,” She stands a bit taller. “You don’t have to do this. Any of this I mean. If it gets hard for you. I can take Ryan and Emma and I’ll figure something out with their schedules. I’ll tell them something about you having to work or I don’t know. Just don’t play with their hearts.”

“Dammit, Natasha,” Your hand raises and you don’t miss the way she flinches. You’re not going to hit her. You would never. At that moment you feel like an idiot as you back away from her. “Jesus.” You breathe. “Nat, we can’t keep doing this. Pretending that we love each other. I mean in the beginning, things were so loving and so passionate. I’ve loved every minute of our life together but it’s just…. I…” you stumble to find your words.

“Who says I’m pretending?” She frowns.

“It’s not enough anymore for us to be holding on by a thread,” You drop your hands back to your sides. “It’s not enough for us to be two people in love anymore. That’s not how a marriage works.”

“Is that it? Or I am not enough?” She’s vulnerable at this moment looking at you. Her voice cracks just slightly and you feel your heartbreaking. You’re not heartless and you’re not a monster. You never wanted to make her feel this way. “Did you find someone else?” She asks suddenly.

“I’m not a cheater.” You reply. How could she possibly think she wasn’t enough? Natasha was everything. She’s always been everything. Your everything. Sometimes things don’t work out the way they’re supposed to. That’s why you’re here and after 9 years of marriage and two children, you aren’t taking this lightly. You’ve sat on this for the better part of a year and you decided a divorce was better. You fought more in the past year. Spent more time apart. Kept yourself out of the house more and more. Anything to put some space between the two of you.

“You know that’s really hard to believe when you haven’t been present for a very long time,” Natasha says.

“What? Just because I’ve been away more doesn’t mean I would cheat?”Where would she ever get this idea?

“We haven’t had sex in almost two years,” Natasha points out. Damn! Has it really been that long? Surely you’ve been intimate more recently than that. There was that time a few months ago when you had her against the sink in one of the bathrooms at Tony and Pepper’s anniversary party. No. You’d gotten interrupted and forgotten all about it. “So if you’re not getting it from me you’re getting it from someone else. Just tell me instead of giving me the bullshit excuses you have been. Is it Cara from accounting? She’s sweet. Nice body. Lisa from HR? I bet she eats pussy well enough. ”

“Natasha, I am not a cheater.” Your voice raises and she immediately shushes you. If you wake the children this is going to turn into an even tougher conversation. In a hushed tone, “I can promise you, Natasha I have never cheated on you.”

“So tell me what it is,” Her tone is almost petulant and childlike. She’s frustrated and hurt. The next thing is for her to lash out and you’d much rather leave before she gets to that.

“Nat, I can’t because there’s not just one simple reason,” You try to force your mind to focus on the conversation in front of you. “We aren’t who we used to be. We fight more than we love. That’s not how a marriage should be. It’s not good for the kids and it’s not good for us.”

“And you made this decision all on your own,” Natasha’s voice wavers. Before you can speak again there’s a small voice coming from behind her.

“Mama?”

You both turn to see sleepy green eyes looking up at you.

Four-year-old Emma (four and a half according to her) looks between the both of you as she tries to figure out the situation in this room. She’s holding her favorite blue blanket, the one she’s had since she was a newborn, to her chest. She looks so small in her nightgown with her red hair messy as she trails over to Natasha. Her blanket drags against the ground as she walks. She raises her arms to be picked up and Natasha obliges her.

“What are you doing up, printsessa?” Natasha raises the girl onto her hip caressing her back and head as she rocks her gently.

“I heard yelling,” She pouts looking over to you through her thick lashes. She looks exactly like Natasha despite you having carried her. It’s something you both joked about after choosing her donor. Ryan looks more like you. He’s seven and apparently a much deeper sleeper. “Mommy, are you going somewhere?” Emma asks pointing her chubby fingers over to your door.

“Yeah,” You answer her.

“For how long this time?” She shoots another question.

You look to Natasha for help on how to answer but she simply looks away burying her face in Emma’s hair.

“For a little bit, Babygirl.” You try.

“But I don’t want you to go.” Emma’s pout deepens. “You have to stay and eat breakfast with me, and Mama, and Ryan.”

“Not this time, I can’t.” You say.

“Oh,” She looks down before looking up at you. “Well, when you get back can we have a sleepover in your and Mama’s bed? We haven’t done one of those in a long, long time?” Her voice is hopeful and you can tell she’s fighting her sleep again.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper. You can’t bring yourself to lie to her. You don’t want to be like him. Giving her false hope.

“Tell you what, Printsessa, you and Ryan can sleep with me tomorrow night.” Natasha bounces her on her hip. Emma’s eyes light up at the promise. You’re so grateful she’s taken the lead. She’s had to frequently these days. “Now you can sleep with me tonight too. Go upstairs and get warm and I’ll come and tuck you in.” She releases Emma from her hold and the girl slides down from her body. She begins to run to the stairs before stopping in her tracks. She turns to run and you kneel to catch her in your arms. She wraps her arms around your neck landing a wet kiss on your cheek.

“I love you, Mommy. Come back soon,” It’s a thing you and Natasha used to say whenever she was away on missions. Hearing your daughter utter those words brings tears to your eyes. In your peripheral, you can see Natasha is just as emotional as she wipes the tears away quickly before Emma can see.

“I will,” You manage to get out as you hold her in your arms for a few seconds. Finally, you let go and she takes off running presumably for your bedroom. You stay kneeling before rising to your full height. You reach out to Natasha to comfort her, you’re not really sure why, but you’re expecting her to pull away. She doesn’t. She allows you to pull her into your arms and she buries her face into your neck. You hold her as a sob rack her body. You dare a kiss to the side of her head and she pulls away from you as if she’s been burned.

She wraps her arms around herself defensively. She looks so small at this moment. With her black leggings and her oversized sweater.

“I’m broken, and I’m tired and it’s your fault so please leave.” She doesn’t wait for you to say anything else as she turns to follow the same path your daughter has taken. She trusts you enough to lock the door. As you look around the home you’ve built you can’t help but feel guilty. Everything you’ve built was crumbling and you can’t help but feel it’s all your fault.

----> next part

[daeneryseastar]

i think the biggest problem i have with the whole team discourse in f&b + hotd is that it isn’t just about which characters you like more/who you want to sit on the throne at that end; it’s that each side is fighting for completely different ideologies, regardless of one members personal beliefs. grrm could not have made it anymore clear.

team black isn’t just fighting for rhaenyra to be queen, they’re fighting for the monarch’s right to choose an heir, for the oaths they swore years before, for the complete opposite of precedent/tradition: the king’s word is law. team green isn’t just fighting for aegon to be king, they’re fighting for tradition, that no matter the words of a king being law sons will always come before daughters, that oaths are fickle and don’t matter. each side is in some way fighting back against what’s already been established for the kingdom, but the end goal is completely different.

we’re not given as much insight into why most of the houses initially sided with rhaenyra, but we do have an inkling into how the green council felt and acted, however. jaehaerys choosing baelon over rhaenys (against andal tradition, the king can choose his heir) is one point. the great council of 101 is another. alicent, despite being the leader of the council, is removed from the equation and shoved off to the side when it comes to swearing oaths of loyalty between the members on account of her womanhood. daemon being a second coming of ‘maegor’ (despite what we know would be a better suited title for aemond, but i digress) is also used. when discussing who would side with them the vale is automatically disqualified from the list, due to them presently being ruled by a woman, jeyne arryn. she doesn’t choose to fight for rhaenyra for the sole reason of them being kin, but because her own right to rule can and will be put into question if aegon steps over rhaenyra. because she is a woman. she does so in spite of her dislike for daemon (and his supposed maegor-ness) too.

even if one were to look at each characters personal feelings about the succession the fact of the matter is that rhaenyra is usurped because she is a woman. it’s stated almost blatantly multiple times before and during the war. the greens use scapegoats and smokescreens in attempts justify it (her ‘bastards’ chief among them, but legally her sons live and die as the trueborn children between her and laenor, with the reminder that septon eustace refutes this claim to begin with). even when she is killed grrm has her breast pricked to arouse a dragon that doesn’t want to kill her (and why is that?). aegon ‘wins’ against her and is king, but then why is jaehaera, as his last living remaining child not named his heir? why is aegon iii put ahead of her, despite being the enemies son? these are rhetorical questions. aegon had no plans to ever consider her his heir, he made it clear with how excited he was to marry cassandra baratheon and produce more ‘strong’ sons. his dragon (who had fought and bled for him the entire war) wasn’t mourned properly, he couldn’t wait to hatch a ‘new dragon, prouder and fiercer than the last.’ yet he wasn’t even capable of doing that in the six months before he too was killed.

it’s also safe to mention that grrm created an entire separate lore story, one that would seem to have no bearing on the original story unless you’re capable of understanding symbolism. the amethyst empress is usurped by her younger brother the bloodstone emperor, and the first long night ensues from this decision. rhaenyra (amethyst = arryn blue + targaryen red) is usurped by her younger brother aegon ii (bloodstone = hightower green + targaryen red) and the dying of the dragons, the very creatures needed to stop the next long night, are eradicated, along with the magic needed to hatch them and keep them alive (until). the war is the blacks (power, death, grief, rebellion, restraint) versus the greens (ambition, greed, jealousy, anger, wealth). the amethyst empress is important to the main story in the same way that rhaenyra is important, that snubbing the women (an integral aspect to the power the targaryens held) of house targaryen can lead only to disaster. daenerys is the key, the one to break the cycle and fix the wrongdoings caused by her ancestors obsession with power. mother of dragons, mhysa, breaker of chains, slayer of lies, daughter of death, the dragon queen, azor ahai come again, the prince that was promised will bring the dawn.

you can argue for technicalities sake all day, but there is a meaning to this story beyond the scope of rightful heirs. and it shouldn’t be shoved off to the side just so you can praise your favorites and hate those who go against them. it makes for a poor consuming of the actual story. fire and blood was created as a history book to expand on daenerys as a character. her family, what and where she’s come from, and how she relates to them. she’s the antithesis to every targaryen that’s come before her, a hero in her own right. the only targaryen’s we can say are radically important to dany’s story are the conquerors (aegon the conqueror with teats) and rhaenyra (the amethyst empress). i don’t know, just some food for thought.

edit: i have revised some of my opinions on this through a further reread but the gist of it is still the same.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Leonidas and Buddha with fem!Giyuu!reader headcanons

Warning(s): RoR manga spoilers up to ch. 78, violence, KNY manga and anime spoilers, strong language from Leonidas and Sanemi, ooc.

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1, based on her own headcanons with fem!giyuu!reader and Leonidas. Images of Leonidas and Buddha were provided by @enryegotrip.

So with that being said guys, sit back, relax, and let’s dive into these headcanons! :)

Being a Demon Slayer did not mean to wait on a crow with orders and directions to find the flesh-eating monsters. There was also intel gathering, working closely with the kakushi so that they were not overwhelmed with the number of injured and deceased Slayers, and being pestered by your peers to take an apprentice because you are the only Hashira who doesn’t have one. That isn’t necessarily true, though. You had every intention of taking Tanjiro Kamado as a tsuguko once he was proven to be trustworthy by other Hashra and Lord Ubuyashiki. 

He, at the very least, had what it takes to become the Water Hashira. He deserved to be the Water Hashira, more so than a failure like yourself. It makes sense to take Tanjiro and his sister in your care, housing them at the Waster Hashira residence with a room and food. So why was Kocho making a fuss about it? She stayed quiet about it before, and you assumed it was because she despised people who defended demons or disapproved of your decision to make Tanjiro your apprentice. But that shouldn’t be your concern, or Rengoku’s. 

Lord Ubuyashiki has allowed these children a chance to prove themselves, and you will not grant the other Hashira an opportunity to hurt them. You’ve lost count how many times a colleague has shown up at your door, and how simply slammed the door in their face. 

You weren’t in the mood to hear their excuses then, and still aren’t. 

Tanjiro was quick to warm up to you, profusely thanking you for all you’ve done even when you really didn’t do anything. If he and Nezuko were home from a mission, they’d welcome you back with light hugs and a warm meal. You made sure to make extra portions when you were alone, in case they didn’t come back until late at night, or tried to, depending on the crow’s swiftness with a message from the Kamado siblings. Against your better judgment, they became precious to you. You would show no mercy to anyone who would harm them, demon or Demon Slayers. 

But that was enough reminiscing. You, Tanjiro, and Nexuko were being sent to investigate a few territories where demons are reported to have been spotted and causing chaos. No one has been killed, though several civilians were injured, two are currently in critical condition at the Butterfly Mansion.

You almost felt sorry for Kocho. Almost.

Leonidas had not been happy lately. Greeks in his domain were being picked off left and right and no one could tell what was going on, except movement from their corner of their eye and that is all the information his men had been able to collect. Damn it all, what else could he do? What would Gorgo do? His heart twisted painfully at the thought of his wife. Because she had not been a warrior, she was not welcomed into Valhalla by side, instead residing in Elysium with other souls. It’d been so long since their separation and he never took another woman to his bed, putting that energy into training his men to be prepared for anything…until now. 

When another night-time report came in of yet another incident, Leonidas and his men immediately left camp to investigate. What he and his soldiers hadn’t expected, though, was to stumble upon three scrawny men gorging themselves on lifeless civilians, their hands and everywhere from the waist down covered in blood. 

Leonidas led the charge, swinging his shield and sword but the maggots barely flinched when they touched them. No….when the criminals turned to them with annoyed frowns, the Spartans saw rows of glistening white fangs and slitted amber irises. 

These weren’t men. They were monsters who were evenly matched with his men, both in agility and physical strength. All seemed lost until a woman, a boy, and a girl jumped into the fray. 

The smaller ones went against two of them while their de facto leader swiftly decapitated the other monster once she had gotten close enough to strike. She was calm, too calm for someone who faced a monster and cleavage spilling out of her…uniform. Or she didn’t give a shit about modesty in a life-or-death situation as she darted towards the others, providing the boy with enough cover to swing his sword across the monster’s neck while the girl held its accomplice by the throat and burned him.

Yes, she fucking set the bastard on fire. 

When the monsters disintegrated into ashes, Leonidas all but demanded who the hell they were and what are those things they just killed. The younger ones were startled by his command, but the woman simply blinked owlishly at him, as if she had been asked this question a dozen times. 

“That was…a demon.”

“A demon?” Leonidas snarled. 

“Yes, that was a demon. It feasts on human flesh and cannot be killed unless it is exposed to sunlight.” She said, sheathing the iridescent blue blade in her hand back into the scabbard hanging from her hip. “We are able to kill them because it is our duty as Demon Slayers.”

….If shit-head gods existed, then he supposed it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the idea that demons did exist. But Leonidas did not survive wars on sheer strength or the number of armies under his commands or ‘blessings’ from the gods alone. He was a strategist. 

And he did not stop pestering the woman, who only introduced herself as the Water Hashira, until he’d squeezed every bit of information she knew about demons and the sword used to kill them. 

But she did not give in to his demands, and would not compromise the organization by telling him about their supplier. There was too much at stake....unless he was willingly to speak to her commander. She cannot guarantee if he will answer him or not, though…it seems he has many people to protect as well. 

Leonidas didn’t like it, but if this woman is willingly to arrange a meeting with a complete stranger like himself, he could not allow this opportunity to slip past him. He agreed to the conditions, and watched her and the other Demon Slayers leave, fussing over each like a group of misfit siblings rather than comrades on the battlefield. 

The Water Hashira came to personally escort him to Lord Ubuyashiki’s estate a week later. Kneeling outside on the grass near the veranda were the other high-ranking Demon Slayers, the Hashiras. When they stood in front of them, she too kneeled, her head down. Glancing over his shoulder, Leonidas could see the pissed off expressions on everyone’s faces. Suppose in their eyes, the Water Hashira had brought in an outsider to their organization and became the mediator of a meeting that should never have happened. 

If Lord Ubuyashiki hadn’t agreed to this, the Water Hashira’s actions might have been considered treason, and she’d be stripped of her rank plus any land she owned. But she was calm, not flinching or back talking to the other soldiers until one of them, a white-haired little prick with scars on his face made a snide comment about ‘being brainwashed by a brat and his demon sister’. 

“...Choose your next words carefully, Sanemi, or there won’t be another Wind Hashira among the ranks.”

“Is that a fucking threat, Tomioka?!” 

“It will be if you or the others make another attempt to hurt Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado in my absence.” She said icily. “They are under my care and no harm will befall on them unless Nezuko succumbs to bloodlust. How can we call ourselves the pillars of this organization if we cannot trust them?”

“And how hasn’t your ass been killed yet with that thick head of yours?!” Sanemi barked. “God, you’re always like this, just doing whatever you want -”

“Oi, shithead.” The Spartan turned towards the Wind Hashira. “This woman is the reason my men are still alive. You’ll soon be in the presence of your commanding officer, so heel.” 

“THE FUCK YOU JUST SAID, GEEZER?!” 

“I said heel, you fucking mongrel.” Lenoidas’ eyes flashed dangerously, his temper about to boil over. “If that’s too hard to understand, shut up. And no talkin’ to a woman like that, got it? Gods, kids these days.”

“You son of -!”

“Sanemi, that is enough.” Tomioka said. “Be silent.”

“[First Name] -”

“Quiet, Kocho. Whatever grievances you have, I will gladly listen to them another time.” As soon as the Water Hashira hissed out those words, Lord Ubuyashiki appeared alongside his children and wife. When the Hashiras tried to voice their complaints in his presence, the scarred man all but silenced them with a finger pressed against his mouth. He then turned to him, apologizing for his children’s behavior and asked him to come inside to talk. 

The hours went by quickly, and Leonidas got the answers he wanted. Tomioka, the Water Hashira, whatever her name really was, had been assigned to escort him back to his domain. 

“Thank you…for defending me.” She murmured, her eyes looking straight head and face flushed a light shade of pink. “No one…has ever done that for me since I became a Hashira. They…do not like me. And I am…not like them.” 

Lenoidas raised an eyebrow. “Anyone in their right mind would defend a hell of a woman like yourself. Honorable, strong, and it’s pretty damned obvious that you love those kids in your unit as if they were your own children. In Sparta, there would be men lined up outside your home asking for a chance to court you with the intention of marriage. Hell, even I would have a hard time fending them all off.” 

When he saw the surprised look on her face, Leonidas gritted his teeth. It was obvious to him that her comrades did not think highly of her, and with her current mindset it had no positive impact on her self-esteem. 

Looks like they were just fellow Hashira, and nothing more. Assholes. He thought before he sighed, patting her affectionately on the head. “Wanna get a drink with me before we start heading back?” He asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. 

[First Name] agreed, and she followed him to a local pub. The Water Hashira hadn’t realized what he did was a pick-up line until he was on his fifth drink, and she was on her third. He didn’t expect her tolerance to be this high for a strong liquor. 

“You know this is a date right?”

Her comical reaction to his words made him roar with laughter; [Eye Color] orbs wide, face bright red, and her mouth formed into the shape of an ‘x’ with her drink still in her hand. He grinned at her from the rim of his glass. 

Shit, she’s adorable! 

Bonus Content:

The Spartans came to enjoy Tanjiro and Nezuko’s company over time, as well as their help in training them. While Tanjiro worked with the men to increase his physical strength and practice his swordsmanship, Nezuko would shrink down to her smallest size and play a nightly game of ‘tag’ with them to help the soldiers’ agility. Piggyback rides were her reward if she won. 

Buddha is someone who would rather take care of the demons who were bold enough to try and lay a hand on the humans who followed him. He is the enlightened one, and someone you really shouldn’t mess with. 

So imagine his surprise when the little bastards were actually able to keep up with his and his attacks, and without breaking a sweat. He had been minding his own business on a dreary summer morning, relaxing under a bodhi tree when one of the worshippers darted towards him, pleading for help and covered in blood that wasn’t his own. Naturally, he stood up and reassured the sobbing mortal that everything would be fine. 

Now, he was using the Six Realms staff and his eyes to parry and attack his opponents, yet these guys still kept getting up from the ground, snarling and glaring at him with bloodthirsty eyes. Huh…how long has it been since he had an opponent, no, opponents like this? Kintoki is probably the only other god he’d be more than happy to trade friendly blows, well, actually, the only one because he hated the other gods.

He was about to activate the Animal Realm: Club of Nirvana and stroke the demon in front of him when all of a sudden, a tiny girl dressed in a pink kimono with a bamboo stalk in her mouth struck the demon down with a single kick, decapitating him swiftly. 

The demon’s body collapsed onto the earth, twitching rapidly before clumps of flesh began to sprout from the neck, an enraged face beginning to morph until she stomped on it, her leg glowing a bright vermillion as the regenerating demon howled, flopping and twisting in a vain attempt to get free. In seconds, all that remained was a heap of dark ashes. The girl then looked up at him. Blinking her large pink eyes as if she didn’t do anything special. 

Buddha was about to ask the kid who she was when an ear-splitting shriek stopped him. The future flashed in front of him in an instant, and he acted quickly, switching from the Animal Realm to Asura Realm: Shield of Ahimsa to defect crescent-shaped sickles aimed at them. Naturally, the shield didn’t get a scratch and he and the little lady were all right.

“Get down!”

The enlightened one did not need to be told twice, ducking his head as a wild-haired boy in a green checkered haori exhale wisps of bright red-orangish flames before he swung his sword, slicing the demon’s neck and effectively removing its head from the main body. As the demon disintegrated into the same ashy remains as the other one, the boy turned around and looked at him worriedly. 

“Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Buddha just blinked. “No?” He said. The enlightened one watched the kid’s shoulders sag in relief before he smiled at him, the little lady running towards the boy and hugged him tightly. Ah….brother and sister maybe?

“Nezuko, did you get the demon that was trying to run away?”

Buddha looked over his shoulder, seeing a young woman decked out in a black uniform with gold buttons and a mismatched haori approached them, calm and expressionless. The little one - Nezuko, Buddha presumed, nodded happily with tiny flowers floating over her head. The boy beamed. 

“She did, and she’s gotten much better at controlling her Blood Demon Art, Tomioka-san!”

The young woman nodded. “Indeed. Tanjiro, when we return home, we’re going to work more on your Breathing techniques and footwork. You’re still moving based on instinct and waiting until your opponent strikes to make a move. I will not always be here to protect you.” She then looked at him, [Eye Color] irises calm as a lake with the slightest hint of curiosity. “Oh. You’re a god?”

Buddha met her gaze, his teeth clamping down on the lollipop in his mouth that he had forgotten was there the whole time until now.  “So what if I am? Got a problem, little lady?”

Tomioka furrowed her brow, head tilting to the side and arms crossed. “Why would I be troubled by someone I just met? As far as I am concerned…you’re not an enemy.” Her voice was cold and detached as she spoke, her stoic expression unchanging even the boy, Tanjiro, glared at him  with puffed up cheeks that reminded the enlightened one of a chipmunk. The little one, Nezuko, actually jumped up and grabbed one of his arms, swinging from it with a closed-eyed smile. 

What could he say? The kids loved him, and his candy. 

He pulled out a cola-flavored lollipop from his robes, handing it to her. Buddha watched Nezuko’s eyes brighten in joy and wonder as she extended an arm toward him, carefully cradling the lollipop in her open palm as if it were a lotus flower. She then hopped down, landing on her feet before running to Tanjiro, making happy, approved noises that were muffled by the bamboo piece in her mouth. Tanjiro chuckled, patting her head as he could see now that this god wasn’t a big bully. 

For a split second, the enlightened one saw the barest hint of a smile on the woman’s face before it was wiped away by horror…because the gray clouds in the sky were going away? 

Tomioka quickly removed her haori, shielding Nezuko from the sunlight piercing through the clouds and Tanjiro removed a large wooden box from his shoulders, urging Nezuko to get inside as soon as the door opened. Buddha watched in fascination as Nezuko shrunk to the size of a toddler and blitzed inside. Tanjiro locked it up before he shared a relieved look with his teacher. 

Buddha felt his lollipop between his lips nearly fall as he saw the flash of Tomioka’s thigh in her uniform, similar to what Tanjiro was wearing, but more form-fitting, showing off the very alluring body that she had been hiding under her haori. He did nothing to correct his gaze as he stared shamelessly at her.

Tanjiro sighed. “Thank you, Tomioka-san. Nezuko and I are both grateful that you’re looking out for us.”

She took her haori back, a small smile stretching across her lips before she stretched a hand and gently rubbed the top of his head just as he had done with his little sister earlier. She then turned her gaze to Buddha, causing the enlightened one to flinch slightly, though not before his own eyes lingered on her chest, her folded arms pushing them up just enough to tease him.

 She did not even seem to realize just how sexy she was when she spoke to him. “May I ask you some questions about the demon?”

He grinned, flashing a toothy grin at her. “Anything for the pretty lady~!”

She nodded, not reacting to the slightest at his subtle flirting. “Thank you for your cooperation with us.”

Buddha’s eyelid twitched before he glanced over at Tanjiro, who just shook his head with an exasperated smile. That was when the enlightened one realized, that the Water Hashira he’d come to know as [First Name] Tomioka, was dense as a brick wall. 

Taglist:

@myrisan-melodies

@praisethesuuun

@rukia-writes

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 15

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, panic attack, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, references to babies, swearing, references to body image issues, swimming and water games

Top Gun, almost 12 years ago

Jake yawned as he sat in front of his locker, his flightsuit half unzipped and his travel mug of coffee cooling on the bench beside him.

He was so. Damn. Tired. Of everything. He was doing the nightshift with the twins so that Buttercup could get some rest, but the top brass wanted him in at 6 a.m. on the dot to run low-light training simulations with the rest of the squad. His parents were constantly on him about taking Buttercup and the twins for a visit and, for a military family, they were having a real tough time understanding that Jake literally didn’t have enough hours in the day as it was. And on top of that…

His head drooped as he remembered what had gone down that morning in the cute little bungalow that he had finally been able to move his family into a mere month before Buttercup had given birth. He had busted his ass for that house, and she wanted to what? Move away for a job she could do from anywhere? When she was barely healed from giving birth and he could deploy again at the drop of a hat?

Jake shook his head. He had to get his head in the game. If he kept replaying the fight in his mind, he’d be useless up in the air. He’d already fucked up the last three simulations they’d flown, and Cyclone had really been up his ass about it. Even Mav had looked at him with disappointment in his eyes.

Jake pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and his fingers gripped his hair, tugging the blond locks tightly. What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t who he was. Star quarterback, homecoming king, only aviator with two confirmed air to air kills of his generation. He’d married the perfect woman and had two perfect daughters, so why was everything so. Fucking. Hard?

“Hey man, are you…what the hell’s wrong with you?” Rooster’s voice came from the doorway but Jake couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He couldn’t move his head or his hands. Hell, he couldn’t even control his lungs, which were starting to burn with the speed of his breathing.

“Nothing” is what he tried to say, but all that came out was a garbled groan.

“Whoa, hey…” he felt Rooster take a seat across from him. “Dude, you’ve gotta breathe. Dude? Fuck…” The bench rattled beneath them as Jake flinched away from the gentle hand on his back. “Dude, fucking relax.” Rooster snatched one of his hands and tugged it to his chest, not noticing the blond hairs that ended up tangled in Jake’s clenched fist. Jake would’ve pulled his hand back but didn’t have the energy. He felt like he didn’t have the energy for anything anymore. “Just…try to breathe with me, okay?” Rooster took an exaggerated breath and Jake struggled to follow. “Dude, c’mon. You like to say you’re better at me than everything, but you’re gonna let me be better at breathing? No way. Try again.”

The next breath that Jake took was a little stronger. And so was the one after that. And the one after that, until he stopped shaking and he was able to release his fists and raise his head.

Rooster was staring off to the side and it took Jake a moment too long to realize it was because the older man didn’t want to see him cry. Jake hadn’t even realized he had been crying. Fuck, he hadn’t cried in years. Not even when the girls had been born. He’d wanted to, but he kept the tears at bay until he was in the privacy of his own shower, and everyone knew that shower tears didn’t count.

Jake used the scratchy sleeve of his flightsuit to wipe away the remaining tears before he sniffled, grunted, and sat up. “Thanks, man.” Rooster grunted and shifted on the bench, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “We, uh…we’ve been fighting,” he admitted quietly. “She wants to get a job and she needs more help with the twins, but I’m always needed here, so I don’t know what she wants me to fucking do, y’know?”

Rooster nodded once, eyes firmly on his boots. “You two will figure it out.”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m sure we will. Thanks, Rooster.”

The older man slapped the wood bench beneath him and stood. “Don’t mention it. Now, c’mon. Cyclone wants us on the flight field.”

“I’ll be right there.” His fingers still slightly trembling, Jake zipped up his flightsuit and downed his now cold coffee. “Hey Bradshaw? You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, right?”

“Tell anyone about what?” With that, Rooster pushed open the door to the locker room and disappeared, leaving Jake alone again.

Clifton, Texas, Now

The cold steel of the bleachers bit into Buttercup’s thighs as she chuckled around the mouthful of buttery popcorn she had just shoveled into her mouth, the crowd roaring around her.

Though she was not a football fan, the atmosphere of the high school football game was intoxicating. It seemed like everyone in Clifton had shown up to support the Clifton Cougars in their first pre-season friendly match. And while the keyword was supposed to be friendly, Jake and Javy were both coaching as though it was the last quarter of the Super Bowl and they were down by like 20.

“Let’s go, Cougars!” Abby cheered next to her, her face painted with blue and gold stars to match the school’s official colours.

“Get ‘em, Uncle Javy!” Charlie roared, her own bag of popcorn flying everywhere.

Her daughters’ enthusiasm increased Buttercup’s enjoyment of the game exponentially. While she had watched the Dallas Cowboys play while she and Jake had lived together and supported him when they won or lost, she had always found herself drifting during the televised games. Perhaps what she had needed was her daughters explaining the game to her. Or, she bit her lip, perhaps it was the sight of Jake in the tight white T-shirt and grey joggers that had her eyes hardly straying from the game in front of her.

He was so…passionate. The passion he had always shown for flying was now being shown as he conferred with Javy to call plays and helped bolster the offensive line. Even from her place halfway up the bleachers, she could see the bright stars shining in his eyes as he had a heart to heart with their rookie quarterback, and she could practically hear the warmth in his voice as he clapped the kid on the shoulder before he ran out onto the field.

There were only a few minutes left in the game and, while the Cougars were winning, and while it was only a friendly pre-season match, the hometown crowd was clearly loving the strength of their team. As the team lined up for one final play, Jake leaned in to whisper to Javy, who nodded enthusiastically before Jake turned and beckoned to them in the stands.

Charlie dumped her popcorn on her seat and turned to them eagerly. “C’mon, Mom!”

Buttercup shook her head. “He wants you two,” she smiled softly at her daughter. “You two go, I’ll hold the fort down here.”

Abby pouted at her. “Mum, please?”

“I’m sorry, babe, but there’s no reason your dad would want me down there,” she bit her lip against the sharp pang in her gut. “You two go.”

Abby’s shoulders slumped a bit before Charlie grabbed her arm. “It’s alright, Abs. You’re gonna love this.” Charlie tugged her sister down to the sidelines.

Jake bent down to talk to them briefly before turning back to the bleachers, beckoning to her again. Buttercup felt heat flood her cheeks but she shook her head. Perhaps there was a reason he wanted her down there with their daughters, but the memory of leaning against him on the dark path to the gazebo gave her pause. They had come so close…too close. And yeah, it had felt really good to be that close to him, but it was just nostalgia. They had been in close proximity for almost a week, their muscle memory from a decade ago was clearly kicking in.

From a distance, Buttercup could see Jake roll his eyes before he leaped the fence and started jogging up the steps to the bleachers.

“Buttercup, c’mon!” he called once he reached her row.

Her sigh barely masked her laugh. “Why? Jake, you know I’m not a huge football fan.”

“So? The Cowboys never lost a game when we watched together, so clearly you’re some sort of good luck charm. My boys could really use that luck right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been winning all game.”

“So?” He fixed her with those patented puppy dog eyes. “The girls want you down there and so do I. Please?”

She groaned as she stood. “You know it’s not fair when you use those eyes.”

He grinned back at her. “I know. That’s why I do it.” Tingles of electricity sparked as he took her hand and led her down to the sidelines. Abby and Charlie met her with a hug as she reached them and Javy grinned at her before turning back to the team to give them a pep talk for their final push with 30 seconds left on the clock. “Okay, now just stand there and be lucky,” he winked at her before turning to join the team again.

Before she could blink, the game was over and Javy was scooping Charlie up in his arms, placing her on his shoulders as the team surrounded him. She squealed as Jake wrapped her up in his arms, spinning her around. She grabbed his arm as her feet touched the ground again, using it to steady herself as he grinned down at her.

“See?” he murmured, as close to her as he had been the night of their dinner. “You’re my good luck charm.”

She felt the heat race to her cheeks as he released her, opting to scoop up Abby as he joined the team’s celebration. She watched as her girls bobbed high above the cheering teenagers and grinned. No matter what was going on in her personal life, seeing her daughters so happy was infinitely worth it.

After the game, she found herself tucked into a corner booth at the local diner, tradition dictating that the Seresin family and Company went out for dinner, whether the Cougars won or lost. Bob had picked up a flight from Dallas to London, stating he’d be back in plenty of time to help with the reunion party scheduled for Saturday night. Phoenix had flat out refused to go to the game, and Rooster had opted to spend the night with her, his wink and nod at Jake enough for the man to know that his friend would at best figure out what was going on between Nat and Javy, at worst keep her from burning the place down. But she found herself happy as she sunk down in the booth, laughing as Javy was immediately tugged away by members of the football team, who were holding court over a bunch of tables pushed together.

“Sorry, fellas,” Jake tilted his head towards his girls with a grin and the teenagers immediately bowed away.

“Huh,” Buttercup mused as the teenagers returned to their table.

“What?”

“Nothing. That was just pretty impressive.”

Jake grinned. “They know that when I’m with Charlie, I’m off limits.”

Something fluttered in Buttercup’s chest as the waitress came over to take their orders.

“Just the usual, Mags,” Jake smiled at her as he stretched his arms across the back of the booth, pausing only to ruffle Abby’s hair.

“Me too!” Charlie settled into her mother’s side.

“Me three!” Abby giggled.

Buttercup blinked. “Ummm…” She scrambled for the sticky plastic menu and winced when it stuck to the table.

Jake stilled her struggle with a light hand on her wrist. “How about the chicken Ceasar salad, a side of fries, and a sweet tea?”

Buttercup couldn’t tear her gaze away from his large hand encircling her wrist, heat radiating up her arm at the gentle touch. Her breath caught and her heart rattled around in her chest for a moment before she was able to compose herself. She was being stupid. It was a simple touch between co-parents, and it wasn’t too far out of the realm of ordinary to remember the food preferences of a former loved one. She always found herself remembering his order of a medium rare steak with fried okra and a loaded baked potato, after all.

“Y-yeah,” she attempted a grin and gently pulled the menu off the table as Jake slowly released her. “That sounds perfect.”

Jake smiled and winked at Mags. “How’s Frank doin’, Mags? All better after his surgery?”

Mags blushed under his grin. “Oh, yes, he is. And thank you again, Coach, for sending your boys over to help with the yard work. I don’t know what I would’ve done without all the extra hands.”

Jake waved an easy hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll let Javy know they were helpful.” He winked at her again as she scurried off to the kitchen with her notepad.

“Hey girlie!” Javy hollered over from his spot with the team. “Davidson here thinks he can beat your score at Ms. Pacman!”

Charlie practically crawled over her mother and barely caught herself before she went headfirst into the floor from the bench seat. “Oh hell no! C’mon, Abs!” One quick look up at her father, and Abby dove after her sister, both girls giggling as they shouldered the senior running back out of the way.

“Don’t worry,” Jake murmured to her, watching her as she watched their daughters with the rowdy group of teens. “They’ve known her for years and see her as a little sister, and they accepted Abby right into the fold too. They’d be first on the attack if anything happened to either of them. And Javy is right there. He’ll keep things PG-13.”

Buttercup felt her cheeks warm under the weight of his stare. “Sorry,” she sighed. “I guess I’m not used to this small-town living thing. I feel like I can barely take my eyes off her in London. Everyone there is practically a stranger.”

Jake settled deeper into the booth, his long legs kicking out. “Yeah…everyone here either knows each other or knows of each other. Everyone looks out for everyone else. It’s a weird vibe to get used to, but once you do, there’s nothing like it.”

She quietly thanked Mags as she delivered their drinks and took a small sip of her sweet tea before grinning. “I guess I just never pegged you as the type of person to like the Leave It to Beaver lifestyle.”

Jake’s laughter poked at the small flame kindling in her chest, sending sparks flying. She’d missed that sound. Towards the end of them, there hadn’t been much laughter to go around, but his laugh had always been one of her favourite sounds, especially when they first got together. He’d still had so many walls up, preferring to keep his squad mates at an arm’s length, and that included anyone associated with them. He’d been all biting wit and sarcasm, but once he’d lowered his defences, she’d been a goner.

“I guess I didn’t really give off a Mayfield vibe, huh?” he chuckled. “And you’re not wrong. I spent a few summers here with my grandfather, but my head was always in the clouds or in my cockpit, so I never really enjoyed it. But, I don’t know…” he gazed around while sipping his beer. “My grandparents always said there was no better place to raise a kid than here. So, when I retired…I don’t know, I guess I figured here was as good a place as any. And I would have my grandfather to help me raise Charlie, so…it made sense.”

Buttercup nodded thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the old pictures and news articles that had been pinned to the walls. “It must be nice…growing up in a place with so much family history.”

Jake shrugged. “I grew up in Dallas, but I guess it was nice coming here. Everyone I met had some sort of story about my grandparents growing up, or my great-grandparents.”

“And now Charlie gets to hear about her dad growing up, and her great-grandparents, and her great-great-grandparents…” Buttercup sighed heavily. Her eyes jerked up to meet his as his hand landed on top of hers, squeezing lightly.

“What’s wrong, Buttercup?” The kindness and warmth in his eyes almost had her tearing up.

She shrugged, sniffling back those tears that were threatening to pool in her eyes. “I think you were right. Taking the job in London was the wrong decision. I cut us off from all the support we had, and—”

“Hey, now…none of that,” Jake squeezed her hand again and leaned in, so close to her that she could smell the spice of his cologne and the woodsy undertones that were pure Jake. “I was a stubborn, jealous asshole when I said that. You…you were drowning in Miramar, and I was too scared to be willing to see it. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for that.”

Buttercup chewed on her bottom lip as she looked into those green eyes. “That’s the first time you’ve ever told me you were scared,” she whispered.

Jake hung his head and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah…I’m sorry about that too. I should’ve told you; I just didn’t want to add onto everything you were already dealing with. But maybe if I had…”

Buttercup flipped her hand and squeezed his gently, ignoring the shocks that went through her at the contact. “Communication was never our strong suit, was it?” she smiled sadly at him, and he chuckled in response, the sound sad and longing.

“No, I guess it wasn’t. But hey, we’re both older now, right?”

Her smile brightened a bit, even as her heart began to thud overtime. Was he suggesting…? But he couldn’t be. He was fresh off a breakup, and they lived on opposite sides of the world, and their daughters needed a solid unified front if they were going to adapt healthily into this new dynamic. Buttercup schooled her features before grinning at him.

“Yeah. We’re both older now,” her heart did a funny little flip at his smile, and she schooled that too. “We should be able to communicate way better for the girls. We did promise them a better custody arrangement, after all.”

It may have been a flicker of the old fluorescent bulbs overhead, or the shadow of Mags passing out their food falling over his face, but she could have sworn that a frown tugged at the edges of Jake’s mouth at her words. But in a blink, it was gone, and he was whistling for the girls to return to their table to eat.

“As you wish, Buttercup,” he murmured softly as their daughters raced over. “If a better custody arrangement is what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Saturday morning was a rush of activity and preparation for the Dagger’s reunion party. Jake, Javy, Bob, and Rooster had reached out to all their contacts and invited all the Daggers they had managed to contact. By Friday, they had received RSVPs from almost everyone. Penny and Amelia had immediately launched into planning mode, and Payback and Fanboy had enthusiastically agreed, the pair having stuck together since the Daggers had been disbanded. Omaha, Fritz, Halo and Harvard had all emailed back with their disappointed declines, seeing as they were all stationed in classified locations and weren’t due to be back in a few months.Yale said that he would come if he could, but it depended on his girlfriend’s work schedule. Even Cyclone and Hondo said that they would make an appearance if they were able, but Warlock wouldn’t be able to make it.

With such a large crowd, they had all been put on prep duty. Natasha and Bob had cleaned out a few of the empty dude ranch cabins to make space for their guests. Rooster had planned a huge menu of comfort food that they hadn’t really been allowed to eat while they were in the Navy. Jake and Javy had raided the local liquor store and brought back a veritable treasure trove of potent potables. Buttercup, Abby and Charlie had gone decoration shopping and brought back an embarrassing amount of cliche summer decorations, including flamingo floaties, sun-shaped sunglasses, and plastic pineapple cocktail cups. However, nothing truly got done until Penny rolled in with Amelia on Friday night, taking one look at the party supplies that had been strewn around the ranch house and sighing fondly, directing them with military precision.

Finally, after what felt like hours of hanging bunting, blowing up balloons, and cleaning the pool, Buttercup was lounging on a chaise by said pool next to Natasha, the Texan sun beating down on their skin as they laughed at the boys, all crammed in the pool playing an aquatic version of Dogfight Football.

Buttercup sighed contentedly as she sipped her margarita and watched her girls play with Payback’s kids, her eyes catching occasionally on Jake as he tackled Javy into the water.

“...are you even listening to me?” Natasha sighed, pulling her hat further down on her head to shield her scar from the sun.

“Hmm?” Buttercup’s eyes followed Jake as he threw the red foam football down the length of the pool, his muscles rippling as the water lapped at his waist.

“Damn, girl,” Natasha sighed as Payback’s wife, Maryanne, settled into the lounge beside them. “You’ve still got it bad.”

“Fuck off,” Buttercup muttered as she dragged her eyes away from the game. “Charlie, no tackling!” she shouted, as she noticed Charlie sneaking up on Payback’s son, Richard.

Amelia sighed and stood from where she was dangling her feet in the water. “I’ve got ‘em.”

“Amelia, you don’t have to do that…”

Amelia smiled at her and headed over to the grassy hill. “It’ll be good experience, don’t worry.”

Buttercup watched Amelia join the kids, immediately launching into whatever game they were playing with gusto. Shaking her head, she turned her head and noticed both women staring at her. “What?”

“Don’t what me,” Natasha grumbled. “Everyone can see how you two look at each other.”

“There’s no look,” Buttercup sighed.

“Honey, there’s definitely a look,” Maryanne sighed, watching her husband as he dunked Fanboy into the water. “He stares at you like he’ll never get enough.”

“It’s true,” Penny piped up from her spot under the umbrella. “He looks at you the same way he looked at you when you two first started dating. Like the sun rises and sets with you, like you hold the key to all of life’s happiness. Those kinds of looks don’t come around every day, sweetheart.”

Buttercup rolled her eyes and snuggled further down into her chair, determined to ignore her friends. There was no look. She and Jake looked at each other in a completely platonic, non-romantic way. If there was a look, it was the long-suffering look that parents shared with each other when their kids did something ridiculous. She opened her mouth to tell them that, but something smoky and slightly acrid filled her lungs instead.

“Hey, Rooster? Why does it smell like something is burning?”

In an instant, all the heads in the pool snapped to her. Except, it wasn’t Rooster who moved, but Jake. In one smooth move, he heaved himself out of the pool, his biceps flexing and contracting against his body weight as he swung his legs over the side of the pool.

Buttercup’s mouth turned to the Sahara as she blatantly stared at him, her eyes tracing the droplets of water that skimmed down his pecs and abs, blinking as he grabbed a white towel and quickly tousled his hair with it before picking up his tan baseball cap and slinging it over his head backwards, keeping his damp hair out of his eyes. He slung his towel over his shoulders as he strode for the grill, grabbing the tongs and flipping the burgers with practised ease.

“No look, my ass,” Natasha whispered as he passed, snorting at the dazed look on her friend’s face.

“Fuck off…” she murmured, her eyes tracing the rippling lines of his back.

“I thought Rooster was the chef here, Hangman?” Maryanne teased, her eyes watching Buttercup closely.

“Hey, everything else was done by me!” Rooster called, throwing off Fanboy’s overly enthusiastic tackle with ease. “Hangman’s just overly protective of his grill.”

“A man and his grill have a special relationship that nobody else can understand, Bradshaw,” Jake’s grin was filled with light and ease, clearly having no clue the effect he was having on his ex-wife.

“Seems like you have a lot of relationships that nobody else can understand, dude,” Javy waggled his eyebrows at him

“Did you really almost marry a former beauty queen that’s almost half your age, Hangman?” Payback asked, climbing out of the pool and catching the towel his wife threw to him.

“And can I have her number?” Fanboy smirked as he climbed onto one of the pool floaties.

“No,” Jake grimaced as he rolled the hot dogs. “Mickey, you don’t want her number.”

Javy cackled, flipping Fanboy’s floatie before he could flip Jake off. “Isn’t that the exact same thing I told you when we met her and her dad on the golf course?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Maybe. But y’all are acting like I came to my senses at the altar or something. We were barely engaged.”

“You were touring venues, Dad,” Charlie groaned as she flopped onto her towel by her mother’s feet.

“She had the Save the Date cards printed too,” Abby pointed out, sitting on the edge of Natasha’s chair.

Buttercup giggled at Jake’s expression. “They’re not wrong, Jake. You were going to marry that girl.”

Jake turned his eyes to her, and her breath caught at the anything but teasing look in them. If anything, those green eyes were heavy with guilt. Guilt and longing and a look that she recognized but didn’t want to name. Naming it made it real. Naming it made it breakable, and if it broke again, she didn’t know what she would do.

Suddenly, she was desperate to cover herself. What had she been thinking, wearing a bikini in her ex-husband’s backyard? She was too exposed, too much of her left revealed for him to see. Her hand blindly searched for a blanket or a towel or her wrap, anything to keep the heat of his gaze off her before it burned her again.

“Is this any way for a distinguished unit to greet their superior officer?”

Fanboy and Payback jumped to attention, whirling to salute Cyclone and Hondo as they strolled through the open back gate. Phoenix rolled her eyes while Javy and Rooster bestowed him with a one finger salute, and the spell that had hung between Buttercup and Jake broke. He blinked and turned back to his grill, and Buttercup ceased her senseless search for her wrap. She was being stupid. There was nothing between them, so there was no reason to cover herself up. Besides, it had taken her a long time to be proud of her body again, and she would flaunt it if she wanted to.

“Knock it off, Beau,” Penny cooed as she greeted the Admiral with a warm hug. “Everyone should be at ease today.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled softly down at her before reaching out to shake Jake’s hand. “Seresin! Thank you for the invite.”

“Glad you could make it, sir,” Jake responded warmly. “I hope you brought your appetite. We’ve cooked up enough food to feed an army.”

“We’re both starving,” Hondo shook Jake’s hand. “We appreciate the invitation. I know we didn’t part ways on the best of terms.”

Jake shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all water under the bridge.” Jake turned his attention to the grill for a moment before calling out, “Food’s almost ready everyone!”

Bob popped up from his seat under the cabana. “I’ll go get the stuff from inside and bring it out.”

“I’ll come with,” Natasha called, avoided Cyclone’s gaze with a fierce determination.

Jake’s eyes followed Bob as he put out a hand to stop her. “Actually, Phoenix, can you do me a favour and put all the meat in the trays? I’ll give Bob a hand.”

Natasha eyed him skeptically but nodded. “Sure…but if you do anything to piss him off, I’ll break your face.”

“Bold of you to assume that Charlie and Abby wouldn’t beat you to it,” Jake grinned as he followed the former WSO into the kitchen.

His former brother-in-law was standing with his back to him, his strategic mind undoubtedly figuring out the best way to get all the salads, sides, buns, and veggies out without spilling anything.

“You know, if we flip the lids so that they’re flat, we could stack the salads and I could bring them out and you—”

“Whoa, slow down there, Bobby,” Jake chuckled as he moved to stand beside him. “I want to talk to you for a second first.”

Bob’s eyes remained on the table. “What about? You and I don’t really have much of anything to discuss, do we?”

Jake flinched but nodded. “Yeah, alright, I deserve that.”

“You deserve a lot more than that,” Bob huffed. “I told her to stay away from you, and—”

“And I fucked it up,” Jake bit out. “Just like you always knew I would.”

Bob’s eyes finally raised to meet his, and there was a fire in them that Jake hadn’t seen since Natasha had been brought to the medbay, bleeding from her eye and nonresponsive.

“She was sick, Seresin,” Bob hissed under his breath. “She was so sick and you…”

Jake’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he worked to dislodge the words he had been struggling with for years. “I wasn’t around to notice.” Jake sighed even as his heart panged. “I know. I missed half of her pregnancy and then I deployed again when the twins were like three months old. I agreed to deploy again even though I knew she was struggling. And the one thing that seemed to spark her…” Jake shook his head. “I’m not trying to make excuses, Bob, but I was scared. My wife wasn’t herself, I was running on next to no sleep, the brass kept wanting me for training exercises, and the girls were so young and helpless. Everybody needed a piece of me and I couldn’t deal. That’s no excuse, but it’s the truth. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, ever since you got here.” Jake took a deep breath and held out his hand. “I wanted to thank you…for taking care of my family when I couldn’t. I know they’re your family too, but since I wasn’t capable…I’m damn glad you were.”

Bob considered his hand for a moment. “I don’t think you weren’t capable,” he muttered after what felt like hours, and he shook Jake’s hand. “I can’t imagine what was going through your mind. You always felt the need to be perfect…you put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect in every aspect of your life, and when home wasn’t perfect…” Bob shrugged and released his hand. “You both cracked under the pressure. I’m not saying it was all her fault, because she was really sick, but it takes two to get married. It takes two to get divorced too.”

Jake blinked at him. “Jesus, Bob, you’re like Dr. Phil without the accent.”

Bob scoffed and started flipping the lids on the salad bowls. “And you’re still a dick, just without the flightsuit to justify it.”

Jake laughed and started loading the condiments into a metal tray, feeling lighter than he had in a while.

“They ate everything,” Rooster muttered, gazing down at the empty metal trays and all the empty bowls. “I’m pretty sure Fanboy even ate part of the watermelon rind.”

Jake laughed loudly, clapping his friend on the back. “Why do you sound so surprised? You do remember who we’re dealing with, right?” At that, a loud crash and a screaming chorus of “We’re alright!” rang out from the backyard.

Rooster sighed, hanging his head. “I’m too old to deal with this shit anymore…”

Jake grinned and tossed his head. “Why don’t you go make sure nothing valuable got broken out there? I’ll handle a bit of the clean up in here.” Rooster shot him a look and he rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s my house. My kitchen. Don’t worry, I’m not going to mess up your precious system.”

“Yeah, you’d better not,” Rooster muttered as he strode out the double French doors to the backyard, scooting out of the way to let Buttercup go by with the empty dessert tray.

“They’re a bunch of animals,” she sighed, taking in the mess.

Jake chuckled. “Careful, or you’re going to start sounding like Rooster.”

He started gathering up the metal trays and stuffing them into a recycling bag.

“You’re not cleaning up now, are you? Everyone wants you out there.”

Jake shrugged. “Just a bit. Rooster will have my head on a spike if any bugs get in here because we left the mess for too long.”

“Oh…” Buttercup bit her lip as she looked around, then back to him. She seemed to be steeling herself before she nodded and said, “Let me help you then.”

Jake smiled softly and murmured his thanks before the two of them fell into a bittersweet rhythm together, dodging and weaving around each other as they stacked plates, snagged garbage, and rinsed cups.

“Now, this takes me back,” Jake’s voice was wistful as he began scrubbing down the serving utensils.

Buttercup smiled as she grabbed a ladle from him to dry. “Christmas…New Years…St. Patrick’s Day…”

Jake snorted. “You were the cutest little elf I’ve ever seen.”

Buttercup gasped in mock outrage. “I was a leprechaun, thank you very much.”

“Still adorable,” Jake shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I can’t say the same for you and Santa Claus.”

Jake turned to her, letting the tongs fall into the sink with a dull thud. “What was wrong with my Santa Claus?”

“Other than that you wouldn’t let anybody but me sit on your knee, and you told Rooster and Javy to fuck off when they tried to ask you where the presents were?” Buttercup grinned at him.

“Hey, I was a very jolly old Saint Nick!”

“If by jolly, you mean horny…” Buttercup bit her lip, wincing internally. She hadn’t meant to say that. She really shouldn’t have said that. But there was something about the normalcy of being in his kitchen, cleaning up after a Daggers party. It was warm, it was calming, it was familiar.

A gush of wetness against her bare belly tore her from her thoughts and left her gasping at Jake’s cocky face.

“What?” he smirked. “You’ve been in your bathing suit all day and didn’t get wet. Thought I would help you out with that.”

Buttercup put down the dish she was drying and started winding up her towel. “Now you’ve gone and done it, Hangman,” she glared playfully at him, brandishing the wound towel in his direction before snapping it in the direction of his bare thigh.

“Hey!” he yelped, rounding the island to escape the towel’s sting. Safe behind the island, he grabbed the sink sprayer and aimed it at her, laughing at her squeals as the water rained down on her.

“Get back here, Seresin,” she cried, winding up her fabric weapon again as they began to chase each other around the kitchen. Around and around they went, water from the sprayer and the sink splashing up and towels whipping back and forth until Buttercup’s foot hit a damp patch of tile and slid out from under her.

Wincing, she braced herself for a fall…that never came.

“Easy, darlin’,” a thick arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, steadying her against a sturdy chest. A sturdy bare chest. “You alright?” Green eyes gazed down at her, worry and that touch of something that would remain nameless filling them.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she murmured, one palm braced against his pec.

“I don’t know, I kinda like it,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over her cool bare skin.

“Because you get to play hero?” she murmured, feeling his heart begin to beat harder and faster as she leaned against the counter, and he caged her in between his arms. They both knew she could easily escape, and just as easily tell him to back up, but she didn’t.

“Because I get to hold you again,” he admitted softly, his nose grazing hers for all of a nanosecond.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the heat of him press closer to her. “Jake…”

A low groan vibrated in his chest. “Tell me to stop…tell me we can’t…”

“I…” her breath shook. She knew they shouldn’t. Their situation was messy enough as it was. Not to mention he was fresh off a broken engagement. And, if this fell apart again, the girls would be devastated. She would be devastated. She couldn’t open herself up to him again…and yet, she also didn’t have the strength to say no to him. “I—”

“Hey, Seresin, I—oh!” Cyclone hesitated in the doorway. “Sorry, I’ll just…”

“It’s fine, Admiral,” Jake sighed, knowing the mood had been shattered. “What can I do for you?” His skin felt cold as Buttercup slipped under his arm and went back to drying the dishes.

“Well, there were rumours floating around that you were planning on joining us again, putting those skills of yours to good use in a few years. I was wondering if there was any merit to that?” Jake gulped as he sensed Buttercup going taut behind him, but Cyclone continued. “I was playing golf a few weeks ago with General Beaumont and he mentioned that you might want back in. Tell me the old man wasn’t just pulling my leg, Seresin. We need an Ace like you back on duty.” The clatter of metal against metal caught Cyclone’s attention, and he stopped, seeming to finally realize the tension that had clogged the air. “I should go see what Hondo got up to,” he bowed out with a slight frown in Jake’s direction before clicking the doors closed behind him.

“Buttercup…” Jake turned to see her tense back and bowed shoulders leaning against the sink.

“You want to go back?”

Jake’s eyelids fluttered closed. Shit.

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[edgeray]

Heyyooo!! I was wondering if you could make an Arle x afab reader with like a beauty and the beast plot?? Arle’s curse is slowly killing her though which is why her arms turned black and the only way she can save herself (this curse could also be affecting the House of the Hearth, up to you) is if she finds someone whom she can open up her heart to and they accept her fully and love her back in return! It doesn’t have to be exactly like that but I do think having a beauty and the beast au with arle x reader would be pretty fun to see.

Cursed Human

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Hi anon! This is a super interesting AU anon! If you choose to request as an anon again make sure to give yourself a name/emoji 🫶. I actually really love this idea. This gives a little bit of hanahaki au vibes (which is something separate that I should write and have been meaning to write, ack– too many wip). This will lean more into dark fairytale and will be based off of Arlecchino's backstory. (This turned out darker than I expected, and I'm very sorry for that.)  The switch up is crazy to me. 💀 How do I pull out horse girl au, platonic au, and domestic fluff, and then this shit? I'm versatile like that, I guess. But I promise it gets better after all the dark stuff.  Content warnings / info - afab reader, pretty dark, some brief religious notions, semi-graphic details of violence, a little bit of arlevie but only ‘cuz of the angst, hopefully not forgetting something, 1.8k words

Here tells the tale of a cursed monster. 

Peruere was said to be cursed from childbirth. A child who caused misfortune wherever and whenever, it was a surprise to none of the villagers when Arlecchino was dropped off at the doorstep of Crucabena, the head of an illegitimate orphanage. Misfortune began with the death of her birth mother. Afterwards, her father was stricken by an unknown illness, quickly becoming too ill to take care of her. The first day that Peruere arrived at the orphanage, the stocked vegetables and fruits had all rotten. And the first night, every child in the same room as her was suddenly struck with insomnia.   

(The pregnancy only intensified the already ill mother  in the first place. The stress from a newborn child and the death of his wife caused him to be ill. The recent intensity of humidity accelerated the spoilage of the produce. The mattresses were far too solid, the room was far too cold, and the piercing cries of Crucabena's daughter were far too loud to allow slumber.)  

The villagers deemed her as cursed, a threat to their quaint little town. They tried to persuade the town head, a powerful sorcerer, to eradicate the hell offspring. The town head rejected, suggesting that the mere existence of a child did not warrant taking away her life. Crucabena had stepped up to the conference, easing the villagers’ concerns by ensuring that the depravity would be beaten out of the wretched child. 

And Crucabena did just as she said she would. 

“Mother” had no issue every night carving the symbol of her archon into Arlecchino's skin in an effort to exercise the demon inside of the child. “Mother” sullied Peruere's once flawless skin with bruises, lacerations, and blood. The cursed child clawed and struggled away every night, and yet every night she only knew of the pain that was etched far past the layers of her skin, carved into her bones, and syringed into her veins. 

The wretched child became very familiar with the acute sting or the prickling ache. However, there was something else she became familiar with. While “Mother" dealt her pain, what Clervie dealt her was love.

Clervie was young and naive. Perhaps if the cursed child knew better, Clervie would not be tainted.  

“Mother” did not stop even when the screams of a six-year-old child rang through her ears. “Mother” did not stop when even her other children begged her to stop her demonstrations. “Mother” did not stop when her own daughter rose against her. “Mother” did not stop when her own daughter's blood spilt on her hands. 

Love is a strange thing. It can transform a meek sheep into a vengeful wolf. 

The same night that Clervie's life was extinguished, Peruere burned bright, hot enough to scorch Crucabena's life away. 

After hearing of the child's atrocity, the town head cursed the child, expeling her to a decrepit home amidst a dark forest, condemning her to a slow, painful death. Peruere will die a death befitting an unlovable, inhuman creature. For if she sins under the pretense of something so pure, then she shall forever be undeserving of it. Stripped from her final piece of humanity, her name, a new name is thrusted upon the child: Arlecchino, the Knave, the servant of a devil.

—

At Arlecchino's feet lay the corpses of the intrusive villagers, the ones that dared to enter her forest and prey upon her children. How dare they? 

It had been a decade since she had been cursed. A simmering fire burns within her veins, sometimes the constant ache so acute that Arlecchino believes that she is truly burning from within. She had long presumed that that was the very nature of her curse, that she would eventually burn from the inside like the very flames that consumed Crucabena. Her arms had attained the same color as char, the spread of the physical toll of her curse growing with each passing day. And her eyes, they gain red-crossed pupils, said to be the mark of a demon inside. 

After having been expelled, the villagers were ‘generous’ enough to give her an abandoned abode. With her hands, she made it into something liveable. After a few weeks of living in the forest, she encountered intruders on the eastern borders of her forest: children from another town, said to be cursed and so were being chased out by villagers with torches and pitchforks. Arlecchino had sheltered them, and they had remained with her since.

Arlecchino gives it another half-decade before the char completely consumes her body, and she will meet the same fate as “Mother.” But until then, she will protect her forest, her home, her children. Perhaps her children will grow strong enough to protect themselves when she is gone. 

Other children, in one way or another, made their way into her forest. One, whose mother had abandoned after giving birth to them, was left to die with nothing but a blanket bundled around them. Another, seeking a sanctuary to peacefully die was convinced otherwise, and now smiles everyday. Each and every child within her cabin had some tragedy placed unjustly on them, and so Arlecchino welcomed her arms to them. 

Arlecchino had taught them well, each child could not venture out beyond the woods for their own safety. But the villagers, across all five villages surrounding her forest, had grown bolder, determined to ‘exterminate vileness.’ 

She cannot protect her children for much longer. She will die, and her children–her nest of the outcasts, the abandoned, the cursed, the hurt–will be left to fend for themselves. Even she cannot escape fate, no matter how much she challenges it. That is the tragedy she must shoulder.  

She is tired. 

The warmth of her children, while welcomed, is not the same as the warmth she longs. The warmth of her children does not comfort her at nights when the bloodfire, so she calls it, creeps up, maiming any semblance of sleep. The warmth of her children does not undo or prevent the curse's effect, her arms still remain black, her hands still resembling the claws of a monster. The warmth of her children does not melt her frigid heart, does not make her any more human. 

She longs and longs for something she is destined to never receive. 

Because this is the most she deserves. 

—

One day, a person stumbles into her forest. She is neither a child or a malevolent aggressor. She encounters you, breathless and heaving as you clutch your bleeding side. Arlecchino can tell that you do not bear any spite towards her or her children, but she cannot deem you nonthreatening. 

“A-are you the Knave?” you're able to choke out, leaning against the tree.

“Would you like the misfortune of finding out?” Arlecchino forewarns, extending out her hands and showcasing her claws, remnants of other victims’ blood still on her fingers. You swallow thickly, your hand clutching onto the small dagger behind your back. 

“I'm… I'm looking for my child. They wandered into here and never came back. But… I refuse to believe that they're dead. They're alive, aren't they? You have them, don't you? Let me see them,” you boldly demand, despite your injured state. Your eyes burn with a dangerous determination, a familiar fire dancing among your pupils. 

“Are you unaware? That the Knave kidnaps and feeds on young children?” That was obviously a lie, but an effective lie that has dissuaded most villagers from entering her territory. 

You shook your head. “They're just rumors.”

“And how would you know?” 

You breathe in deeply. “I've heard of you. You're the first cursed child. But, I know why you were cursed. You wouldn't… you wouldn't do that.”

Arlecchino pauses, hesitance in her for the slightest moment. “I am cursed,” she says it like a shield, a wall that defends her from futile hopes. 

“The world isn't as just as most people like us to believe.”

The cursed human breathes deeply. “What is your name?” 

—

You were telling the truth. Arlecchino remembers one of her children yearning for their mother, the only source of comfort before they found the House. She takes you to her home, and you're reunited with your child.

Your child pleads with Arlecchino to allow you to stay, and begrudgingly, she does, to your amazement. You adjust well to living in the secluded home, often filling in for her the emotional support that the children always needed, but she could not provide. The children take to calling you ‘Mother.’ You joke with the children, insisting that Arlecchino was the ‘Father’ in that case.  

Something inside of her stirs when she does. It is both a familiar and foreign sensation, somehow a sweet and bitter taste in her mouth, soothing but perturbing at once. You are unbeknownst to this. 

There are traits that you learn about the cursed once-child, traits that you find endearing, and traits that you later learn to love. Although her words may be cutting, they can carry a tenderness with them. Her hands, that she so frequently despises, protect her children. There is no reason for you not to love them, despite their appearance. She utilizes her cursed status to protect all of you, and for that, how could you possibly see someone who is ‘cursed’ or ‘inhuman?’ 

One night, you lay awake, suddenly jolted by the sounds of scratching, originating from the room besides you. You approach the room, and view the forlorn sight of Arlecchino, hunched over and writhing in pain, the bloodfire overtaking her once more. Pained groans escape from her as her claws dig into the wall besides her, dragging them down as she searches for any sense of grounding. Her eyes glower, the color reminiscent of blood. It is in this moment where she looks nothing more like a beast. 

Still, you do not see her as such. Not when you take her hand, kissing each knuckle and finger, the same ones that had saved your child from danger, the same ones that had saved you. 

“Arlecchino,” you whisper out to her, and it calls out to her soul. The bloodfire weakens, and she gazes at you. Your eyes fill with a warmth that melts her.

“Don't,” she warns with a harsh gruff that wavers, attempting to wrench her hand out of her grasp, but she finds herself vulnerable when you grip tighter. You lean down, bringing your lips on her blackened skin, the very skin that signifies her inhumanity. The black gradient recedes, and you continue until you kiss up to her shoulder. By then, the charred hue only spreads up to her knuckles.

Shock envelops her expression, but she is hardly given the time to process when you slot your lips over hers. She sighs and leans in, bringing up her hand to cup your face. 

Her hands are neither clawed, nor charred at that moment, but the two of you hardly realize until the next morning. The bloodfire inside of Arlecchino dissipates.

Fate can be challenged, and destiny can be broken. Cursed or not, deserving of or not, Arlecchino will take what is rightfully hers. 

[toournextadventure]

what once was mine

Summary: Karlach is back. For good this time. And she just wants to have her love back so they can finally spend the rest of their lives together like they had planned. Things just never seem to go her way.

Word Count: 8k Warnings: swearing, violence, murder, typical BG3/DND themes Pairing: Karlach Cliffgate x Reader

The birds were singing.

It didn’t matter how long Karlach had been out of Avernus. She knew she would never go back to Avernus thanks to the blueprints she and Wyll had found. By all accounts, she was free. And in the end, even that didn’t diminish the sounds of the birds singing in the air around her.

Her life had been idyllic since coming back from Avernus for the last time. It had been nearly two years since she had finished her adventure with Tav and the gang. Nearly two years since she had made the choice - which she had initially regretted but now celebrated - to fight for her life. Now, the rest of the gang had settled fairly close together, living their own lives of peace.

Something about defeating a Netherbrain really took the thrill of adventure out of a person, she supposed.

She enjoyed her days around Baldur’s Gate. At first, she hadn’t been sure if she could emotionally handle living in the city again. It held many great memories, but it also held tainted memories. The ghosts of things she could have had if not for Gortash and Zariel. The reminders of a love she had lost and couldn’t find again.

Those fears had been unwarranted, though, and she was more than happy to be living in Baldur’s Gate again. It felt like home to her, like the place she had been desperately trying to get back to. The entire gang - aside from Shadowheart and Lae’zel, who had settled in a farmhouse outside the gates - had moved in, enjoying their time together. Karlach could have guests. She could have a family again.

But Karlach could never get over losing you. Not when everything in the city reminded her of you. You were in the children’s laughter as they ran down the streets playing stickball. You were in the soft, hushed words someone gave her lover as they sat for tea. You were in the sun on the hottest of days, kissing her skin and leaving her warm and whole.

Gortash had told her about you before she had killed him. He had told her eagerly. She didn’t know if he had wanted to get her angry, or sad, or whatever else. She didn’t really fucking care, all she knew was it was his fault anything had happened in the first place.

“They’re an Oathbreaker now,” Gortash said between gasps for air. “Did you know?”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Karlach asked. She wished to just cut his head off and be done with him. She wanted her vengeance.

“Your pup.”

Karlach let the blade of her axe rest heavily on Gortash’s neck as his words sunk in. He was talking about you. And just the thought of something happening to you had her infernal heart roaring. Something had hurt you. Something had hurt you so badly you had broken your Oath. That was sacred. That damn Oath was your life.

“They frighten even me now,” he continued. “You should be proud.” She pressed the axe deeper into his skin. “They’ve gained quite the kill count.”

“You don’t get to talk about them,” Karlach growled.

“Maybe they’ll work with Zariel next,” he said with a sparkle in his eye and a sadistic smile. “It’s not like they have anything left to lose.”

Karlach lifted the axe, let out a guttural scream, and slammed it down on his neck. His head separated from his body with ease before rolling a few feet across the room.

She didn’t feel any better.

Tav had done her best to talk Karlach down from a panic attack, but that only worked so well. Eventually she made sense, saying that she couldn’t help you if she blew a gasket. Karlach couldn’t help but laugh because she was right. The last thing she needed was to overheat and not be able to help you. Wherever you were.

You were her next adventure. Her last adventure.

“I thought I’d find you up here,” Tav’s voice came from the other end of the rooftops. “Astarion said you hadn’t left since last night.”

“I knew he was being a sneaky bastard,” Karlach said with a smile as she pulled her knees up to her chest to make room for Tav.

“He’s worried about you,” she said. “We all are.”

Karlach sighed and rested her chin on her knees. She knew they were all worried. She could feel it in the looks they gave her and the too-soft touches. When they would hesitate, for just a second, before pulling her into a hug or patting her on the shoulder. When they choked on a sentence because, at least in their minds, it was too reminiscent of her hunt for you.

She loved that they all cared, but she didn’t think she could stomach it for much longer.

“Have you seen them again?”

Again. That word was haunting Karlach’s consciousness. It had been more than a few fortnights since she had found you and seen what had truly happened. What you had become after she had been sold to fight a war that she wanted no part in. Since she had more or less abandoned you and her parents through no fault of her own.

Karlach had done a lot of investigative work - which admittedly was really fucking shoddy - before having the slightest clue where you were. It took a lot of schmoozing, a lot of bribing Astarion with good wine, and a lot of talking with criminals before she finally heard of a supposed werewolf attack in the Lower City. Now that she could work with.

Her axe was strapped securely on her back as she stood in the middle of an intersection. It had been a while since night had fallen and the nearly full-moon had risen to illuminate the streets. If she looked carefully, she could see a few rats skittering across the cobblestone and into the sewers. In the distance, she heard laughter from the tavern a few blocks away.

Unless your internal rhythm had changed - and she assumed it hadn’t - you would be somewhere nearby. She should be able to hear the fracturing of bone and the whimpers that accompanied it. Neither you nor Karlach ever knew if it was a curse, a mutation, or you were just unlucky, but you wouldn’t only change on a full moon. You would partially change on almost full moons as well.

In an attempt to make you feel better about it, she had used to call you her special pup. You used to like it.

She hoped you still did.

Her right ear twitched at a sound that she couldn’t decipher. Listening harder, she heard it again. There you were. There was no doubt in her mind it was you. She hadn’t fought her way out of Avernus twice just to not be able to tell you apart from anyone else. Without looking anywhere else, she ran in the direction of the whimpers.

As much as Karlach didn’t think she would need it, she kept a mental note to grab her axe when she found you. If you were anything like what Gortash had tried to claim, she might need to knock a bit of sense back into you. Get you back to that kind soul she knew back in the day. But with each step she took, she got more unsure of what she would find.

Hells, she hadn’t felt that nervous since her first few nights in Avernus.

The sounds of screaming from men was enough to make her really nervous. There shouldn’t have been any screaming, at least not from other people. It should have only been you and her. You and me against the world, darling. That’s what you had always told her before she would leave for work. It should have still been that way.

It wasn’t.

Karlach would have recognised you even if she had lost her mind. You were her person, her love, she would never forget a single thing about it. The barb of your tail, the cut of your hair, the piercings in your ears that you had begged her to get with you. Matching piercings. Now that you were both older, it almost seemed childish.

She nearly tripped over a singed body because she was so enthralled by you. You. That was all it took to rid her of any sense. Gods, she had forgotten what you did to her. How just the sight of you alone was enough to set every inch of her alight. In a good way, of course.

There was an itch that she wanted you to scratch. The itch to feel your skin underneath her fingertips again. She wanted to trace your scars and kiss every random scale you had. Karlach wanted to know if your skin felt as warm as she remembered, or if it would be cooler now that she ran hot instead. And if she let her mind go to far more inappropriate places, she wanted all of that again too.

A strangled cry caught her attention again. Damn, she had gotten lost in you already. Maybe she should have taken Lae’zel up on her offer to accompany her for the night. At least then she wouldn’t be getting quite so distracted. At least not openly. Or maybe she would, she was already getting distracted again.

From where Karlach was standing, she couldn’t see your face. Only the back of your head, the tips of your horns, the clenched fist at your side, the way your ears laid flat against the side of your head. If memory served - and it did - you were at your most terrifying when your ears were tucked. You were one to try and hide any negative emotions, but your ears gave you away. Karlach had always loved it. She was undecided if she loved it in that moment.

In front of you was a man, no older than you or her, perhaps even a bit younger. He was on the ground, trying to scramble backwards away from you. Every inch he moved, you followed, your tail swinging slowly behind you. The words that came out of his mouth were rushed, but she knew begging when she heard it.

She couldn’t see your mouth, but there was a glow to your hand when you lifted it in front of him. If she didn’t want you to kill that man, she had better say something. Quickly. But what could she say? Hey there, long time no see! That would be stupid. Did you miss me? She didn’t think she could handle it if you said no.

She settled for something far more simple.

“Hello, love.”

The magical light in the man’s eyes settled into a dim glow as your own light faded. In Karlach’s mind, she pictured the look on your face. Euphoria. Pure joy that she was back, you could both enjoy the life you had always talked about. Perhaps, if you were truly feeling it, a small tear born from happiness. Her mind ran rampant with images of you running toward her, throwing your arms around her shoulders and holding her so tight you were both of one mind, body, and soul.

It wasn’t what she got.

You turned slowly, and more and more of your face was revealed to Karlach. Inch by inch she saw you. It was like the worst play she had ever seen in her life. She got to see the snarl of your lips ease, turning into something more… pitiful. If you had been anyone else, she would have described it as pathetic. The fist at your side turned into shaking fingers.

The look in your eyes was like a dagger through her heart.

“Karlach?”

Your voice quaked the same it had the night you were bitten. Terrified. Hopeless. Small. There, that was the perfect description for how you sounded. You sounded small. But if there was one thing Karlach had gotten right in her imagination, it was the tear that slid down your cheek.

It just wasn’t happy like she had wanted.

“No,” Karlach finally answered Tav. “I haven’t seen them since then.”

In a move that had always warmed Karlach’s heart, Tav leaned over and rested her head on her shoulder. It was a gentle move, one that had enticed everyone in the group at one point or another. Something that instilled far more calm than it had any right to. And Karlach was falling for it yet again, indicative by the calming of her racing heart. Er, engine.

“You’ll find them,” Tav said softly. “Maybe you’ll find them in the city having tea.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be quite the treat?”

Initially, Karlach had laughed. After how hard she had tried to find you the first time, it was a funny thought. To just happen upon you by chance in the city? It didn’t even matter if it was the Upper or Lower, the thought alone was enough to have her laugh. Wouldn’t that be the best luck in the world?

Perhaps it wasn’t so funny after all.

Karlach did find you having tea in the Lower City. Or, not exactly tea, but she caught you having a drink. She had made it a habit to go by taverns in the evenings not to find you, but to relax. Enjoy the scenery and the social aspect of it all. Having drinks alone in her own home wasn’t quite as enjoyable and, honestly, it made her sad.

So of course she had stopped by the Blushing Mermaid. A simple tavern full of seedy criminals and illicit business. There were nightly brawls, horrible songs, shitty people, and stiff drinks. It was some of the most fun Karlach got into since she had informally retired from adventuring. Few places gave her as much excitement as that tavern.

But when she walked into the tavern and looked for a place to sit, she saw a familiar pair of horns and tail. She didn’t think twice before walking over to where you were sitting. A small table for two, and lucky for her, the second seat was empty.

“Mind if I join you?” She asked.

You flinched.

“Not at all,” you said.

She could feel your eyes on her as she sat down across from you. Well, she didn’t only feel it, she saw you watching her. The same way she watched you. Unblinking. Like seeing you was nothing more than a dream, and if she looked away then you would disappear. Or she would disappear, she wasn’t sure what would be more nightmarish.

You locked eyes even after she sat. It was uncomfortable, to feel like you were staring into her very soul. Karlach would always remember your eyes, she had always gotten lost in them. They had the most miniscule light in them, nearly illuminating them in the dark. Not too different from her own when she heated up.

Gods, she had missed your eyes.

You eventually pushed a tankard toward her. “Here,” you said. “You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks, love,” she said, eagerly taking it and downing it. She did need it.

Uncharacteristically, a barmaid came over to the table and leaned against it. She was pretty. Not just by seedy tavern standards, but just in general. There was no reason she should be by the table. Karlach desperately hoped she wasn’t going to get roped into some ridiculous job.

“Hungry, darling?” The barmaid asked you.

Karlach bristled at the use of the pet name.

But you looked directly at Karlach and waited with expectant eyes. Oh. Oh, that gave her butterflies. Some pretty girl called you “darling,” and you didn’t stop looking at her? You certainly remembered the way to her heart, that was for sure. She did her best to push away the, well, other thoughts from her mind.

“Whatever’s hearty,” Karlach told the barmaid who looked none too happy to be talking to her. “And keep the drinks coming.”

“Put it on my tab,” you told the barmaid as she started walking off. She gave you a smile that quickly turned into a scowl when she looked at Karlach.

“The staff know you well,” Karlach said once she was certain you weren’t going to talk first. She supposed she couldn’t blame you.

Only a few weeks ago, you had probably thought she was dead.

“I spend a lot of coin here,” you said. “Talk flows like beer, for the right price.”

“And you’re looking for talk, are you?” She tried to sound flirty. Maybe it was foolish, but she wanted you to flirt back. Even for just one evening, she wished to act like nothing had ever happened.

“I’m looking for the bastards who ruined my life,” you said.

So, flirting wasn’t back in the picture just yet.

“Right,” Karlach said as she sat up straight in the chair. “I suppose that’s worth the coin.”

“And some,” you said softly.

Your left hand stayed resting on the table as you lifted your own tankard to your lips. Karlach cursed the wooden mug. It hid her view of your pretty lips from her. At least it forced her to look elsewhere. Like your hand. There were more scars than she remembered. Little ones ravaging your fingers. She wished she could have been there to kiss them better as they healed.

She wished you would let her kiss them better now.

You both smiled politely at the barmaid when she came around and set the food and wine on the table. The tavern continued to rage around you both as neither of you were willing to make the first move. Behind her, Karlach heard the start of a fight. She desperately wished to watch. Or join in.

“You should eat,” you finally said, gesturing your head toward the warm bread and stew. “Coming back from the dead must be exhausting.”

There it was. Karlach knew it would come up at some point, especially if she managed to get as close to you as she was in that moment. But knowing that it was coming didn’t make it hurt any less. To see the borderline betrayal in your eyes when you looked away quickly, focusing on anything but her.

She reached out to place her hand on top of yours in the best form of comfort she knew. You looked at her hand, and for a moment your face softened. For a moment, there was a small spark in your eyes again. Underneath hers, your hand turned around and pushed up, forcing both of your palms together. Karlach had always loved comparing hand sizes; it gave her an excuse to hold your hand.

The moment disappeared when you pulled your hand back and placed it in your lap.

“I wasn’t dead,” Karlach said softly. She hoped you couldn’t hear the hurt in her voice.

“Then where were you?” You asked, “Because you certainly weren’t here.”

There was no way to tell if you were actually tearing up, or if Karlach simply wished you were. She wanted you to have missed her. Not to hurt, but to miss her touch. To miss her smell, or waking up beside her, or even just being near her. She was desperate to know you had missed her as much as she had missed you.

She wanted you to have loved her that entire time.

“You ready for a long story?” She asked.

You nodded once, and the tale began.

Karlach knew, more often than not, that she rambled when telling stories. A lot of times she would even over-embellish to make the tale more exciting, or make herself seem more brave, more amazing than she really was. Sometimes her stories involved death, despair, and harrowing adventures that only the great Karlach could escape.

This was nothing of the sort. There were no grand theatrics or tales of grandeur. It was simply the truth. How she had been sold by someone she had trusted with her life. How she had fought a battle she wanted nothing to do with, and finally, by some miracle, managed to find a group of people that she genuinely cared about. And who cared about her in return.

You watched patiently. Gods, Karlach had missed your patience. Whether it was for something small, or large, or insignificant, it didn’t matter. When she would come to you, fuming about something that had happened, you had waited patiently for her to finish her rage before talking her through all those feelings. She missed having you to talk through her feelings with. Dealing with them on her own wasn’t as easy.

Although she almost laughed at how wide your eyes got when she talked about the whole tadpole thing.

“You all knew what was going on in each other’s minds?” You asked.

“Yup,” Karlach said, popping the “p” loudly. “Things got real interesting when the feelings started to come out.”

“No doubt you got a front row seat to some rather raunchy nights,” you said with a smile and the lightest laugh.

Oh Gods, Karlach could melt right on the spot just from that sight.

But the smile and laughter quickly died down, and you set your jaw once again.

“Gortash told me you never showed for duty that morning,” you said without any emotion. “Said it right to my face.”

So that’s what he had said. From the moment Karlach had gotten back to Baldur’s Gate, she had wondered what everyone had been told of her sudden disappearance. Had they been told that she had died on the job? That some mysterious warlock had taken control and kidnapped her? Surely he hadn’t told the truth that he had sold her for his shiny new toys.

She hadn’t expected something so… mundane.

“I would have never left without warning,” she said softly.

You chuckled humourlessly. “I knew that,” you said, “and so did your parents.” You let out a deep sigh. “But neither Gortash nor I could offer any proof one way or another.”

The noise of the tavern was more rowdy now that it was getting later into the evening. You were looking out into the crowd, and Karlach saw the strong set of your jaw. The twitch of your ear. She tried not to lose her cool when your tail brushed against hers. Keep yourself calm, Karlach, she told herself, you’re finally making progress. It didn’t help that your tail intertwined with hers and stayed that way.

“And you killed him?” You asked, finally looking back at her.

Angry you was a sight to behold. It got Karlach all hot and bothered.

“I did,” she said proudly. “Even put his head on a pike for shits and giggles.”

“Good,” you said with a nod. “He deserved worse.”

In all honesty, Karlach agreed with you. Gortash deserved worse than death. She wished she could have put him through everything she had been forced to go to. To have him fight a historical war, have him fear for his life every second of every day. Force him to live each day not knowing if the people you loved were safe.

But she didn’t want to be thinking about Gortash. Not that night. She wanted to be thinking of you. To sit with you, and enjoy being in your presence once again. It was a long shot, but she wanted to feel your hand in hers. There had been many years between your last meeting, she wanted to rediscover everything about you like it was the first time.

In short, Karlach wanted to fall in love with you all over again.

“Are you busy in a few nights?” Karlach asked.

Your head tilted to the side. It was adorable. “What?”

“Are you busy?” She asked again.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you stammered. “Why?”

“Well,” she started, drawing the word out. “I know it’s been, ah, a little while.” She ignored the roll of your eyes. “I was wanting to go on a date.” You kept looking at her. “With you.” Silence. “We would go together.” A twinkle in your eye. “You can stop me at any point.”

Your stunning smile returned. A small smile, one that, in the past, had accompanied trouble. Gods, she loved you. She was willing to put in all the effort necessary to rekindle that romance, but she loved you. Every little bit of you. From the tip of your horns to your toes.

And she very much loved the way your fangs got caught on your lips.

But that smile fell again. Karlach wished she could have a painting of your smile so she could look at it whenever she pleased. You were far more serious this go around. The same air of triviality was gone, replaced with something Karlach wasn’t entirely sure she liked. Something had hurt you. It had hurt you deeply, and she didn’t quite know how to help.

“You don’t want a date with me,” you finally said.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Karlach tried to stop you. “I missed you every moment I was gone.”

“You missed someone who no longer exists,” you said. “That person died with their Oath.”

“You’re more than an Oath, lovely,” she said softly as she leaned forward on the table.

“You miss someone who laughed,” you continued. “Someone who had kindness in their heart and wanted to keep everyone safe.”

Karlach stayed silent.

You leaned forward on the table to match her posture. “I want to catch the bastards who ruined my life.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Karlach said. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got some extra muscle to use.”

You shook your head. “You’re not understanding.”

“Then explain it to me,” she said. “Because I spent over a decade away from you, and I’d like to try and get some of that time back.”

“I want to watch the bastards burn,” you said. “And I don’t care who burns with them.”

The very tone in your voice was enough to freeze Karlach to her core. That was an unusual feeling. It was uncomfortable. She wouldn’t dare change her mind, but she had the eerie feeling that you were right. You weren’t quite the same as the person she had fallen in love with in her younger years.

You finally reached out and placed your own hand over hers. Karlach exhaled deeply and looked down. You were touching her. You were all but holding her hand. And she had been right, you ran cooler than her now. It was a wonderful contrast, something that sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, she wanted to feel your hands all over her, holding her tight and never letting go.

“You have a big heart, Karlach,” you said softly. “And I never stopped loving you.” Karlach felt her engine stutter. “I will not taint the very thing I love about you.”

She watched, motionless, as you stood up from the table and walked over to her side. Without the hint of fur, you looked more like she had remembered. Soft, warm, utterly beautiful. And when your lips pressed against her cheek, she wanted to cry. It was one thing to imagine the feel of your lips again, but now that she had it? She would kill to keep it.

“Stay away, Karlach,” you said when you stood back up.

You carelessly dropped some gold on the table, gave her one last look, and left the tavern. Once again, you had disappeared on her. The tavern was full, more full than she had seen in months, and she felt alone. She had watched you walk away again and still couldn’t bring herself to follow you and beg you to stay.

It didn’t take long for Karlach to realise what you had meant when you said you didn’t care who you took down in your journey. At most, it was only a tenday later that she got wind of the explosion at an old abandoned church. The explosion had killed a dozen people, three of them children. Stories made their rounds around the city of a tiefling with scales and dark spells.

Karlach knew in her heart of hearts that it was you.

She tried to catch you in the act. Fuck, she tried for months to catch you. The whole gang had even come together to try and help, keeping their eyes out for any sign of you. The only one who managed to find out part of your intention. When you had mentioned the “bastards who ruined your life,” you were talking about the local pack of Werewolves. Which made sense, as far as she knew, they were the ones who had attacked when you were younger.

The only thing none of them could piece together was your methods. Sometimes they would find the remains of a Werewolf, other times they would find unrelated bodies. How had you managed to continue moving around the city when it was fairly well known that you were, at the very least, a suspect? Did you know, or did you simply not care?

Karlach didn’t know what to do. She knew you were good. She knew you. Broken Oath or not, you wouldn’t change completely. You wouldn’t ruin your life for revenge, that wasn’t in your nature. And even if it was, Karlach believed in you. Nothing could have pushed you that far.

Regardless, Gale and Shadowheart convinced her to have her axe coated in silver. Just in case.

“I think I know where your little killer will be,” Astarion said during their regular dinner at Karlach’s house.

“Where?” She asked quickly. “Are they okay?”

“I believe they’re fine,” he said nonchalantly. He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. “Hells, word gets around the monster world. You should be asking if everyone else is fine.”

“Astarion,” Karlach warned.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed. “There’s a party in half a tenday,” he said. “A large portion of Were creatures are supposed to attend.” He picked something out from between his teeth. “Word underground is your little darling will be there.”

Karlach practically jumped into the seat across from Astarion. He didn’t even flinch; it was rather big of him. Sometimes, whether he intended to or not, he seemed a little wary of her sporadic movements. Maybe it was because he couldn’t predict them, or maybe she was just too loud. She didn’t know. But now, after so long together, he didn’t even budge.

She was so proud of him!

“How confident are you in your source?” She asked.

He laughed. “Darling, it’s not a source,” he said. “It’s coming from a friend.”

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I just want to help them,” she said. “Before they do something they regret.”

It was deeper than that. Hells, everyone knew it was deeper than that. Even Astarion, who made it a point not to see the deeper meanings of things, could see right through her as if she were glass. She didn’t just want to keep you from doing something stupid. She wanted to get back the life she had with you before everything went to shit.

She just wanted you back.

Astarion’s hand was cold on hers, and she looked up to see he had moved closer to offer a rare display of physical comfort.

“How about I do some digging myself, hmm?” He asked. “After all, I am rather charming.”

“Just don’t push them,” Karlach said with a smile. “I can’t guarantee how they feel about vampires.”

Astarion laughed. It was a nice sound. “Lucky for me, I’m simply a spawn.”

It was rather lucky for Astarion. It was only a few nights later that he came to see Karlach, out of breath and uncharacteristically shaky on his feet. You were very much not entirely okay with vampires, but you gave him a pass. He relayed your message - telling her to stay away, as if she would actually do that - and offered to join her at the party.

She quickly agreed it would be best.

Acknowledging that she might need help was a hard pill to swallow. There was no chance, no way in the Hells that she would have to do anything to stop you. She wasn’t foolish, but she knew her worth. If she could just get you to listen then it would be fine. You could both enjoy the party and then ride off into the sunset.

When the evening of the party came around, Karlach felt rather pretty. Her dress was gorgeous and it could hide a few weapons. Beside her, Astarion looked as handsome as always, and they both appeared at the party as if they had been personally invited.

Well, technically Astarion had been, but Karlach enjoyed feeling like she was sneaking in. It was more fun.

The party itself was swinging. All the energy in the air changed the moment Karlach and Astarion stepped into the underground hall. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn it was a ballroom in one of the above ground castles. Gods, she was in love with it. The architecture, the people, the energy. She wanted to grab Astarion and just dance the night away.

“Shall we?” Astarion asked as he held his hand out for Karlach to take.

“Oh fuck yes,” she said eagerly.

For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the last time she had had quite as much fun as that evening. Children were laughing, people were talking, the mood was light and airy. Hells, a few kids even asked her for a dance. Her! Could you believe it? She certainly couldn’t, and it was made even more hilarious when they asked Astarion next.

Karlach excused herself for a moment to grab something to drink. Dancing was exhausting, and she was parched. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was wine, beer, or simply water, she just needed a small break. A small drink, then she could get back to the party and have her fun. Gods, she wished you were there with her-

-oh.

In all the excitement, she had nearly forgotten why she was at the party in the first place. It wasn’t for a fun and exciting date night with Astarion, even though she would certainly take him up on the offer again in the future. She was there to keep people safe. To keep you safe.

More children laughed.

Oh boy.

If you were truly around, she needed to find you. She needed to get to you before anything happened, if anything even was going to happen. Her feet carried her around the giant hall, allowing her to look in every crook and cranny for anything potentially dangerous. The entirety of her heart hoped she was wrong and you weren’t there, you were simply upset.

Her mind wasn’t so convinced.

The hope was starting to take over when she approached the final few corners of the hall. There was nothing to be found. No bombs, no barrels, no nothing. Perhaps Astarion’s friend had been wrong and you weren’t there. Wouldn’t that be a miracle? It would give her more time to find you and perhaps talk a bit of sense into you-

“-I told you to stay away.”

Never mind, no time for miracles.

“You know I’m stubborn,” Karlach said as she turned around to look at you. Unlike her, you stayed dressed for business. “You always found it cute.”

“It stopped being cute a long time ago,” you said as you practically stormed off down a hall that Karlach hadn’t noticed.

She followed you instantly.

“Mind sharing your nefarious plan?” She asked once she finally caught up to you. Gods, you could move fast.

“Leave, Karlach,” you huffed.

“You know there’s children up there, right?” She continued.

You pulled up to a stop, and even though she was watching your back, she could see the heavy fall of your shoulders. What were you thinking? Surely you weren’t really going to risk all those people. They weren’t all guilty of whatever you accused them of. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be.

“Take your spawn and leave,” you finally said. “I won’t tell you again.”

Karlach stayed frozen in place as you walked forward only a little more, stopping at what appeared to be a book. A… spell book? She didn’t think you had any interest in that subject. You certainly had never shown interest before. Why would you care now?

“What’s that?” She asked as you took a page out of the book.

You sighed and refused to look at her. “A Scroll of Cloudkill,” you answered.

“You can’t use that,” Karlach said.

Her engine froze over when you finally turned to look at her. Your eyes weren’t sad, not really. They were more… resigned. And maybe a little sad. But it was silly, you wouldn’t use that scroll on everyone. It would kill people, you knew that. And you weren’t one to kill people unnecessarily.

“I told you,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t care who burns with them.”

Karlach had a moment, only a moment, to make a move. If she stayed there, you would head into the party and kill everyone. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow you to do it, no matter how much she loved you. Something you had always loved about her was her sense of right and wrong.

This was wrong.

She quickly stepped in between you and the hall where everyone was still laughing and enjoying their evening. You were both just far enough away that no one would hear. The look in your eyes changed as you looked at her. It broke her heart. She was determined not to move.

You crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip.

“I can’t let you do this, lovely,” Karlach said softly. “They’re innocent.”

“They’re as guilty as I am,” you said.

“Not the children.”

“Not yet.”

Karlach sighed. She had forgotten you were just as stubborn as she was.

“What happened?” She asked you. “What hurt you this badly?”

“Just move,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Not unless you tell me,” she argued.

Your jaw tensed. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Just tell me,” she said. “How bad can it be-”

“-I killed your parents.”

Oh.

It could be that bad.

“It was a full moon and I was distracted,” you said with a quivering bottom lip. “Your parents made the mistake of coming to help.”

No. That couldn’t be the truth.

“I slaughtered them,” you continued with a shaky voice. “Just the same as I slaughtered my own parents.” There was a fire in your eyes.

No, no, that wasn’t true. You had loved her parents. They had loved you. You all made up the happiest little family Karlach could have ever imagined. She had dreamed, night after night, of coming home to have everyone together again. Her family was what got her through all those years alone.

“If they-” you pointed toward the party “-hadn’t cursed me, they would all still be alive.”

Karlach couldn’t understand your words. Nothing was adding up. You had always taken precise precautions to keep yourself and everyone else safe during a full moon. She remembered helping you, ensuring the shackles were where they should be and were tight enough to keep you in place. You would have never done anything to risk anyone else.

“They took everything from me,” you said. “My Oath, my family, my freedom.” You exhaled harshly. “I want to watch them burn.”

You had sworn an Oath of Devotion.

They’re an Oathbreaker now.

You weren’t the same.

Karlach stood taller, reaching for the disguised silver sword she had managed to sneak in. She wasn’t the most comfortable with the type of weapon, very much wishing she had her axe, but it would do. Your eyes immediately went to the weapon in her hand, and your shoulders fell.

“I can’t let you kill them, love” she said.

For the first time in a long time, Karlach prayed. She prayed to any and every god that she could think of. Small and large, good and bad, she didn’t care. She just prayed. Prayed for you to come to your senses and come back to her. Come back to her because she loved you, and she couldn’t bear to see you so hurt.

If she looked close enough, she thought she could see a tear in your eyes.

“Fine,” you said softly. You reached over your shoulder and pulled your own sword out of its sheath. “You’ll burn with them.”

Neither one of you were willing to make the first move. Karlach was smart enough to know she didn’t have her weapon of choice, and hopefully you were smart enough to know she had the upper hand when it came to strength. You had never matched her in muscle, instead opting to be more agile. She remembered when you had spared for fun.

This tainted the memory.

You moved first. A heavy overhead chop. Karlach blocked it easily, and you stepped back. But it was enough of an opening, and she went in for it.

Neither of you had the upper hand. Even from the start, she knew you would be evenly matched in one way or another. Karlach had fought in Avernus, but you had the perks of a Werewolf and an Oathbreaker. And, as memory served, you played dirty.

She clenched her teeth when she knocked you back with a blow to the chest. She had simply used the pommel of the sword, refusing to use the blade. But you looked up and her and mumbled a few words, and Karlach felt something crawl up her legs. Roots. She was stuck.

You stood up and started walking over. “Stay.”

The engine in her chest raced. She couldn’t let you leave. Frantically, she looked around the small room, looking for anything she could use to either get herself loose or- aha! Karlach reached out and grabbed a chair. A quick prayer left her lips - both for you and herself - before she threw it.

The noise you made when the chair hit your back would have been comical if she hadn’t been trying to stop you from committing potential genocide.

The blow was enough to ruin your concentration, and the roots slithered back down Karlach’s legs, freeing her once again. You looked at her once, only once, before turning back toward the party. Now that was just fucking rude. You couldn’t even give her more than a glance after that?

She ran up behind you and, before you could fight back, wrapped her arms under yours and locked her fingers behind your head. You growled; a sound that normally would have gotten Karlach all hot and bothered. Pain radiated through her leg when you kicked out, hitting right above her knee.

Just for that, she pulled her arms higher, lifting you off the ground.

“Let me go,” you groaned between clenched teeth.

“Promise you’ll stop,” Karlach said into your ear. “Promise we’ll go home.”

For a moment, you stopped struggling, and Karlach let herself get hopeful that you agreed. She could get over all of this. She could forgive all of this. It was a simple fight, lots of couples had fights. Sure, it had been building up for over a decade so it was a little… nasty… but it was normal. You could both go home and work it out another way. A sexier way, even.

But her hopes were too high. Again. When Karlach had let her guard down, you kicked out again. Your boot connected with her hip, and instinct had her doubling over to protect the spot. It was all you needed to get out of her grasp and turn back around to face her.

The silver sword was right beside her foot. All she would have to do was grab it, and you wouldn’t be going anywhere. All she had to do was subdue you, and then you couldn’t fight back. You couldn’t get into the party, and you would listen. But she didn’t think she could do it. She couldn’t hurt you.

You turned away from her and, once again, slowly headed toward the party.

A groan left your mouth before the sword clashed to the floor again, quickly followed by the sound of your knees hitting the cobblestone. Blood flowed freely from the newly created wound on the back of your knee. It was a disgusting black colour, not typical of you at all.

Then again, nothing was typical of you anymore.

Karlach limped in front of you and picked up the sword once again. You clenched your teeth and looked up at her in shock. She had hurt you. No, she had made you bleed. She had used silver against you. It would take you months to heal from the wound, and that was assuming things went well.

The very thought made her chest ache.

“You were supposed to be the same when I got back,” Karlach said slowly. “Everything was different, but you were supposed to be the same.”

You stayed silent aside from the occasional groan.

“You know the pathetic part?” She asked. It was a rhetorical question. “If you agreed to go home with me right now, I would forgive everything.”

Something lightened in your eyes. She knew better than to hope for the better.

“I would forgive you for trying to kill children,” she continued. “All because I love you.”

You looked away.

“The thought of you got me through Avernus,” she said. Her hip ached. “The thought of you gets me through now.” She sighed. “Because they may have taken my physical heart, but you’re my real heart.”

“Karlach- hey!”

Pink ropes circled your body and constricted. You groaned when they tightened again. Karlach hadn’t done that. She didn’t even know any of those spells. Footsteps came up behind her, quickly giving way to Astarion; who just so happened to be holding a scroll.

“Stop spewing poetic,” Astarion said, “it’s beneath you.”

“Spawn,” you spat out.

“Mutt,” he shot back.

“Why are you here?” Karlach asked.

“Party’s over,” he said, “The Watch is coming.”

Oh Hells, there was just no room to breathe anymore, was there? She was trying to open her heart to you! She was trying to change your mind! They needed to butt out and let her grieve!

“We need to go,” Astarion said.

She looked down at you. The smallest trickle of blood was falling from your nose; no doubt from the constricting ropes that continued to tighten. If she left you, The Watch would catch you. It was clear everyone knew you were guilty of one thing or another. What wasn’t clear was if The Watch would rather protect you or the Underground.

Oh Hells.

“Come on, pup,” Karlach said as she grabbed you and threw you over her shoulder; much to your protest. “We’ve gotta go.”

“Must we take them?” Astarion asked.

“If we leave them, they’ll turn you in for scraps,” she said after she started walking down the hall.

“I’d turn him in for free,” you mumbled.

You grunted when the ropes constricted again.

“This scroll is glorious,” Astarion commented.

Oh Hells. Karlach was not looking forward to whatever was about to happen.

Well. In some roundabout way, at least she got you back. Some demented version of you, sure, but… Mum always had taught her beggars couldn’t be choosers.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

What would the relationship between the reader and Ghost be like if they knew one another before he became Ghost?? Like they met in the military and reader met his family when he finally introduced her to them. Then the aftermath??

Awe, I love this one. I hope this is along the lines of what you're looking for! Thanks for the request🥰

Before He Was "Ghost," He was Simon.

Warnings: mentions of death, family trauma, angst, swearing, fluff

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

□You and Simon met when you both enlisted shortly after 9/11.

□The two of you worked well together and were constantly being sent on the same deployments.

□ It took a bit, but you grew incredibly close to one another, and you were one of the lucky few who Simon actually considered a friend.

□ Both of you just "got each other." You grew to love Simon's dark, dry humor, and he grew to appreciate your bubbly attitude, always wanting everyone around you to smile.

□ You found yourselves constantly in each other's company, whether it be partnered of missions or during downtime on base.

□ Even off duty, the two of you spent nearly all your time together. He was a tough nut to crack even back then, but you had made it seem so easy.

□ You had shown each other your hobbies and interests and spent a lot of your time together trying new things.

□ He was very reserved about his family, only giving bits of information about his childhood. You knew better than to press on it, as it seemed a sore spot for him.

□ It has taken a little over a year of being friends for him to want to introduce you to his mom and brother. He'd arranged the meeting so that his father wouldn't be there when you went over.

□ His childhood home was small but cozy. His mother was a quiet, kind-hearted woman, and you could tell she loved her sons dearly.

□ You got along well with his mom, and were subjected to relentless teasing from Simon's brother, constantly telling you to "just date my brother already." Much to Simon's embarrassment.

□ The four of you were having a wonderful time, his mom telling you of the few cheerful memories of Simon and his brother as children and asking you about your life.

□ Unbeknownst to the two of you, Simon's dad came home earlier than expected.

□ Simon rarely went into detail about his father, but the few snippets he'd given you in the past led you to understand that his father was a piece of shit.

□ The tense silence that ensued had you feeling wickedly uncomfortable, and you could tell Simon was doing his best to stay composed. The atmosphere had changed significantly, and from the looks on everyone's faces, it was clear his dad's presence wasn't a welcome one.

□ After regarding you and Simon with a sinister sneer, his father gave a pathetic attempt at a dry conversation, clearly not caring to put any effort into it. Simon's hand found yours and squeezed it gently, signaling to you that it was time to go.

□ You'd only saw his brother and mom a few more times before they were killed.

□ You and Simon had been separated a few months previously, as he went off to do his own thing, and you'd missed him terribly.

□ You'd heard about it through the grapevine that they were murdered, and tried to reach out to Simon in any way you could, to no avail.

□ You were so worried about him, and the longer you went without hearing from him, the more concerned you got. You missed your best friend terribly and wanted to comfort him in any way you could.

□ He closed himself off to you, and you were worried you may never speak to him again.

□ It wasn't until a few years later that you saw him again. But this wasn't your Simon anymore. This was Ghost. The much feared, yet respected Liuetanant who's past was just as much a mystery as what laid behind the mask.

□ You'd heard of the callsign a few times through chatter amongst the soldiers, and the name was gaining much notoriety.

□ You hadn't really not thought much of the name until you'd seen the man in person. In your heart, you knew it was Simon.

□ He was a part of the freshly created task Force 141, and you had been tasked to accompany them on a search and destroy mission.

□ The first time you laid your eyes on Ghost, you were beyond intimidated. His eyes held no trace of the man you once knew.

□ The only interactions you shared were brief and professional. Simon gave no indication that he even knew who you were, and if you were honest, it nearly tore you apart.

□ You had an internal struggle for days after seeing him again. You didn't know if he even wanted to talk to you, but you were so desperate to see him again and tell him you missed him all these years.

□ Deciding to just go for it, you found yourself walking into the weapons room and saw him cleaning his weapons at the nearest table.

"Ghost?" You asked meekly, slowly approaching the masked man.

"Y/N." He replied, not lifting his eyes from the gun in front of him.

"I um.. I wanted to say h-hi." You felt your cheeks heating up, and were embarrassed that you were stuttering. With our without the mask, this was still Simon. It had to be.

"Don't gotta act scared Sargeant. I won't bite." He looked up to you through his mask. You relaxed a bit, holding his eye contact.

"It's been awhile. I didn't.. I didn't know if you wanted to talk to me. I tried reaching out so many times.. I was…am worried about you." You looked down at your hands, growing nervous again as you awaited his answer.

He didn't say anything in reply, only grunting while he returned to cleaning his weapons.

You knew better than to push him. In your years of knowing him, if Simon didn't want to say anything, he wouldn't and nothing could change that. That's not to say you couldn't feel your heart slowly shatter, you now realized that perhaps this was no longer your Simon, and there was no chance of ever seeing him again.

"Well it was good seeing you. And if you ever want to talk, I'll be around." You smiled at him trying to mask the hurt you were feeling, and turned for the door.

"I couldn't lose you too." You heard him say softly. You could barely make out the words, but you whipped your head around to meet his eyes. "I lost my whole family, Y/N. I couldn't lose you too. The man that I've become since then, is not one that deserves someone like you."

"Oh, Simon. You could never lose me. No matter what I'm always here for you. You will always be Simon to me." You cooed as you moved to crouch in front of him. "I am so sorry that you had to go through that. I don't know what I could ever say to make up for that pain."

You could see Simon blink away tears in his eyes, and he moved to pull away his mask, leaving his face bare to you.

"There's my guy. I've missed seeing that face." You smiled as you slowly placed your hand on his cheek, stroking softly. "Simon, if you'll have me, I'll always be by your side. Can't get rid of me that easily."

He chuckled at your comment, and moved his own hand to your cheek, copying your movements.

The two of you sat like that for awhile, before he spoke up. "I've missed you all these years. I thought it best to push you away so you couldn’t get hurt from my actions. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if the woman I loved got hurt because of me."

His words shocked you. You'd loved Simon since the moment you met him, but you truly thought he'd only ever seen you as a familial figure. In the decade or so you'd known each other, he'd given very few hints away that he'd seen you in any way than more than just a friend.

"You love me?" You asked, meeting his gaze once more.

"I've always loved you. Why do you think I took you to meet my my mom and brother?" His eyes softened as he spoke, and his gaze flickered down to your lips.

You chocked out a small sob before crashing your lips onto his. The kiss was better than anything you could've imagined, as it was years in the making. All of the yearning, sadness, longing and love was all poured into this kiss.

You pulled away slowly and pulled his chin down to meet your eyes. "I love you too, Simon."

A rare smile formed on his face, as he moved to kiss your forehead. "Why don't I finish up here, and we can take a walk, yeah? Have a few years worth of stuff to catch up on."

He finished up, and grabbed your hand leading you out to the barracks. He gave your hand a squeeze as you fell in step beside him. As the two of you walked together, telling stories of your escapades the last few years, Simon finally allowed himself to grow happy again. He was beyond excited to start this new chapter with you, the woman he loved, and catch up on everything he'd missed.

—---

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it!☺️ as always thanks for reading!

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer of plucked out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[autistichalsin]

What are some of Halsin's flaws, in your opinion?

Halsin's flaws, personality and others, major and minor (note that some of these are a bit circumstantial):

-He can't control his baser/animal instincts, which comes out in his wildshape issues. This corresponds with bloodlust in his animal form.

-He isn't suited for Druidic leadership, as shown at the Grove, which led to disastrous consequences.

-By his own admission, he focuses too hard on the tasks important to him and lets other ones fall by the wayside.

-Due to the above, he struggles tremendously with balancing conflicting obligations; he didn't bother much with the Grove when he was trying to solve the Shadow Curse, abandoned the Grove when the player showed up (though of course that was also due to his trauma and hatred of the Archdruid role), and if romanced to Karlach, is one of the only ones who refuses to go to Avernus with her, feeling that he and he alone can start the commune for the children and their needs are greater than hers.

-He has a self-sacrificial view about what being "good" is, and feels that he has to be unhappy if he's helping; he let himself suffer as Archdruid for 100 years rather than find someone else to take the role, and in the ending, he tries to break up with a romanced player to start his commune both because of his possible abandonment issues and because he doesn't see room for his own happiness when he's trying to help people.

-As I just mentioned, he does have abandonment issues to a degree; if the player dumps him in the ending, he says he knows nothing lasts forever. If the player suggests the party go their separate ways immediately after the battle, he says it was always destined to be so, but it stings nonetheless. He is shocked when the player comes to rescue him from Orin if taken.

-While he is an extremely kind and forgiving person, he has limits, and once those have been crossed, he gets very vengeful (I.E. everyone involved in his captivity with the goblins, or saying he'd like to "do the same" to whoever killed and stuffed a young bear for decoration in one shop in Baldur's Gate).

-He misreads social cues fairly often.

-He seems better able to assert his boundaries to strangers than to his friends and loved ones, I.E., not having much of a negative reaction to a Lolthsworn Drow threatening to sell him back into slavery.

-Because nature is his way of understanding the world, he struggles to understand things through any other lens. He has little interest in other things that can't be considered part of either nature or his Druidic duties.

-He takes things very literally at times, I.E. the phrase "you can say that again."

-He doesn't bother trying to hide when he doesn't like someone (I.E. if the player has incredibly low approval with him).

-He can sometimes be insensitive on accident, such as saying "imagine the horrors" when they're in a tadpoling facility, to Wyll in particular, though he does apologize right away when called on it.

-He is slow to true anger, but sometimes quick to annoyance, at least where strangers are concerned. (This is more so the case if they question him).

-He infamously doesn't trust Drow, and while this is justified in the case of Lolth-sworn Drow, he is initially mistrustful of the player if they are a Seldarine Drow too (though later he shows far more trust of Seldarine than Lolth Drow).

-His objections to some of the evil things encountered in the game are their unnaturalness more than their evilness, fitting with the Druidic belief that evil is as much a part of the world as good. He is more upset at how unnatural the tadpoles are than anything, at least at first, and if the Dark Urge shows off the Slayer form in front of him, he says it's "most unnatural. Most foul," and says that it only serves death/murder. (It's how unnatural and unbalanced it is that it bothers him more than the form being a giant monster, basically.)

-He has a huge case of hero worship to the player, which is why he falls in love with them almost immediately after they break the Shadow Curse, and has feelings for them even sooner than that.

-He despises turnips.

[thegreenlizard]

Mand’alor Kenobi (Duke Kryze)

Obi-Wan leaves the Jedi, marries Satine, gets widowed and ends up as Duke Kryze.

Two alternative endings:

1) Jango Fett resurfaces and returns to Mandalore; or

2) After the war, Cody and his brothers receive an offer for repatriation from the Duke.

Obi-Wan leaves the order for Satine—and for Mandalore, ravaged by a civil war that never truly stops.

During his mission to Mandalore, Obi-Wan not only keeps Satine alive but is invaluable in consolidating her power. However, the hostilities never truly cease, the political situation is a powder keg, and at the conclusion of the Jedis’ mission, Satine sees how it’s Obi-Wan who’s holding the tenuous peace together. She asks him to stay and he leaves the order—not only for Satine, but for Mandalore and her people whom he feels the conclusion of their mission leaves hanging.

In the following months, everybody is running ragged trying to keep Mandalore together. Having already proved his worth as a negotiator/mediator, Obi-Wan quickly rises to a lynchpin position in the new government. Despite his background as a Jedi, his actions during the clan wars have earned him the respect of the more traditional warrior clans and he’s seen as a more moderate option to Satine’s extremism. Tl;dr: instead of treating Obi-Wan as arm candy, Satine puts him to work and inadvertently puts a lot of political power in his hands. What can you say? Sizeable and/or politically influential fraction of Mandalore’s population/clans likes Obi-Wan better than Satine.

To prevent her fragile and fractious government from splintering further (and to put an end to the talk about republic agents), Satine and Obi-Wan decide to make their relationship official and marry. Half of it is because they truly care for each other, but half of it is to consolidate the political power and marry the separate factions within their government together. They have irreconcilable differences of opinion when it comes to politics, but they both want what’s best for the people and that’s a unified leadership that’s not fighting with itself. So they have screaming matches in private, but pull together in public.

Stuff happens, Death Watch kills Satine (with or without the involvement of the Sith)—and New Mandalorians/Sundari/Mandalore unites behind the widowed Duke Kryze.

SO: That’s either a plot or a setup for the erstwhile Mand’alor Vhett to resurface, with or without an army of clones, a galactic war, the return of the Sith, and perhaps a political marriage that may finally unite Mandalore.

Perhaps:

- Obi-Wan grieves his wife, he truly does. But in the aftermath, he hardly has the time. And in retrospect, he has to wonder if half of the reason why achieving compromise always seemed like an uphill battle wasn’t because he spent half of his time fighting Satine and trying to moderate her extremism to something more palatable to the clans.

- In the aftermath, Obi-Wan may or may not finally succeed in putting down the Kyr’tsad and winning the Darksaber, which may or may not go a long way in convincing the remaining traditionalist and Kyr’tsad clans to get in line.

- Any Sith coming to take a piece of Mandalore or its Duke may find they’ve bitten off more than they can chew.

- Korkie Kryze may or may not be Satine and Obi-Wan’s son. Or maybe he is Satine’s baby nephew—Obi-Wan and Satine may still end up adopting him, depending on who else is left.

- Bo-Katan Kryze may or may not survive Kyr’tsad, but regardless, a Death Watch lieutenant is not going to be accepted by the people. She may get a seat in Obi-Wan’s council to placate Kyr’tsad loyalists, but she has no shot at getting the rule. Tbh, Obi-Wan would absolutely be the type to adopt his late wife’s feral terrorist little sister.

- Obi-Wan ends up adopting a full squad of feral murder children, in a true Mandalorian fashion.

- Jinn may or may not be alive; Anakin may or may not be his apprentice or have taken refuge on Naboo after his death; Obi-Wan may or may not be carrying a grudge towards the Sith for killing the man who raised him. And then killed his wife.

- The idea of marriage is probably actually first put forward by the clans who dislike Satine but find Obi-Wan acceptable. That would be a compromise solution: they’d accept Satine’s rule, but with the moderating influence of Obi-Wan as her husband.

- Actually, wasn’t “Ben” a nickname that Obi-Wan was originally given by Satine? He might then go by “Ben Kryze” after his marriage.

- Mand’alor is the sole ruler → before and during the Clan Wars, Obi-Wan is titled the duke. After he’s unified Mandalore under one sole government, he’s the Mand’alor.

- Timeline fuckery: instead of 15, Obi-Wan and Satine are ~20, early 20s. Young, but not teenagers. Satine may be a few years older.

- Jango may think he’s coming to Mandalore to oust the hu’tuun Duchess’s Jetii widow, only to find said widow to be a) the most mandokarla verd he has ever met, and b) more widely supported than he himself ever was. There’s no ousting the Duke now and if Jango were to kill him, he would only succeed in making him a martyr and uniting Mandalore further in avenging him. Jango… deals with these revelations. Well—he tries.

ALTERNATIVELY: After the war, Marshal Commander Cody and his brothers receive an unexpected offer of repatriation from Duke Kryze of Mandalore, who was tragically widowed during the war.

And perhaps:

- The offer may or may not be unexpected: if the Sith decided to go after Mandalore, there’s no saying what the Mandalorians might have discovered and whether their Mand’alor might have taken a proactive approach to the threat.

- The second dark sabre wielding Jedi Mand’alor might be something of stuff of legends—or nightmares—in the republic space/among the clones.

- Jango Fett might not have wanted the clones, but apparently this Duke Kryze does. If he is to be believed, Fett might have been the vode’s dar’buir, but according to Mandalorian law, there is no such thing as a dar’ad. Whether Jango Fett ever called them his sons or not, the mere fact of consciously partaking in their creation is enough to make them recognised as such in Mandalorian space.

- And so, here in Cody’s hands is an offer of citizenship for all of his vode; colourful pamphlets about various welfare and retraining programs; and apparently, a seat in the Duke’s council for the aliit’alor Vhett.

- Cody is torn between crying from relief (an end to the indeterminate arguments in the senate between citizenship and decommissioning?) and justified suspicion (a no-strings offer of home and sentient rights for all of his brothers? Too good to be true).

- Mandalore’s famous warriors have been decimated first in the clan wars and then in the galaxy wide conflict, which has left Mandalore in a more precarious position than may outwardly seem. The offer is not purely altruistic (Mandalore would be gaining an army of millions), even if Obi-Wan does also see it as justice. To Cody who’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop, this feels like relief. This, he can understand. What’s honestly more confusing is the Duke rushing to explain that acting in defence of Mandalore is something that’s expected from every citizen, not just the vode. Moreover, if someone can not or chooses not to fight, they are not forced to do so, simply expected to do their part in another way.

- And if the clones want to ply their trade as mercenaries? Well, it’s a time honoured profession on Mandalore—of course they may. As it happens, in the aftermath of a galactic war, there’s no end of work for hired guns. This may… upset the struggling republic. Any vode that decide to seek work in republic space keep their buckets tightly on as they may or may not be recognised as sentient, still—and other Mandalorians do so in support. Not all of them may *like* the clones, but treating other mandalorians as lost property? Not cool.

- Culturally, I would absolutely see Mandalorians as the sort of a culture that would not only think that their children are their future, but also that their people are their strength. The republic might see millions of vode as mouths to feed and bodies to house. But Mandalore? They see millions of trained warriors the republic doesn’t seem to want anymore and think “the greatest prize in the galaxy, up for grabs”.

- If Obi-Wan went on the offensive, he could declare that the vode are citizens of Mandalore by birth and the republic better stop treating Mandalorian warriors as expendable slaves or else. He can’t, of course. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting to.

- If Jango Fett dies as in canon, Obi-Wan’s family of adorable murder children might or might not include Boba. If the kids don’t kill each other, Obi-Wan will go down in history as Mand’alor the Unifier. This sort of adopting the offspring of your slain enemies is not ethically unproblematic btw, but on the other hand, I could see how the practice might fit in the Mandalorian culture.

About politics & war:

- Point of contention: Satine wants to exile the traditionalists to Concordia, there to fight each other to extinction in a pointless battle for dominance (canon, what the fuck?). Obi-Wan wants to unite Manda’yaim, not divide it further. This point alone, if he manages it, would win him points over Satine. So: instead of all traditionalists exiled, Obi-Wan manages to wrangle a shaky alliance of New Mandalorians and moderate traditionalists. Not necessarily the same bunch as Haat Mando’ade though there might be overlap.

- Satine, meanwhile, would be happy to import agricultural products from Concordia to the biodomes of Sundari. That’s a mess from an economic and food security standpoint. Again I ask: canon, what the fuck? You exile the unwanted parts of your population and then rely on them for food production? That’s not actually a realistic plot point, maybe scrap it and write something that provides actual political tension that doesn’t make caricatures of any sides/characters.

- Actually, the New Mandalorian policies in the preceding years are probably a large influence in the development of the extremism of Kyr’tsad. (Canon—wtf, I might be tempted to terrorism if my government unilaterally exiled large fractions of the population?)

- During the clone wars, Kyr’tsad still allies with Dooku and the Sith. The civil war, which had been on a slow simmer, boils over again. In the fighting, Satine is assassinated. Obi-Wan is not only the best but practically the only option to succeed her and keep the precarious alliance of New Mandalorians and moderate traditionalists together.

- It’s a long and a bloody fight against enemies both at home and in the shadows; fought with guns, with diplomacy, with fixing the deep divides in their society, and hunting the shadows fuelling the flames. Obi-Wan proves himself the same military genius and negotiator as he did in canon. He’s decisive, ruthless and compassionate.

- And eventually, he manages to defeat the leader of Kyr’tsad in single combat, wrangle the warring clans to the negotiation table, hunt the Sith, and unite Mandalore. And that’s how the Mandalorian civil wars and the Clone Wars tie together at the end there, and how Obi-Wan emerges from those wars: with united but weakened Mandalore, a dead wife, and a couple of orphaned foundlings. Victorious, but grieving. The erin on his armour long since painted over with black and gold (which he has earned many times over now, avenging his wife and his people). While the rest of the galaxy is reeling from the aftermath of the war, the republic shaken to its foundations, the separatists defeated but but still seceding, the weakened republic unable to hold onto CIS territories.

- This is the man Marshal Commander Cody meets. This Mand’alor, who seemed to have emerged from the funeral pyre of his wife in the image of the legends of old, reforging the Mandalorian empire anew. But still: just a man, victorious but grieving; with a core of beskar, but a heart so full of light it makes Cody’s teeth ache. Cody: Himself one expendable clone among millions, defying his fate and rising to lead armies to victory or ruin. And yet, a man fresh out of a war that has decimated his brothers and broken his faith in the galaxy.