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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 days

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1968 [Chapter 10: Poseidon, God Of The Sea]

A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰💜

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 7.2k

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💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

It’s Friday, November 1st, and it begins like every day does: with you sneaking a birth control pill and swallowing it with a handful of cool water from the sink. Aemond is usually gone before you wake up—writing speeches, reading newspapers, strategizing with Otto and Criston and Sargent Shriver—but you always lock the bathroom door just in case he reappears. You’ve popped the tiny pink pills out of their circular packages and hidden them in hollowed-out tampons, each opening sealed with cotton balls. You don’t like taking the pills; you don’t fully understand how they work, and you don’t like feeling out of tune with your body’s own rhythms, but they are infinitely better than the alternative. You can’t imagine having to carry Aemond’s child now, sacrificing your comfort, your health, your future, your life for a man who doesn’t know the real you and doesn’t want to. You return the modified tampon to the box you keep in the linen closet, then begin to pin up your hair.

When you venture downstairs, you’ve thrown on a long flowing floral skirt and chunky black sweater, black flats, small unceremonious gold hoops in your ears. You’ll have to change before the journalists arrive to fawn over the children as they bake homemade apple pies this afternoon. You’ll have to wear whatever Aemond tells you to. But presently, it’s Aegon you’re looking for; you begin with the basement.

He isn’t sprawled across his futon, he isn’t lazing on the floor. He isn’t there at all. As you stand on the steps, you see only Eudoxia, muttering irritably in Greek and crawling around on her hands and knees as she picks globs of red out of the shag carpet.

“What is wrong with him?” she says when she glances at you. “Can you believe this? Melted candle wax everywhere. He is a pig. A pig! Someone should make bacon out of him. Then he could finally be useful. He’s just about fat enough. He could feed the whole family, and all the dogs too.”

You don’t know how to reply; you can’t apologize for helping to make the mess, you can’t agree that Aegon is a plague and nothing more. “Do you want help cleaning up?”

“If Aemond saw me putting you to work, I would be deported back to Tyrnavos.”

“No, Doxie. Asteria would fall into the sea without you.”

She peers up at you through fallen strands of her hair, dyed a palpably artificial pitch black. Then she grins, large doughy cheeks, crinkles around her eyes. “Go help Aemond win his election.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say dutifully, and head back upstairs.

In the living room, Aemond and Otto are hissing like snakes as they leaf through the Wall Street Journal. The newspaper reports that Nixon’s poll numbers are climbing in this crucial eleventh hour. They can’t decide if that’s true or if the Wall Street Journal, a Nixon-friendly publication, is trying to give him a little extra momentum as Election Day approaches. Criston nods at you from where he sits on the couch, looking exhausted, dark shadows around his eyes and shoulders slumped low; Aemond and Otto don’t notice you at all. You keep moving.

There is chatter and giggling and the clanging of bowls and pans in the kitchen. You peek inside from the doorway. Fosco, Helaena, and the nannies are making pancakes with the children. Butter sizzles, spatulas scrape, bubbles appear in wells of batter. Helaena is lifting Evangelos so he can pour a cupful of smooth, milky batter into one of the pans on the stovetop. Cosmo, drizzling maple syrup over an ambitiously tall stack of pancakes, waves at you. You smile and wave back. In the corner of the room, Ludwika is smoking one of her Camels and shooing away Aegon’s second-youngest son Thaddeus, whose fingers are covered with flour.

“Please take your paws elsewhere,” Ludwika says, flicking ashes into the kitchen sink. “This dress is Prada.”

Fosco spots you. “Would you like some pancakes?” he asks as he approaches, wiping his palms on the apron tied around his slim waist. Flour dusts his eyeglasses. “We have enough batter to make about 500. Although I cannot promise they will not be burnt. Our chefs are rather inexperienced.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.” You take one last look around the kitchen, wondering where Aegon could be.

Fosco understands. His voice drops low and discrete. “I have not seen him this morning.”

“He isn’t usually up yet.”

“He’s not, this is true.” Fosco taps his chin, leaving white dabs of flour there. “Maybe he’s sailing?”

“Maybe. I’ll check.”

“And I have no idea where you’re going or why,” Fosco says with a wink before returning to the stove.

Outside it’s grey, misty, only 50 degrees. It would be a bad day for sailing. The wind rips at your clothes and your hair like a man’s lustful hands; the waves are choppy and treacherous. You think of Icarus plummeting into the ocean, of Andromeda being offered as a sacrifice to assuage Poseidon’s wrath, of sirens beckoning doomed sailors. From where you’re standing in the backyard of the main house, shivering with your arms crossed over your chest, you can’t see Aegon’s boat Sunfyre bobbing in the rough surf. You turn left to investigate Helaena’s withered garden.

As you walk, the hem of your skirt dragging dead autumn leaves, you skim your fingertips over the evergreen emerald hedges, cool and damp. At the center of the garden—like a diamond in a wedding ring, like the sun surrounded by its planets—you don’t find Aegon smoking a joint or napping under Zeus’s shadow, only a silent stone circle of gods who watch you with unmoving, all-knowing eyes. You spin slowly, studying each of them, deities who loved and cheated and offered mercy and cursed and killed. From his gurgling fountain in the middle of the clearing, Zeus glares at you most fiercely, wielding his lightning bolts, aching to loose them. The wind rattles the leaves of the hedges; crows caw from somewhere out in the mist.

“Oh! You’re here, darling?” Alicent says from the arched doorway cut into the greenery. She’s pushing Viserys in his wheelchair. Sparse white spiderweb-strands of hair hang limply from his head, mottled with liver spots. His fingers are bony and clawlike. “In this awful weather?”

You scramble for an explanation. “I just, um, needed some quiet.”

“Yes, the children are very rambunctious this morning, aren’t they?”

“Children?” Viserys echoes, as if he is only just learning of them.

“Your grandchildren,” Alicent reminds him. “Aegon and Helaena’s kids. Orion, Spiro, Violeta, Thaddeus, Cosmo, Daphne, Evangelos, and…” Panic crosses her face. She realizes she’s forgotten one, but she doesn’t know who.

“Neaera,” you say.

“Of course. Such a sweet girl, gentle like a lamb.”

You weren’t blessed with that sort of disposition. Sometimes you wish you were. Life seems easier for women who don’t feel bitterness or forbidden ambition, who pain moves cleanly through like clear water. They have no thorns for it to snag on and grow roots into the bones, the soul. They are never at risk of becoming poisonous like Jupiter’s moon Io. “What brings you to the garden on a day this dreary?”

“I feel close to them here,” Viserys rasps.

You stare down at him, baffled. “Close to who, sir?” You rarely interact with the ailing patriarch of the Targaryen family. He is often confined to his bedroom, attended by Alicent and Eudoxia and his nurses, and even when he is physically present his mind is sluggish, alien, impenetrable. Now Alicent’s eyes are downcast, and she drifts away to inspect the statue of Poseidon, a formidable bearded man holding a trident and with dolphins and sea turtles emerging from the waves of white marble at his bare feet.

“I left them back in Greece,” Viserys says, his gaunt face vacant, distant, vaguely sad. He is bundled up in a thick wool robe that hides how skeletal he has become. “I thought about having them brought over to be interred at the mausoleum, but it felt wrong to disturb their bones. Now I cannot visit their graves. I can only hear them here, among the gods our ancestors worshiped.”

“Who…?”

“Aemma and Rhaenyra,” Alicent tells you from where she now stands by Aphrodite, gazing longingly at the goddess of love. You notice that she is clutching a komboskini in one hand; she must believe that what her husband is saying is blasphemy, but she doesn’t condemn him. “Viserys had a wife and daughter before he met me.”

You feel a sudden and overwhelming stab of grief for the old man; you are thinking of Ari. “What happened?”

“The sea took them,” Viserys explains. “A riptide off the coast of Euboea. We found their bodies three days later.”

“Oh God. I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss.” You don’t know what else to say; it’s too disastrous, too unspeakable.

“Aemma was pregnant. It was a boy. She delivered him in the water, a coffin birth.” And you know from his face, his voice, that Alicent and her children never stood a chance, that Viserys has only one true family, only one set of names carved into the scarlet chambers of his failing heart. You think of Aemond’s heart, claimed by Alys and her son; you think of your own.

“They’re at peace, Viserys,” Alicent says. “They are in heaven with my mother and Ari and Mimi.”

He continues, as if he hasn’t heard her: “I thought that if I made something of myself in America, if I helped contribute something incredible to the world, then they would not have died for nothing.” Viserys reaches out with trembling, gnarled hands, and when you realize he wants to hold yours you let him. His grasp is weak and cold. “Aemond will be president. He will save countless lives, he will save this nation’s soul. And you have made that possible.”

Where’s Aegon? Is he okay? Why is no one else ever looking for him? “Thank you, sir.”

Viserys begins hacking, doubling over in his wheelchair, and Alicent hurries to soothe him and provide a handkerchief that Helaena embroidered green spiders onto. When he has recovered, you leave them with the gods: Viserys to grieve his old life, Alicent to mourn the one she never had.

You plod through sand dunes out to the Atlantic Ocean, peering into the fog as you search for Aegon’s sailboat. Still, there is no sign of him. You glance back towards the main house as sea spray peppers your cheeks and your knuckles. You’re beginning to get nervous. Where the hell is he? Is he passed out somewhere, is he sick, is he hurt?

And then, at last, you see him: sitting at the bottom of a small bluff so he is invisible to anyone not at the water’s edge, arms linked around his bent knees, not smoking, not drinking, not gulping pills, just gazing out into the waves that thrash and rumble beneath a grey sky, his too-long blonde hair whipping in the wind. He wears one of Daeron’s army jackets over a white turtleneck sweater, ripped jeans, no shoes, a collection of other men’s dog tags slung around his neck.

“Hey,” you say as you join him, dropping down onto the cool, crumbling sand.

Aegon smiles. “Hey.”

“It’s strange to see you awake before noon.”

“Yeah…I didn’t really sleep.” No, he didn’t, you can tell: his eyes are bloodshot and his voice tired, husky. He is watching you, so hopeful but so afraid. “What are we gonna do?”

About us. About Aemond. “If he loses on Tuesday, I can leave him.”

“What if he wins?”

You don’t have a good answer. You shrug, avoiding Aegon’s eyes. “It’s not forever, you know? It would be four years, and then…”

“Four years?” Aegon says. “No, I can’t wait another four years. I’ve been waiting my whole life for something like this. And what if he gets a second term? Eight years? I’ll be almost fifty. We’ve already lost so much time, I can’t surrender another decade.”

“Aegon, first ladies don’t quit. It’s never happened before, not once since 1789. It’s a part of the democratic process. People aren’t just voting for Aemond, they’re voting for me too. You know that. You told me we were a package deal, and you were right. If they trust me and I walk away, it’s…it’s…it’s treason, it’s abandonment, it’s wrong. And Aemond needs to have the political credibility to get what he wants done.”

“Look,” Aegon says, like it pains him. “I get that my life is already half over, and I haven’t done anything worthwhile with the last forty years, but I want to be different. I want to be better. And I can do that, but I need you to give me a chance.”

“You think Aemond would let me leave? If I publicly humiliated and undermined him?”

“We don’t need Aemond, we could figure it out—”

“What do you think he and Otto would do to you, Aegon? They would ruin you anywhere you go, they would have you declared mentally unfit and take your children away.”

“They don’t own us!”

“They do,” you insist. “And if you try to fight them it will destroy you. You’ve never cared about strategy, and I love that you’re truthful, and I love that you’re real, but I need you to understand what you’re asking for right now.”

“But he breaks the rules,” Aegon says, and his eyes are glistening. “He has Alys. He has a kid out of wedlock.”

“Yes,” you agree softly.

“And what, I’m supposed to hope Aemond loses?” Aegon swipes tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Because that’s the only way I get to touch you? Nixon wins and more draftees get butchered in Vietnam, and Daeron doesn’t come home, and the white supremacists get to resegregate the beaches at Biloxi, Mississippi and wherever the hell else they want to, and civil rights protesters get attacked by police dogs, and teenagers get sentenced to decades in prison for marijuana possession?”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t tell him he’s mistaken about any of that. He isn’t.

“I’ve spent my whole fucking life in a cage, but I’ve never felt this powerless.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I…” It’s terrifying to ask. “Am I the same way Mimi was when she was younger? Is that why you like me?”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, you’re different than Mimi. Mimi was fun, and we could party together, and I cared about her, obviously, but…” He stares out at the ocean, shaking his head. “She wasn’t as strong as you. And she couldn’t really get to me. I feel like you could kill me if you wanted to, you could reach inside my chest any time it crossed your mind and crush me in your fist and I’d be gone.”

You stretch out your fingertips until they collide with his sweater, warm yielding flesh woven over his ribs. “Not so easy,” you say. And then Aegon smiles and he leans in to kiss you, the ocean roaring like an ancient beast, a titan, a maelstrom. The wind rakes through your hair and stings your eyes. You ask when he rests his forehead against yours, your hand on his face, your thumb stroking his cheek: “Do you wish you could go back to when you hated me?”

“Never. I’ve gotten used to not being alone.”

“The kids made pancakes. You should go have some.”

“Come with me.”

“You first. I’ll be five minutes behind you. We shouldn’t walk to the house together.”

“Why?” Aegon teases. “Because people might think we fucked in the basement last night?”

“I’ve already told them. Aemond is waiting for you in the kitchen with a bazooka.”

Aegon laughs and struggles to his bare feet, slipping on the sand. “Okay. See you soon.”

“See ya.” Once he’s gone, you recite the full length of Here’s To The State Of Mississippi in your head, then trek across the sand and through the backyard to rejoin the rest of the Targaryens.

When you open the sliding glass door, Otto is standing in the hallway. His icy blue eyes sweep from your simple black flats to your windswept hair, still pinned up but unacceptably tousled. “Why the hell aren’t you dressed for the reporters?”

“Because they won’t be here for another two hours. Surely you are well-acquainted with the itinerary that you yourself arranged.”

“Don’t get yourself in trouble, girl.”

“Remember when you used to defer to me about things? Were you stupid then, or are you stupid now?”

“Do you know what Joe Kennedy did when his daughter Rosemary threatened the family’s reputation?” Otto says, eyes glittering cruelly.

You really don’t know; you weren’t aware that JFK had a sister named Rosemary. “What?”

“He took her to a surgeon to be lobotomized. Now she’s hidden away in a little cottage in Wisconsin, can’t speak, can’t walk, with full-time nurses to wipe the drool off her face and change her diapers. How would you like that? Would your obscene little flirtation still be worth it? We could tell people that you were in a car accident or fell down the stairs. The doctors go in through the eye socket, you know. And you’re awake the whole time.”

“You can’t do that to me,” you say, shellshocked.

“Oh, if that’s what it takes, I’ll find the will somehow.”

There is shouting from the basement, and you and Otto both bolt for the staircase. At the bottom of the steps, Aegon and Eudoxia are embroiled in a ferocious confrontation, red faces, hands itching to slap and shove. Aegon roars, jabbing his index finger at her like a petulant teenager: “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room!”

“You are filthy, you leave crumbs everywhere! We will have mice!”

“Where’s the garbage?” Aegon demands. “Huh? Where’d you put it? Out by the curb?”

“It has already been picked up.”

“No, no way! That’s bullshit!”

“You’re too late!” Doxie says. “The truck went by 20 minutes ago. And why is this a problem? What precious heirloom did I steal from you? An empty rum bottle? A magazine full of naked women? Candy wrappers, cigarette ashes, melted candle wax? You live like a pig, you should not be so outraged when you are treated the same as one.”

“Aegon, what happened?” you ask. Otto is equally bewildered, surveying the markedly clean basement, his brow knitted into deep crevices.

Aegon doesn’t answer. He only glances at you—frustration, anger, but shame too—and then sighs in defeat and stomps up the stairs to the main floor of the house.

Eudoxia looks at Otto and shrugs nonchalantly. “At least there were not so many used condoms this time.”

Your gaze catches on the end table by the futon. The empty cups are gone, the ashtray is spotless…and there is no folded white corner of a receipt poking out from under it.

The math problem from Mount Sinai, you think, that relic, that talisman, that worthless scrap of paper that Aegon never wanted to talk about but kept so close to him, just like you cling to the card he gave you and Aemond cherishes his engraved Ouija board. It’s gone. It’s almost like it never happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

After the journalists arrive and the apple pies, so quintessentially all-American, are made—you help Cosmo with his job, layering strips of dough into lattice crusts that turn golden in the oven, glinting with sugar crystals like diamonds—Aemond’s retinue begins the last of their campaign stops by travelling via limousines to Philadelphia, just an hour and a half across the width of New Jersey and over the Delaware River. In your penthouse suite at the Ritz-Carlton, you soak in a bath opaque with bubbles, steam hot and dewy on your skin. Your hair is long and free. The Zenith radio out in the kitchenette is playing Tomorrow Never Knows by the Beatles.

Your hands have just slipped beneath the hot water—your skull full of Aegon, things he’s done, things he’s said—when you hear the bathroom door open behind you. You rest your arms on the spotless white rim of the tub, porcelain-enameled steel, and try not to look like you’ve been interrupted. Aemond’s footsteps cross the linoleum floor, then he kneels by the bathtub and wraps his arms around you, his long uncalloused fingers skating over your shoulder, collarbones, nipples, before linking like a long necklace. He likes you best like this, when your scar is hidden, something that might have been a nightmare or a sad story that happened to somebody else. He rests the mutilated left half of his face against the right side of yours; his eyepatch scratches against your temple. You shift uncomfortably, you can’t help it. You don’t want him touching you. His arms tighten around your ribs.

“You know, JFK’s mother went through a crisis of sorts as a young wife,” Aemond says calmly. “She realized her husband was a hopeless philanderer and tried to leave him and go back to her parents. But her father sat her down and explained that she had made a commitment. Marriage is for life, and you don’t abandon your vows when the circumstances prove difficult. So she went back to Joe. And if she hadn’t, there never would have been a John F. Kennedy, or a Bobby, or a Eunice or a Ted, or a million other things too.”

“I am so fucking sick of hearing about the Kennedys.”

“You used to love being compared to Jackie.”

“I’m not her. I’m never going to be her.”

“I’m giving up things too,” Aemond says. Now he’s combing his fingers through your hair, unraveling tiny knots, yanking at your scalp. “If I win, I won’t be able to see Alys and our son. It would be too risky, someone might catch me. For as long as I’m president, I’ll have to be apart from them. You don’t think that’s painful? But Alys understands. She knows it’s for the greater good.”

“Please stop touching me.”

“You’re mine to touch as much as I want to.”

You stare at the seafoam green wall and try to pretend you’re in another place, another year.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aemond says sympathetically, an appeasing sort of tone, like he’s trying to strike a bargain. “I’m a realist, I’m aware that I can’t keep you locked up in a basement or put you in a straightjacket for the next fifty years. That doesn’t serve either of us. If you are truly desperate to be rid of me, there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. And I require a partner who is fully committed to my cause, my legacy. Not a captive. I can’t fight Nixon and you too.”

You twist around in the tub to look at him, skeptical, amazed. Is there a way out? “So what are you offering?”

“I need you for as long as I’m president,” Aemond says. “If I win, I need you for at least four years, probably eight. And a short while after that to establish myself in retirement and fade from the headlines, another few years. But then…we could work out some arrangement that is mutually agreeable.”

The hope is so fragile, so fearful, splintering glass. “You would let me go?”

“We’d have to negotiate the details, particularly as far as our future children are concerned, but…yes. In some sense, at least.”

You can’t find any words. You don’t want to offend him, to shatter this moment. And yet the price is so steep. Four years, eight years, ten years. But then…but then…

Aemond smiles, his remaining blue eye bright and cunning. His fingertips trace the slope of your jaw. “I care so deeply for you. You are my Aphrodite, you have made my wildest ambitions possible. You will help me save this country. I am worshiped because of you, I am trusted, I am envied. No one has a wife as beloved as mine, and everybody knows it. So I feel…I’ve considered…” His hand moves down to your throat, drawing invisible chains of gold or silver. “If you’ve given me so much, I can extend some mercy in return.”

“You can’t harm Aegon,” you say. “Or take his children away, or do anything else to punish him.” And then you lie, a necessary fiction, an invention, a myth, Prometheus stealing fire to give it to humans, Zeus hiding Io from Hera. “He hasn’t betrayed you.” And he’s saved me over and over again.

“Of course I won’t harm Aegon. I need him too. This act he has now of the devoted, reformed, tragedy-besieged single father? People adore it. At this rate, I’ll be able to make him the attorney general for my second term if he uses the next four years to rack up some experience. And his children are gold mines for the photographers. They have filled the void left by our own son’s death.”

“Ari,” you say.

“What?”

“He had a name. He wasn’t just ‘a son’ or ‘our son.’ His name was Ari.”

“You’ll feel better once we’ve had others.” Aemond stands and holds out a hand to you. He’s wearing a black suit like he’s getting married, like he’s going to a funeral.

You gaze up at him, not wanting to leave the water. You belong to him, but when he touches you it feels like the earth dying when Persephone is stolen away by Hades each autumn, it feels like Eurydice’s spiderweb-fragile life evaporating when Orpheus dared to look back at her as he led her out of the Underworld. “What if I can’t get pregnant again?” you ask. “It took over a year the first time. And the surgery…what if there’s too much scar tissue, what if I’m just…just…broken?” There’s real pain in your voice that staves off any suspicion Aemond might have. You do want more children, you believe, you know; just not with him.

“Then it is God’s will. But we’ll keep trying.”

Aemond draws you out of the water like a fish from the sea, something to devour, skin and muscle, delicate bones sucked clean.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight is cloudless and glaring. Leaves swirl in the brisk wind in jewel tones: gold, ruby, fire opal, honey calcite, tiger’s eye, red jasper. Aemond has just finished a speech at Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park, standing in a stone gazebo that you can’t help but think resembles a Greek temple, tall columns that house deities of love and death, oceans and fire. Alicent and Helaena have taken the children to attend the opening of a new public library on the other side of the city. The rest of Aemond’s entourage—you, Criston, Otto, Ludwika, Fosco, Aegon—are arranged in a semicircle around him on the stage. Only 50 yards away, there is a small parking lot full of police and press vehicles. Philadelphia residents have walked miles to hear Aemond speak, to glimpse him, to cheer for him, to take leaves he’s stepped on or loose threads from his navy blue suit as relics like the bones of a saint. You match him, as you always must: navy blue dress, high heels, hair neat, makeup mature and understated, gold jewelry gleaming on your ears, throat, wrist. Ravens flap their wings from the skeletal limbs of bare trees. A car radio is blaring Break On Through by The Doors.

“Senator Targaryen,” a reporter calls as flashbulbs strobe dizzyingly. “What do you think about Tommie Smith and John Carlos getting death threats for raising their fists in the Black Power salute at the Olympics in Mexico City?”

There is a split-second lull; it is a difficult question. Aemond must remain the savior of the hippies and college kids and civil rights activists, yet he must not let the old-money urban elite or suburban families mistake him for a discord-sowing radical. You and Aegon exchange a glance; Otto placed him on the opposite side of the gazebo, and this is not a coincidence. Then Aemond decides what to say. “Peaceful protests—even those that can make us confused, defensive, fearful—are not a threat to democracy,” he speaks into the microphone steadily, deliberately, commandingly. The crowd leans forward as they listen, enraptured. Journalists’ pens fly across the pages of their notebooks. “They are not the harbingers of some doomed descent into anarchy. They are a manifestation of the fact that we have already failed. Our nation has failed, our laws and our leaders have failed, and this is our chance to address those dire inadequacies. I urge every single American to listen to what Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos have actually said about their concerns and their hopes, to be empathetic, to be honest when reflecting on what our country has achieved and yet so desperately still needs to improve upon. These men are not enemies of the United States. They are the United States. They are a part of us, and we are a part of them, and we must not allow prejudiced, ignorant voices”—he means Wallace, he means Nixon—“to draw divides between us. The harassment that Mr. Smith, Mr. Carlos, and their families have experienced is a travesty. It is something that we should expect from a fascist or communist regime, not from a democracy. And to do my small part to show my admiration for them and atone for the mistakes of this nation that I so fervently hope to make better, I would like to personally fund private security services for the households of Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos for the foreseeable future.”

The crowd erupts into applause, cheers shouted, signs held aloft. Your eyes snag on one, clutched by a middle-aged woman bundled up against the cold; only her eyes—grey, tearful, shining like quarters—are visible above the red plaid of her thick wool scarf. On her sign is a large photograph of a young man in uniform, maybe nineteen, maybe twenty. Below the photo in red marker is written: Ryan Farrelly, my youngest son, burned to death in Phan Thiet on September 21st. Bring Daeron home! Bring them ALL home!

The woman waves at you. You raise your hand wave back. And then there is a sound that comes from everywhere, a boom of thunder, an explosion, bullets like the one that demolished Aemond’s left eye in Palm Beach back in May, a lifetime ago, a truth that has become mythology. There is something hot and sticky splattered across your face, and you can’t see; when you wipe it away with your sleeve and open your eyes, there is a hole in your palm that you can look through like a window.

Where else?

But when you check your chest, your belly, you are whole. It is only a hand would, and that won’t kill you. It doesn’t even hurt yet, though the blood runs in torrents down your arm. You peer frantically around to see if anyone else is hurt.

Aegon, Fosco, Ludwika, Criston??

People are rushing the stage to shield Aemond and his family from bullets. Police are tackling somebody in the audience and beating him bloody with their batons. Aegon is screaming and shoving through the chaos as he fights his way towards you. Otto slams him against one of the columns of the gazebo and holds him there, because Aegon is not the one who’s supposed to get to you first. Now Aemond’s arms are around you, and he is ushering you down the stone steps towards the parking lot, and Criston is running alongside him and telling Aemond that the closest hospital is Jefferson Methodist, but UPenn is better and only two miles farther.

“Who else?” you ask as you cradle your hand against your chest, blood turning your dress from navy to black. Now it hurts plenty, like waking up from your c-section, like a crimson wave that is scalding and crushing and dragging you under to be drowned. “Is anyone else—?”

“No, just you,” Criston says, a reassuring grip on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. Nobody else is hurt.”

“Senator Targaryen, this way!” a police officer is yelling, and he leads the three of you to his black and white car. Criston leaps into the passenger seat; Aemond pulls you into the back with him and slams the door. The sirens shriek and the police officer careens out of the parking lot, Criston giving directions, Aemond yanking off his suit jacket to wrap around your hemorrhaging hand.

“I’m not going to lose it, am I?” you ask dazedly. None of this seems real. You wish Aegon was here. “I need my hands.”

“No, honey. I don’t think they’ll have to amputate.” Then Aemond stares down at the blood on his palms, warm scarlet ruin, water and oxygen and iron that once pulsed in your arteries and veins and now stains him. He frowns, then wipes his hands on his white shirt until almost all the blood is gone from his skin. He is cleaning you off of him. He is readying himself for the cameras that will undoubtedly be waiting at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania.

Inside the glass doors of the building, dust motes circle in aisles of sunlight; you watch them as doctors and nurses push you towards the operating room on a stretcher.

“We’re going to take excellent care of you, Mrs. Targaryen,” a doctor says as he ties a sterile white mask over his nose and mouth.

Don’t let Ari die, you almost murmur in response; and then you remember that’s already happened.

There are needles gliding into your veins, bright lights, pain vanishing like the memory of a dream dissolving when you wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours later, you are propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows, your hand surgically repaired and bandaged, morphine in your IV drip. The doctors think you shouldn’t lose much function—the bullet was from a pistol, blessedly small in size and missing most of your major tendons and nerves—but you won’t know for sure until it’s healed. Ludwika is here with you, lounging in the chair beside your bed and flipping through a copy of Cosmopolitan with her Louis Vuitton stilettos propped up on the ottoman. She is content to be here, but this is technically a job; she has been tasked with supervising you while Aemond and Otto meet with the Philadelphia police who are investigating the attack. The rest of the family—everyone except Aegon, who you suspect has been forbidden to enter the premises—has already been here to fret over you and ask if you need anything. But you aren’t in the mood for visitors. You are stunned, and aching, and you hate hospitals. You keep thinking of tiny babies in incubators, priests in black robes.

Your room is already filling up with flower bouquets. Every few minutes, the phone rings and Ludwika has to answer it. Each time she announces who it is—“Oh, hello Lady Bird, so nice of you to offer your well-wishes!” and then looks to see if you nod, agreeing to take it. The current first lady says that you are already as beloved as Jackie Kennedy and Eleanor Roosevelt. Pat Nixon calls you a gladiator.

There is a mint green Zenith radio on your nightstand, the volume turned way down low, and a television mounted on the wall. NBC news is on, but you’ve muted it to attend to the barrage of phone calls. There is a knock on the doorframe. Aegon stands there in his khaki pants and ill-fitting viridian button-up shirt and tan moccasins, wide searching murky blue eyes, carrying a white Dairy Queen cup.

Ludwika observes him as she puffs on a Camel cigarette. “I am suddenly struck by the inspiration to spend Otto’s money at the gift shop. I hope they take American Express.” She rolls up her magazine, shoves it into her oversized Gucci purse, and clicks in her heels out of the room and down the hallway.

Aegon commandeers the chair and drags it closer to your bed so he can feel your cheeks and your forehead, so he can get a good look at you. “Hey, little Io. You hurt your hoof, huh?”

“It’s not that bad. The caliber of the bullet was really small. Who shot me? One of Wallace’s Klansmen?”

“No, just some insane guy who thinks Aemond is a Russian double agent trying to overthrow capitalism here and put us all in gulags. I heard you could see right through the wound.”

“Yeah, I had a hole in my palm.”

“Just like Jesus.”

“I guess they fixed it.”

“Messiah status revoked.” Aegon sets the Dairy Queen cup on your nightstand. “I brought you a lemon-lime Mr. Misty.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“They gotta make sure you’re okay, babe. You could spike a fever or something.”

“Aegon,” you say seriously. “I can’t be in a hospital. I need to leave.”

He understands; his voice is gentle. “I might be able to get you out tonight, okay? I’ll try. I’ll talk to the doctors.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

Aegon turns up the Zenith radio, Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl. He sings along, snapping his fingers and shimmying his shoulders, his hair shagging over his eyes:

“Hey, where did we go?

Days when the rains came

Down in the hollow

Playin’ a new game…”

Reluctantly, you give him a smile. And you think very clearly, though you don’t say it: I love you.

Aegon leans across the bed to rest his head on your lap. He says softly as you run your fingers through his hair with your good hand: “Maybe Aemond will lose.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

On the muted television, Nixon is giving a speech in Charlotte, North Carolina to a euphoric crowd. You can’t hear the people gathered there, but you know their applause are thunderous. Nixon is flashing peace signs with both hands and beaming radiantly, this man who was once so poor, tragic, ordinary, unwanted, unloved. He has learned what it feels like to be a god.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Sunday, November 3rd, and your hand hurts like hell. You swallow your pills, smiling a little. Now Aegon is getting clean and I’m the one swimming in a haze of narcotics. Who could have predicted that? Still in your robe and bare feet, you swish to the hotel bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, rebandage your hand and make sure it isn’t growing dark insidious vines of blood poisoning.

When you venture out to the kitchenette, Aemond is in a sapphire blue suit and seated at the table, reading the Wall Street Journal, his face hidden by columns of black ink and interspersed photographs. This is unusual; he should be scheming with Otto and Sargent Shriver by now.

“Everything okay?” you ask with only vague interest as you go to the refrigerator to get yourself a leftover slice of apple pie, meticulously wrapped and packed in a cooler by Eudoxia before your departure from Asteria. Aemond doesn’t answer. You plop a piece of apple pie onto a plate, return the rest to the refrigerator, and then turn to your husband. And only now do you register the newspaper’s front-page story.

The photographs, all three of them, are of you and Aegon. They are blurry, taken from a distance, but you recognize the moment immediately. You can feel it again: ocean wind in your hair, his lips on yours, your hand on his face as you willed him to be closer, healed, permanent. You are sitting at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, turbulent and perilous. The journalists must have been north of you, shrouded in mist, their camera shutters clicking feverishly. The headline reads: A Family Affair?

And you remember what Aemond said on your 23rd birthday before he left for the Washington State Convention in Tacoma, how he scolded Aegon when he saw him lighting a joint in the backyard at Asteria: You know journalists will sneak around trying to get photos. You know we’re never truly alone out here.

You can’t speak, you can’t breathe. Aemond knows. The whole world knows.

Slowly, Aemond lowers the newspaper so you can see his face, scarred and hateful and horrifying, lethal like the volcanic hellscape of Jupiter’s most cursed moon.

~~~~~~~~~~

What are my earliest memories? Aegon getting drunk on his futon in the basement while I played with toy soldiers on the green shag carpet, Aemond with his poems and his myths, Helaena letting a praying mantis creep across her knuckles, Criston teaching me how to swim and sail, my mother cleaning sand from my face and hands and giving me water to wash the grit out of my teeth, my father wandering through the doorways of Asteria like a ghost, always on the periphery of my vision, and I had the sense that if I reached out to touch him my hands would pass resistlessly through his skin and sinew like a stone through water.

These are the things I think of here in the rain-dripping darkness, bruises down to my bones, eyes swollen almost completely shut, teeth broken and throbbing like blows from a hammer, fingernails ripped out. I know Tessarion is here because I can hear her, soft sympathetic squeaks, the padding of her tiny feet. I know John McCain is still alive because sometimes he taps back through the cracked concrete wall. I have run out of folklore, so now I tell him the truth. I tell him that I am afraid each beating will kill me as my body becomes a stranger, someone weak and brittle and helpless. I tell him that all my life I wanted to run as far as I could from home, but now I would crawl back to them through razor wire, I would fall into their arms in a shredded bloodstained heap and I’d be happy to do it. Isn’t that funny? I mean, I don’t laugh much these days. But maybe you can appreciate the irony.

Has the election happened yet? Has Aemond won? I’ve lost track of the days, but it has to be getting close to November 5th. What happens if he can’t get me out? What happens if Nixon wins?

I don’t want to be a hero anymore. I don’t want to have adventures like Heracles, Achilles, Jason, Odysseus, Perseus, Orpheus, Ajax. I just want to go home. Please let me go home.

I can hear keys jangling against the lock on my cell door. My heart jolts into a breakneck, pounding rhythm; I think that sound will terrify me all my life. Some things you just can’t forget, you know? Some things dig down deep and build a home in the marrow of your bones, a rust-red cave of immutable memory. I know exactly what the communists want from me. They’ve been asking since they dragged me out of the Loach four months ago.

Everyone has a breaking point. This is mine.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic

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satorusugurugurl · 3 days

Text

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Three)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, grinding, neck kisses, dry humping, nightmares, mentions of character death, panic attack, night terror, blood

A/N: a little peek into Geto’s past~ hmmmm wonder howthis is going to play out. Hm indeed 😈💚

Part One Part Two

Your best friend is staring into your eyes in stunned silence. He hadn’t expected you to be so open about what you wanted. In a way, it was sort of cute; in another, it was extremely attractive. You knew what you wanted and weren’t opposed to asking for it.

“Okay, so tell me, what was happening in this wet dream?”

Despite the fact you wanted to try, you were slightly embarrassed. What were you supposed to say? ‘Oh, you know I dreamed about us, making out with your knee between my legs.’ He was your best friend, but you couldn’t admit that to him.

“Uhm, I-I was dreaming about my characters in an alley—making out and stuff.”

“Oaklynn and Ilsan?”

Hearing him say the names of your self-appointed children had your heart racing. “Y-yeah, and we’ll. Uhm, he put his knee between her legs, and well, I uhm—not me! Oaklynn, she uhm was grinding on it?” Suguru hummed, getting out of bed and offering you his hand.

“I can do that.”

“O-Oh, like right now?”

He grinned as you gently took his hand. “Yeah, right now. If you’re okay with that?”

“Of course; how else are you going to teach me?”

The sweet innocence of your voice nearly had Suguru blowing his load. God, you were so damn cute it’s not even funny. He leads you to one of the walls in his room, motioning towards the spot you gladly took. Your back pressed against the wall, the cold contrasting the heat radiating over your skin.

“Alright,” Suguru’s hands press firmly against the wall, caging you in like you he had at the restaurant and in your dream. “If you get uncomfortable, or it gets too much for you to handle, say the word, and we’re done, okay?”

“Okay—uhm, so do we just?”

Your best friend laughed, his dark hair falling in his face as he kissed you softly. “I got you. Just lose yourself in the feeling, okay.” With your gentle nod, Suguru kisses you again, this time deeper.

His lips are firmer, moving gently over yours, giving you time to follow his lead, kissing him back with the same force, losing yourself in the taste of his minty breath on you. Suguru’s eyes crack open, staring at your face. Fuck, why the fuck were you so cute? Eyebrows knitted together, eyes tightly squeezed shut in concentration. That look that was so prettily plastered across your face was the exact look you had when you were in the zone. Hunched over your laptop, writing down in your notebooks, it was a look that he absolutely adored.

Seeing you look like that when kissing him made him eager to teach you more. So he gently kicked your feet apart, allowing him to slide his knee between your legs. You inhale sharply at the sudden sensation of his knee pressing against your shorts.

The sudden contact of having something other than your hand touch you is like magic. You gasp into Suguru’s mouth, whimpering as you squirm against his leg. Your panties are wet and slick, making it easier for you to glide stiffly against him. You’re not sure how to move or what to do. So you open your eyes before breaking the kiss.

“W-What do I do now?” You ask softly, gripping his t-shirt for support. “Do I uhm—just hump you?”

Sugar laughs softly, shaking his head before pressing his forehead against yours. “You can hump my thigh if you want, or I could help you?” Suguru can feel you throb against his thigh. “You like the sound of option two?” How your face flushed and your eyes widened has him chuckling.

“H-How did you know that?”

“Well, I don’t mean to embarrass you, but I could feel you throb.” You were humiliated, no, no, mortified was a better word! The hundred-yard stare has Suguru laughing softly, his hand cupping your cheek. “Nothing to be embarrassed about; it means you’re getting turned on.”

“O-Oh—okay.”You made a mental note to jot that down once you had your phone in your hand. “Okay, cool, uhm, y-you may commence?” Suguru scoffed, shaking his head at your uptight retort; seeing his reaction makes you want to hide away. Suguru tilted his head as his hands gently grabbed both sides of your hip. I mean, I can think of a couple of other things we can insert into your mouth.” the stuttering inhale that sounded from you lined with innocence had his cock twitch as he rocked you back and further other his knee.“But we’ll save that for next time. Just relax and feel.” that wasn't going to be hard, not when he rocked your hips against his knee like he was.

“M-mm.” bringing your hand up to your mouth, you moaned, “O-Ohh fuck.”

Suguru’s heart felt like it was running a 5K marathon. Hearing you, his pretty best friend, the girl he's had a crush on since elementary school, moan. God, it was a dream come true. Your voice was so soft and hesitant. You wanted to cry out but weren't sure it was okay. The utter innocence had him holding himself back. The last thing Suguru wanted to do was go too far.

“Feel good?” Suguru asked, voice thick with need. The fear you might moan out loud stopped you from answering, only allowing yourself to nod your head. “Good.”

His fingers dig a bit deeper into your hips, dragging you harder against him. You jolted, jaw clenching as intense pleasure rocked through you. It felt like there was a fire kindling between your legs each time he rocked you back and forth. The burning sensation began to spread through your entire body, making it difficult for you to stay quiet.

You didn't want to make him feel weird; he was doing this to help you. For you to start moaning and losing yourself in the pleasure was not what this was about. This was all about bettering your writing! Nothing more than that!

Telling yourself that didn't make it feel any less good. You whined, your swollen clit rubbed perfectly over your underwear, stimulating it just enough to have you dripping. Your hands gripped Suguru’s forearms for support as you tried rolling your hips against him like he was doing.

Seeing you try to rock had Suguru grunting. He slowed his movements, allowing you to take the reins yourself and get a feel for rocking to see what felt good for you. The absence of his hands had you flattering for a minute, your horny brain trying to figure out what to do to keep up with the pleasure you were feeling.

“Relax, just rock your hips back and forth, do what feels best.”

“R-Right.” You began grinding back and forth with a deep breath, mimicking his movements. “L-Li—ahh—like that?”

Seeing the way your cheeks flushed and how your lips parted as you humped his thigh made Suguru’s dick rock hard. “Well, it depends on you. Does it feel good?” He knew it felt good; it was the reason why you were moaning softly, why you held him in a vice grip.

“Y-Yeah, f-feels good—I’m uhm—”

“You what? You close already?”

“W-What? Close, no, I'm just—” Suguru smirked as you mumbled under your breath.

“Huh? Sorry, I didn't catch that?”

“I-I feel really wet.”

Your best friend leans in, his breath brushing over your ear, causing you to shiver. “I know you're wet.” Your body stiffened, and your hands trembled against his arms.

“Y-You do?”

“I can feel how soaked you are.” You try to look down to see what he sees, but he gently grabs your chin, forcing you to focus solely on him. “Don't freak out, just keep going, come on, rock those hips.”

You do as he says, rocking your hips faster against his thigh as a coil begins to tighten in your lower abdomen. “Nngh, Suguru.” Hearing your name pass through your lips was like a dream come true. “F-feels good, really good.” The coil tightens more and more, making Suguru swallow as you got yourself off on him.

“Y3ah~? Good, keep going, keep it up.”

Suguru had made plenty of girls cum before, so he could tell you were close. Your breathing was shallow, and your eyes kept closing at the intensity of your rapid movements against him. Your skin was flushed, your nipples hard, and god, he was almost positive that you were leaving a wet spot on his pajama pants. God, he wanted you to cum; what he'd give to watch you get off on him. To see how pretty you looked when you would cum. See the expressions you made in bed with your hand in your underwear.

“S-Sugu—”

“Fuck you sound so good~ make sure to savor the feeling, okay? It's going to help with your book.”

“Y-Yeah~ yeah!” The coil felt like it was getting tighter and tighter, making you chase the feeling, a feeling that was foreign to you. “Oh my god, oh god, oh god.”

Suguru pressed his lips against your neck, kissing the sensitive skin. “Yeah, keep going, that's it~ that’s it.” God, he was so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care about his cock; all he cared about was you.

Your thighs began shaking, eyes watering as a strange sensation wandered in your veins. Something was wrong. It felt like something was going to happen, to wash over you. The intense feeling was so overwhelming, making you choke as your heart rate spiked, not from pleasure but from fear.

You removed your hands from Suguru’s arms, placing your palms against his chest. For a second, Suguru thought you were going to grip onto him for support when you creamed your panties. You pushing him away was the last thing he thought you would do.

“Stop! Please stop!”

Just as he promised, Suguru stepped back, his hands held out before him as he gave you some space. He watched with worried eyes as you sank to the floor, hand over your heart as your ragged breathing filled his room. Your best friend followed you to the floor, on his knees in front of you, as you swallowed air greedily.

Overstepping a boundary was something he didn’t want to do, but he wasn’t the type to ignore the fact that you weren’t okay. “Hey.” He gently reached out, resting his hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You were shaking as you looked up at him.

“I-I yeah, sorry—” you swallowed hard, “I uhm, yeah, just got really intense.”

“Intense? Is it intense like it felt really good? Or were you sen—”

“Just intense!” You cut him off, cheeks burning as you shakily stood up on wobbly legs. “O-On that note! I think I’m going to head home.”

Suguru’s world felt like it froze over. He just watched as you headed towards the bed, grabbing your phone, your eyes focusing on anything other than him. The lust and need that had been roaring in his stomach subsided into dread. He didn’t want you feeling weird or awkward.

So he pushed himself up and followed after you. “Let me walk you back.” His fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, preventing you from moving further.

“I-I can do it.”

“I know you can, but I still want to walk you.”

“Suguru, it’s just two floors.”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

And you didn’t; despite your best efforts, Suguru didn’t let you walk back to your apartment alone. You gave him a quick hug before glancing down. His gray pajama pants were stained with two wet spots. One on his thigh and the other around his crotch. Upon seeing the evidence of both your arousals, you rushed inside, slamming the door behind you, leaving your best friend alone in the hall.

That was two days ago.

Two days without a visit or a call. At least you’d texted him, letting him know you were in rewrite hell. Even knowing that didn’t make Suguru feel less shitty. Was this situation going to put a wedge in your friendship? God, he hoped not. Losing you, after all the shit he’d gone through, would be his breaking point.

He was about ready to throw himself into his paintings when Satoru showed up with mochi and coffee. The second Satoru pushed his sunglasses up, brushing his bangs back, he grimaced, and his lip lifted in pity. It was a look that so many people had given Suguru since his second year of high school, and he hated it.

“What?” He finally snapped as he flipped down on his couch, legs spread wide as he stared at the B-grade horror movie on the television.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hammered shit.”

Suguru shot his best friend a glare before leaning his head back. “Wow, thanks dickhead.” Satoru winked before shoving a whole mochi in his mouth.

“Hey, honesty is the best policy. Are you not sleeping? Nightmares about that night again?” Suguru shut his eyes tight, nodding; smiling images of Riko flashed through his mind. “You are. Does—”

“She knows; no need to worry her.” Suguru knew Satoru was referring to you. Whenever his nightmares got bad, you were with him constantly, or vice-versa, so for you not to be there with him is odd. “And before you ask, she’s at home working on her rewrites.”

“Oooh, uhm, I’m going to call bullshit. She’s never left you alone when you have those nightmares. What happened?”

Suguru turns his head, meeting bright blue eyes an inch from him. “Christ Toru! Fuck, personal space, asshat!” Taking his note, Satoru pulls back, humming as he eyes him. He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for more of an answer than he’s getting, and Suguru knew if he wanted peace for the rest of the night, the only option was to tell him the truth. “Well, we uhm—”

Suguru told him everything, from what happened at the restaurant to his apartment. How you were grinding down on him and started freaking out. He then described in detail how you both hadn’t spoken or seen each other in two days. The entire time, Satoru hummed, nodding in agreement, not asking questions or making any comments until Suguru scrubbed his hand over his face.

Satoru huffed a sigh, grinned wide, and patted his friend on the shoulder. Suguru eyed him, unsure if he was truly ready to hear what his best friend had to say. He seriously doubted it was anything good from how he gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Let’s put two and two together, shall we?” Yep, it wasn’t going to be good. “Your virgin best friend who’d never kissed anyone freaked out when she was dry-humping your leg because it got too intense. It was intense because she was going to cum.” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head.

“She masturbates.”

“Okay, so do a lot of virgins, but they don’t cum.” Suguru slowly sat up, staring at the fake bloom on the television. “Especially girls.”

“She freaked out because she’s never had an orgasm.”

“Yep! So why don’t you go downstairs and girl her one!”

Suguru would love to storm downstairs, knock on your door, and offer to do that. To watch you wither under him when he ate you out had fantasies playing out in his mind. Ones where he made you cum so hard, there would be no reason for you to run off to Europe. Daydreams where you both were naked and he was slowly fucking into you, kissing and nipping at your neck.

But you were busy. Your work was so important to you that Suguru didn’t want to hold you back. “I can’t. She’s working hard, and I don’t want to disturb her.” Satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“If you don’t tell her how you feel, you’ll lose her.”

Suguru knows that Gojo is right. If he doesn’t tell you how he feels, eventually, someone else will tell you how they feel, and he will lose you. Or you would move to Europe and like it so much there that you stay. You might meet some European guy, fall in love, and get married. Leaving him alone in his apartment with his canvases and his paints. It would be his fault and his alone.

But he was nervous and didn’t want to lose you as a friend either.

These thoughts had him twisting and turning in bed long after Satoru left. His eyes focused on his clock as he tried to sleep. Suguru’s thoughts kept dancing between you staying with him, where you both were happy and others, where you left for Europe. He wasn’t an asshole; if this was something that you wanted to do, he would support you. Life was too short; he, of all people, knew that.

His eyes finally shut, allowing him to drift to sleep. When he was seventeen, sitting in an aquarium as the first and second years all wandered around, looking at the different sea creatures. He stood off to the side, watching as his group of friends, Gojo, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, you, and—Riko.

She was in her ruffled white sundress, her blue eyes focused on the stingrays and the whale sharks. She was so happy, innocent, and—alive. Riko turned, waving at Suguru. You hurried towards Riko, throwing your arms around her and pressing your cheek against hers. She was merely a first year, but she’d grown close to his friend group, and he saw her as the little sister he never had.

“Suguru! Let’s go!”

Did he have to go? This place was so peaceful, so calm. He knew if he were to step towards the group, this happy memory, full of blue tints, would be transformed into blood-stained walls and lifeless eyes.

He didn’t want to see her die again for the millionth time. It never got easier, no matter how many times she dreamt about it. Swallowing hard, Suguru pushed himself up and stepped towards his friends' smiling faces. Before the entire room filled with a cerulean glow faded to black.

The second second, he’s on the ground, wheezing for air as lifeless blue eyes stare at him. A pool of blood spreads out on the ground beneath him, and Riko is pale, paler than usual. A trail of crimson drips from her mouth as her white sundress and headband are saturated with red. Suguru’s body hurt whenever he attempted to move. He tried to grab and reach her but wasn’t fast enough.

Riki’s hand twitches as her lifeless eyes dart in his direction. “You didn’t save me.” Her voice gurgled as more blood seeped out of the corner of her mouth. “You could have saved me, Suguru, but you pushed her out of the way instead.” Suguru shakes his head, tears flooding his eyes. “It should have been her!” Riko screamed, the dreamscape shaking, flickering into darkness.

When the crimson amphotsphere returns, Suguru’s breath lurches as you lay in Riko’s place. The eyes that were so full of light and happiness were full and blank. Your blood shining your skin, lips trembling as the life faded from you.

“I-I couldn’t—I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You let her die.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did!” You screamed, your blood splattering on his face. “You let her die, Geto Suguru!”

“No!” Suguru screamed while sitting in bed, a cold sweat coating his skin.

Looking around the room, he was relieved to find no blood or past friends. But his gut twisted like a pretzel as the images of you lying on the ground flooded his mind like a poison. Were you okay? That had never happened before when you switched spots with Riko. So, his body was moving before his brain could produce rational thoughts. He ran, locking his apartment, bolting down the stairs to the first floor of the building.

Seeing you like that, coated in blood, left his skin icy as he ran to your apartment, slamming his fist against the door. “Answer, answer god, please.” He repeated over and over again, his eyes clamped tight as the fear tugged at every, never, every inch of his soul.

Just as he was about to slam his fist against the door again, it flung open, and there you stood, in your pajamas, with blue light glasses on. You were breathing heavily, eyes looking him over, taking him in as a whole, searching for injuries of any kind.

“Suguru? What’s wrong? What happened?” He doesn’t respond to your frantic questions; he instead grabs you, pushing his way inside your apartment and kicking the door shut. “Suguru?!” You yelp as you both fall to the floor, his arms wrapped firmly around you as he holds you flush against his chest; your best friend is shaking, his breath heavy as he clings to you as if you would vanish if he let go.

“Thought I lost you.” He whispered, his hands clinging onto your tank top.

“Suguru—” you whisper, hands gently caressing his back. “You’re not going to lose me.” You feel him relax against you, shaking softly as he pulls back an inch. “Nightmares again?” His dark strands of hair cover his eyes, but he nods. “Sugu, oh sweetie—do you wanna stay the night with me?”

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 7 hours

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Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 7

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Prequel (All Falls Down)

Series Masterlist

“Soo.” Elijah trailed off as he and Kiyana were driving to the restaurant. “That was your ex-husband huh?”

“Yeah.” She said “I’m so sorry about that..” She apologized again. “He wasn’t supposed to be there.” she paused. “Him or his cousin.” Elijah laughed.

“It’s no big deal. Trust me. I’ve dealt with worse from my ex-wife. Her brothers are still on my ass to this day.” He chuckled again.

“Oh you were married?” Kiyana asked, perplexed because he never mentioned it.

“Is that a problem?” Now Elijah was confused. Not even 10 minutes ago, he thought he was about to have a melee with her ex husband and his cousin. He cut his eyes over to her before looking back at the road when she didn’t answer. “Ki?”

“No, it’s not a problem.” She shrugged. “I just thought you would mention it by now.” She paused, and turned her head to look at him. “It’s not a big deal though.”

“You sure?” Elijah asked as he pulled up to a red light, now turning his full attention to her. “I don’t wanna start us off on the wrong foot.”

“Ohh, there’s an us?” She teased with a smile, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“There’s definitely an us. I normally have a rule that I don’t date coworkers but, it’s just something about you Kiyana.” There goes them butterflies again. She thought as their faces inched closer. He cupped her jaw and Kiyana felt her heart rate spike. Just as their lips were about to connect, the car behind them honked causing the both of them to jump away from each other.

“Fuck!” Josh cursed as he watched Kiyana get into Elijah’s car and drive off. This was exactly what he was afraid of. He stomped past Joe and into his former home. “Samara!” He called out, softly though, still mindful of his sleeping children. “Mara?!” He called out again, rolling his eyes as she strolled out of the kitchen munching on his children’s Doritos.

“What?”

“What restaurant did they go to?” He huffed when she shrugged and pushed past him to sit on the couch. “Samara ,please.” Josh begged. “I know I fucked up by doin' what I did. But shit, I can’t just give up and go let her fall in love with someone else. I won’t be able to take it. So please, just tell me what restaurant they went to.”

Samara felt her hatred for Josh slip away. While they were never close she still considered him a friend and one thing about Samara was that she hated seeing her friends hurting. “Fine.” She sighed out. “But you have to answer my question first.” Josh nodded immediately.

“Aight, whatever you wanna know.”

“Why did you do it? What made you cheat on Kiyana?” oh Josh gulped. “Josh?”

“I don’t know. “ He said and Samara sucked her teeth. “I- we were arguing about her not listening to the doctor about not stressing. I just wanted her and Kairo to be okay.” He walked over and sat down on the couch next to her and put his head in his hands. “You know the same thing happened when she was pregnant with Kehlani.” Neither one of them heard Joe as she entered the house and stood right by the entrance to the living room, listening to their conversation. “Her auntie died and..” He blew out a breath. “She wouldn’t relax, she wouldn’t just stop and not stress. I already have one dead kid. I didn’t want another.”

Samara nodded, remembering how Kiyana blamed herself for years for the death of Kehlani. “So that’s why you cheated?” Josh scoffed and shook his head.

“Hell no. I just- I wanted to vent. Everyone around me kept talking about how Kiyana felt and..” He paused and sniffled, wiping his eyes. “I- it’s selfish but damn, Kenneth was like a dad to me too. When Kish and my mom were going through it Ken and Ms Imani welcomed me with open arms. I just wanted to vent to someone who wouldn’t say oh well it’s Kiyana’s dad. And Shanté was there at the right time. It wasn’t my intention to start the affair, I just wanted someone to talk to and things went too far.”

Joe let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He couldn’t intervene with Josh and Kiyana nomore. He had already done enough damage by sleeping with Kiyana and truth be told, Josh was his favorite cousin and even if Joe thought that Kiyana should be with him, he didn’t want to hurt his cousin more than he already did.

“The Grand Marlin.” Samara said after a minute of silence between her and Josh. “He took her to The Grand Marlin.”

Josh pulled Samara in for a hug and thanked her. “Do not fuck this up again Joshua. I swear on my life I will make sure she fucks every single one of your family members.” Josh sucked his teeth and pushed her away from him.

“Damn Samara.” She shrugged and pointed towards the front door.

“Go, before she falls in love with him or something.” Josh nodded and rushed towards the front door, only to be stopped by Joe blocking it.

“Uce come-on. Don’t do this to me right now. You proved your point already.” Joe shook his head and put his hands up defensively.

“I just wanted to apologize to you Josh. You my family and I should have never took it there with your wife.” Josh sucked his teeth.

“You don’t mean that shit. What you want me to go get my wife back so you can fuck her again.” Josh felt the urge to pummel Joe so he took a deep breath. “ Getcho’ big ass out my way Joseph.”

“Josh, this is the most serious I've been with you in years. I’m sorry.” Josh narrowed his eyes at Joe. Not believing him in the slightest. But he couldn’t worry about Joe right now, right now he needed to get to Kiyana.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” Kiyana smiled over at Elijah as he pulled out her chair for her. “I’ve never been here before.”

“No problem Ms. Jackson. I plan to give you a lot of first time experiences” He winked back as the waiter came over and asked for their drink orders.

Elijah kept a smile on Kiyana’s face all throughout dinner. And if Kiyana was being honest, this was the best date she had been on in years.

Her weekly ‘dates’ with Josh were just them going out to dinner, nothing special or spectacular. He stopped making her feel special a long time ago and she had just gone with the flow because she loved him.

“Hey that’s your ex-husband right?” Elijah’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and she turned her head in the direction he was pointing to see Josh arguing with the maitre’d and pointing in her direction.

“Oh my god.” She muttered, covering her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing. Just give me two minutes please.” She said, biting her lip as she stood from the table and walked over to where Josh was making an ass out of himself.

“All you had to do was let me through dickhead.” He sneered at the man, who was only trying to do his job.

“Joshua.” Kiyana hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him outside of the restaurant. “What are you doing?!”

“Tryna stop you from making a mistake. I’m so fucking sorry Key.” He whispered, cupping her face in his hands. “About everything. About Shanté.” He swallowed hard when he saw her flinch at Shanté’s name. “About not sticking up for you at J’s party. About everything.” He repeated and Kiyana started shaking her head.

“No.” She laughed as tears started to well up in her eyes. “You can’t just come here and ruin my date. You have no right Joshua.” She pushed him away from her. “You cheated on me, there is no apologizing for that, not after the shit I put up with from you and your family for years.”

“Kiyana please - “

“Go home Joshua.” She muttered, blinking her tears away. She was done crying over him. “I’m trying to move on, you need to do the same.” Josh felt as if Kiyana just reached into his chest and pulled his heart out, as she gave him one last look before turning and walking back into the restaurant to continue her date. Leaving him heartbroken and empty.

🙃

Y'all think Josh can actually win her back or y'all think Kiyana is over him and nothing her can do will fix or change anything. ?

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

A/N: Sorry this took two weeks 😭. I was just feeling a bit stuck with this chapter. Hopefully chapter 8 won't take another 2 weeks.

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somewhereincairparavel · 9 hours

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˚➳❥“Can I put makeup on you, Dada?➳❥

Jason Grace as a girl dad! Hcs list

Warning: aged up Jason Grace! (duh), just cuteness overload tbh

-He would so be a girl dad. I can see him having atleast 3 girls lol

- ugh he's the attentive and spending quality time dad- all he ever wanted from his own father was time. So no matter what, he's always paying his kid attention, it doesn't matter if it's the most insignificant thing ever, hes going to listen to his children's yapping

- he'd let his kids give him design ideas for his temple diorama project, and he'd actually use their ideas by changing it up a bit 🥹 he just wants his kids to feel included and important.

- a very patient dad. Wouldn't yell or raise his voice at his children no matter what. I feel like he himself hated being yelled at it when he was a child, and he'd hate to do it to other people, let alone his own children.

- but he's pretty strict when it comes to his children being good people and having strictly healthy morals. He doesn't care if his kids get bad grades or don't excel talent wise, just don't be a bad person and be nice to people.

- he ain't raising no ungrateful brat. Hes been happy his whole life recieving less than the bare minimum, so he knows ungratefulness when he sees it.

- definitely cried when his kids were in their "neglecting-their-parents-and-being-moody" teenager phase :( he'd think he had done something wrong and immediately have nagging thoughts that he turned out like his own dad 🥺

- his kids would be so hella polite, and I mean, elegant "please and thank you" royalty kind of polite.

- would so take his daughters on a piggyback ride and little flying trips 🥹

- he'd pretend to be an airplane while having them on his back and goes "jason grace airlines, ready for take off!" And all that cute shit ughh

- would tell his children so many dang stories, we know that this is technically canon with jason telling his grandkids stories in his vision- like he doesn't care how busy he is or if he had an argument with his kids that day, they are still getting spoiled with bedtime stories. Nobody's going to come between that.

- speaking of arguments, I feel like jason is super hard to anger, so if does get mad at his children then it's probably because they risked their lives, or got themselves hurt physically emotionally or mentally that really drives him over the edge.

- when it comes to disciplining his children, he does it sternly but gently at the same time. He doesn't overwhelm them with harshness, but gets his point across clearly

- kind of overbearing but in a sweet and endearing way I swear. Like his children would get a minor paper cut that even they don't care about but he'd freak out and hug tf out them while asking them if they're okay atleast 3 times.

- speaking of which. Hugs. Such a good fucking hugger. He gives his children bear hugs every day. - he's the "no you can't go to class before giving me a hug I don't care if you're late" type of dad

- He doesn't care if his children are like 45, like you're still my precious little girl, you always are and always will be. (He'd say this trust)

- is very verbal with his affection. Hes been brought up in a very intimidating and cold environment where people couldn't even hug properly without it being awkward, so he'll not be ashamed to be openly affectionate. Hes had enough coldness for 15 years

- overall just a big sweetheart of a dad that his children adore with all their heart and vice versa 🥹💙

#Ugh this has been sitting on my drafts for a month now #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo hoo #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #jason grace #pjo fanfiction #pjo fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader

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heroictoonz · 3 days

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I’m not the biggest Wu enjoyer ever in fact most the time in private friend servers and dms with close pals I joke about hating him and wanting him out the show I’ll admit to that. But like. I do think about the moments that probably were but never shown. I honestly think about Wu a lot

I think about Wu alone in the monastery with Cole, the first Ninja he recruited. A young man who was still grieving his mother even after all this time and in his own way, maybe unknowingly, grieving his father as well. I think about Wu possibly finding Cole constantly training in the main area at all hours of the day and night just to keep his hands busy. Wu sitting with him and maybe even being nervous to say anything to him. His last pupil he drove away. What if he did the same to this one? His last pupil was like a son to him and he screwed it all up and has to live with that on his hands and yet, here he is, trying it all over again, praying to the ghost of his father and anything in the heavens that will listen that he doesn’t make the same mistakes again. Maybe he sits quietly with Cole, not stopping him but letting him silently know that he isn’t alone no matter how long the monastery halls seem to feel. Bringing Cole water or a snack even when they both should be asleep. Finally, at one point, having the courage to tell him that he should sleep more. That if he wanted to talk, about anything at all, that Wu would be an ear to listen. I wonder if Cole would talk to Wu about any of it. Maybe not about it all. But maybe bits and pieces of his frustration and anguish that was clearly haunting him in those early days. I think that Wu’s words might even be enough to calm some of that in him. Maybe not all of it, and maybe Cole still pushes himself to keep away feelings and thoughts he can’t handle, but he sleeps more. He rests more. He takes breaks with Wu and has tea with him.

I think about Jay joining and being probably really skeptical about the whole thing. Probably distant with Cole cause he doesn’t know this guy. I think about Wu bringing in this second pupil, knowing by now that he was building a team that he would have to train not just in the ways of spinjitsu and their elements but also train them to be one with each other in battle. An anxious Wu trying desperately to get the two to talk and just hang out if even just for a meal or two. Wu bringing them together and having them build not just their strength and skills but their trust in each other too. Wu probably asks Jay about his parents. Seeing how Morro and Cole’s family backgrounds were he probably feared a trend settling in. Maybe Wu is plesently surprised when Jay tells him about his loving, though kinda embarrassing and smothering, parents. His parents who, even after moving out, he still writes to and stays in contact with as much as possible cause he doesn’t want them to worry. Maybe Wu smiles when Jay tells him that he’ll probably meet them someday.

I think it was very soon after that Wu found Zane. I think about Wu asking the people of that village about the strange boy who wondered their town alone, memoryless. With nothing to him but a name and a kind heart. Wu finding him and giving him a funny surprise in that lake. Pulling Zane out and offering him and permanent home. Maybe even catches the words in his throat as he feels the similarities between Zane and Morro. Strange orphaned children with nothing but their names and the clothes on their backs. Promising them a forever home. He hopped this one he could keep that promise. He’d do anything to keep that promise. Wu bringing Zane to the others, a little worried at first knowing that Zane was already very different from most people. Cole and Jay, where getting along better now, were still full of bite and fight. If he weren’t careful he would be putting this poor boy into the lions den. It goes better than he expects. Zane fits in easily with the other two. Wu is almost surprised by it, but thankful nonetheless. But this is where his real challenges begin. Training the three together, coaxing them to be more than just teammates. Knowing that it wouldn’t be enough. That they needed to trust each other implicitly. Maybe he was thinking about the tornado of creation, knowing that unless these three (and the fourth that he was still searching for) would need to be in near perfect harmony to pull off such a feat. But that they would need it in their coming battles.

I think about Wu holding back tears when he walks in to see the three goofing off. Yes they were meant to be working (maybe chores or training) but they were goofing off. They were getting along. Acting as friends and companions. And both Cole and Jay continued to argue but it was less like strangers and more like family. (They occasionally would remind Wu of him and his own brother from a long, long time ago.) I wonder how much pride Wu felt when he noticed that Cole and Jay were attempting to help Zane when he didn’t seem to catch up or understand something in a social or emotional situation. Even if they did throw in a few friendly insults at the poor boy here and there. Wu probably got a good laugh of the three pulling pranks on each other. Cole and Jay coming up with some to try and ease Zane into the concepts of practical jokes and being rightfully surprised when the future ice ninja got them back just as good.

I especially think about Wu when he meets Kai. Young and angry and a spark just waiting to ignite and explode. Violent and uncontrollable. And a spitting image of Ray. I wonder if Wu thought of his old friend when he saw Kai. The soft way he mentions the man in their conversation about the golden weapons. I wonder how much Wu misses his old friends and if he mourned them at the same time Kai and Nya did seemingly worlds apart and still shedding twin tears under one moon. I think about Wu feeling a frustration with Kai he’d probably never felt before. He sighs when he’s alone in his room. His head is his hands. “Father, how would you teach someone who seems so unreachable?” He would ask to no one. He would run his hands over his face and try to remember if Morro was this stubborn. But Morro had only become stubborn later in his trainings when his arrogance and drive for power blinded him. Kai was born stubborn and arrogant it seemed. Wu might even smile with exasperation and wonder to himself ‘how did Ray and Maya raise such a child?’

I think about Kai distancing himself from the rest like how Jay once did. Throwing himself into his training like how Cole once did. A young man alone and lost in the world as how Zane once was. Seeing so clearly how he clung to his sister and had a drive like no other to get her back. Maybe Wu even worried that after they rescued Nya that Kai would leave. That he would see no use in sticking around. Wu doubted that this soon encounter with his brother would be the last. Maybe Wu saw much of Morro in Kai and felt something almost like fear. Fear of losing Kai to a similar fate? Fear of Kai being pushed away when all Wu wanted to do was bring him close to the rest of them? Maybe even a fear that the shadows of his past would keep him from meaningfully connecting with Kai like he tried to do with the other three.

I think abut Wu bringing Kai tea. Wu pulling Kai in to eat and train with the other three. Wu trying to take the lessons he had learned from all this time and help Kai transition into the team. And similarly, help the rest of the team transition into including Kai. Kai was full of just as much bite and fight as Cole and Jay when they first met, maybe more. Definitely more. But Wu wasn’t going to give up on him. I think about Wu catching quiet moments of Kai’s sorrow. What he normally covered up in anger but sometimes was too weak to do so. Wu sitting next to him and telling him stories about when he and his brother were growing up. About how the loss of their father affected them. About how the loss of his brother affected him. Maybe Kai would snap at him. Telling him that they were nothing alike. That Wu couldn’t understand. Maybe Kai says something harsher. Says that at least Nya wasn’t trying to destroy the world. That he would get Nya back. That Nya wasn’t some evil freak. And Wu would let every word slide off him like water. Because he knew Kai was just angry. He knew Kai would be angry for a while.

I think about when they get Nya back. When Wu officially introduces himself to her. I wonder if he knew she was the water element right then and there. Did he know that she would one day show signs. I wonder if he has his suspicions but decided to wait and see. The elements are tricky things. They do not always do as expected. I think about Wu noticing just how equally as stubborn Nya is as Kai but how much better she tried to mask it.

I wonder if Kai ever apologized to Wu for how he acted. I think about Wu stopping him and reassuring him that it was nothing to worry about. Wu knew he was just upset for the fate of his sister. Wu was just thankful all turned out well in the end.

I think abut Kai and Cole both seeing a father figure in Wu that the other two probably don’t connect with as much. Maybe Cole is a bit more open about it than Kai. I wonder if, when Wu realizes this, if it worries him. Morro haunts him like a ghost. His greatest regret. In a life of mistakes the one he mourns the most. I’ll always wonder how much Morro’s impact on Wu’s life haunts his days with his new students. Maybe the ninja see Wu have his own silent moments. Days he can’t hide his own sadness. Whether for Morro or his brother. Maybe even both. Maybe even days when he remembers Aspheera or the other elemental masters. So many friends that he lost along the way.

Maybe the ninja try to cheer him up and be with him the same way Wu would for them. They bring him tea, offer to take him with them out to the city for their weekly run, ask him to tell them stories about the first spinjitsu master or about Wu’s old travels and adventures. Wu knows what they’re doing, but he lets them do it all the same.

I think about how Wu was probably constantly worried about Lloyd’s safety and health. He knew his mother had left him at that school. I wonder if Wu was against it or not. I wonder how often Wu would think about Lloyd, alone, festering in what would only become feelings of abandonment. Would Wu realize that? Or would he be just as blind to it as Lloyd’s well meaning (yet still wrong) parents? I think about Wu grabbing his dear nephew into a hug when they first reunited. Tucking him in and reading him that story. I think about Wu maybe even sitting Lloyd down and trying to talk to him about his parents. Especially his father. I don’t think it’d go over that well but I think he might try.

I think about Wu maybe feeling nostalgic when Garmadon was with them to rescue Lloyd. It must have been so, so long since the two were on a quest or adventure of some kind. Maybe he regrets the joy he feels or even hardly has the time to feel it knowing that Lloyd is in so much danger.

I wonder how much guilt Wu holds. I think about him regretting so much before the ninja and then even more so regretting being so closed off about it all and not saying anything before it’s all too late. “There was something I never told you.” “I should have told you all this long ago.” Keeping his past a secret probably out of shame or a fear of history repeating itself, only for it to cause his new family such distress and trouble. Learning the hard way that his past would always come back for him. From Morro to the Hands of Time all the way to Aspheera. I wonder if Wu regrets not being the one to tell Lloyd the truth about his heritage. Maybe he assumed Garmadon would have. Maybe he thought it was best for the young leader to not have to worry abut such things until once again it was far too late.

I think about Wu mourning his bother over and over and over again. Sometimes with Lloyd, sometime with Misako, but many, many, many times completely alone. In the silence of his own grief and regrets. I wonder if he ever sees himself and Garmadon in Nya and Kai. Or even just in the ninja as a whole. Not an exact one to one but seeing them be a family, watching them go on quests together, I wonder how often he thinks of his brother in those moments.

I think about Wu rebuilding a family and maybe not even immediately recognizing he did just that.

#holy shit thi sgot really long but ive been thinking about this stuff for a whil also its 2am #ninjago #master wu #lord garmadon #lloyd garmadon #kai jiang #kai smith #cole brookstone #nya jiang #nya smith #zane julien #jay walker #morro #i have so much to say about ninjago always and forever #even the characters i dont really like all that much I still could write essays about them #toonz talks

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peachsukii · 1 day

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I wanted to continue off of last week’s Softie Sunday story about the Bakugo family bookstore. 🥰 I know it’s a liiiittle late but I finally got around to writing this out today.

『 ♡ bookstore owner!bakugo x fem!reader 』

content ; no quirks, mentions of children (two daughters: 16 and 10), Bakugo & reader are married

“So…there’s somethin’ I wanna tell ya,” your eldest daughter starts, pausing to await your reactions. Katsuki quirks an eyebrow at her and glances your way, signaling for you to take the reins.

“Sure honey. What is it?” You ask, placing your utensils on the table and folding your hands over one another, devoting your attention to her. It wasn’t uncommon for important conversations to happen over dinner in the Bakugo household, it’s where you all could come together to connect every night.

“I decided what I wanna do. Y’know, as a career…at least I think I do.”

Katsuki tilts his head in curiosity while taking another bite of his dinner. “Yeah? An’ what’s that?”

She takes a deep breath before smiling confidently.

“I wanna be an author, just like Aunt Momo!”

Katsuki’s eyes twinkle under the dining room lights, beaming over his daughter’s aspirations. She was always the kid with the wildest imagination, constantly drawing cute children’s stories throughout school and acing all her creative writing projects. You and Katsuki assumed she’d want to be writer or illustrator when she was older, but never wanted to push her on it. It’s a hobby she loved and you didn’t want to pressure her into turning it into a career.

“That’s fantastic, sweetie!” You praise, reaching across the table to touch her hand. She turns to Katsuki, putting her free hand on his shoulder.

“Plus, someone’s gotta be book smart like Pops to run our store. I wanna continue the family legacy.”

He’s stunned, speechless. The room remains quiet until the silence is broken with your youngest throwing her fists in the air, victoriously shouting, “See sis? I knew he’d cry!”

Katsuki bursts into laughter, wiping the stray tears away with the backs of his hands. “That predictable, huh? M’proud of you, peach. Your Ma and I love and support whatever you wanna do.”

Your eldest crinkles her nose before grinning widely, just like her father does.

“Why don’t we call Aunt Momo after dinner, see if she has time to take you to lunch to talk about it?” You offer, squeezing her hand assuringly. “I’m sure she’d love to talk your ear off about writing.” She nods excitedly, her smile lighting up the room.

“I’ve got an idea for ya,” Katsuki says, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “How ‘bout we let you do a reading at the shop? Compile some of your stories in an anthology of sorts and read ‘em to customers, get yourself out there. We’ve got the space.”

“Really?!” She gasps, eyes wide with excitement.

He smiles, leaning his elbows back onto the table. “It’s our store and I’m the boss. We can figure it out after your talk with Aunt Ponytail.”

She jumps up from her seat, feet padding down the hallway to her room while exclaiming, “I’m gonna call her now!”

“There she goes, reminds me of someone I know,” you tease, winking in Katsuki’s direction. He shakes his head with a chuckle. In the distance, you can faintly hear “Auntie Momo! How are you?! I want to…” coming from her room.

It’s hard to believe how much a little local bookstore has helped shape your family into what it is today, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#reis softie sundays #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #soft bakugou #soft Bakugo #my hero academia #my hero academia fluff

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metalomagnetic · 9 hours

Note

In IRITB, young Sirius wanted to marry Bellatrix, but the family opposed it. First question- was Bella opposed, or would she also have liked to marry Sirius? And later, Orion in particular tells Sirius a marriage between him and Bella would have been a disaster because he sees it as a repeat of him and Walburga. What would Sirius and Bellatrix's marriage have been like? Would they be happy? Would they have still joined Voldemort (and how would that have affected Sirius and Voldemort's eventual ... union lol)?

I don't think Bella would have been thrilled with the match, simply because Sirius is so much younger- so they would be telling a 18 year old that she's engaged with a 10 year old she helped raise.

However, she would have accepted it.

Now, assuming Sirius doesn't run away from home at sixteen, and he stays (possibly because he's engaged to Bella), there would be issues once the wedding actually comes. Bella is already branded by Voldemort and I don't think Sirius would like that at all. We see even in 'It runs', Sirius is very possessive of Bella, but at least he learned to cope a little, since she married when he was a kid and he got used to the thought.

But having his wife serve a strange man? Wear his brand? It would be chaos.

Not to mention that, as we see, if Sirius stayed home, he'd have succumbed to the pressure from his grandparents/mother/uncle and he would want a child, like they demand of him. Maybe he would even think this would keep Bella away from Voldemort. A pregnant Bella in the first war would probably change her dynamic with Voldemort and her involvement in the war.

Also, in case Sirius and Voldemort do end up getting along, having that attraction, then Bella would go nuts over it, since that's her husband. I think she's very possessive, too. ( I guess that's one way to kill Voldemort lol. If he steals Bella's man, he's going down 😂).

It really wouldn't end well at all.

However, if Voldemort didn't exist, or if Bella doesn't take the mark, I think Sirius and Bellatrix would have been happy together. There would have been fights, and screams, and outbursts, explosive ones, but generally I believe they'd be the happiest Bella or Sirius can be, and far more than they were in canon.

I think they'd be decent parents, too, and show a lot of love and affection to their children. Both Sirius and Bellatrix are rebellious by nature, stifled by the 'way of the family', and if they are united (with no Voldemort between them) I think they would stand up to Arcturus and Cygnus and everyone else, supporting each other wholeheartedly.

They would still keep a lot of the traditions alive, of course, they would be mindful of the Black reputation and what it is needed to keep it, but they would also deviate from old practices in many ways.

She would ignore Sirius' few muggleborn friends (again, for them to work, Voldemort needs to not exist, so Lily and James would be alive), as long as he doesn't see them too publicly, and Sirius would ignore her blood purity rants, too. I believe that would be the only thing they wouldn't agree on, but Sirius doesn't care that much about it, so he'd probably just let her rant away.

That being said, I do have an AU idea where Voldemort doesn't 'die' on Halloween '81, and the pairing there is Bella/Sirius/Voldemort, so there's that. 😂

#bellatrix black #sirius black #Bella/Sirius

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c-rose2081 · 2 days

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Audrey doesn’t have children and she’s not interested in being a mom, but somehow she’s ended up with a bunch of teens in her apartment calling her ‘Mrs. Rose’ and asking her (or her husband) to take them to the mall on weekends. And, apparently, a bunch of seventeen year olds building a blanket fort in her living room for a movie night is more appealing than the school dorms, while an army arrives at the exact same time every Saturday night to take over her kitchen for pizza, throwing cash in a pile to help cover the cost.

“They’re Hadie’s friends, Chad. The Royal Palace is right there,” she complains, scrolling through a sales page dedicated to 12 person mini-busses. “Mal is Queen or whatever. Why am I the one doing this?”

“They want to get away from Royal life, not closer to it, love,” Chad tells her, leaning over her shoulder and pointing at a bus. “What about that one?”

“Not a good safety rating. Is a twelve seater enough?”

“I think so?” Chad counts on his fingers. “Chloe sees us more than she sees her parents, right?”

“Right. It’s all of Hadie’s VK friends: Him, Dina, Jace, Harry and Eddie. Then there’s Chloe and Ariana. That’s what…nine of us?”

“One more; Lexi usually comes with Chloe.”

“Ah, right, can’t forget Anxelin. Ten. Ten of us.” Audrey lands on a good choice and buys without a second thought. She sits back, turning to her husband wearily. He frowns back at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think we need a bigger house?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. A bigger garden would be nice.”

“A dedicated office?”

“A garage.”

“Extra guest rooms.”

“A pool.”

“A pool?” Audrey screws up her face. “Really, Chad?”

“Summertime gets hot you know, and the Enchanted Lake is always busy. And with eight teenagers?”

“Touché,” Audrey agrees, flipping open a tab to new real-estate. “Pool it is.”

#disney descendants #found family #audrey descendants #chad charming #chloe charming #princess ariana rose #hadie descendants #text post #world building #thinking thoughts

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judesmoonbeauty · 2 days

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Alfons Sylvatica Chapter 4 Semi-Summary

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a SEMI-SUMMARY of each chapter. I am roughly translating this with out much research other than specific lines from certain scenes. Why? Because it's a huge task to translate a main route chapter line by line. So, this is what we're working with, and I appreciate your understanding ♥︎ Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my summaries elsewhere. Minors: Please DNI or consume this content. CW: Dub-Con. Dividers: @/natimiles

Alfons greets Kate in a back alley saying that it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other, and asks how she’s been. It’s been a few days since she’s seen him, and he has an indifferent look on his face that makes her feel disgusted. She tells him that it’s been a peaceful few days since he hasn’t been around to mess with her. He laughs and says that’s boring, but promises that tonight will be exciting. Kate raises her voice asking Alfons how he takes that as her saying she needs excitement, which causes Ellis to shush her gently, and Alfons joins in with Ellis in agreement as if he wasn’t the one instigating her. Quieting her mind and reminding herself that she is the Fairytale Keeper, she refocuses on their mission.

She, Ellis and Alfons were on a stake out about a sort of street crime. They hunker down in the alley in a single file line, with Ellis being in the front and Alfons behind her. It’s so dark, they can’t help but to as close to each other as possible in order to see the other person. The scent of various perfurmes from Alfons waft into Kate’s nostrils and make her restless, and she reminds herself to concentrate. Looking ahead the dimly lit street is filled with several people - small children emaciated men, most of them with out homes, sleeping or just walking around - and it hurts Kate to see these people suffering in the shadows while England boasts it’s age of prosperity.

She recognizes that though the country has enough wealth to share, life is not equal.

The disgust she felt when she saw the pile of black corpses from previous chapters rise within her, and a feeling of neither sadness or bitterness filled her heart. This is when she realizes that since that initial incident, she had been so preoccupied with Alfons, that she didn’t properly have time to think about it, even though her heart is lighter feeling because of it. She decides that her heart must’ve drifted towards the easier way out.

Alfons: Kate.

Kate: …!?

Alfons calls her name from behind her and she recalls their feverish night. He had called her name many times that name when she was under the suggestion of being his lover.

Alfons: Haha, that’s a cute response.

Kate: I’ve got a lot to think about…..please don’t interrupt me.

Alfons: That’s why I interrupted you. So that you would think of me.

Kate:…..?

Alfons: There are a lot of things in this world that you can’t control, even if you face them squarely.

Alfons: Don’t you think it’s ridiculous to take single one of those things seriously, and get hurt?

Kate recalls that she’s been told something similar before.

FLASHBACK TO DINING ROOM BREAKFAST SCENE

Alfons: Well, you don’t need to know about such troublesome things.

Alfons: It doesn’t matter.

Alfons: Miss Kate, are you sure? You want to hide this.

FLASH BACK TO KITCHEN SCENE

Alfons: It’s better to be occupied with what feels good and pleasurable.

Alfons: Keep up the good work and keep your mind occupied on me.

FLASH BACK ENDS

(Only when I’m down in the dumps, worrying about this and that, does he start messing around me with me.)

Kate’s thoughts stop at this like she’s stumbled over a stone.

(Huh...but, I wonder why he keeps messing with me at the same time….?)

Ellis interrupts her thoughts by calling them both with a raised voice, ignoring the dispute behind him. Kate turns her face away from Alfons and back to the street. The screen jolts as someone says, “April Fools”, and the voice is accompanied by something spilling out onto the street. Several men in black cloaks are on the street who start to attack the slum dwellers, and a bizarre chase begins. It’s almost like they are hunting, swinging their weapons at the unarmed people. Kate is frozen as she describes it as something from literal hell.

Alfons: Hmm, it’s all rather frenzied.

Alfons: This is more of a massacre than a street riot.

Kate: How can you stay so calm?

Alfons: It’s a common sight on missions.

Ellis: Al & I will take them all into custody, you stay here Kate.

Ellis soon leaves them and Kate’s body begins to shake when she thinks about being left alone, even though she knows she should be. She tries to tell herself that she won’t be able to record their sins if she can’t look at them properly.

Alfons: Ahhhh, you poor thing.

Alfons’ hand touches the nape of her neck and tells her that what she is seeing is a play, and his voice flows through her mind like an eroding stream.

Alfons: That bright red thing is bloodstain.

Alfons: Tonight, it’s me and Ellis, and we’ve come to see a play.

Alfons: You will enjoy the breathless action in this seat….until we return.

Kate was in the theater when she was stuck with a floating sensation.

(I’ve never seen such an amazing performance…..)

The bloodbath that continued to unfold before her eyes was captivating. The blood spatter, the flying pieces of flesh, and even their expressions of anguish on the verge of death - they’re all very unlike a play. Alfons approaches and says that he’s off while she’s still mesmerized by the stage, and Kate tells him to go ahead. But going where? She came to see the play with him, didn’t she? When they look each other in the eyes, he tells her to kiss him and give him a lover’s pep talk.

(That’s right……Alfons and I are lovers.)

Kate: Yes, of course.

She offers a kiss on the lips with a smile as if she were seeing her lover off.

Kate: Mmmm…..

After their lips touch each other, he removes his hand from her nape. The stage floor was so soaked with blood that it was unrecognizable. When she sees that Alfons is going onto the stage too, she thinks it’s great at first, and then she notices Ellis on stage touching the heads of the targets and binding them. That’s when she sees that just a word from Alfons could cause a flurry of people to fall down as well.

Kate: And yet…..

Kate: It’s a very, very realistic play.

Even though she knew it was all an act the shrieks of the people made her heart shrink back, with fear and anxiety, her heart was beating very fast. When a knife almost grazed Alfons, she felt a chill crawl down her spine, even though it happened on a stage.

(I like to watch plays….)

(This one time……l hope it’s over soon.)

(I’m so scared….I don’t even want to look at it.)

(…..I’ve never thought this about a play before.)

(But why did I have to go to a play with you two tonight….?)

A sudden feeling of discomfort washes over her, and she squeezes at her heart over her clothes.

Alfons: Kate.

Kate: !

The boys come back to her and Alfons asks her, “How was our play?” Ellis is surprised and then says, “Oh, I see,” and plays along and asks her the same question. She says it was amazing, but she tells them that her heart felt crushed by anxiety. She couldn’t help but hug Alfons tightly to make sure her boyfriend was safe, which surprises his dumbass for some reason. Kate feels relieved, once she feels his heart beat and as she was about to let go of Alfons, he puts his arm around her.

Alfons: I apologize for any concern this may have caused you.

Alfons: …..I’ll stay by your side tonight, until you feel safe.

Premium Story:

After the blood soaked play, Alfons escorts Kate back to her room, but on the way back she’s struck with a strange sensation. She remembers passing through a street she’s unfamiliar with and she can’t figure out why she went to see a play with Ellis and Alfons. Back in the room, she finally breaks down and then asks Alfons, if what she watched was really a play or not. As soon as she asks, a thought popped into her head about the blood not being fake like stage play blood.

Alfons: Have you awakened already?

Alfons: You have a surprisingly stronger ego than I expected.

Kate: It was real.

When she realizes that not only she peacefully watched people die, but also almost Alfons being harmed, she was so shocked that she was speechless. She recalls the uncomfortable thoughts she had as she watched the play and the things she heard. Closing her eyes and covering her ears, Alfons embraces her warmly as if scooping her out of the cold darkness.

Alfons: It’s not your fault. It’s my fault isn’t it?

Kate: But I didn’t think anything of it.

Alfons: No ordinary person could imagine such a scene unless it was fiction.

Alfons: Likewise, I thought it would be entertaining to make it fiction.

Kate: …..

Kate remembers that she thought it was like play, and that she even applauded even though someone had died right in front of her. His voice filled with pity when he spoke to her.

Alfons: You really, really want to look at reality to the point of stupidity.

Kate: Because….If I don’t look….

Alfons: Is it because of your role as fairytale keeper?

Alfons: Isn’t it crappy to get a job because you were involved in an accident?

Kate thinks about how her life hangs in the balance if she doesn’t work properly, but she asks Alfons…

Kate: That’s not all,…. If you don’t look at reality properly, you won’t realize what’s important, will you?

Alfons: Such as?

Kate: Like, why are all those terrible things happening….

Alfons: You wouldn’t know that by observing a crime scene.

Kate: Is there anyone still breathing….who can be helped….!

Alfons: Haha, you’re going to save someone in that situation? You’ll just die as collateral damage.

Kate: But…..if you or Ellis had been stabbed…..I

Kate: Thinking of that as a play……I could’ve been there to help!

Alfons: ……

Kate: Isn’t that kind of scary….?

A rush of emotion begins to blur Kate’s vision not knowing if it was because of the fear of the scene or because she was alone protected by an illusion. Alfons gently strokes her hair just as a true lover would do.

Alfons: You’re too soft and vulnerable and yet….to try to face reality instead of running away…

Alfons: ….You’re an idiot, my dear.

Alfons: When I see someone that stupid, I can’t help but want to coddle them.

He touches her nape and tells her to come play with him for the night, calling her his little sweetheart. A pleasant sensation fills her body and her thoughts are drowned out by his voice as he tells her that he’s fine, alive and well. He tells her not to look so greedy, because he isn’t going to let things end with a child’s kiss and for her to open her mouth. He pokes her lips with his fingertips as he whispers.

Alfons: Don’t be shy…

Kate: Mmmm….ahhh….

She opens her mouth and his wet tongue slips inside.

Kate: Mm…..ah…..nnn….

Alfons: I like the way you kiss.

They deeply entwine their tongues and melt into the sense of debauchery. All the while Kate feels like she’s forgotten something important, but before she knew it, they were sinking into her bed. All she could think about was her lover in front of her.

Kate: Al…fons…I- my body is hot.

Alfons: …..Body, where?

Kate: ….You know what I’m talking about, don’t ask.

Alfons: I don’t like that….

Alfons: Where do you want to be made to feel good, tell me with that pretty mouth?

Kate: Ah……

Her ribbon at the back was loosened spilling her bare skin, as she hides herself from Alfons. He asks why she’s hiding from him and to let him see. He asks again where she wants to be abused, and she says everywhere all embarrassed like. He kisses her cheek, calls her a greedy one, and then brings his mouth to her breast to suck her nipple which makes her flinch and moan. As his tongue kept teasing that part, her body lit up inside. His fingers slowly trace along the inside of her thighs, until they shift under her underwear and stroke her muddied spot several times until he slowly enters her. He pumps his finger inside her sweetly as she tightens up around him. He tells her to loosen up because he was going to make her feel good, to which he starts thrusting his fingers intensely. His finger stroke her insides making her go wild. He laughs and asks if his fingers aren’t enough for her? Embarrassed at her own naughtiness, all she can do is nod her head yes.

He laughs and asks if she’s sure since he doesn’t mind making her cum with his fingers. She’s basically begging at this point without saying anything, and so he removes his fingers from her, removes his clothes and then says to her, “Let’s get so messy, we’ll forget everything.”

He sinks more deeply into her than his fingers did, and she moans as she clings to his back as he thrusts into her. And all she can think of is drowning in his love because the arms that hold her are so gentle, and because the pitying, compassionate look in his eyes is somehow comforting to her.

[Next] [Master List]

#alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #ikevil translations #ikemen villains #Ikémen villains translations #IkeVil JP spoilers

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kilarthmac · 1 day

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Let's talk about Caelum.

I'm gonna preface this with saying that everyone is entitled to their opinions, and if once you're done reading this you decide you don't want to follow me or you want to block me, that's completely up to you. I'm not trying to change your opinion or attack anyone who has a different one than mine, I just wanted to put my two cents out there.

I also wanted to say that whatever your opinion on the matter is, it's yours and yours alone, and you should respect the opinions of other people even if they don't match up. I personally do not sexualize Caelum, but I do think he is an adult with childlike characteristics, and those two statements are not mutually exclusive. He can be an adult, but he also doesnt have to be put in adult situations.

It's okay to have strong feelings one way or the other about this topic, but it is not okay to harass people or go on a witch hunt for those with the opposite opinion to give them shit about what they think. If you disagree with someone and do not want to see their stuff on your timeline, just block them or scroll away. You alone are responsible for your own dash, you cannot make other people responsible for what you see on your timeline.

All that being said, I do not like how the fandom treats Caelum and Empathy Daemons in general.

My stance on the matter is that Empathy Daemons as a whole are adults, but because of how E'Laetum created them, they tend to have childlike characteristics. Those who say that Empathy Daemons are ALL children blatantly ignore the fact that Regulus is an Empathy Daemon as well, and that he has been shown to have adult tendancies (his BA, getting possessive over his charge, etc) while also maintaining his childlike characteristics (telling his charge a bedtime story to sleep, having a very one dimensional view of himself and his charge, etc). This is where I have a problem whenever I see people try to say that all Empathy Daemons are children. Regulus is clearly an adult. There is no "reading between the lines" about this.

Caelum is also an Empathy Daemon, but he is a very different character than Regulus. He is a lot more childlike compared to Regulus. He gets his words mixed up, he likes sweets, he likes hugs, etc. But in his most recent video (Your Bakadere Empathy Daemon Friend Visits You), even he says that he almost went down a path similar to Regulus' until Delphinus stepped in and assigned him to Freelancer, and that stopped him from falling (timestamps from 2:40 - 3:18, and 8:45 in that video). It may be uncomfortable for some people to think of Caelum as going down the same path that Regulus did, but this video clearly shows that he had the potential to. Caelum and Regulus are not as different as one may think.

Erik has also said himself that D(a)emons step out of the Elision Well as adults and they do not age. Of course they don't know everything so they still have to learn, but that's not the same as being a child. On top of the most recent Redacted 101 video, take this screenshot from Wonderworld (previously Redacted Records, when Erik was still in the server) from 2020, where Erik talks about how D(a)emons coalesce.

He even mentions how in earlier Caelum videos he didn't know what he wanted the d(a)emon life cycle to be yet, and that's why he had Caelum state that he was a "kid daemon" at one point.

Not to mention the fact that in the official timeline, it shows that Caelum coalesced in 1999, and is even older than Damien.

At the end of the day, Caelum is a fictional character. Whatever someone ends up deciding to make of him is their choice, this is a fandom after all. If it really bothers you to see what certain people make, block them and move on. DO NOT berate them for their headcanons or fanart or whatever else. People are allowed to have their own headcanons, make their own fics, and draw their own fanart. This is a fandom space, and people are allowed their creative liberties.

Anyways, that has been my two cents. Feel free to voice your opinions in the comments if u want to, but please please be respectful and don't attack anyone.

TLDR; I don't sexualize Caelum but I do think he and all Empathy Daemons are adults (ex: Regulus), everyone should respect everyone else's opinions and just block what they don't want to see on their timelines, and the fandom needs to chill out lol

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted audio caelum #redacted caelum #redacted fandom

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stillxnunpxidintern · 1 day

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A little Ace x Fem Reader Thing

I had this little Ace x Reader thought the other night.

So you and Ace are dating and every time you stop at an island, Ace always plays with the kids and it makes you smile when you see it.

At some point you ask him what his thoughts are on having his own children and he tells you that he doesn't want any of his own, which strikes you as odd with how well he is with kids and when you ask why and he says he just doesn't and so you left it at.

At some point you ended up pregnant and knowing how Ace felt about having his own children, you choose not tell him and started to make a plan to leave. You spoke to Pops and why you didn't give the real reason, you felt like he had an idea and tried to get you stay but eventually let you leave, telling you that there was always a place for you.

Why it was cowardice of you, you left Ace a letter next to him as he slept, omitting the reason why you were leaving and taking your piece of vivre paper so he couldn't follow after you, as you slipped away in the middle of the of the night, heading to the closest island and then island hopped till you found the you settled down on.

The town in which you settled in was very welcoming and treated you as one as your as they helped you out the further along you. When your child was finally born it was baby girl that you named Rouge. As she grew she took after her father in most everyway apart from her eye colour that she got from you and her hair was beautiful golden blonde.

It was just before her 2nd birthday when your heard voices you didn't expect to hear again. You did your best to not draw attention to yourself and picked up Rouge, to head home and away from them. Rouge was happily "talking" away as she waved at everyone over your shoulder.

That when you were sure you heard a audio gasp but you didn't want to know so kept on walking and didn't stop till you were inside your little home with the door locked, not that it would do much if they wanted in, but you just hoped they would leave you be but like that would happen.

Giving you didn't have an angry fire logia banging at your door at some point that evening, you were able to breath a little easier and hoped that Ace was off sailing somewhere else like he liked to do. The next few days were so tense as you kept expecting Ace or one of the commanders banging on your door.

So by the 4th day of no one banging your door, you felt it was safe to head outside and with Rouge starting to get cranky at not being allow to go outside, you took her and some toys down to the beach that was secluded and only the locally really used, so seeing any of the crew was low.

And the first couple of the hours at the beach were peaceful as Rouge dug holes and filled the bucket up before tipping it out on your feet and giggling before running away to fill it up again.

A shadow soon fell over you as your name was said and you tried not to react but your body stiffen upon hearing that voice after nearly 3 years as there was an edge to it but you kept your eyes on Rouge as she played in the sand. You did your best to ignore him as you watched your daughter fall over and hit either a rock or shell, as tears welled up and she cried.

You stood up from your spot and went over to her, picking her up and rocked her gently, calming her down and knew nap time soon, so packed the toys away, while still holding her as she refused let go of you if you tried to put her down.

The whole time you could feel the cold glare at your back but till Rouge was home and down for her nap, you weren't going to focus on him.

When you had gotten Rouge down for her nap, you knew there was no delaying it anymore and went to face the angry fire logia, that was standing in your living-room. Stepping back into the room you came face an angry Ace, as he locked eyes with you and was quickly standing in front of you.

You went to step backward to give some space between the two of you but he grabbed your wrist stopping you from moving as he stared down at you rage in his eyes.

Ace soon started to demand why you left and didn't tell him that you were pregnant with his child, asking what the hell you were thinking. When you didn't answer quick enough he gripped your wrist tighter and raised his voice demanding you answer him.

You quickly tell him lower his voice, as your daughter was sleep and hearing that set Ace off as fire rippled across his shoulders as he anger seeped into every word he spoke to you while keeping his voice low.

Asking how you could keep his child from him, how you could be this much a heartless woman when you supposedly loved him, that he had missed so many of her first because you were selfish wench. Being called selfish had you nearly shouting at him as you told him, that he said he never wanted a child of own and you did what you thought was best, by not telling him so you wouldn't get your heart broken, when he said he didn't want anything to you or the child when he found out.

That had Ace almost growling at you, saying that you didn't even give him a choice in the matter and took all other choices from him. As he went on saying how much you denied him the hotter his hand on your wrist got, till you cried out his name while trying to pull your hand free.

That was enough for him to released his grip and instantly started apologising as you cradled your wrist. You stepped backwards from him, as you never thought he would every hurt you, even when angry, but you croaked out that you wanted him to leave and he tried to say something but the look on your face had him leaving and was still apologising.

Once he was gone you sunk to the ground, tearing spilling from your eyes as you looked at your wrist to see the burn hand print that was on it. You kept your sobs down as you didn't want to wake up Rouge from her nap, so you gathered yourself up and went to run your wrist under cold water for a good while before putting a bandage over it.

It was just after dinner and you were getting Rouge ready for bed when there was knock on the front door. Holding your daughter close, you went and opened the door to see the First Mate of the Whitebeard standing in front there. You invited Marco before telling him to sit and you would be back soon.

Once Rouge was down and sleeping, you headed back to Marco and it was quiet between the two of you before he spoke, saying that Ace had asked him to come and check upon you, after explaining what he had done. Marco held his hand out and you placed your brunt wrist in his open hand and began to take the bandage off.

He called Ace an idiot under his breath as he looked at the burn before covering it with his other hand and used his phoenix flame to heal most of it. When he was finished there was still a hand mark there but said it should fade in a week or two.

You quietly thanked him before asking if he hated you as well as you looked at the floor. There was a sigh and you were pulled in his arms as he told you that no he didn't hate, no one did not even Ace regardless of how he act that afternoon, those he did think you had a momentary lapse of judgement for leaving and said you were idiot for that.

While he held you, you let all your tears out that you kept locked away since leaving the crew, your family. You apologised through sobs and he just shushed, reminding you why Marco was your favourite brother. Once the sobs had subside you pulled yourself up and wiped your eyes, giving the smallest smile and asked he if wanted something to drink, what he accepted and said anything was fine.

The rest if the evening was the two of you talking, mainly you telling him how it had been since you left the Moby and what it was like be raising Rouge. He in turn told you how it was when first left and what has been happening on crew. He told you that Ace had been completely devastated when you just left with nothing but letter that still didn't explain anything and when he found out you had taken your piece of vivre paper back so he wouldn't be able find you, that shatter him and was a shell for a weeks.

Hearing that broke you, as tears fell again and sobbed in your hands as you felt like worst person ever, saying cause as you tried to save yourself from heartbreak and rejection, you had just caused that to Ace instead without thinking much what it would do him.

Marco held you again till you were finished and then wiped your tears away, before saying that you weren't worst person ever, you did what you thought you had do and needed to have a heart to heart with Ace, without the heighten emotions this time. Once he was sure you had calm down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and said he happy to his have little sister back and left you, to go back to the Moby.

The following day you just went through the motions of your daily routine as your thoughts were all over place, you couldn't help but look at the front door every half hour, not sure if you wanted there to be knock or not.

You were playing with Rouge when there was knock on the door and you froze, you had no idea if you wanted to open the door even though you knew should. So picking up Rouge you held her in your arms and took a deep breathe in to calm your mind as you went to the open the door.

Opening the door you were met with the biggest bouquet of flowers you had ever seen before looking to Ace and could see Marco behind him. You allowed both men in your home as Rouge looked at the flowers in fascination at all the different colours that was in it.

Ace froze in place as he looked at his daughter for the first time and saw she was his spitting image minus the hair and eye colour. Marco had to take the flowers from and placed them in your kitchen, as Ace tried to form words as he just kept staring at her.

Sucking up you courage you introduced them to each other and upon hearing that she had his mother name, there was wet shine to his eyes as he took a breath in and said hi to her, to which she smiled back and waved at him. You told Rouge that this was her Daddy as Ace reached out to hold her and you handed her to him.

He was so amazed that this was his daughter and held her as she babbled away to him which Ace took his in stride as if he had always been there and suddenly you felt like the shittest person again for not telling him or allow him to experience it till now. A hand squeezed your shoulder letting you know it was okay.

After some time Marco claimed his niece and said he would be back with her later, as he placed her on his shoulder as he left with her. You knew that Marco wouldn't let anything happen to her so felt fine with him leaving with her.

That left both you and Ace to speak to each other, without any interruption, to air out everything between you both. You apologised for all the pain you caused him when you left, but you thought it was best course of actions as he said he never wanted his own children so was saving yourself from heartbreak and reject without thinking what it may of done to him.

By the time you finished talking you were sobbing in your hands again. Not wanting to see you cry anymore he pulled you into his arms and held you, as he explained how much of mess he was when you left and wondered what he did to make you leave him and to stop loving him without even speaking to him first.

Over the couple of hours it was just you two, there was more tears from the both you, mainly you, and so many apologises between the two of you, so by the time that Marco had returned, most things had been air out between the two of you.

As soon Rouge was deposited on your lap, she started to babbling about what she did and then pointed at Marco before saying bird before flapping her arms like a bird. She said a few other words and Marco said that she called a few of the commanders, Thatch had been called pom cause he mention his hair pompadour when she looked and touched it, Izou was prety and Pops was Ganpa, of cause Pops would make sure she called him grandpa.

Eventually the couple of hours with crew had caught up and Rouge fell asleep in between both you and Ace. So now she was asleep both men asked if you would join the crew again now.

You looked down at your daughter and thought about, it was a thought you've had a few times since leaving the crew but with Rouge being at a young age it would be more beneficial for her to stay on shore till she older, so she interact with children her ages.

So you told them at this point in time, that no joining the crew again was not in the cards, as Rouge staying on land would be better for her any being on a ship at least till she older but you weren't planning on moving any where else, so the two of you will be here when they feel like visiting again.

Marco gave a hum at that answer before saying he was going to head back to the Moby and gives Pops your decision to stay here for the time being.

Once it was just you and Ace again, with Rouge still sleeping he asked why you named her that and told to him that you were honouring his mother, as he spoke before how much he loved mother even though he never got met her and what she went through to keep him safe.

He then began asking all different questions about her, wanting to know as much as he possible could and you answered them all, giving him all the information. When Rouge woke up from her nap the two of them played together, and as you tidy the house up she introduced him to all her soft toys.

Why you were unsure of what would happen with you and Ace now, cause you still loved this man but no idea if he felt same and wanted more or nothing, so would leave it up for him but you were glad your little girl would have her father, grandfather and so many uncles and aunties in her life now.

After having feed both father and daughter and Rouge was put down for the evening, Ace said he should be getting back to the ship but would be back in morning, though he did asked to have a piece of your vivre paper again.

You agreed to that and teared a piece off the sheet and handed it to him before walking to him door and as you bid him a good night, he kissed your cheek and said goodnight before heading off back to the Moby.

Somehow Ace could still make your heart flutter by doing the simplest little action.

And with that you headed off to bed, feeling hopefully of what the future might bring.

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