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erodasfishtacos · 2 months

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The Stranger & The Thief (roommate!abo)

prompt: YN needs a roommate but has never been around alphas. Harry is the alpha her parents warned her about.

word count: 9.6k+

author’s note: hii guys. enjoy there is currently six more parts up of this series on my patreon which you can join for $3USD!

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YN didn’t mind alphas.

Not at all.

YN had grown up in a solely beta household which meant out of all of her family, she was the only omega.

It was difficult growing up, trying to figure out all the intricacies of her secondary gender when her family had no idea what any of it was or what it meant.

Heat was something that had been tortuous to figure out because she did that completely on her own.

All her parents could do was put food and water outside the locked bedroom door periodically as the heat, the pain, the agony persisted for at least five days before she started to feel relief.

A depression always followed for another week.

Then anxiety would start to consistently hurt her chest in the week leading up to her heat because her body is dreading the impending doom, of being dragged through the cycle with nothing that seemed to soothe the ache for her.

YN logically knew the solution would be an alpha, an alpha would be able to solve the problems that she was able to figure out on her own, in the privacy of her bedroom.

However, she grew up in a community that was mostly consisting of betas and omegas, there were a few alphas but none that would have been an option for YN.

Alphas intimidated her.

They were aggressive, demanding, dominant whereas she grew up around betas and omegas who were nurturing, empathic, patient.

It was two different worlds and though her parents did not speak down on alphas, that had made it clear that they felt like YN should settle for a nice beta.

YN never thought anything of it.

She did not crave an alpha.

Well…only during her heats but outside of that, there was no desire to mate with one.

All of her partners up until this point had been betas, that had been just fine for her, none of them were too serious.

The closest she got to a serious relationship was Tate, a gentle beta who was nice, thoughtful, and everything YN thought that she wanted in a partner.

It had been going strong for a few months when her heat had hit.

Tate had come over to offer assistance like they had previously discussed but it had not worked out well at all.

YN was embarrassed, she knew she had to face her boyfriend sooner or later, and she put it off for two more days after her heat.

They met at the coffee shop that was an even distance between their apartments.

Tate’s demeanor was off from the minute he sat down, he refused to look at YN directly in the eye, and he didn’t reach out to hold her hand across the table like he normally did anytime that they were out together.

He was the one who spoke first, “This isn’t going to work out.”

YN’s eyes widen in utter disbelief, things had been going so well up until her heat, “Tate, you cannot be serious. I…I’m sorry I acted that way but I did not know that was how I was going to react! We…I won’t ask you to help me out again but we don’t have to break up over it.”

Tate laughs without any humor, “I truly never thought you were a knot-snob.”

YN tenses at the derogatory term, it felt venomous coming out of his mouth, “Why would you say that? I’ve never even been interested in an alpha!”

He shakes his head, lips curling upwards in the slightest, “Really? Because I came over to help you, brought groceries, other things to help take care of you, and when I walked into the bedroom, you growled at me like you were feral.”

YN swallows harshly, she remembers, very vaguely and almost through a fog but she knows what he is saying is truthful.

“You demanded I leave because I was a ‘poor excuse of a man’ because I was a beta,” Tate’s anger cracks into something more devastated which made her feel awful because that was never her intention to hurt him, she would never purposely do that, “You said that I must be delusional to think I could satisfy you. Only an alpha could.”

YN knows there’s tears brimming at her eyes, she was aware of how nasty she had been to him, didn’t fully remember everything she had said but she did believe him about what he was repeating because it’s what went through her mind.

She remembers feeling disgust at seeing him, none of that love she normally has for him was present in her mind at the time, just pure anger that a beta thought that they could please her.

“We just don’t have to spend my heat together, Tate,” YN tries, she truly liked him, loved him as a friend, and saw potential in loving him as a partner.

Tate scoffs, self-deprecating as he finally meets her eye, “I will never be enough for you, YN. I know you weren’t in your right headspace when I came over but your nature made it very clear that you would never be satisfied in our relationship.”

He takes a deep breath, “You…You were a whole different person when I came to you. I thought omegas were supposed to be sweet, pliant, and gentle during their heats. You were agitated, aggressive, and hostile in a way that truly frightened me.”

“Tate, please,” YN reaches for his hand but he retracts it instinctually back onto his lap.

“I…I am not doing this because I want it to be like this. I saw a future with you, truly, I did. I…I really think that you should be with an alpha because it’d be unfair for you and the beta if you continue to date them,” Tate sighs as he gathers his coat, he does have that same gentleness when he gives her a soft smile, “I do wish you the best of luck, YN.”

YN had curled in on herself after that, tucked away into a shell, and has been in there ever since.

It’s been about six month since she’d broken up with Tate and she had made the mistake of asking another beta for help during her heat, it was friend who knew what they were in for but she just had to really make sure that it was unsafe for her to be with a beta before she ruled them out of her dating life.

YN was only on the precipice of her heat, hoping that if the beta came while she was still more cognizant that it would go more smoothly.

That turned out to be an absolute mistake.

Trevor was coming with the idea that he may need to leave within a few minutes of being there or he could be staying for the length of her heat depending on how it would go.

She had given him the key to get into her apartment so that he didn’t have to wait around for her to answer the door.

YN unfortunately remembers the events that transpire but even though she was aware during their interaction, she felt out of control of her body as she typically did in heat where she couldn’t stop herself from reacting as her wolf mind wanted her to.

“YN? Are you alright? I’m here,” Trevor calls out, smiling when YN appears in the small hallway of the apartment, “Oh hey, sorry I was late but there was a line at the store -”

YN’s eyes are wild, unfocused, and her hair is already messy from rolling around in her nest that she had spent time meticulously building as she started to fall into her heat, “Get the fuck out.”

“YN, listen we talked about -” Trevor begins easily, undeterred at first by her words.

“What? Do you think that you’re going to help me through this heat?” YN laughs meanly, shaking her head with a sharp, cruel smile, “I can smell you. What a weak fucking scent. A beta comes into my home like they can satisfy my heat. You are a joke to think you could give me what an alpha could.”

Trevor swallowed harshly, trying not to let the words hurt his feelings, his masculinity, the security he typically felt in his secondary gender but YN’s words were meant to gnaw at his insides, make him question himself.

“YN,” Trevor replies firmer, standing a bit straighter despite his hands trembling.

“Beta,” She replies but it rolls off her tongue like an insult, “You are nothing to me. You think I would want pups from a weak fucking beta? I’d rather never have a knot in my life than the little you have to offer me. You will never be my alpha.”

Trevor has to bite back the insulting name he would want to call her, knowing that that wouldn’t be helpful but also that him being here was not going to be helpful nor did he want to stay because he was worried she was about to rip his throat out.

He shakes his head, a sour taste in his mouth at the rejection of the omega, he had already been insecure in comparison to the alphas around him.

However, he had a crush on YN, he was stupid for thinking that she would magically be okay with him supporting her through her heat, and now he was realizing that was an absolute mistake because he felt worse than he ever as has before.

In the moment, that was her goal to make him feel that he was less than and she had succeeded.

“I’m just going to leave,” Trevor tells her as he turns towards the door, his bottom lip was quivering as he hangs his head, trying desperately to rationalize this, this wasn’t the kind, sweet, YN that he normally knew, this was feral at best.

“Good,” YN coos as she stands defensively in the door, her eyes were darker than Trevor had ever seen them and the smile on her face wasn’t one that relayed friendliness, it was like she was about to downright murder him.

Trevor has never moved so fast in his life.

YN was lucid enough during that to understand why Trevor avoided her like the plague after that, never returning her texts, and the one time she ran into him at the gas station, well he acted like he’d never seen her a day in his life.

She held no blame or ill-will, the things she said were nasty, cruel, and unlike her normal character but it wasn’t an excuse.

YN sent him a few long messages detailing how sorry she was, how she regretted putting him in that situation because she valued him as a friend but they all got left on read.

After that, she stopped trying to find anyone to help her with her heat.

She deleted her dating apps and pushed off the idea of finding someone else.

YN also went to the doctor for her erratic behavior during these times.

“Heat-Induced Aggression and Rage Disorder,” The doctor had told her simply, unphased by her explanation of her symptoms, “Most omegas can spend their cycle with any secondary gender, even other omegas. However, the disorder occurs when an omega requires an alpha and will become aggressive when a beta or an omega attempts to help.”

“How do I solve it?” YN asks desperately, this meant that she would never be able to spend her heat with someone and she couldn’t possibly imagine actually being with an alpha, she’d never been around one, really.

YN, of course, came in contact with alphas on the day-to-day, it wasn’t like they were rare.

It was that she didn’t have any friends, coworkers, or connections to alphas because she was in such a densely populated beta area before moving to the city after she graduated college.

“You need to find an alpha who’s willing to spend your heats with you or continue to spend you heats alone,” The doctor shrugs without any better explanation, “Unless you wish to take medication to completely stop your cycle but that has major medical risks that I would advise against, especially if you ever wish to have children.”

That’s where YN is at, with a disorder that doesn’t have a treatment that sounds remotely reasonable to her.

Searching whether in person or online for an alpha partner was extremely unsafe which meant that she had resorted to the fact that she would forever spend her heats alone, in pain.

It made her jealous when her omega friends bragged about how enjoyable, how blissful their heats were spent with their partners.

YN wishes she loved hers but instead, she finds herself thinking death sounds more pleasurable than forever spending five days locked in her bedroom by herself, a slave to her own nature with no help from anyone.

++ a year later ++

YN was going to pull her hair out, it was official because why was it so hard to find someone who appeared somewhat normal to fill the empty bedroom in her apartment?

For the last three years, YN had lived in peaceful harmony with her beta friend, Eileen.

Eileen had started dating her girlfriend, Regina, right after they moved in together.

Two weeks ago, Eileen had let YN know that she was moving out and in with Regina after their recent engagement which meant that she no longer had any income to help her with the rent nor the utilities in less than a month.

YN could technically afford everything on her own, the lease was in her name but it made money tight enough that she had to budget down to the dollar which she despised doing - it was much more manageable when she had someone splitting the bills with her.

And because she would rather not have to cut back on her frivolous spending like her unreasonable expensive smoothies and sure, maybe everytime she sees a pair of socks that look exceptionally comfy she feels the need to buy them.

However, after a third interview with a potential flatmate, YN thought that this may be an impossible task and she should already start her budgeting because there had been issues with all three interviewees.

The first, beta, needed the bathroom from six to nine pm with no explanation as to why.

The second, an omega, stated that she would need to be able to conduct an in-person yoga lesson with six people every other day in their living room.

The third, another beta, demanded that they split the fridge storage fifty-fifty because their last roommate put milk on their shelf of the fridge which they defined as a ‘personal attack’ because they were vegan.

So hopeless is where she found herself after that third beta.

That’s where Niall comes in, her lovely lovely beta friend who sometimes she worries has rocks for brain and other times he’s absolutely the most brilliant being to ever walk the earth, it just honestly depends on the day.

However, she could kiss him when he arrives at her apartment with a bag of chinese takeout and something to solve all of her issues completely, “I have a mate from work who needs a place. He makes good money so I know he’d have no issue paying his part. He’s cool, I trust him enough to recommend him, I’ve worked with him for like six years.”

YN barely even hesitated, she trusted Niall enough to know that he wouldn’t have offered the solution if he didn’t think that it was a good option for her.

He does get sheepish halfway through, “I…I did forget to mention that he’s an alpha.”

YN pauses at that, narrowing her eyes at him because he definitely left that part out in the initial description.

“Niall-” YN begins to huff because it’s not that she totally objected but it was something for her to consider and he had just left that out.

“I know, I know,” Niall puts his hands up, “He’s cool though. He really keeps to himself. I know you’ve never been around alphas, let alone live with one but I really think it would be fine. Don’t you trust me? Plus, he really needs a place to stay.”

YN really should give it more thought.

“He just texted and said he’d be willing to pay three thirds of the rent,” Niall tells her as he looks down at his phone, “If he can move in as soon as possible. Plus he’ll cover internet and electric.”

YN really really should think on it.

She’d never been around an alpha, let alone lived with one, she needs to think about it, weigh the pros and cons.

“Tell him he can move in on Friday,” YN finds herself saying and before she can think better of it, Niall is quickly typing away on his phone and the text alert goes off.

“He said that works for him,” Niall gives her an oblivious thumbs up before picking back up his container of rice and clicking the movie back on like he didn’t just wheel and deal the quickest decision she’s ever made in her life.

She didn’t even ask his name.

YN typically isn’t this dumb.

She actually prided herself on her impulse control and rational thinking but as she flutters around the apartment on Friday evening, trying to make it as spotless as possible for her new flatmate, she really starts to question her own sanity.

YN realizes that she’s going to have to have serious conversations with this alpha about boundaries, what will they do when it comes to their cycles, and the thought that their scents will run rampant because they obviously won’t use neutralizers when they’re at home.

Niall had not given much more information beside the fact that his name was Harry, he was twenty-eight, and had a higher up position in the company than Niall so they didn’t always have much interaction, Niall had actually just overheard a conversation he was having on the phone.

YN finds out that he had lived on his own since college but after his landlord decided he was going to sell the house he was renting, Harry had to find somewhere else quickly, and that resulted in him moving in with a friend from university.

That friend was another alpha, which turned sour very after soon after moving in together.

Niall was a bit hesitant when he told her that the issue was Harry, not the other alpha.

Harry was territorial, more of the pack leader type, and it became apparent within days that Harry simply could not share a space with another virile alpha despite Harry forcing the other alpha to submit to him on multiple occasions, it didn’t matter.

Even though Niall assured her that it wouldn’t be an issue because she was an omega, it didn’t make her feel much better but she has too strong of a conscious to promise a place for Harry to stay to then to pull that away from him.

Of course, Niall, the twat, couldn’t make it over while Harry was moving in because he had to go to a family birthday dinner which meant that it would just be the two of them.

“It will just be time to get to know one another,” Niall chirped easily on the phone, unbothered and oblivious to the tension that was building in YN.

Harry was supposed to be here at six in the evening.

He quite literally knocks on the door at exactly six.

YN hesitates for a moment before opening the door, her heart was beating unusually fast, and when she opens it, it begins to pump even faster.

The man standing in front of her was clearly an alpha without her even knowing this information before hand.

It was interwoven into every aspect of his being, in a way that could be seen physically but on the other hand, it was unspoken, she couldn’t quite describe it but he was exactly what she imagined an alpha to be.

All of him was defined, sharp from his jaw to his nose to his arms.

His shoulders were broad enough that YN wondered if he could even fit through the doorway without squeezing them inward.

He was tall, taller than she had imagined him, and that added with his width and the pure heft of his bulky but lean muscles - he was fucking intimidating and could hurt her without a shadow of a doubt, she’d be defensless.

This is a bad idea.

YN should tell him he can’t move in.

Her parents raised her better than to let a six foot something, very capable alpha in her home to share with her without knowing anything about him.

The fact of the matter was, he did not even look friendly.

Some alphas were like golden retrievers, easy going and a bit airheaded.

Harry was the stark opposite end of that.

The type of alpha that people avoid because of how dangerous they can be.

If YN was walking down the sidewalk and he was walking towards her, she would without a doubt cross the road to avoid bumping into him but yet, she was welcoming him into her house and something within her felt like this was a good idea.

Her inner omega that is.

Who we all know craves an alpha like water and air.

She pushes that down, as much as possible when she notices how big his hands are and how they would look holding her hips -

He has a frown on his face, the light wrinkles it causes shows YN that he has that expression quite often as he looks at her with a mixture of boredom and exasperation, he should be so fucking friendly because of how much YN is overextending to help him.

He isn’t.

After a moment, YN realizes she’d been staring at him dumbly and has yet to introduce herself.

“YN?” Harry finally asks and his voice is deep, only like an alpha’s can be, no beta could even imitate the vibrato of that tone.

“Yeah, uh, come in?” YN’s voice is higher pitched than she’d prefer as she steps aside, her greeting coming out much more like a question than a statement.

Harry blinks dully at her, a backpack over his shoulder and a few boxes next to his feet, “If you do not want me to come in, just say it. If me being an alpha or a guy is too much, tell me now before I move all my fuckin’ stuff in. I don’t like playing these back and forth games.”

YN is startled by his attitude, she can’t recall a time when anyone has ever talked to her so bluntly or without politeness which again, inherently an alpha thing but it still had her off kilter a bit as his face doesn’t change.

“No, sorry, yeah. You can bring your stuff in, I haven’t changed my mind,” YN steps further back into the apartment, spreading her arms, “This is it. Sorry, I know it isn’t much but I guess a roof over your head is better than nothing.”

Harry doesn’t even bother to look around, doesn’t compliment the comfy furniture or the cute little decorations, “It’s fine. Where’s my room?”

YN knows her smile falls when she realizes this is going exceptionally worse than she had already been dreading, which means that she leads him around the apartment, showing him the bathroom, laundry, linen closet, and then to his room as he remains completely silent.

When he goes to begin to bring his few boxes in, YN moves to pick one up to help but he stops her abruptly, voice firm and demanding, “No. Put that down.”

YN’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline, “Sorry!” She apologizes for the millionth time in less than thirty minutes, “I was just trying to be helpful.”

Harry snarls his lip in the slightest, “Am I the alpha or are you?”

YN’s swallows harshly, voice small, “You are.”

“Right. I am the alpha, I will move the heavy boxes, I will unpack. It is my job, not yours,” Harry tells her as he brushes past her to deposit the box into his room before coming out for the next one without anything else to say.

YN should probably stand her ground, set those firm boundaries but she doesn’t, instead she hides out in her room with her cat, Beatrice, (who was also hiding from the unknown visitor) and does not plan to come out until tomorrow morning or until he’s asleep.

But no, when it’s nearly ten at night, YN finally gathers enough courage to knock on his bedroom door to set the house rules, the boundaries because she couldn’t make Harry like her but they could at least be civil.

Or so she thought.

Harry answered the door after a minute, his shirt was off and he was just in a pair of joggers, there was stuff all over his room that he was obviously in the midst of organizing but it also looked worse before everything fit perfectly into place.

“What?” He asks impatiently, like he has a timeframe and YN is disrupting something major.

YN’s mind goes completely blank for a moment because for the first time since he came in, probably because it was night time and his morning scent neutralizers had worn off but she can smell his natural scent for the first time.

It was stronger because he didn’t have anything blocking his glands, his chest was heavily tattooed, and unfairly defined, looking as if he never spent a minute outside of the gym with muscles cut in places YN didn’t even know muscle existed.

His scent was…unlike anything that she had ever smelled in her life.

It was rich, deep, and dark.

It made her dizzy, sleepy, like she could fall into a trance of getting lost in it.

Thick, warm waves of it seemed to short-circuit her mind and make it hard for her to even remember what her purpose was of standing in front of him.

She had never reacted so strongly to scent in her life, never even noticed most of the time what others smelled like but this was seeping into her veins and she couldn’t quite get enough of it as she tried to subtly breathe it in as much as possible.

“What do you want?” Harry reiterates, louder and definitely more annoyed as he crosses his arms.

YN has to blink a few times before she’s shaking her head, “Uh, I just wanted to go over like….house rules? Anything you need from me? Boundaries? How can we operate around each other since we’re going to be living together?”

Harry jaw clenches, his nostrils flared, and he looks appalled.

YN realizes then that he must be able to smell her and by his reaction, he must absolutely hate her scent which made shame and mortification run through her body, of being rejected by this alpha was absolutely confidence crushing.

YN swallows down the whine.

Harry’s eyes trace up to her once, “Here’s the house rules, stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m only looking for a place to stay. Understood?”

YN’s mouth is dry, her brain is having a hard time focusing on the harshness of his words because his scent is flashing bright sparkles in her eyesight at the same time, “What about your rut? My heat?”

Harry’s eyes narrow, turning a bit predatory, dangerous for a moment before he’s replying, “I’m sure you have help. If you bring another beta or omega here, that will be fine. I will not bother you. Niall told me you do not typically associate with alphas.”

“Um, okay…That works,” YN lies because she really can’t have another omega or beta here but if she has too, maybe she can try again? Maybe if they come over while she’s not yet in her heat? She’ll have to think about that later, “Your rut?”

“I have it handled,” Harry replies defensively, stepping back and putting his hand on the doorknob, “Just give me a heads up beforehand so that I won’t be blindsided by coming home to the scent change but I will also communicate that with you.”

“Okay, that sounds good-”

The door is shut on her without her even being able to finish her sentence.

“Rude ass fucking alpha,” YN mutters under her breath as she shakes her head, when she plops on her bed, she may or may not scream into her pillow for a moment because she just got herself into a worse situation than she could imagine.

But yet it hasn’t once crossed her mind to kick him out.

Why?

She doesn’t have a clue.

YN does not see Harry once during the first two weeks of him living with her.

Not even a glimpse.

And YN would actually wonder if he still even lived here if she wasn’t constantly overwhelmed by his scent.

He must come out of his room once YN is asleep, she does not understand how it is so thick, cloying on every surface of her apartment.

The second you walk in, it hits you, and lets anybody who enters know that an alpha lives here, there would not even be a doubt.

YN vaguely finds herself wondering one night as she sits on her couch whether or not Harry had scent marked the apartment, claiming it as his territory.

She had heard alphas do that, especially when they live with their omega to show that their mate has an alpha who protects them and their home.

However, that’s not the case here, and YN is pretty sure that Harry doesn’t even remotely like her, let alone want to live here so why would he want to claim it?

She rules that out as a possibility, mostly, but when she wakes up in the morning and he had already left for the day, well she can’t help but notice as fucking beautiful her house smells.

YN only gets her heat every six months with the suppressant she’s on but the entire month leading up to it, she finds herself starting to get more rooted in her omega tendencies.

Harry had been living with her for fourish months by this point and nothing had changed since the beginning.

He didn’t use the living room, showered early before YN would wake up and was already gone, and stayed out of the kitchen before she would go to bed.

In the four months, the sightings had been few and far between and she realized that he meant it very literally when he said that he’ll stay out of her way if she stays out of his.

In the sparse times they’ve shared space, whether it was in the hallway or kitchen, Harry’s lip would always curl up and his nose twitched which always incited a bit of insecurity about her scent.

She had always gotten compliments on hers, how light and powdery it smelled like clean laundry spritzed with a hint of orange blossom and vanilla.

YN did not understand why it was so unappealing to the alpha but he was in for a rude awakening as the month leading up to her heat began.

Her scent got noticeably stronger, she felt the urge to scentmark more items in her apartment to claim that this was her home and safe space.

As expected, Harry didn’t say anything the day it all started to intensify.

And to be fair, he never said anything to her.

The closest thing she would get was a low grunt of greeting but despite that, she felt safe with him in her home, and never had any worry that she was in danger.

The alpha made her feel an overwhelming sense of security, in fact, that she had never felt with any beta or omega.

It wasn’t necessary that he was mean to her or treated her poorly, he just…was there.

He didn’t bring anyone home with him, never asked if he could have someone spend the night nor has she ever smelled any visitors either.

However, things really start to change in the beginning of October, the month before her heat would crest and peak before the cycle started all over again.

The first major change she would notice was the difficulty sleeping.

Normally, she slept better than most without typically ever having to get up in the middle of the night or any tossing and turning.

When October hit, it felt near impossible for her to fall asleep and then when she was so exhausted that she did end passing out, it wouldn’t be long before she was awake again which made her always feel like she needed a nap.

It was late for a weekday, the clock showing that it was close to midnight, and she had to be up for work at six in the morning but her body did not seem to get the memo because after attempting to sleep since ten, it had not been successful.

YN decided to give it some time before she laid back down again.

YN grabbed a bag of pretzels from the cupboard, gave Beatrice one of the squeeze tubes of tuna-flavored goop, and cuddled up on the couch in the living room.

Of course, nothing sounded good as she flipped through the options, and decided on a romantic comedy that didn’t really interest her but it was her best option to make her sleepy, even if it was from the boredom of a corny film.

YN was about thirty-five minutes in when she realized that the movie wasn’t a helpful tool to fall asleep because she was completely interested in the plot line and she was even more awake than before trying to follow the story.

It made her jump in the slightest when the lock turns in the front door before it’s being opened roughly as Harry walks into the small entryway, shutting the door behind him, and beginning to shuck his coat without even realizing she was sitting there.

She hears him grumpily mumble, “Always leaves the fuckin’ television on.”

Which, yeah, she does forget half the time and the other half she feels like Beatrice likes it on for comfort.

Harry looked worn down, tired, and as beautiful as ever.

He had a duffle over his shoulder that most likely held his work clothes and gym outfit because YN was quite sure that after he was down at his office, he went to the gym which he was at for quite a long time.

She vaguely remembers Niall saying that he boxes occasionally for money and that he trains daily which was a pretty brutal routine of working out before work and after work with no time for relaxation in between.

After he’s lined his shoes up neatly against the wall, (YN notices that he also does the same with her shoes that she had half-haphazardly kicked off when she came home from work), he walks into the living room.

It was obvious that he was going toward the television to shut it off but he lets out the lowest growl of surprise when he spots YN tucked deeply into the corner of the couch with a blanket tucked like a burrito around her.

And YN had never heard, in real life, an alpha growl before.

Instead of being scared, she felt the sudden urge to purr, which scared the absolute shit out of her because why the fuck would she want to purr? She’d only done that when she was a pup and never in her adult life.

Why would she want to do that when this alpha was obviously on edge to the point of growling.

“What are you doing?” Harry grunts, voice sharp and annoyed, nostrils flaring as he must take in her smell.

“I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies hesitantly, eyes darting back up to the screen and then to him because his gaze was so intense and accusatory - it was her house, she could be wherever she wanted when she wanted no matter what time.

“Why?” Harry follows up, his arms crossing over his chest, and making his biceps look unfairly big.

YN grits her teeth, debating on whether she wants to give him a snarky remark to mind his business but then she remembers that she has to live with him and would rather not have them on worse terms then they already seem to be on.

“I always have difficulty sleeping the month of my pre-heat,” YN shrugs, a little embarrassed to be talking about something so intimate with someone who likely did not want to hear anything about her personal life.

“Is that normal?” Harry’s brow furrows, not seeming to like her answer to his question.

YN swipes her tongue across her front teeth nervously, “Um, not really. I…I have a lot of issues regarding my heats and that is one of many. Yeah, I see a doctor but there’s only so much they can do, I guess.”

Harry nods in understanding, doesn’t ask anymore questions or even acknowledge her again as he goes about making himself something to eat before disappearing into his room without another word to her which she was used to by this point.

YN rewinds the movie at bit, she couldn’t really focus when Harry was in the vicinity, and his smell was so fucking overwhelming as he obviously hadn’t showered after the gym and was waiting until he got home.

It wasn’t a bad smell, neither of sweat or filth.

No, it was just that his already delicious smell was stronger, darker, and just encompassing every molecule of the apartment.

It takes her a moment to refocus her attention back on the screen and remember where she had left off, vaguely hearing the shower start to run before he’s shutting the door to his bedroom a little more roughly than a normal.

The plot takes a very unexpectant twist at the end and YN didn’t realize that this rom-com had a sad ending which she really wasn’t used to in most films like this.

After working through all the turmoil and drama that kept popping up for this couple, they finally get it right, and the alpha was about to propose to the omega when he got in a car accident, and ended up passing away.

YN doesn’t not even recognize that she is sobbing like an absolute baby until Harry is standing in front of her with a twitch of irritation in his jaw and only in a pair of joggers, nothing stopping her from seeing the bare, defined muscle of his upper half.

“Why are you crying?” Harry asks as he looks down at her, arms crossed yet again.

YN wipes her face with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie, tears tracks surely making her face puffy as she sits up, “It ha-had a really sad ending I wasn’t expecting,” YN nods up towards where the credit were rolling, “Th-The alpha dies and doesn't get to pro-propose.”

“That’s got you all worked up?” Harry sighs as he moves to grab the remote, flicking off the television and motioning for her to stand up, “You need to try to go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” YN nearly whines, making tears start again.

Oh, did she mention she gets unreasonably emotional during her pre-heat?

“Try,” Harry insists and he gently grabs her wrist, pulling her to her feet, “For both of our sakes, please just try to get some rest.”

YN frowns at that, why does it matter to him?

She hates that she feels disappointed when he lets go of her.

“Okay,” YN agrees as she shuffles her feet towards her bedroom, despising that despite how unfriendly the alpha is, she finds herself wanting comfort from him which…it just doesn’t make any sense and she pushes those thoughts to the very back of her mind.

YN veers off towards the bathroom first and by the time she turns to say goodnight, Harry’s already back in his room with the door shut, and she just ends up sighing before shutting the door of the bathroom to use it before she tries to sleep again.

As she sits down, she notices a pile of fabric in the corner near the sink, and out of curiosity once she’s done, she plucks it up and holds it out.

It was the shirt that Harry had been wearing when he came home, the one he worked out in, and it was absolutely drenched in that smell that made YN weak at the knees.

Harry was meticulously clean.

He never even left behind as much as a crumb of a sandwich and so seeing a shirt of his was unusual because it had never happened before.

YN has no excuse for her behavior, doesn’t really even consciously realize that she’s doing it until she’s back in her room with his shirt tucked up into her hoodie.

She pulls it out and pathetically enough, brings it to her nose where it just smells of alpha, comfort, security, and everything she could ever imagine

It feels wrong, invasive to his privacy almost, and she has never done anything like this in her life.

There was something that outweighed all those negative feelings because she finds that as soon as she lays down and tucks the shirt around her pillow to lay her face into, her eyes instantly become droopy and in no time, she’s out like a light.

YN tries to push the whole shirt incident out of her mind the next day, blaming it on her pre-heat haziness, and absolutely nothing else.

Logically, she knows she should return his shirt to him, at least tossing it in his hamper but his scent lingered for days afterwards and there was a direct correlation to how much better she had been sleeping since.

When the scent was completely gone, it was like clockwork that YN began to not be able to fall asleep.

It leads her to another night on the couch, another night of Harry coming in late, and being irritated that she was still awake.

“You were fine the last few nights,” Harry notes as his greeting, no ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’.

YN bites the corner of her lip, lowering the volume a tad on the television, “I know.”

“So why are you up right now?” Harry questions and god, are all alphas this blunt and impersonal or was it just this alpha in particular.

“Because I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies like it’s obvious.

Harry bares his teeth slightly, “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I told you, my pre-heat,” YN realizes that she’s getting a bit defensive because the real answer is much more mortifying and something she would never actually share with him.

He steps in, dropping his duffle unceremoniously, and walks closer to her.

Harry starts to speak slowly, precisely like he’s trying to get YN to understand, “I am not stupid. I understand that. I am asking you, what made you sleep the last few nights? You slept like a rock when I check-, when I walked past your room.”

YN shouldn’t react the way she does but she feels in a way that all the tension between them bubbles up.

Not to mention, it’s incredibly irritating to her how drawn her omega is to him, his scent, his presence, and she fucking hates it because he’s a dickhead.

“I don’t fuckin know, okay? Leave it alone. I’m allowed to be in my living room at whatever hour of the night I please without a fucking interregation,” YN snaps at him angrily, cursing when tears start to drip down her cheeks, and these hormones just sucked, amplifying every emotion she has ten-fold.

Harry lets out a low growl at that, just like the other night, and it doesn’t scare YN once again.

No, for some reason it makes her anger ebb just the slightest.

“Stop the attitude,” Harry replies evenly but his voice was deeper, “I was just checking in on you.”

Anyone else telling her to stop her attitude?

It would have escalated into a nasty fight.

YN instead just deflates, curling up further into her blanket, and covering her face because she just couldn’t get in control of the tears that were streaming down.

He must think she’s a lunatic.

Harry leaves her once again to go shower.

YN’s absolutely praying that he leaves a shirt rumbled on the floor again, despite how guilty that thought makes her feel.

She just wants sleep and for her hormones to even out.

YN feels a bit like a criminal when she goes to the bathroom, soon after Harry had went back out to make himself something for dinner, and there’s a massive disappointment in her stomach when the bathroom is as spotless as always.

She is craving the scent, she knows she can get another fix of it but it would definitely be in his hamper, in his room, and it’s such an invasion of privacy for her to go in there but then again, he’s frying something on the stovetop and he wouldn’t know…

YN’s never stolen in her life, not even gum or nail polish when she was younger, and it’s not even really stealing because she’ll give it back as soon as the scent wears off (but that’s not really true because she hasn’t returned his other shirt and has no intention of it).

She’s already opened his door, quickly scoping out the space, and realizing that his bedroom was the absolute fucking motherload of everything she could ever dream of.

If she thought their whole apartment smelled like him, his bedroom was if you bottled it in a jar, it was thicker, more cloying than ever, and she noticed a purring in her chest before she realized she was doing it and stopped.

If she was completely insane, she would try to grab as much as possible, until her arms are overflowing and she can’t carry out anything else without it falling.

But she’s not that far off the deep end that she did that, she felt creepy enough as she tiptoed over to his laundry hamper and snatched the shirt that was lying on top, the one that Harry had walked in the apartment wearing early.

YN wishes she could loiter a bit longer but that meant a higher chance that she was going to get caught.

She is surprisingly successful as she sneaks back into her room, proud that she now has two shirts to add to her nest.

YN always had a nest, it provided her comfort and security but she absolutely loved that she could intertwine the fabric together with her soft blankets.

This meant she was guaranteed a few more good night sleeps.

YN was running incredibly behind for work the next.

She had slept so well that she must have turned off her alarm instead of snoozing iit.

Because when she finally cracks her eyes open, the sun is breaking through her blinds, and her body knows that it is much later than six in the morning.

Her phone confirms that when she clicks on the screen she sees that it is seven-thirty-five.

Any other day, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal because besides meetings she could make her own schedule.

Of course, of course, she sleeps on the day of an important presentation that she was the head presenter on.

It started at nine which didn’t give her much wiggle room because the commute takes a decent amount of time and that’s if there’s no hectic traffic.

“Shit, shit, shit,” YN chants to herself when rolls out of bed, glaring judgmentally at Beatrice, and muttering, “You wake me up every other morning for breakfast, but not today, of all days?”

Beatrice blinks slowly at her before she lifts her paw pointedly and nibbles on it.

There’s no time for a shower or the makeup she wanted to do.

The only luck that was on her side was that she laid her outfit out last night after being incredibly indecisive about what she wanted to wear in front of the board of higher ups.

She had tugged her hair up into a loose ponytail that actually passed for the messy updo style, and put on her best push-up bra right after.

YN figured that while she was tugging on her trousers that she could go out to feed Beatrice, the button was being finicky as it always tending to be so she was looking down as she begin down the hall, and nearly fell backwards when she runs into something hard, warm, and delicious smelling.

Harry’s big hands reach out and wrap around her bare arms, keeping her upright as she yelps in surprise, pants going unbuttoned for a moment as she grips Harry’s forearms for stability and looks at him with wide eyes.

His nostrils are flaring viciously, an irritated growling rumbling through his chest, and he keeps his eyes on her the full time.

They never once darted down to her chest, that not only was just covered by her bra but was also sheer enough that her nipples were completely visible through the nude fabric.

YN is confused by her own desire to just curl into his chest and feel his shirtless chest against her barely clothed one, and what the fuck.

“Wha-“ YN stammers in confusion, why is he home?

“Why aren’t you at work?” Harry asks pointedly, his jaw was clenched tightly enough that it must be aching with soreness.

“I-I overslept,” She replies shakily, his hands still gripping her arms, fingertips pressing in, “I need to feed Beatrice.”

“No, what you need to do is get yourself dressed. Do you walk around half-naked with every alpha you know? S’indecent,” He’s scolding her like a child as he finally steps back.

YN has been so nice up until this point, despite how wonky her hormones have been.

She’s typically never a nasty person.

She rarely ever gets angry either.

However, today was the wrong day to fuck with her.

“Fuck you,” YN snaps back out of her stupor, much to Harry’s surprise, “I told I was late and I didn’t think you’d be home because you’re always at work by now. I’m sorry I’ve offended you with my body, prick.”

YN turns on her heel, storming back to her room, and snatching up her phone to check the time to see an email notification from her work.

Good morning,

We hope this email finds you well. Our office has to be unfortunately shut down for the next few days due to a major power outage after flooding in the basement of the building. We are estimating a three to four day shutdown. To show our gratitude for your patience, these days will be marked as paid time off. Stay tuned for more information and updates.

Thank you,

Evergreen Financial Accounting

YN feels a huge weight lifted off her chest because not only does she get a few days to relax but now she isn’t going to be late to her important presentation .

However, she does not feel completely relieved because the anger chewing at her over her housemate is just as heavy, even more prominent, and has triggered her inner hormonal omega.

YN fees a flash of defiance which is never a good sign as she usually never tries to rock the boat or cause a stir, prefers to fly under the radar.

No, not today.

YN storms back out of her room because she was going to feed Beatrice in her bra and unbuttoned work slacks if she wanted to.

Harry was sat on the living room couch which was an uncommon sight, a protein drink in a shaker cup, and his eyes on his phone in the opposite hand.

YN goes back into the kitchen, deciding she might as well make herself a breakfast sandwich while she’s at it after she fills Beatrice’s bowl.

She can feel his eyes on her, intense and if it could, his gaze would be burning a hole in her back with how directed and annoyed it was.

YN moves slowly, now that she’s in no rush at all, and she feels stupid for being surprised when Harry lets out a snarl loud enough to echo in the space.

YN doesn’t turn around.

It feels dangerous, she’d learned over and over again growing up to never ever antagonize an alpha, and here she was.

When she doesn’t respond to the noise, it gets louder and makes her ears ring just the slightest, he’s trying to force her attention on him.

Bossy, ill-mannered alpha.

His voice is closer when he speaks, she never even hears him get up.

“Go get some fuckin’ clothes on,” Harry orders, his voice deeper, raspier than she had ever heard it.

But it also sent a very unpleasant spark of nervousness up her spine because the alpha in front of her was past the point of being annoyed, he was furious.

His shoulders were as broad as they could go, his teeth flashing at her, and his scent was richer, thicker, tinged with a sharp pine.

The playful, brattiness dissipates from her body as his growls stay loud, demanding, deafening.

YN doesn’t realize at first what a bad decision it is to flip her hair over her shoulder, putting her bare bond spot right on display in front of an agitated alpha.

To her utter dismay, he steps forward and their chests are nearly touching, his eyes were now completely focused on the curve of her neck.

When he reaches up, cupping the side of her neck, and curiously thumbs over the spot, YN cannot control the whine that leaves her throat.

His eyes move directly back up to hers, the noise drags him for his daze, and back into reality.

He actually does look her up and down this time, eyes lingering on her chest for a minute before he’s hissing at her once again, “Go get a fucking shirt on.”

With that, he’s turning and grabbing his duffle before storming out the front door, shutting it hard enough it vibrates but then she still hears him take the time to lock it.

Stupid fucking alpha.

+++++++++

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic

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emmyrosee · 9 months

Text

She got her quiet sneaking in from you.

Kenma’s fingers tap roughly on the controller in his hands, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in focus. He’s died four times to this monster, its shrieks of agony scaring him once embarrassingly in front of his chat, the other three deaths because, now that he’s past being scared, Kenma realizes what a damn hard boss this is.

“Chat, I’m telling you right now, if I see this dev in the streets, I’m taking a crowbar to their knee caps- this is a promise, not a warniIIIIIIING!”

He lurches from the gentle tug of his elbow, heart sinking to his chest in complete fear and acceptance that this is it for him, he’s dead. His arm is ripped away from the source, but when he hears a tiny gasp in fear, Kenma’s heart beats calmly again.

“Daddy okay?” Maesi asks, and kenma pauses the game to turn to her.

“You startled me baby,” he teases, and she blocks up at him with doe eyes to coax him to forgive her. As if she really needs to do that. “But what’s up beautiful?” He asks, putting down his controller and stretching. “How are you, angel?”

Maesi hums and passes her father the plate, her eyes peering up at him timidly- a trait he wants to blame on you, but every time, he’s met with a cocked eyebrow from you. “Want french fry?”

Kenma chuckles and nods, “I mean, you know I’m never gonna say no to fries,” he says, reaching down to grab the lukewarm fry from her tiny plastic plate. God knows how long they’ve been out, at least four hours; but that doesn’t stop kenma from letting his little girl take care of him in her own way. “You wanna be in daddy’s stream? Say hi to chat?” When she nods, Kenma lifts her up and into his lap, and once done, he reaches over to pick up another fry. In his headphones, Kenma hears that he got a donation.

Thank you kuroosassscheek for gifted 75 subs: hey Kenma there’s something behind you

“Thank you, Kuroo,” he scoffs. “Spawn, say hi to chat and uncle Tetsu.”

“Hi chat, hi uncle Tetsu,” she hums shyly, and Kenma kisses her temple around his chewing. “What playin’?”

“Daddy’s playing a scaaaary game,” he says, voice hiked slightly while he gasps. Maesi giggles before passing him another fry, which he takes quickly.

“Gonna have nightmare,” she warns.

Kenma raises his brows in agreement, “mommy’s gonna have to tuck me in.”

“Me too,” she mumbles, curling into Kenma’s hoodie, nose burrowing into his neck and tickling his skin slightly. “Play Star Valley?” She asks.

He hugs her tightly with a fake groan of effort, and she giggles happily, “you want to watch daddy play Stardew Valley?”

“Yeah..”

“Does mumma know you’re in here?”

Maesi is quiet- he chuckles and shakes his head, letting her get comfortable against him. He knows you’re not far, probably asleep on the couch, and Kenma prepares himself to potentially have to carry his two sleeping babies to bed.

“Alright- one second chat,” he says simply, grabbing his controller to change the game to the easy, calming game Maesi loves to watch him play. “We’ll pick that up tomorrow. Gotta protect myself from nightmares.”

Once again, Maesi lets out a little laugh; she tucks her face as close as she can to him, only shifting to grab another fry to munch on. He tips his head slightly again, to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the soothing music in his headphones gets placed on her head, and before kenma can start any of his tasks, he feels Maesi’s breathing even out, her plate of fries and nuggets placed somewhere on the desk for him to take.

And that’s okay. He’ll play for a while, just in case she wakes up, and he’ll let her sleep in confidence in her fathers arms. Kenma’s pleased as the numbers in his stream doesn’t immediately drop: it stays, even now as it’s been hijacked by the one he loves most.

This 🥺🩷

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secret-smut-sideblog · 2 months

Text

Black Out Days

Gale x F! Tav

18+ chronic pain, drug use (weed), unintentional aphrodisiac (slutweed), groping, dry humping, breast worship (f!), fingering (f!), body caging, roughness, sub/dom, tenderness

Tav's pain rising to an unbearable level, she indulges in some found herbs to find relief. But her sanctuary is laced with some heated side effects...

Masterlist

"Please, please I've had enough." She moaned, head resting against cool river stones.

The pain had been spiking over the base of her skull all day in excruciating arcs. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open, force her face to be impassive.

Between every horrible thing that had been happening to them, her chronic pain was her own burden to bear. She hadn't told anyone besides Halsin, the sweet man helped her as much as he could with what was available.

Nothing made her feel worse than being a burden, so she trudged on in silence. Still the leader they needed. Gods only know how she ended up in that position in the first place.

Crouching at the riverside, she gripped at slick stones, whimpering. Finally letting go of her lovingly crafted mask of health. Wanting to slam her insolent head into the earth, but knew that would offer no relief.

Scrambling hands reached into her pack. At the goblin camp, she had pocketed a jar of promising looking herbs.

She brought the unsealed jar to her nose.

Musky, sweet, near sulphuric.

Yes, praise the Gods. Halfling weed.

Packing Halsins borrowed pipe, she leaned back on haunches, the new movement making her stomach spin threateningly. If she could stretch this supply out it could sustain her, at least until she could slip into to an apothecary.

Flicking her fingers, she brought a small flame to the bowl. Breathing in slowly.

As soon as the smoke met her lungs, a spreading warmth caressed up the back of her spine. Gentle fingers splaying up, cradling the base of her skull. The agony dulling into a veiled hissing. Still crouched in the grass, but far from where she sat.

Tears of relief fell down her face. Gods, she could breath again. Body pulled down deliciously yet so much lighter.

She sighed, leaning her head back. Taking a moment to get lost in the crisp night air, the sounds of moving water, insects calling for one another in the dark. Finally able to perceive more than her anguish.

Standing, she headed back towards the orange point of their campfire. Body awash in calm.

As she re-entered their little world a new sensation sidled up to her spreaded peace.

A soothing heat slipped down her front, pressing an insistent touch inside of her pelvis.

Oh.

Kneeling near the campfire, she examined the jar more thoroughly. Lifting the bottom, she found a small scuffed label written in scratchy hand.

Halfing Weed; Succubus Spittle 5%

Hissing a breath between her teeth, she closed her eyes in defeat. Fucking goblins.

Slick already pooling between her legs, she groaned in frustration. Of course her savior came with a demand.

Already, she knew this was not nearly enough to deter her from the alternative. But it didn't make it any less vexing.

Hips already rocking against nothing, she was infinitely thankful that the camp had turned in for the night. Even Astarion off hunting for a few hours, at least.

Especially him, she knew he had the skills she needed in this moment. But she didn't want to do that to him. From one veiled mask to another, she could tell he didn't want her that way.

Dizzy with heat, she rose to head to her tent. More than willing to deal with this desire alone. She had a sure hand and a vivid imagination, it would be an easy burden to bear.

Her infatuation with the wizard could be tonight's theater of the mind. Wide shoulders, soft brown eyes, hair that brushed against his clavicle. The veins in his forearms when he pushed up his sleeves, large hands twisting and pulling with blue magic.

She moaned, and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Reign yourself in, Tav. Gods.

As if summoning him from her salacious imagination, he emerged from his tent.

Drowsily greeting her, he wandered towards the water pump, kneeling next to it. Pulling the lever, he opened his mouth and started swallowing what of the divulge of water he could catch.

She stood stock still, watching this innocuous moment like a wolf watches a rabbit. The desire pooled in her pelvis boiling over.

Wiping his mouth, he rose back to feet. Seeming to fully see her then.

"Tav, you alright? You seem a little flushed, in a haunted type of way."

Gods forgive her for what she was about to do.

Taking his hand, she wordlessly pulled him into his tent.

"What-" Her body cut him off, pressing hard into his.

Running her hands up his taut back, she buried her face into his neck. The curve of his waist bending up into shoulders making her moan softly.

He was so warm, so solid against her pushing. Smelling of old books and leather. Her hand rising to tangle into his hair, tugging gently.

His body seemed to go weak then, gripping onto her for support.

"Tav, Gods..." He shivered.

His voice bringing her back to herself for a moment, she made to pull away. But his hands held her anchor to him.

"Please, don't stop." He pleaded.

Like a flint sparking, she dove back in. Hips fluid and insistent against his. Gathering his sleep shirt in her demanding hands. Pulling his head back to release his neck to her. Pulsing, biting, suckling into the soft flesh.

The herb removing all inhibition, she was a growling animal against him. Hands pinning and pulling, mouth hungry and salivating.

He fell to knees, and she followed him down. Straddling over his lap, licking an obscene line up his panting throat.

His length already a pillar pushing against her. Hands catching her writhing hips, pulling them flush to him.

Her head fell back then, the friction Gods sent. The slick already pooled in her underclothes welcoming him.

Something seemed to snap in him.

His hands wrenched her sleep shirt over her shoulders. Caging over her body, pushing her down on his bedroll.

"Yes," She moaned, falling open for him.

His mouth pushed into hers, gripping the back of her head.

The heat coming off of him was making her head spin. Intoxicating her body into liquid, crashing against him in waves. All smothered soft calls and silent demanding mouths.

Tangling into him like it was all she knew. All her body could know was getting as close as she could without being inside.

He hitched her leg up over his hip and ground down hard. Groaning in the back of his throat. Chest lit up purple, eyes glowing.

Concern arced through her stifling heat.

She cupped the sides of his face, bringing his eyes to hers.

The question in her eyes reached him. Hips still pistoning, he nodded.

"Please, I want to."

"Then take what you want." She gasped out, leading his head down.

He dove on her breast, licking her hard tip into his warm mouth.

"Fuck," She hissed, back arching.

She tried to reach for his sleep pants but his hand caught her wrist, forcing it above her head.

Pushing her underclothes down her hips, he rubbed hard against her clit. Blurring his hand.

Choking out a moan, she writhed helplessly. His body keeping her pinned and open. Splayed fully against him.

His mouth switched sides, taking up her soft untouched breast. The slurping suckle his tongue pulled against her peak making her mewl.

"Please, Gale. Inside." She pleaded, bucking her hips as much as his hold would allow.

He pushed two fingers inside her, moan muffled against her flesh.

"You're so wet," He groaned.

"You. All you." She moaned, sentences and their structures utterly lost.

But those words must have been more than enough. His fingers began slamming inside her, hooking towards her navel.

Her head fell back, gripping his head to her breast. The force of his fingers rocking her back and forth.

He was the tide and she a ship, unanchored and tossing through the waves.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She whined as the pressure in her pelvis tilted up, threatening collapse.

He pulled her engorged peak between his teeth and she was thrown overboard.

Her legs arched up, clamping around his hips. Back bending, the force of the pleasure striking through her was near agony. Completely stealing her voice away, only gasping out choking silent cries. The herbs making her reach new heights, unwinding like a tapestry pulled. Clenching hard enough around his fingers to make him groan.

She collapsed under him, head lolling. Eyes glazed and rolling.

He pulled his fingers from her, licking them clean. Leaning down to nuzzle into her neck, his beard tickling her.

"You didn't-" She started weakly.

"With the state of the orb, I think it's in all of our best interests if I obstained."

"Besides," He hummed, kissing under her jaw. "Your pleasure has more than sustained me."

"Though I am curious, what brought on this most welcome intrusion?"

She hesitated. Not wanting another person, especially him, who has so much to hurdle over already, to worry about her.

"It's this... pain I have. I found some soothing herbs and they helped. A lot actually. But with other effects."

She pulled the small jar from her strewn trousers, handing it to him.

Immediately he flipped it over to examine the bottom, and she groaned in embarrassment.

"See, that's exactly what I didn't do."

Grabbing for her shirt she instead landed on his, pulling it over her head.

He smiled at her, eyes lit up with appreciative glint.

"Ah, of course it looks better on you."

"Cozy." She sighed, the velvet material warming her through. Sleeves swallowing her hands.

He reached inside her pocket and retrieved the pipe, sparking up his fingers and bringing it to his lips.

Seeing her shock, he smiled.

"You're not the only one fighting pain." He knocked his knuckles on the burned circle in his chest.

"Besides, you seemed to be in a peaceful state. I'd like to meet you there, if you'd allow me."

"Deal." She smiled, sliding on knees to sidle up close to him again. "But only if you let me stay the night."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain." He smiled at her, scrunching up his nose in that playful way that made her heart gallop.

As soon as he breathed in, she held his chin in her fingers. Pulling his mouth to hers, breathing in the smoke as it left him.

Starting to relax, he pulled her down with him. Sighing contently as she snuggled into him.

"Oh, careful. I could get very used to this."

#dom gale does something to my brain. something uncouth #anyways this is for my chronic pain homies. hiiii #gale x tav #gale smut #bg3 smut #screenshot by @dailygale #lyrics from: timefighter - lucy dacus

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greedyhoneyz · 7 days

Text

One Born Every Minute

ೃ࿔*:･pairing: eren yeager x pregnant!mom!reader .ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: as first-time parents, both (name) and eren are filled with excitement and anticipation. (name) is ecstatic, whilst eren is increasingly worried and anxious about the unknown. but on the day of the birth, their roles are reversed - (name), reality finally sinking in, is overwhelmed and eren, supports her with a calm and supportive demeanour. .ೃ࿔*:･cw: angst. childbirth. inaccurate representation of birth. mostly fluff. .ೃ࿔*:･authors note: this is a long one, 2.2k words. the longest I've done in a while. i wanted to write a detailed story of reader and eren at birth, and used help to make this story sound as natural as I could make it. i hope that at least one part of this story can understand but overall, I think this story might be my new favourite.

The dreary lift ride to the delivery ward felt like an eternity, the soft hum of the elevator and the simultaneous tapping of (name’s) nails against her phone and Eren’s uneasy feet shifting across the lift floor only added to the tension in the air.

Eren stilled, tightening his grasp on the handles of (name’s) hospital bag and glanced at her. His lips were pursed, his eyebrows contorting inwards as he asked. “How are you feeling?”

Slowing the motion in her fingers, (name) turned away from her phone and peered up at Eren, a smile coming to her lips. “I feel fine.”

“That’s good…good,” Eren mumbled quietly, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Do you…need me…uh…did you think we forgot anything at home?”

“No,” (name) shook her head and wrapped her arm around Eren as best as she could despite her belly getting in the way. She rested her head on his shoulder, hugged him tightly, and reassured him. “We’ll be fine babe, we’re ready for this.”

The lift jolted to a halt and its door rustled open, greeting the couple with sounds and sights of the hospital hallway. People hurried by, doctors in scrubs rushed past, and the faint buzzing from the fluorescent lights above filled the air.

(name) followed Eren wilfully, panting between slow, steady breaths as he carefully led her across the hallway, following the signs to the delivery ward.

They reached the door to the ward, the muted sounds of labour echoing from within and entered, to be greeted by a nurse at the reception desk and her welcoming smile.

Eren and (name) stood at the ward’s reception desk, the sterile scent of the ward filled the air. (name) clutched her belly, her face contorting into a frown and held onto the desk for support as a tide of agony, rippled across her stomach in waves that came closer and closer together.

“Are you okay?” Eren asked fretfully. He clambered over (name), rubbed her middle and gently touched her shoulder.

Between the strikes of pain and shaky breaths, (name) tried her best to concentrate, to formulate her words yet all she could offer was a moan and weary grin as her hands trembled slightly.

Eren frowned, his eyebrows knitted together and knawed at his bottom lip. He greeted the nurse at the desk, whilst (name) riffed through her contractions and shuffled impatiently as she settled into her recliner. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the gentle clicking of the keys a soothing backdrop to (name’s) muffled howls.

“Alright, I need you to fill out these forms before we get you settled in.” She handed Eren a clipboard with a stack of papers attached and he hurriedly took it. He skimmed through the paperwork, jotting down (name’s) medical history, and insurance information from memory, the scratch of his pen against the paper a steady rhythm.

Bunching the papers together, Eren returned the paperwork and watched diligently as the nurse promptly glanced through the information, ensuring everything was complete before tucking the papers into (name’s) file.

She stood from her chair and circled her desk, a clipboard tucked underneath her arm. She beckoned the couple over and gestured for them to follow her down the corridor. She led them past rows of closed doors until they reached room ‘406’.

“Okay, you’re gonna be right in here.”

“I’ll grab you a gown.”

Slam. The door shut, and Eren and (name) were left alone.

“It’s nice.” (name) spoke out between a few bated breaths, finally at ease. Her gentle voice filled the barren room as she carefully eased herself onto the edge of her bed.

Placing her bag at his feet, Eren glanced at (name). “What?”

“The room,” (name) murmured, motioning her hand across the room. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Eren breathed, pulling up a chair beside her. He sat down, sinking into its firm cushion, and tucked his feet beneath.

As Eren sat and drew a breath, he felt a sense of overwhelming fatigue wash over him. He had been running on little sleep, juggling work responsibilities and last-minute preparations for the baby's arrival. His mind was a constant whirlwind of worries - about (name’s) well-being, about the health of their baby, about the obscure challenges that lay ahead with childbirth.

“Here you go,”

The nurse entered with a warm smile bound to her face as she greeted the couple with a hospital gown in hand. She placed it on the bed beside (name) and after checking her watch, issued instructions to the couple. “After you get changed, we’ll come and check how far you’ve dilated.”

“Okay.” (name) nodded, shifting her gaze between the gown beside her and Eren.

“Great! See ya in a few.” Slam.

“You need my help?”

“Please,” (name) cajoled, raising her arms like she wanted him to carry her.

Rising from his seat, Eren helped (name) to her feet and into her hospital gown. She shuffled out of her sweatshirt and sweatpants and stepped into her gown. She struggled to manoeuvre her swollen belly into the gown but Eren’s hand steadied her fidgeting and carefully draped the fabric over her middle and slightly above her knee.

Eren stood back, fatigue swelled in his gaze and relished at the sight of (name’s) swollen belly. The sight of her middle, veiled beneath the loose fabric of the hospital gown, filled him with pride and gloom. Very soon, the belly he had watched grow, expand and move would be no more, and an infant, the size of a small watermelon, would replace it.

Wrapping his arm around her lower back, supporting her labour movements, Eren gently guided (name) towards the hospital bed. The hospital room was dimly lit, with only the sound of (name’s) heavy breathing, the soft hum of machines and the gentle beeping of monitors.

As they reached the bed, Eren helped (name) lay down. She sank into the mattress, letting out a relief smile as he fluffed up the pillows behind her and carefully tucked the sheets around, ensuring she was warm and comfortable. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his love and concern evident in his tired eyes.

(name) smiled up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and affection as she whispered. “Thank you.”

Eren returned to his seat beside her, his heart swelled with love as he gazed at his wife and her swollen middle.

With each contraction that belted through, came a bolt of agony that consumed (name’s) entire being. She yelled at the top of her lungs, her face flushed with frustration and pain, as her eyes squeezed shut. She gripped Eren’s hand tightly, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip and clamped her lips together as she pushed.

Eren could see the pain etched on his wife's face and could feel the heat of her breath against his skin as she struggled through each contraction– she was exhausted, stressed and in pain.

“You’re doing amazing, baby,” Eren whispered, his voice glinting between hints of admiration and concern. “I’m so proud of you. Just breathe, okay? You’ve got this.”

(name) nodded, her head bobbing to the side as she focused on tempering her breathing, desperate to find a rhythm that would ease the pain. Eren stood by her side, offering words of encouragement and gentle touches, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of labour.

“Eren?” (name) spoke, her voice shaky.

“Yeah, baby?” Eren replied, offering a warm smile.

(name) swallowed deeply, and slowly opened her mouth, yet no words emerged. Instead, a strangled cry escaped her lips, the dam of her emotions breaking in a rush of pain and despair, and the feeling of overwhelmingness. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unashamed as she wailed. “I-I should have taken the epidural. It hurts so much.”

Eren wrapped his arm around as best as he could, minding the side rails that separated him from his wife and the nurses working diligently around him. He held her face as she wept, and muttered words of tenderness and reassurance. “It's okay baby, you're doing great. Just a couple more pushes and he’ll be here. Okay? I know it hurts but you're almost done.”

As (name’s) tears began to subside, her chest heaved upwards and downwards in sporadic tremors. She lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and gazed at her husband. “...Eren…”

“I know baby,” Eren whispered. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against the side rail, and pressed a kiss to the side of (name’s) head and then to her soiled cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

The pain returned in stronger and more intense waves, and (name) howled. She writhed in discomfort and agony, jeering her head from left to right and squeezed Eren’s hand tighter. Her face contorted into a mean scowl, her breath coming in short and sharp gaps as she pushed and then exhaled and then pushed, inhaling deeply.

And when the pain stopped, Eren pampered (name) with his comforting touch; wiping away her tears and soothing her trembling figure with careful rubs. He held her as best as he could from beside her bed and urged her softly, his feathery voice a timid facade to the pacing worry pumping through his blood.

In a stop-start fashion, (name) pressed through labour steadily as the doctor on call and the nurses bustled around the room. They worked in perfect harmony, their movements choreographed with precision and and expertise. They checked (name’s) vitals, monitored the baby’s heart rate and adjusted the beeping monitors every so often.

And in the centre of it all, (name) laboured through her contractions, tears brimmed between her eyes. Sweat glistened above her brows, her breath escaping through ragged gasps and tired pleas.

“Alright, (name),” one of the nurses spoke, her voice gentle yet firm. “A couple more pushes and the baby will slip on out.”

(name) moaned tiredly and turned away, stuck in a lonesome daze. She could feel the wave of emotions building inside of her: doubt, resentment; anguish. Such emotions weighed heavily on her stomach, yanking at her resolve, her courage, her joy, until she crumbled.

The hospital room filled with the sound of soft, muffled sobs as (name) laid still, her sullen face tucked behind the few plaits draped across the side of her face, tears pooled down her cheeks and soiled her bed sheets. “I just want…I just want it to be over.”

Eren stared down at (name’s) trembling figure, dejection burned through his eyes. He reached out, took her hand, intertwining it in his own, and called her delicately. “(name).” He spoke, squeezing her hand.

“(name)– baby look at me,” He retorted firmly, beckoning her over with a gentle touch to the shoulder. “Look at me.”

She turned to him, her eyes welled with tears and hummed sullenly. “Yes.”

Eren spoke earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it hurts. I can’t even begin to imagine how it feels but our baby, your baby is ready and he wants to come out and the more we wait, the harder it is on him.”

“But–”

Eren shook his head. “I know. But he’s coming, he’s coming out to see you.”

(name) sniffled, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she took in Eren’s words. She squeezed his hand, holding it to her chest and whispered, her shaky voice thick with emotions. “Okay.”

Unweaving her fingers from Eren’s, (name) slowly sat up and lurched herself forward. Her chest pressed against her middle, her hands gripping the handles of her bed. A fierce look flashed through her eyes as with the last drop of strength left in her spirit, she let out a guttural grunt.

From between her legs, she felt the force of her baby crowing, tearing her flesh apart, and held her breath. She pushed, the baby’s head free from its cavern, and pushed, the baby’s shoulder untroubled, and pushed, the baby finally slipping into the hands of a neonatal nurse.

“There he is!”

A boy was born, and here he was nascent eyes opening, mouth rooting for milk.

He shrieked and finicked, shackled from neck to bottom and damp, and toted away from his lustrous mother to a bassinet, the thick air that once comforted him replaced by the palpable sense of anticipation and excitement echoed through alien voices and strange objects that toyed at his skin.

“Would Dad like to cut the umbilical cord?”

The nurse beckoned Eren over, a pair of scissors in hand and journeyed him to the bassinet. With trembling hands, Eren carefully cut the plump and pale cord, severing the physical bond that had sustained their child in the womb for nine long months. As he did so, a wave of adoration washed over him, a sense of deep joy and fulfilment.

And then, after what felt like an eternity the infant fell to the solace of his (name’s) bare chest, a white blanket draped across his body. He was dry after a brief wipe down but gleamed beautifully like no other, purple and all.

Erem glanced over his newfound family, tears rooting from the brims of his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of (name’s) head as she leaned into his touch, sighing woefully. His heart swelled with tenderness and relief, as gaze down (name) and their tiny newborn held in her arms.

"He’s here," he spoke between shaky breaths and a sniffle, a prideful smile pulling on his face. "You did it, baby."

#black!reader #eren x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren jeager x reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan imagine

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 7 months

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Part 12 - it was just for fools

"We were searching for reasons to play by the rules, but we quickly found it was just for fools." -Mary On A Cross by Ghost

Masterlist Part 11

Wonder Woman, with her extensive diplomatic training, was the perfect speaker to bring before the United Nations council.

There was something regal about Diana, something that demanded attention from all genders and ages, her accent smooth and light with eyes hardened with barely concealed anger at what brought her to their door.

The Anti-Ecto Acts.

Diana understood war. There was very little she hadn’t experienced where it concerned the subject, from betrayal to a very personal loss, but now she had another chance to draw from her past.

Prevention of a war.

Only fools would believe a war against the Infinite Realms, the land of the End and death incarnate, that which holds every afterlife for every belief, was winnable.

Every death on humanity’s side, was another solider for the King of the End.

That was yet another point.

The Once and Future Star King, Vanquisher of the Dark, Protector of the Light, Great One…. Was a Protector spirit. The spirit of a child who died wanting to be saved.

Diana sighed, awaiting her fellow heroes in the meeting hall, Black Canary, Superman and Batman (with his ever tiny Robin) were already present. Red Robin was sat with a tablet, reading through a collection of data instead of conversing.

It was almost seven on the dot, the meeting filled with nearly all members of the League, when Constantine portals in with a flask in one hand and a book in the other.

“Not a word.” He grumbles around an unlit cigarette held between his lips, unceremoniously dropping into an unoccupied seat.

Despite the surprise of John Constantine being on time for something, much less a Justice League meeting, Diana had other concerns to deal with.

Namely, the repeal of the Anti-Ecto Acts.

An unexpected summoning was a shard of ice in her spine, twisting like a knife of betrayal in the nerves, utter agony. Jazz had little warning, little time to brace herself before she was hooked behind her navel and yanked.

Thank the Ancients she wasn’t in the shower, because whoever had the audacity to summon the Ghost King was not going to receive an eyeful for their trouble.

Jazz allowed her armor to materialize, a slick sensation of water down her back soothed the lingering pain of the brutal summons, but her back plate soon settled firmly in place and irritated the nerves more so.

Just as her helmet locked into place, sealing her fully into her armor, green smoke announced her arrival with a dramatic flair she couldn’t find humor in.

Rested on one knee, head bowed, the Regent was quite an intimidating sight for the uninitiated.

Her helmet, full coverage with a crown of green shards embedded into its pulsing ebony metal, only allowed the green tint of her eyes to shine through. Once her head lifted, the several shivers her gaze got proved how effective it was at unnerving others.

With a breath, the Regent stood.

“You have tried to summon the King of the End, why?”

John Constantine was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was certainly not a fool. He’d been against summoning the Ghost King, knowing full well to whom they would be dragging unwilling instead. Somehow the title of Regent failed to comprehend to most present, which was not Constantine’s fault in the slightest.

(Hey, at least he was mostly sober summoning, right?)

(Had to give credit where it’s due.)

Bats was unamused with Constantine’s first warning of ‘Do not fuck with’ when Phantom had first shown himself, but this was ridiculous really. A message was always better than trying to summon the King, who would want to be interrupted right?

Yet again, the Magician was overruled.

(At least he didn’t have to sell his soul this time.)

(The Phantom already gifted the glued together remnants to his Regent.)

(Morbid as it was, at least John knew it was in better hands than some half wit demon he’d scammed.)

No one answered before the Regent spoke with some amusement lacing her words, “I should have known a summon from you, Constantine, would be painful.”

(Was it a good or bad sign that the Regent didn’t immediately call him ‘Sad Trenchcoat man’?)

Diana politely interjected, “Greetings, My Lady. We apologize for the unfortunate experience and will endeavor to do better in future meetings.”

(Good old Diana.)

“Greetings.” The Regent replied, helmeted head slightly tilted as she studied the others present before her, having been ignored for the time being.

Wonder Woman pressed a fist over her heart with a slight bow of her head as she spoke again, “May I introduce the Justice League and it’s founders; Batman, Superman, and myself, Wonder Woman. You are familiar with Constantine, who is a member of Justice Dark.”

“I am the Regent of the Realms, Lady of the Acropolis, you may refer to me as either.” Jazz intoned, serious as was only right for her titles. “I’ll ask once more… Why.”

Constantine, despite the familiarity he held with Phantom, shivered in the presence of the Regent. The owner of his soul could command he turn on his allies, zap away his free will with only a few words. Sure, he had some doubts that the Regent would, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t. The AEA proved that the Infinite Realms had every right to declare war on the Living and its citizens would be drafted to fight in the Legion, regardless of mortality status.

John was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was not a soldier or a fool.

He would be called to arms, as a magic user and battle-blooded soldier. There would be no choice, no deal he could make that would see his fate change.

It was fortunate that the Regent didn’t want a war, but there was only so much she could do to hold back the growing tide of angry entities that wanted vengeance on parents, siblings, and children taken from them.

(Ancients above and below, he needed a drink.)

It was times like this that brought the Regent back to her long days of training in the Acropolis. The echo of steel against steel, dodging ecto-blasts, deflecting weapons with her bracelets, Pandora’s steady words…

Pandora was many things- Leader of the Acropolis, Guardian of Hope, teacher, advisor, so on and so forth.

Pandora might be a ghost, an Amazon tasked with guarding her box, a Warrior of the ages past, but she was ultimately the Ancient of Peace.

The Peace she never knew in life, war-hardened as she was. Raised with one hand clutching a weapon and the other an open palm, Pandora was a diplomat at heart. War had not been kind to her, but still, she taught her pupil (the Regent) the importance of listening.

Many issues could be solved when one took the time to shut their mouth.

Draw weapon, draw blood.

Aim at nothing you’re not willing to destroy.

If your opponent believes they have the upper hand, break it.

(These are just a few rules of war.)

(She knew them all by heart.)

(Each one ingrained on her body, scars a testament to a faith in her training and herself.)

The only rule Pandora had given her where to concerned Peace was this:

Reach for it, but know that hearts aren’t so easily swayed as minds.

It was why Jasmine never bothered trying to negotiate with the GIW. Their hearts were black and there was no changing their minds.

Here she was, summoned by the Justice League with their own diplomatic trained Amazon at the ready. Pandora would be proud of her sister-in-arms, because despite the Regent’s unknown threat potential Wonder Woman had not reached for the sword at her side. Instead, she’d done a traditional Amazon greeting, from one warrior to another, a sign of respect that Jasmine had not expected to ever receive outside the Acropolis.

“We had expected to summon the King, but were unaware of a Regent, my lady.” Wonder Woman spoke, but Constantine interrupted whatever she would have said next.

“We wanted to discuss the possibility of war against the living, Regent.”

Jasmine snorted, the voice-modulating function of her helmet made it sound funny to her ears, “Blunt as always, Constantine. You’re worried I would order you against your allies?”

The Sad Trenchcoat Man blinked once, twice, “Bloody Hell, you don’t waste time, do ya?”

“You possess the power to command Constantine?”

That question had come from Lady Gotham’s first Knight, steady with no discernible emotion in voice. His hands were resting on his utility belt, which was a bad sign of his current judgment of her character.

“For the sake of honesty, yes, Dark Knight, as the keeper of his Soul Remnants, I could command the Magician to do my bidding.” The Regent continued, “However, it was a gift and Phantom is fond enough of the Sad one that I wouldn’t use it unless I had no other choice.”

“What would constitute ‘no other choice’?”

Huh, Jasmine was starting to understand why Phantom chose Batman to give the Ghost Files too. She could feel the determination and protectiveness radiating off his soul, a familiar (though less powerful) sensation she only got from her little brother.

“War.” The Regent retorted, “I’m beginning to understand why Phantom would choose you, Knight.”

Constantine perked up a bit, “Didn’t you avenge him?”

“Yes.”

Wonder Woman came forward again, “My Lady, we wish to discuss the conditions of Peace between the Living and the Infinite Realms.”

Jasmine smiled a bit sadly, though no one could see it, “I would be honored to.”

If anyone asked, Red Hood did not swoon when he witnessed his future wife girlfriend kick a man straight in the balls so hard he saw God.

Jazz was a beacon during a Gotham night, beautiful red hair seeming to catch fire with every light that danced across it, shoulders back and head held high his girl resumed her steady pace towards her apartment. This was a typical night for them, minus the would-be mugger and Jazz being unaware of the Red Hood following from above to make sure she got home safely.

(Jason hadn’t been able to convince her to carry a gun.)

(Nonetheless, he knew his girl could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop the worry.)

Hood wasn’t convinced about the safety of the area bordering his Alley, The Ridge, with two relatively unknown metas acting as it’s Vigilantes and seeming to drive down the crime rate in the neighborhood to near extinction faster than he’d seized control of his own territory. It was odd that the metas weren’t crossing into the Alley, seeming to go around it and more into Gotham proper when they decided to roam, as if they respected the Red Hood claim more than the other bats.

(Wasn’t that just a hoot.)

(Two non-bats had more respect for him than his own family.)

The Ridge was the lesser known little brother to Crime Alley, with its residents being mostly three-jobs and a drug problem demographic, but with Phantom and Regent the area had begun to show a bit more life. Sure, most of the builds were on the wrong side of dilapidated, hanging on with duct tape and a wad of gum, but when it was just bright out enough- no matter the time of day- Phantom’s ice can be seen glinting from miles around as it curved itself around foundations and floors to stabilize the structures. It hadn’t melted in the slightest the two months since it’s been formed. Hood had even tried to get a sample for testing, but the ice would not budge. Hell, he’d even taken a cheap shot at it- nothing. Well, except for the fact that you could now see a bullet encased within the ice.

Phantom was a chill guy, apparently.

(Hood internally groaned at the unintentional pun.)

(Quick mental note made to shoot Dick in… well, the dick.)

Red Hood had been gritting his teeth against the warm sensations of protect-anxiety-nervous for days, sensing danger every time he closed his eyes. Something had invaded Gotham and was messing with the Pit.

No, not the Pit. The Pit was gone, no longer bubbling in his gut or green edging his vision, it was gone and replaced with something else.

Something that gave him trouble, but was definitely a step up from Pit Madness.

(And what a time for it to vanish, with Jason dating Jazz no more bloody nightmares when she was in his arms.)

He’d followed that ball of anxiety in his chest across Gotham, unconsciously avoiding Bruce’s usual patrol route and he climbed up to one of the gargoyles that kept vigil over the clock tower. Barbie hadn’t opened the comms to ask him what the hell are you doing here, but he wasn’t going to waste what little time he had with Phantom before he had to return to the Alley.

The kid wasn’t older than Tim, but was ethereal in his form that felt cold to Hood. There wasn’t any sign that Phantom had been hurt by the Drs. Fenton, but Hood was all too aware of how looks could be deceiving.

(The fuckers had vivisected him.)

With every word passed between them, had Hood confirming the Ghost Files information to be accurate as far as Phantom was concerned. He was a teenager, a ghost in Gotham who was under the protection of the Regent and Ghost King.

(Though incredibly corrupted, Barbara had been able to find a few frames of clarity.)

(Lo and behold, the death of those bastards.)

(He knew he recognized the armored figure, but couldn’t figure it out.)

(It was right there on the tip of his tongue.)

That same ball of anxiety loosened its hold with Phantom, a sense of protect-worry overwhelmed whatever else was in his chest.

Phantom was a kid, ghost or not, vigilante or not.

(No more dead robins.)

It took two days and twelve hours for Jason to finally connect the dots between Regent and why in Hell he felt he knew the armored knight.

Jazz was in her kitchen, hair braided and swinging back and forth against her back as she hummed and swayed in time with the soft music playing. His girl looked good in his Gotham Knights t-shirt, shorts revealing her toned thighs and legs, neckline of her borrowed shirt riding low enough to reveal several hickies he’d left on her earlier on the couch. Pride warmed his chest as he watched his darling Jazz, love for her settled deep into his bones. He knew she was the one for him, no going back, even if she didn’t know everything about him-Red Hood, his death, etc.

Jazz was made of steel and iron, forged with love and cracked with betrayal. Who had betrayed her in the past was obvious, her parents, their death must’ve been a mixed bag. Not to mention making the decision to allow their souls to be claimed by the Regent of the Infinite Realms.

He had no doubt she would be unafraid of his nighttime persona, but he didn’t think he could handle her judgment of his past sins. He loved her too much and wanted to be good.

The music stopped, dragging Jason out of his thoughts to find Jazz watching him with concern plain on her face.

“Jace?” She lightly called for him, helpless to her he rose and gently wrapped her in his arms, her head tucked comfortably under his chin.

“I’m ok, Jazz, just have a lot on my mind.”

His girl hummed lightly, the sound vibrating slightly through Jason’s chest where her head rested.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“They’re not worth that much.”

Jazz pinched his side in retaliation for his lightly self-demeaning comment, but ultimately let it go. Another reason he loved her, she didn’t tolerate his bullshit. She’d been horrified to hear his comments about his self-worth, as much as he was joking, and had firmly threatened to punt his ass into the sun if he didn’t start getting a better self-image.

To his credit, he listened and began seeing Harley for counseling, which he knew he’d needed when he’d finally gotten a working braincell again after his dip in the line green Kool-aid. He’d put it off long enough, believing that the Pit wouldn’t let him remain calm enough to discuss his abandonment issues and mental health.

The Pit wasn’t churning in his gut anymore so any anger he felt was all Jason’s, and Jason’s alone. It was oddly satisfying to know that he was once again responsible for how he handled his anger.

Jazz never really demanded anything, only insisting on some boundaries at the start of their relationship when it was difficult to keep his hands to himself while she was in his sight. His darling was the same this why she set those boundaries so they could get to know each other without it just devolving into sex.

Sure, they have done some heavy petting and Jason definitely liked leaving his mark on her, but they hadn’t felt compelled to go further. Now that they had been together a little over a month the heat between them settled into a slow summer in his blood, no more threat of them acting like a pair of degenerate dumbasses with lesser brain function.

Not that Jason would ever be against having sex with Jazz, he loved her and wanted to know her in every sense, but he had to confess several things before he could allow himself to be put off guard with his pants down. The big Y-incision scar on his chest was horrific and Jason didn’t want to scare his girl away before he had a chance to come clean. He wanted, no, needed Jazz to accept every part of him- life, death, Jason and Red Hood. He was ready for her to know the truth.

What he wasn’t ready for, like last time, was the bomb.

A/N: Yes, beta read by @meditating-cat! Great beta reader, really appreciate the quick response and notes. Thanks!

We're gonna have a bit of a time jump between the summoning and the cliffhanger, which means that Jazz being summoned happens after. I wrote it this way for a reason... I think. Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, special red tint this time, because I just watched Death in the Family for the first time before writing this part and...I didn't like it. No, I'm not sure why I don't either. Jason is my favorite character for a reason.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go read Wayne family adventures to make myself feel better.

Thanks for reading!

PS: 3k words???

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dpxdc #jazz fenton #dc x dp crossover #regent!jazz #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #cliffhanger #i couldn't resist #*points at jazz* this badass can hold so much angst #*points at Jason* this simp can hold so much angst #Yes beta we live like Jason Todd!#wonder woman #john constantine #constantine may be an idiot but he's not stupid

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Don't Speak 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Are we ready to hate Andy some more? It seems to be a pattern around here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your head swells, throbbing even in the silence. You can hear Andy once in a while, distant and vague, moving around the floor below. You hug your stomach as it caves in on itself. You know you’re hungry but the thought of food just makes you nauseous. You stay hidden, behind your eyelids, beneath the blankets, and wallow in hellish agony.

The pain dulls as you hear the window rattle. You dare to glance past your lashes and see a few droplets along the glass, the sky dark and swarthy with clouds. The glare of streetlights glints off the pelleting rain as it speckles the window.

Some pressure lets off but not enough. You roll over and sink down again. You long for sleep, you crave it. Those long, deep sleeps that make the hours disappear, that skew days, and help forget your life. That heavy void next to death.

You hover between the guest room and your unconscious. Like a pendulum you swing between what’s real and the doubts that paint dire visions on your eyelids. Amber’s pleas at the library, her accusations, her disappointment. You almost want to believe she’s telling the truth. That maybe you are wrong.

Even if you are, it’s too late. That futility drags you further down the pit. You fall onto your back and drape your arm over your face. You whimper as your whole body aches.

“Dove,” Andy’s voice startles you.

You let your arm slip down to your chest as you see his shadow in the doorway. He fills it easily, appearing even bigger as the light behind from the hallway limns his silhouette. He steps over the threshold and closes the door. You whimper as you lose him in the dark. You can’t tell if this is a nightmare or not.

He finds his way to the small lamp on the bedside table, a loud click before it blooms to life. You groan again as he looks down at you. His hands go to his hips as you shield yours over your eyes. Even the soft yellow haze is too much for you.

You shut your eyes and feel the bed shift. He sits on the edge and you wince as he touches your arm. He is as hot as fire. You want him to go. You want to be alone. The only person who’s ever seen you like this is Amber, you don’t want him to know how truly pathetic you are.

“Hey,” he coos softly, “you alright?”

Your mouth is dry. Your throat too. You have to peel your tongue back to make it work and swallow deeply, trying to wet it. Your voice crackles as you force it out, “sleepy. My head hurts.”

“Aw, honey,” he touches your forehead. His warmth is almost soothing as he covers your skin with his palm. The scent of his cologne whispers up your nose. “How about I get you some tea? You should have something to drink at least.”

“I’m… just going to sleep,” you wilt as you try to turn your face away from him. He is too strong. “I’m okay…”

“Honey,” he girds as he brings his hand down your cheek and strokes it, “you haven’t been eating. I’m not stupid. Have some tea, that’s the least you can do.”

“Andy…” you squeak and reach up to touch the back of his hand, only to recoil shyly as you feel the thick veins along the back of it, “I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Dove, you’re going to sit up,” he insists, trailing his hand down your neck, a shiver crawling over you as his other brushes up your arm.

When he has you firmly by the shoulders, he sits you up. You whimper as the stabbing pain it sends up your spine to the base of your skull. Your head lolls forward and you hold it, whining at the thrumming agony.

“Andy… please,” you croak, “I need to sleep.”

“No, you need to take care of yourself,” he retorts, leaning in to fix the pillows behind you. He stacks them up and props you back against them, “alright, you stay like that,” he folds the blanket to your waist, “and I’ll go make you some tea.”

“It hurts,” you keep your head in your hand, “I told you…”

“Look, Amber let you be like this, because that meant she could control you,” he rests his hand on your leg. You twitch and keep your face hidden as you peek past your palm, staring at his fingers. On you. Touching you. “You’re not going to fall back into old habits, right, honey?”

He finally moves his hand away from your lap and pulls yours from your face, “you’re going to be better, I know it. You know, I’m just helping you. I’m helping break the patterns she made.” He gives a stern frown, “she conditioned you to be like this, you are not this.”

“Please,” you yank your hand down and clasp both over your chest, “I’m tired… I feel sick.”

“You aren’t sick. You’ve been starving yourself,” he accuses, “you’re lucky I didn’t make you sit at that table and clear a plate. What I am going to do is watch you drink the tea I make you. All of it.”

He stands and heaves darkly. You move your arms to hug yourself and hang your head. You’re ashamed. Amber was never like this, she was always subtle, she never accused you. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s right. She only enabled your helplessness.

You sniff, “thank you, Andy.”

He hums, gristly like a growl, and touches your hair, “I’m only trying to help, dove.”

“I know,” you squeak and keep your eyes down, ashamed.

He turns stiffly on his heel. You wait as he leaves, almost reluctantly, and shudder as another tide of pain flows through you. You ache to the bone, your insides feel as if they’re peeling away, and your head is pounding like a drum.

You let your head fall back against the pillows as you slouch into them. You don’t have the strength to sit up. Your arms slip down and your hands lay lazily on your lap.

You listen to the small clinks and creaks from below. The house muffles a lot of sound, you might even assume the little noises were nothing more than the natural settling of the house. Andy’s footsteps aren’t clear until they’re down the hall and you brace yourself for his arrival.

He comes into the room with a steaming cup. You notice the gray dove painted on the porcelain, a string of leaves framing it. He lowers himself to the edge of the bed again and takes your hand. He puts the cup in your hand, weaving your fingers through the handle before cautiously letting go.

You bring the rim near your nose and inhale. You blow away the steam but it rises quickly again. You feel the heat roiling off of it. You lower it to rest in your lap and raise your drooping eyes to Andy. He’s watching you intently.

“I’m sorry,” you utter.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, “I’m worried. I wanna make sure you’re okay. You being sorry means I’m angry. I’m not.”

You gulp down your words. He sure sounds angry. You look back at the amber coloured tea. It smells slightly gingery but you’re not sure of the flavour.

“Promise, I’ll drink it.”

“Like I said, I’m not going until you do,” he says.

“It’s really hot.”

“So wait for it to cool down,” he instructs as if you’re a child. “I don’t mind waiting.”

You languish in the ensuing silence. Your eyes are drawn to the subtle twiddle of his fingers, how he runs his thumb up the side of his index. You only notice then that he’s changed. He’s in a pair of gray sweats and a dark blue tee. He must be on his way to bed. That thought makes you feel worse; you’re keeping him awake.

You raise the cup and blow on it again. You brave the scald of the tea and take a big gulp. You force it down as the heat rolls over you. It is soothing if not a bit stringent.

“Good,” he says as he turns his head, “is it okay?”

“Mhhm,” you nod, not able to muster the fib out loud. The flavour tugs at your cheeks and clings to your tongue.

“Dove,” he softens his tone, “I’m sorry if I come across angry, it’s not what I mean, you know? I always had that problem. My worry translates to something else. I could never be angry with you, but I’m scared.”

“Scared?” You lean the cup on your chest, cradling it with both hands.

“Yeah, I’m scared for you,” he says as if it’s obvious, “seeing you the way you’ve been, I want you to be healthy. I want you to be happy.”

Your eyes sting and you lower your lashes. You’re embarrassed. Despite all your effort, he saw through you.

“Tomorrow’s a new day, huh? You’ll get up and have breakfast with me, and we’ll start again,” he puts his hand on your knee, squeezing through the blankets, “I’m here for you, honey. We’re in this together.”

You stare into the tea. His words make your heart race. Together? His touch adds to the fluttering. His thumb moves, back and forth, and you repress a shudder. You never noticed before how often he touches you. You’re not used to it.

“Okay…” you resign to the depths of the tea, “I’ll try.”

🍵

You don’t get out of bed the next day. You can’t. You hug a pillow over your head, your tears staining the bedsheet as they slip out unbidden. You feel that hollowness, the sort in which you feel like everything inside you is just draining out of you.

When Andy comes down the hall, you hear him. You listen to the bathroom door click and the subsequent flush of the toilet. There’s some time before he emerges again and he continues to the stairs. You exhale, thinking he might have forgotten your empty promise.

No. He returns. He steps echoing and sonorous in your mind as he comes back upstairs. He taps on your door. You don’t move. He knocks louder and calls your name. You can’t.

He opens the door, “dove,” he says.

You stay still, arm hooked over the pillow you keep over your head. You sense him get near but don’t react as you feel him grip your shoulder. He shakes you but you don’t respond. It’s as if he exists on the other side of a wall.

“Dove, come on, I’m gonna get breakfast ready,” his voice sounds miles away despite his proximity, “you like pancakes?”

Your stomach growls loudly. You let it constrict but don’t move. You feel a tug on the pillow and grasp it tighter. Can’t he take a hint? Go away. Leave me alone.

He grabs the pillow with both hands and rips it away. You cry out and hide beneath your bent arm. He sighs as he tosses the pillow onto the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” He rasps.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to explain it. You are not doing this, but you can’t stop it. You can’t do anything, that’s the problem.

“You have a lot to do. Work on your resume? Do some painting?” He says it as if it should be encouraging, as if it isn’t oppressive and crushing. “Spend some time with me, dove.” He bends over you, rubbing your shoulder, “you’re okay. Let me take care of you, honey.”

You sniffle and remain shielded behind your arm. You feel the tension change in his touch as he grips you firmly. He puts a knee on the bed, leaning on it.

“Don’t ignore me,” his voice takes on an edge that chills you.

You suck back your tears and shake your head, speaking into the mattress, “please, go… leave me alone–”

“Honey, don’t speak to me like that,” he warns, “I’m being nice and very patient. You’ll feel better once you eat but you need to get up and get dressed.”

You tremble in a surge of dread and guilt. He’s figuring it out. You’re useless, you’re nothing.

You wriggle free of his hand and roll onto your back. You push yourself up, dizzy and wobbling as you can barely keep yourself upright. You look at him through the dim shadow of the drawn curtains.

“Please, I can’t–”

“Stop saying that,” he hisses, “you can. Why are you being like this?”

“Andy,” you whimper.

“Is this because of her? Because your sister? You know she was only ever using her and you’re what? Crying over her? I’m trying to help you move on. To help you grow. She never wanted that for you–”

“No, no! Be quiet. Don’t say that,” you cover your ears, “please, stop–”

He goes to say something but thinks better of it. You watch how his jaw squares and ticks, “but it’s the truth. You were just a toy for her. She could play with her doll and make herself feel more human.”

“Please,” you beg, panic swirling in your chest, “please, that’s not true.”

“You know it is, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you left her. Dove, you did that, not me.”

“Please, please, please,” you hunch over your knees, hugging them as you rock, “stop it. Stop.”

“I’m not going to stop telling the truth,” he sneers, “but you’re going to stop acting like a child. You’re going to get out of bed and come eat–”

He grabs your wrist and tugs it away from your legs. You feel a sudden bloom, a frantic sort of sensation, fear that drowns you to the point of gasping. You lash out with your other hand, hitting his wrist as you free your other arm. He grunts as you fall back against the mattress.

“What– why would you do that?” He growls.

“You were hurting me.”

“I’m helping you,” he insists, “you are being a brat.”

“I’m not. I told you to leave me–”

“You’re in my house, this is my bed, my room, my kindness that you are living on,” he barks over you. You wince and reel from the sheer volume, the furious tone of his voice, “the least you can do is get dressed and come eat breakfast with me.”

You clutch your cheeks and pout at him, “why are you yelling?”

He sighs and his eyes flicker. You shrink down as you stare up at him. He crosses his arms, then pulls them apart. He brings his hands up to his face and combs his fingers through his beard.

“I don’t like to yell,” his voice cracks, “I don’t yell, dove.” He turns away, “I’ve never… I’m sorry.” He strides away, still holding one side of his head, “not until you.”

He staggers, as if he can barely keep his balance, and leaves the door open in his stead. You stare after him and it all sinks in. It’s all your fault. He’s right. You’re a child, a brat, and you pushed him over the edge. He’s done all this for you and all you can do is lay in bed and mope.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob #don't speak #series #library au #au

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tenko-thinks · 10 months

Note

Okay okay now the pregnancy prompt with the Hantengu clones please? 🍿👀

(Would Urogi's result in an egg 🤔 Bonus if Urogi's has wings too and starts flying after like two months or something lol)

MAMA ( NON GENDERED ) THE POPCORN PLEASE. These will be shorter bc there's four mfs on this post

The Hantengu clones with a pregnant s/o + Fathering hcs

Cws : pregnancy, labor and childbirth ( nondescript ) , karaku is . Like that , sekido has like some implied toxic behavior but what do u want from me

Sekido

Pregnancy with sekido... Godspeed ladies and others with the ability to get knocked up.

He notices the change in your demeanor almost immediately. You avoiding him and being skittish.

Of course it pisses him off, figuring you're hiding something from him. He'll grab you by the arm and yell "out with it! There's no way a mortal like you would be stupid enough to cheat right!?"

And when you say you're pregnant he thinks he might be wrong on that assumption until you tell him without a doubt that it's his. Then he's just... Stumped? Doesn't know how to process that information.

During the duration of the pregnancy he's skeptical. And keeps tabs on you constantly. The idea of a demon siring is so unheard of it's only natural that he'd worry about loyalty.

God awful when it comes to handling hormones and mood swings. He doesn't know how to soothe you and ends up frustrated with himself which leads to an explosion on the other clones. Never you. He knows stress could kill the child, after all. He's not daft.

Even if he grumbles, sekido is very willing and happy to massage your ankles and any other soreness from your body.

When labor comes knocking? Sekido is snapping at the other three constantly as they flounder around uselessly. Flailing with the midwife watching them like a group of crazy people.

It's too silent comparatively when you're screaming in agony and all he can do is hold your hand while Urogi and Karaku offer platitudes he can't.

A daughter. Small and so so frail compared to her father. Resting in his arms as you recover from the task of birth.

Sekido has never claimed to be a perfect man. And he will never claim to be a perfect father.

He snaps at the little girl often . And will often apologize by offering her gifts. Words have never been his strong suit.

He gets worse as she ages. Not towards her , but the idea of her getting older. Relying on him less.

Protective and stern dad. No boyfriends.

Karaku

"How much sex have you been having without me??"

Punch him in the mouth first of all. But he's a tease through and through. Especially if you're a monogamous sort.

He "accuses" you of cheating despite knowing well and good you almost certainly haven't. Especially when he hardly lets you leave your home. He just likes getting you defensive and huffy!!

He's honestly pretty surprised though! Demons aren't supposed to have kids! Boy is your womb built different!

Karaku pouts when your hormones make you anything else other than horny. It's the one he's best suited to handling!! And you're just gonna be a bitch because your brain chemicals are off kilter? Weak.

Despite being a brat he's actually rather attentive. Being a creature of pleasure, Karaku is the most adjusted to being around humans and interacting with them. So he knows how to placate you!

Likes to tease about silly cravings you have though. So long as he thinks you can handle it.

Labor? Karaku has left the building in order to scream into the wilderness give him 10 minutes. He wants to not overwhelm you while you're busy pushing something out of you.

When he returns he's ignoring sekido's glower in favor of returning to your side and helping you through the process.

And as his son is born all he can think about is how gorgeous you are. All exhausted. But so much stronger than so many slayers hes faced! He thinks at least.

Kara is a fun dad kind of guy. One who prioritizes play over discipline or academics. So those will fall to you for the most part. He's not incapable. Just... annoying?

You have come home to Karaku lodged in a half broken wall because he thought it a good idea to hand a three year old his uchiwa.

You know that meme of the mom scolding the kid , the dad stepping in and proceeding to get scolded? Yeah that's karaku.

Aizetsu

"It's sad, knowing you're lying to me."

Is his dead ass reaction, and bro just straight up starts to walk away. You have to grab him and insist several times you went to the doctor and confirmed it!! You even have the doctor's note!

Aizetsu still doesn't believe it until you start to show symptoms. Only then does he stop sulking about your cruel prank on him.

Holds your hair back as you suffer from morning sickness. What a champ. Even if he's grossed out.

He's the most attentive and empathetic of the clones!! The best at giving words of affirmation when you're crying over silly things. Or when he tells you he won't let you eat rocks.

Sometimes if you're lucky you can catch a glimpse of a smile when he's looking at your bump growing. He likes having his hand there. Assuring himself that it's real and not some dream.

Aizetsu speaks to your stomach often, telling your child about his day and asking questions. He has full on conversations with them!

To be honest... labor? Aizetsu will probably black out and/or faint throughout the entire process. Coming to when Karaku is shaking him about how cute his new daughter is.

And he nearly ( does ) break down at the revelation that he has a little girl.

When he holds her for the first time he whispers to her how he'll never let her suffer or even know sorrow. While you're unconscious.

He stays true to his word as well. Whenever his daughter fusses he's there in an instant. Calming her. Feeding her. Whatever it is she needs. You wake up quite often to the sight of Aizetsu cradling her against his chest while waiting for you to wake up.

She becomes a spoiled princess because of it. But he wouldn't have her any other way. After all, he wants her happy.

Urogi

At first, Urogi is perplexed. Head cocked n all.

Now, to have eggs would insinuate having a cloaca and being fertilized. And I'm assuming you to be human.

So really it's more awe in how you are able to carry his children in the first place.

But he's ecstatic! Beyond excited!

Of course he'll have to ask around for advice but he's doing the best he can!! Running errands for you, making sure you're comfortable, etc

His method of dealing with your hormones is to try and make you laugh. In any way he can. Jokes. Silly faces. Shock. So long as he can get you laughing!

Instinctively he makes a nest out of all of your blankets , pillows and towels. A place for you and his chicks to be safe! And warm!! Incubated!!

Insists that you birth in the nest! It's the best for the babies. Is what his instincts are telling him.

He wants to touch your bump, but with his talons he settles instead on resting his head on it. Listening for any movement and smiling in awe at how they move around.

Urogi handles labor surprisingly well. He's territorial of course, so the other three aren't allowed in. Only you, him and a midwife.

He cheers you on the entire time. Offering his arms to squeeze as to not harm you with talons. He'd much rather you not bleed out in the nest while giving birth. Especially because you got a vein with his claws.

Yet he hears two little cries. Apparently the first had been silent until her little sister had also escaped you.

And the first thing he noticed were the beautiful downy wings on their backs. Only paired with talon like feet. Much more human hands. Unlike his own.

He watched you hold them. Listening to the chittering chirping noises they made.

Oh what a day to be the clone of joy!

And he continues to think that when his two little girls are attempting ( in vain ) to flutter after him. Wings still far too downy to do any proper flying.

Preens them incessantly!! Hair and wings !! And he's elated to watch you do the same. Caring for them the same way he taught you to care for his!!

When the day they begin to fly at the age of three? He knows what anxiety is. Watching them clumsily flutter about like a hawk, and saving them any time they begin to falter.

It makes you laugh, how nervous he gets about something that used to absolutely drive him wild with excitement when they were born.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #sekido #sekido x reader #aizetsu #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #karaku #urogi x reader #urogi #kny urogi #kny karaku #kny sekido #kny aizetsu

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daydreamsandcrashingwaves · 5 months

Text

Keeping It Close To The Chest Pt. 3

TW/CW: Medical Trauma/ torture, medical experimentation, ptsd and flashback type stuff, vivisection wound, Brief suicide attempt with a blade, (If you wanna skip that part it's bordered by '~~'), child abuse, emotional distress, more Danny whump, hurt/comfort- just a lil comfort at the end lol

As always if I missed a tag please let me know! I want anyone who wants to read my writing be informed so they can make the best decisions for themselves. Be kind to yourselves and be safe.

Hey! Here's part three! I'm considering posting this to Ao3! If I do I'll probably edit each part a bit. I hope you all enjoy my humble offering! I'll let ya all know if I do! If you missed them, Part one Part Two

Much love to you all

~Ren

Danny didn't recognize where he woke up. He could smell antiseptic in the air in combination with the white walls and sheets made him uneasy. Last time he could bare to look they hadn't bothered to clean up his splattered ectoplasm, all the white was abnormal. Bandages, sheets, walls, floor, ceiling they all looked eerily familiar. He could still feel their hands digging inside him. Panic thrummed through his core- the lab, they have him back in the lab-he wrenches at the restraints the scientists had put on him, only for them to be missing.

With no resistance his body crashes to the ground next to the bed he was on with his legs twisted into the sheets. Danny flails his legs to free himself. The deep ache of his wounds pulls him forcefully from the swirling green noxious clouds that fill his head. His parents had never left him without something holding him exactly as they left him. Ready and waiting for their next experiment. His core sinks somewhere around his guts from the thought. Unrestrained. They left him unrestrained; he looks at his bare arms in reluctant wonder.

The knowledge doesn't soothe him at all, they'd return soon. One look at him would make it obvious to them that he was in no shape to run again. Run he has to run. Anxiety and uncertainty made his powers spike and the lights blow above him. The temperature drops around him and he settles for a moment. At least he had access to his powers even if he feels like he'd have to use far much more energy than normal to use even his invisibility.

His par- Maddie and Jack had made the table out of antighost material that kept him from phasing out of the straps, but it was the dried blood blossoms in the vents that had weakened him, his powers slipped through his fingers, out of reach until the hail Mary last ditch effort explosion from his core that had frozen them where they stood. Danny swung his head to look at the.. simple comfy looking bed he had been resting on. Why would they-

Footsteps pound towards where he is, a shadow in the doorway. Fuck, they were back. Whenever they visited it hurt. Jack and Maddie were creative in their experiments, each one brought Danny more agony. Brought Danny closer to a full death. If he couldn't keep them from finding his core again, he really would be dead. His core pulsed, memories pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind.

They touched it, a glove shouldn't hurt like it did, what did they do what did they do to him did they not see they were killing him. He's alive, he's here, he's their son whywhywhy. Jack's comforting bulk turned to cheerful aggression and brute strength used to hurt him; Danny misses his firm embrace, the hate on Maddie's face tore Danny up inside, to see how her face went from deep love to the equally strong opposite was heartbreaking. She once threw herself at Vlad's experiments in that damned forest, her marital arts training had amazed him. She frightens him now, they frighten him now. To use such brutality against their son, she had broken bones, flung him so easily once she had gotten ahold of him. How awful it was to have not one reaction to his pleas- mom please you're hurting me, please it hurtsithurtsyourehurtingmeYOUREGONNAKILLME!

Danny can still hear his own screams playing in his head.

Tension fills Danny's frame sending more shockwaves across his injuries, the brain fog making it harder to figure out who was on the doorstep. He struggled to get to his knees in preparation. If the Drs Fenton were gonna do Frog Dissection 2: Ghostboy Edition he wasn't going to be compliant, even if Danny felt like he wouldn't be able to fight them off for very long at all. Hope that they would come to their senses would cost him dearly. A light flicked on outside the doorway, illuminating... his older brother. Damian Al Ghul, stared back at him.

Danny jolted, he vaguely remembered he popped out of a portal basically on top of his twin, right? His memories are all jumbled. Danny raised a shaky hand to his head, the beginnings of a migraine building. Did he lose his bags? His dagger? Danny didn't dare turn away from the predator in front of him to look. That was how many foolish people during the twin's training lost their lives. How weak was he that he let himself be caught when he could've at least tried to fly away? In some ways this was worse than being caught by his adoptive parents again. Damian was an unknown after all these years, even if part of him wants to cling to his cape and beg for just a days rest before they send him wherever they were planning to.

Damian may be here on a mission, or if he truly did escape the League maybe he wanted to send Danny back in his place so he could remain away from Grandfather's clutches. Danny knows just how persistent the Demon Head could be. Damian had always been the superior heir, but if Mother had been sending... clones? That's what he had said earlier, if Danny could remember correctly. Clones sent to Damian. It was a last resort to claim him and bring him home. Or replace him with the clone that won, he shivers thinking of Vlad.

Would Vlad go for the superior twin if he knew of Damian? That was a meeting Danny wanted to avoid, not that Damian would comply with any of the Fruitloop's plans. Danny paled at the thought, Damian surely would kill Vlad if he tried, then only Plasimus would remain. As of now his human half was the only reason the older halfa wasn't more than a nuisance. What a nightmare a fully ghost Vlad would be. Danny never would've stayed in Amity if he knew the trouble he'd get himself into. Danny was always just the spare. There to take orders, nothing more. His life and death was up to Grandfather. Not even lazarus water was allowed to someone worthless. No need for him beyond the worst case scenario, but held onto until the heir could claim his place.

The domino mask was gone revealing those emerald eyes he's missed for so long, but he still was wearing what he was earlier, Danny can see his blood smears from here. Danny tried to guess what Damian was thinking so hard about but other than his furrowed brows, his twin gave nothing away. In a sick way it made him proud his elder brother hadn't lost his edge.

Danny remained silent as his brother panted into the dark between them. He had to wait to be acknowledged. If he broke this tentative peace there is no telling when the orders would start. Slipping so easily into his League training made Danny bite his cheek to avoid the frown that would take place. Emotion will do him no favors here, even if truly hiding what he was feeling was next to impossible under Damian's gaze. Danny watched as Damian watched him. Damian telegraphed his movements slowly so Danny could see his hands and what they were doing. He had started palming his hidden blades and dropping them carelessly to the floor. Danny's eyes grew wide at the sight.

Damian... he didn't do careless, his every move deliberate and well thought out. This must be something meant to throw him off, make him lower his guard. His elder brother would also never just throw his weapons around unless it was at a target. Perhaps he doesn't need them. Perhaps he wants to kill Danny with his own hands or perhaps he thinks Danny won't resist his order to return. (In this moment Danny couldn't resist anything Damian wanted to do to him, even if he wanted to. He could be shipped back to Grandfather in Damian's stead.) Danny clenched the disheveled sheets in his hands, if he had to take on his twin every advantage he could get. Danny would need.

Looking back to the door, Damian has a small but impressive pile scattered behind him, one last dagger is carefully held in his hands. They're trembling slightly, Danny would have missed it, should have missed it, but he remembered far much more of his past than he ever let on with the Fentons. Danny figured amnesia is a great excuse to not answer their questions on how he got to be alone in Amity Park or where his family was, how he got left behind. The Damian here confused him. Disarming himself, openly trembling- nothing like the brother he remembers.

(They were the same size, but Damian always seemed bigger, his shoulders meant to hold more, the League, Grandfather's expectations and Mother's indifference, Danny and his string of failures, he only ended up holding the heir back. Damian's arms always open to curl up in after Danyal's frequent punishments. A weakness, Mother had said when she caught them, she had ripped Danny from his brother's arms and had mercilessly beaten him until he couldn't move for his audacity, all while Damian watched blank faced. When they were once again alone Damian had whispered apologies while helping the younger clean and bandage himself. Danny had insisted on doing the same for Damian- he had clenched his hands so tightly into fights behind his back that he had a perfect set of bloody nail marks from holding himself back from intervening as he stood at attention nearby- before they slipped into their beds. There would be no sharing tonight, not when Mother would surely check on them to make sure Danny didn't continue to tear Dami down. His elder brother had hummed a soft tune though that Danny fell asleep to. But no, Danny can't be sure that part of Damian still exists, he can't risk the world for his selfish desire to stay by his brother's side. Ra's Al Ghul could never find out just what kind of power Danyal gained via the portal and Phantom in his absence from Ra's watchful eye.)

Damian looks awfully small to Danny now, curled into himself by the door. He sheaths the dagger and gently sets this one on the ground in front of him before he sends it straight to Danny with a perfect kick. Danny snatches it up quickly, he won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Danyal..." Damian seems to crumple under the weight of his name, he looks... lost. He clears his throat, goes to say something but clears it again instead. His brother has always been confident. This uncertainty Danny feels zipping between them keeps him on edge. "Ahki please you are hurt, can I help you back to bed?"

Tears. Those are tears falling down his brother's face. Danyal can only stare. Damian had only cried with Danyal a few times in the League, on that rooftop with the stars. Something about how since Damian was older he had to be strong, strong for Danyal, strong in the face of Grandfather.

"I won't go back." Danny rasps painfully slipping into their mother tongue, "I'm sorry Dami I won't go back. Not even for you." Danny thinks he popped some of the stitches holding his chest together under the bandages when he dove to the floor. His shirt feels wet, his blood would quickly eat at the stitches now that he's actively bleeding again. Better to die here, this way, then go back to-

Danny raises his hand.

"Ahki! No!" Damian cries out desperately, he feels his face twist in horror as dim lights blink into existence under the cabinets. Damian had thought a blade in hand would make Danny feel safer, less vulnerable for their second meeting if he had something to defend himself with. The image his brother makes on the floor was something he never could've imagined happening.

Damian was going to be sick. Danny had always been a joyful and stubborn presence by his side. Not even in the throws of their harsh childhood did he ever give up, ever give in.

Fear almost stops his heart from beating before it stubbornly restarts hard enough for his chest to ache. The dagger Damian had relinquished to Danny was pressed lightly to his own throat by a shaky hand. Damian's exclamation caused Danyal's hand to press a bit too hard, red blood dripped down the side of his neck. Danny looked at him almost hypnotized by Damian's extreme distress at what the light revealed, he didn't recognize the blur of movement towards him in time to react. Damian's hand covers his own wrenching the blade away.

When he found out who broke down his baby brother to such a degree that he felt he had to turn his blade on himself, well, Father's rules be damned, Damian would make them beg for death before claiming their pathetic life. It would be good to remind others of what the Demon Heir was capable of if he deemed it worth his time. Worth crossing Batman and his no killing rule. Danyal was worth everything to Damian.

Danyal is shaking like a leaf in front of him and Damian aches to reach out to his baby brother, yet he doesn't want to force contact. If Danny felt cornered he could spook and hurt himself more trying to get away from Damian and that is the last thing he wants. "There is no need for that here Danyal. I'm sorry Danny, I'm so sorry you've been alone," He chokes out, the Arabic heavy in his mouth, "it will be alright you're- you're Ahki won't let anyone force you to do anything. I'll protect you, I promise."

Damian can see comprehension spread across that scary blank face his twin had been making. It trembles and breaks as tears gather in the corner of Danny's eyes. Danny's hands grip his arm harshly, Damian doesn't correct him. A bruise is a small price to pay for his twin's comfort. Even back in the League Damian never lied to Danny, had always, always, kept his promises. Those tears fall.

Danny wails as Damian pulls him tightly to his chest, he can't hide how he pats Danyal down to check for more weapons. Richard hovers outside the room but Damian knows he's hesitant to insert himself into the situation and have the potential for Danny to act unpredictably again. How astute of him, Damian is relieved at his brother's emotional intelligence. Damian keeps repeating his words over and over while rocking them. Danny obviously doesn't want to settle into it but can't seem to help it. Twins together for the first time in almost a decade, Damian doesn't hide his hitching breaths as they cry together. Damain never wants him to let go.

"I can't stay Ahki, I can't!" Danny sobs, pulling back until his brother can see his face, "Grandfather will- he'll- I'm a walking weapon!" Danny blubbers and tries to get a breath to explain because his brother had always at least let Danny say his argument in the past but ends up coughing until it turns into a whine. His body hurts. His Y incision burns like his- Maddie and Jack- are freshly cutting into him and he just wants this moment to last but knowing they're on borrowed time makes Danny curl closer. His face is pressed to Damian's chest, somehow Damian had moved them, Damian's back rested against the bed while Danny was cradled in his lap. Soothing circles were traced onto his back, something had changed in Damian's demeaner but without looking at his face Danny could only guess what that meant.

His cries slowly petered out in the face of his brother's steady comfort and Danny could feel his body go boneless in Dami's hold. His elder brother's murmurs weren't hidden by his cries so he could finally hear what was being said,

"I've been with Father for five years, I, too will never go back to the League. Ra's is dead, I promise you. Dead and locked away so he can not get revived in the Pits. He will never darken our doorstep, he's dead and Talia knows if she comes here, she will meet a similar fate, Danyal it's going to be okay. We're okay now. We have family who will help. I won't leave you alone again."

Over and over again, Damian's voice full of confidence and vitriol but he keeps his hold loose. Damian had always respected Grandfather and his influence, Danny wasn't sure what to think hearing his brother speak Grandfather's name. Danny had known that awful day the twins were pitted against each other that once the spare died there would be no escape from the League for Damian. If what he says is true... Damian did escape, has been safe with their Father for years.

Exhaustion slams into him, Danny feels... safe. The safety he so desperately needed is here in his grasp and he's terrified of it disappearing, being false. "Dami-"

"Hush Ahki, just breathe, we will talk later." Damian uses his sleeve to clean Danny's face, the gentle swipes make more tears sprint to his eyes, but his brother is patient, content to clean him up. Danny opens his mouth to protest, but Damian gently shushes him. Damian shifts their bodies to move them back to the bed, but Danny reacts like Damian is getting ready to leave, leave him here in this strange new place, scared and alone. (Some part of Danny snaps back at the thought, Damian never had gone back on his word before. Not once, that was a miracle considering their childhood.) Danny's hand snaps out to grab his twin's wrist on instinct. Don't go please. Don't go, I don't want to be alone.

Damian's face softens out of it's natural neutrality, his mouth twisting into a small smile. His real smile, the one reserved only for Danny. "The floor is dirty Danyal and I need to check your stitches, let's get you back in bed." Damian chuckles quietly at the apprehensive look shot his way. Danny was always an open book, at least to Damian. "I'll stay with you, come."

Damian shifts them as carefully as he can only to abruptly stop when Danyal's hand flies to his chest on a gasp. Danny can see Damian biting his cheek and glancing from him to the door out of the corner of his eye before he straightens a bit decision made.

"Richard, I know you are still there," It's said with a sigh but he knows that tone, his brother is grateful. A black-haired man pokes his head warily into the room to look at them.

"Little D! Can I help with anything?" Despite his caution Richard is beaming at them from his spot by the door. Danny grew tense in Damian's arms at the new arrival, but thankfully, luckily, he didn't try to run.

"Tt. Tell Pennyworth I may need his assistance, Danyal potentially pulled his stitches." Richard's face rapidly paled, his gaze swinging to his youngest brother trying to see if blood was leaking through his bandages. Damian was certain Richard would be grateful for Superman's x-ray vision right now by how hard he was staring at Danyal.

Though Richard meant well Damian felt his irritation rise when he feels Danyal curl further into him, trembling hands gripping the life out of his suit. As he resumes rubbing Danyal's back he starts whispering again in Arabic, careful to keep his words between them. Damian is sure an audience isn't helping Danny relax. Damian draws his focus the best he can away from their buffoon of an eldest brother.

Richard lingers in the doorway so without turning to look Damian flicks his wrist and the blade Danyal was ready to use against himself sails true, embedding itself a hair's width away from Richard's hand on the doorframe. "Now Grayson." He growls. Then they are alone. Damian hides a smirk in his twin's hair, before frowning. Danyal would feel better if he was clean, if his hair is anything to go by Danyal hasn't had a bath in a long time. That is where Damian could start. Until he could have a talk with his twin and figure out what he was so terrified of he'd threaten his own life... this would have to do. He's sure that Alfred has some supplies stored in the recovery room. Damian put a tub in the sink to fill with warm water while he grabbed what he needed.

With a brief explanation Danny pouted but hesitantly let Damian lower him so his head was mostly hanging off the foot of the bed. He pulled a chair over and got to work. The first wash was to get the majority of the dirt, blood, and sweat out. After he rinsed the first shampoo out Damian took his time with the rest. Fingers worked through knots and a bit of pressure here and there had Danyal melting in his hands. Truly relaxing for the first time in what was probably a long time. Damian smiled softly. The boy looked to be dozing now, both content to remain like this for a while longer.

From the door Alfred waved Dick off, it had been a long night and Bruce's eldest certainly needed rest. Looking back at the two blood siblings Alfred was sure the immediate danger had passed. He was content to leave them to bask in eachother's presence for a little while longer before he checked on the youngest master's stitches.

Part four

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dragonagecompanions · 9 months

Note

DAI romances react to Inquisitor’s "death" in "here lies the abyss". Like, he/she supposedly left them behind, to not to endanger them. So, the siege begins, they get inside Adamant, but the inquisitor is nowhere to be found. They run to the bridge where he/she was supposed to be and see it collapsed. One of agents says that and Inquisitor, along with the Warden and Hawke, fell into a cliff. What would they do while the siege of the fortress continues? And how would they react to the return? tnx

Cassandra: She does not want to believe it, at first. It has taken so long for her to open her heart to this man, and somehow over these long months the last Seeker has convinced herself that he is untouchable. Haven, the Conclave, the Anchor-- nothing can stop him for long. It was the same mistake she made with Anthony, and the same terrible grief threatens not only her soul but in battle her safety as well. There is enough distraction at least that the fear and the grief do not have long to hold onto her before he returns.

But later, when the screams of battle have ended and he is safe in her arms again, she will let the fear pull unwelcome tears-- and be soothed that he is still there to comfort her.

Solas: It is a judgement blow to the world, that it is the Gray Wardens and their folly that have stolen his Vhenan from him. She was a touchstone in a world so shattered from its proper place-- and her abscence destroys any chance of mercy from the Dread Wolf. He remains at the battle only because he must - and oh it tears at him- disinter her from the rocks to reclaim the power of the Anchor and that is a process best left to the Inquisition. The anger that wells up in him is vented at those who still oppose the Herald's forces, and there is no mercy from the soft spoken apostate until news reaches them that their fearless leader yet lives.

To hold her again, even for the few moments he can allow them, is a paradise. Even if he someday must betray her, even unto the ending of all she has known, it will at least be with a proper farewell and apology.

It is not enough, and yet as he holds her close at the end of the battle, it is enough for the momoent.

Blackwall: It staggers him. To lose her at all is devastating, but for her to fall while trying to help the Wardens is...

Is like standing in the rain and knowing the Warden who saw good in a disgraced captain wasn't coming back from the Deep Roads. The guilt and the shame are like a knife, but knowing that his lies might well have driven her on burn like poison. There is no antidote for his agony, and he can only turn himself to the battle; he can save at least those who were truly brave enough to take the oath and fight the corruption in their ranks.

When she comes back to him, whole and hale and as beautiful as ever, it breaks something in him. When they return to Skyhold he will tell her everything, and there will be no more lies between them.

Dorian: This was always a chance. That was a given going in, an acceptable risk to this whole arrangement, and while it hurts of course at least there is the comfort that the Herald fell...the Inquisitor died doing his...

Maker, he can't even lie to himself. It's devastating, and the moment the Tevinter mage hears the world seems to jolt on his axis. Of course the man he was beginning to love could not survive; there is no destiny kind enough to give Dorian Pavus a chance at the kind of love that last the ages. And so he will give it a story to shake the heavens instead. Those who fight alongside the Inquisition's necromancer will never forget how their foes rose in legions to attack former allies, nor the panic that sprung up in the ranks of their enemies. There are none brave enough to comment on the tears that stream down the mage's face for the battle either, and few willing to stare at him long enough to notice it besides.

But when it is all settled and the Herald is of course miraculously fine again, Dorian...can't. He can't go to him right away, can't hold him close until the shaking has finally stopped. There is tenderness on the road, the gentle touches that assure them both that the other is still alive, but Dorian waits until Skyhold is safe around them before he can truly believe his amatus is safe.

Then they will have words.

Iron Bull: Katoh. There are demons and mages and all manner of magicky....things trying to kill them. If he has failed as a front line body guard to his Kadan, he will not fail their inquisition. The gaping wound deep in his soul will have to wait until...

Until later. Katoh.

(Later, of course, he brings out the good rope and spends plenty of time explaining exactly why they will never do this again.)

Cullen: He wants to weep of course, to throw his sword away and scream, but there is simply no time. Thousands of souls rely on their commander to see them through, and no matter his own grief he will not abandon them. He gives orders and directs soldiers and fights on until the bitter end. When that is done he pushes onward, pushing himself to hold the line and trying to strike down his inner demons by slaughtering outer ones. There is nothing else left.

When she returns to him, there is not even an attempt to hide their reunion as some sort of debrief or meeting. The soldiers might cheer and whistle as their commander carries the Herald to his tent (not for that, lay abouts!) but as it is for their love of both commander and Inquisitor neither very much mind.

Josephine: The hours between one missive and the next are some of the most desolate she has ever known. Leliana and Cullen and all of those persons she has grown close to in the Inquisitors inner circle are gone, and so she can take only a few moments in the stairwell to that dark and hidden library to sob out her grief. If the inquisitor is indeed fallen it will require all of her acumen to keep their allies close, and that is not something that can be done in the early pain of her grief.

If she is there longer than she intended, her wails and sobs swallowed by the silent stone, no one need ever know. And blessed Andraste surely has a hand over her herald, as the next missive is jubilant in the news that her love indeed lives. Her tears are joyful now, but that does not mean she will not have words when their beloved Inquisitor returns.

Mod Fereldone

#dragon age inquisition #cassandra pentaghast #varric tethras #solas #warden blackwall #dorian pavus #the iron bull #romance #adamant fortress #gray warden

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thewriterg · 7 months

Text

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

pairing(s); jake sully x fem!navi!reader, neytiri tskaha mo'at'ite x fem!navi!reader

summary; it was a mistake they didn’t mean for it to happen at least not without you —angstober day; 20—

word count; 650+

warning(s); angst, death of an animal, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @helicarrier— I can’t believe its already the 20th

“Ma Y/n! Yawne wait” Neytiri called out to you as you climbed down from the spirit tree your tail that was once filled with with a passionate sway now lies limp behind you the grass and leaves crunching after you tears blurring your doe eyes with a frown etched deep on your face your feet carrying you somewhere they the weren’t

Somewhere you could be free

Before you know it there’s a restraint on your thin deep blue cauda and you turned to face Jake his five fingered hand wrapped around its end your hand inches way above his at the base and a hiss resting against your lips the sky walker put his hands up in surrender taking a small steps to approach you like a wild animal deep in the forest

“I trusted you, I trusted you!” Sniffling erupted your speech now and both of them fought the urge to look away from your hurt features ears falling flat against the temples of their navy skin warm tears running down Neytiris face

“Trust us now” Jake pleaded his voice calm and settled while yours was scratchy and rubbed raw shaking your head in denial turning down the deal without giving it a thought because you truly didn’t need to

“I should not put my faith into a occupied pair… who are mated before Eywa” You whispered and the na’vi whimpered at the cold words tumbling out your mouth as you turn your back to face the trees accepting their embrace a slight wind rustling through the branches and when you went to move forward you heard movement from behind

“Do not follow me, I hope you can respect that much” You murmured before walking deep off into the forest before Jake holds Neytiri in his lanky, slim, hold her tears falling off her face and onto his bare chest broken promises to get you back to them promises he knew he might not have been able to keep

It was a heart of the moment situation even though it shouldn’t have been especially after restless nights of studying for you to be together… for you to all be bonded together and you were close the na’vis cursed at themselves because god you were close, so goddamn close

But they had formed their own kuru and it was a done deal

The two were heading back to the village a slow drag in their steps when they heard a scream, your scream. You were one of the best warriors in the village and usually called out with a chur and whistle for battle this time it was a scream that shook the leaves and echoed off the face of the forest Neytiri was faster than Jake moving through the forest with ease and determination while the sky walker set a decent pace behind her and it felt like forever until the came to a stop your back was still faced towards them your shoulders hunched and your bow lying beside you

The pair took careful steps to you and Jake finally saw your irkran lied out against the floor it’s eyes wide and open yet lifeless as you sobbed hand rubbing over its snout a hand over her stomach and Neytitri dropped next you an arm draping over your shoulder frowning heaving at the sight while you screamed in agony

“She waited too many breeding cycles to have the calf, the clan was so happy for her” You sniffled rubbing a hand over her plump stomach and Jake finally settled on his knees next to you putting his forehead against yours and it was soothing for a while until you finally shot up flinging their limbs off you

“What is this great mother, WHAT IS THIS!?” Your screaming was your most sacred possession Ewya granted you the gift herself

Oh my gosh a cliffhanger 🙀

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

Text

The Flip Side Part 1

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~9.7k

Summary: Your motivation to continue working as a mobster in Chicago is dwindling after the birth of your daughter.

A/N: Here it is. The basically flipped script where Y/n is a mob boss and Wanda’s our adorable, lovable civilian. Overall this story has darker themes than the first one. There are a lot of references to alcoholism, violence, death, and past physical/emotional abuse. I’ll put warnings for each part, but if any of this makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read!

Warnings: angst, references to alcoholism, suggestive content, domestic fluff (assume the first two will always be present unless stated otherwise)

The sound of Wanda’s screams reverberating off of the walls made you feel like you were crawling out of your skin. You hated to hear her sound so in pain, and knowing that she truly was made it even worse. You’d spent months, maybe longer trying to mentally prepare yourself for this day, and you truly never got to the point where you felt like you were ready. It was near agony having to just sit and watch and wait as Wanda did all of the work to bring your daughter into the world.

You and Wanda had wanted to have a baby since the day you got married. Honestly Wanda had wanted one earlier than that. She had always wanted to be a mom, and even though the foster dogs that ran around the penthouse counted as children, she wanted a baby. You’d been on board with the idea, but of course you couldn’t commit to it right then and there. A lot of preparation was required before you could feel ready to have a child. You needed to be at least a little more stable at work, and this was honestly the most time-consuming part of it all. Wanda had understood and you’d slowly done what was necessary to make sure you weren’t so front and center. You’d delegated until you felt like everything was out of your hands and you had very little control over it, but nearly three years later the day had arrived.

The equally important part of preparing for a baby that you conveniently had forgotten was arguably the most important. As you held your wife’s hand and tried to soothe her through labor, you realized that you hadn’t given being a parent more than the occasional thought. You knew that Wanda was over the moon and she was dying to meet your baby, but you were still a little nervous. You wanted this too, you hadn’t just agreed to make Wanda happy, but you’d forgotten how much pressure you would be putting on yourself by having a child with Wanda.

You feared every day that something would happen to her because of what you did, and you did everything you could to make sure she was safe. You had her tailed wherever she went, and you had gotten her to agree to being tracked in the least invasive way possible. You knew that Wanda tolerated it because she loved you, but you couldn’t help but want to put her and this baby on lockdown until the unforeseeable future. The idea of bringing your daughter into a world where she’s already at risk because of your less than legal occupation was terrifying. However, you’d agreed to this and now it was up to you to do your part and make things as safe as possible for your family.

“Y/n!”

You jerk away from whoever rudely shoved you awake, and you’re quickly reaching for your gun before you can stop yourself. You see Bucky out of the corner of your eye holding up his hands in surrender as he shoots you a look.

“Woah, it’s just me! Don’t shoot unless you want to drive yourself home.”

You frown as his words register and your hand drops from your hip as you sigh in exhaustion. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep here. You were supposed to be finishing up work before leaving on time to make it to dinner with your wife and child. It was mostly with your wife, but your now-6-month-old would be there, and you’re sure that Pietro would be as well.

You only take a second to wonder why you’d dream about Natalya’s birth of all things before you climb to your feet. You look around lazily for your phone and keys, and you curse when you see the missed calls from Wanda.

“She asked me to check up on you. You told her you’d be home earlier.”

You can’t help but groan in annoyance at yourself as you nod and follow Bucky out of the room. You had been swamped at work as usual, and as soon as you’d come back from an exhausting meeting this afternoon, you’d fallen asleep at your desk. You only cast a cursory glance at the mess you’re leaving before patting your friend on the back with a smile.

“Wanda’s cooking my favorite tonight. Do you want to join us?”

You have a feeling you know what his answer will be, but you wait until he tells you for certain that he’ll be busy tonight. You nod in understanding before following the brunette to your car. You sigh heavily as you get into the passenger seat and you close your eyes as you wait for Bucky to join you. He does quickly but he doesn’t start the car immediately as he turns to you with a frown.

You’d been really tired recently, and more so than when Natalya was born. Those first few months had been tough. You’d been sleep-deprived and as a result moodier than usual which wasn’t good for anyone. You’d wanted to drink more during this time than you had in the past 5 years, but you held off and tried to just find as much joy in having a young child at home as possible. Wanda had managed it a little better because she was able to take off work completely since she owned her restaurant, and she dedicated herself to her baby 24/7 for nearly 5 months. It wasn’t until recently that she started to talk about returning to work even if just part-time as Natalya got older.

Since your daughter had started sleeping a little longer at night, you’d recently had the luxury of sleeping through most nights. Despite having the nursery right down the hall, and enough baby monitors to start a store of your own, you’d been able to get more sleep recently now that Natalya’s gotten older.

So Bucky wasn’t sure what was going on with you. He hoped that you were just adjusting to everything still, or trying to figure out how to deal with the latest fire at work.

For the past 10 years, you’d been the head of one of Chicago’s oldest mobs. Your rise to power had been a treacherous one that included 2 assassination attempts, and multiple trips to the hospital as you tried to establish a name for yourself among a sea of misogynistic criminals. After being thrown to the wolves and proving your worth, you’d continued to build your wealth and reputation as you expanded your reach throughout the city. It had been the most difficult thing you’d ever done, and the stress alone had surely taken years off your life.

However, when you started drinking barely a few months into your reign, things became ugly quickly. You’d already learned to overcompensate for the fact that you were a woman by being more ruthless than your male counterparts. You’d killed too many people to count by the time you turned 23, and you’d turned to drinking and briefly drugs to deal with the stress and guilt that you brought upon yourself by staying with the mob.

You’d somehow made friends still, and they became loyal and eventually cared about you enough to try and help you beyond their loosely defined job requirements. You’d refused rehab and tried to handle things yourself, and that went about as poorly as it could have. You ended up in the hospital sick, and you’d eventually given up and started drinking again.

A few months later Pietro came to you asking for a job, and since you had a need for more employees and he looked strong enough you’d given him one. It wasn’t until you met his sister months later that you regretted this.

“Are you alright?”

You turn to Bucky in surprise, not realizing that you haven’t left yet as you drifted off. You shake your head before realizing what his question was, and quickly nodding instead.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just tired…and hungry.”

Bucky smiles and accepts this answer for now as he starts the car up to get you home. You own a number of properties around the city that you’ve either been gifted or overtaken by force that you utilized on a daily basis. One of these included a modern high rise apartment building that you lived in with Wanda and your daughter. There were an obscene number of floors, 42 you think, and the very top is where your penthouse sits. You and Wanda moved there shortly after getting married, and it’s since been renovated and re-renovated before its final modification right before your baby arrived.

You had way too many rooms for any three people to use, and honestly a good number of them were for your dogs.

When you first met Wanda, you had two German Shepherds that had been given to you by a business partner. It was the first time someone had given you a living thing, well at least that you accepted, and you couldn’t help but be wary. They’d been puppies at the time and they were now both close to 10 and they spent most of their days lounging around the penthouse or very occasionally going to the exercise room you had built for them. Given the fact that you were so high up and dreaded the idea of taking your dogs out multiple times a day, you’d had the rooftop outfitted with an area where the dogs could do their business and have it cleaned regularly by someone else.

Most of the rooftop you’d kept for yourself and Wanda to enjoy whenever the urge struck. However, given how busy you were and the fact that Wanda spent every waking minute with your daughter, trips to the roof were going to be far and in-between for a while.

When Bucky leaves you to probably continue working for a bit, you step into the private elevator that will take you up to your home. You slouch against the wall as you watch yourself go up and up through the large window across from you. You’d flirted with the idea of making it completely glass, but you honestly weren’t a fan of heights. Usually you had someone to talk to and distract you from slight nausea or at least a phone in your hand so you could studiously ignore it. Today, you had neither because you couldn’t muster the energy to take out your phone, so you just stared blankly at the brief view of city lights and the darkening sky.

When the elevator dings signaling that you’ve finished your journey, you stand up straight and put on a smile for your wife who hopefully won’t be too upset with you.

“You’re late.”

You walk into your 6-bedroom 9-bath penthouse and immediately sigh in relief. You’re such an introvert that the mere act of walking into your house recharges your social battery, at least a little bit. You walk down the short hallway that leads to the kitchen and living room, and you’re not surprised to see your wife cooking in the kitchen while your brother-in-law’s in the living room with your daughter. You smile at the sight of them before you go to greet your wife first.

“I know, I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

You don’t give Wanda much time to respond before you pull her in for a hug as you kiss her. You hear and ignore Pietro’s disgusted noise as you take a moment to look at your wife closely. She’s wearing comfortable clothing and her hair is thrown up into a ponytail as she cooks. Her face is bare of makeup, but she’s still the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. You kiss her cheek again before giving her one last squeeze as you look to the dinner she’s made.

“Thank you for making my favorite.”

Wanda’s gaze darts to where her brother’s holding her daughter up in the air while making strange noises before she looks to you with a small smile.

Wanda offers a slightly pained smile as you squeeze her tightly, but you’re quick to notice and can’t help but frown. You loosen your hold on her before looking for any obvious injury that you might have missed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine. I’m just a little sore.”

You frown before humming in understanding. Wanda had just stopped breastfeeding a little while ago, and despite starting Natalya on formula and somewhat solid food at this point, she still hadn’t dried up. You’ve read a lot about it and Wanda’s spoken with her doctor, but it sounds like it could be a while before she stops producing and therefore stops being so sore. They were told that if it’s longer than a week, she could be started on some medication to stop it.

“I’m sorry, love. Is there anything I can do?”

Wanda smiles at you but mutters a ‘later’ under her breath as she looks back to her brother. You nod with a smirk before you kiss her cheek once more as you head to the living room to greet the rest of your family.

“Hi there, Little Nat. How was your day?”

Despite not spewing more than a few short sounds that vaguely resemble words, you still talk to your daughter as if she understands you. It’s hard not to when you talk to your dogs the same way, but apparently it was encouraged. Pietro lowers your baby so you can take her into your arms and kiss her forehead. You smile wider when she laughs happily as you squish her belly and start to tickle her. You bounce her on your lap, content to just hold her as you turn to your brother-in-law.

“Pietro. I hope she was good for you today.”

Pietro Maximoff, your wife’s twin, was the one you’d met first all those years ago. He’d been desperate for money, and a little reckless but you’d seen potential in him. You’d had him assigned as your security detail to see what he was capable of, but he never got beyond that. Despite liking him well enough and trusting him to be loyal, you’d quickly decided that he wasn’t going to be working for you once you met his sister.

You remember that night like it had happened just the other day. You’d been ridiculously stressed about a deal that was falling through, and you’d had plans to blow off some steam. You’d called on Pietro because he was going to escort you to the party, but once you realized that he’d been followed you had a change of heart.

You still occasionally apologized to Wanda for trying to shoot her at your first meeting, but you both know that this night changed your lives for the better. You’d immediately been drawn to her and in a few short weeks you were dating, and Pietro was fired.

He held it against you for a while, but at this point you were pretty sure he was glad to be out of the mob. He certainly saw the hours you worked and how it drained the life from you, but he was your brother-in-law, and he made it his job to give you a hard time every now and then.

“She was an angel. Even as she threw her grapes around.”

You sigh at the thought of this and how Nat’s not been doing a great job during her transition to solid food. Well, she was doing fine you supposed since she was eating more than she was throwing, but it was more of a game right now to her and she mostly drank her formula and picked at the fruits and vegetables she liked. Apparently, grapes were not on that list. You nod before asking the follow up question that you are reminded of as you hear the sounds of dog collars clinking down the hall.

“Did any of the fur creatures clean up after her?”

Pietro just laughs before he shakes his head and looks to the new arrivals that finally realized you were home. You smile at the two in front, your jack Russell mixes who hurry over to you with little yips. You reach out to pet their scruffy coats before kissing their heads as they jump up on you.

“Hello Rudy. Milo. How are you?”

The duo just pants happily before sniffing Nat and walking away. They aren’t super interested in her which is good and bad, but you’ll just have to keep a close eye on them like the vet and pediatrician said. The next dogs that come up are your two old shepherds that you swear are walking slower every day. You smile lovingly at them before you silently ask Pietro to take your daughter so you can greet the larger dogs.

Boone and Rogue were your 10-year-olds who you’d had since they were barely a pound. You loved them dearly and watching them grow older broke your heart. You remember the days where they’d follow you around as you worked, intimidating people and keeping you company. They’d saved your ass a few times when you were outnumbered and having to retire them a couple of years ago felt like the end of an era. You didn’t replace them because you didn’t need to at this point, but you made sure that they would be comfortable and happy staying in the penthouse for the rest of their days.

They had access to almost all of the rooms and they could go out on the roof whenever they wanted to sun, but most of the time they just slept. You scratch the pair and kiss both of their heads with a sigh. You let them greet their human sibling with a sniff or two before you get to your feet with a groan.

“Dinner time?”

You meant for you, but you felt bad when the dogs perked up excitedly at the prospect of food. After confirming that Wanda had taken care of feeding them, you only give them a little extra before setting the table and helping Wanda finish up in the kitchen. You can tell that she’s tired which isn’t new, but she’s also being quieter than you’re used to. You worry that something’s on her mind, and she just doesn’t want to talk about it with her brother here.

You of course insist he stays for dinner because he’s already here and he does so much for the two of you. Since Nat was born, he’d stopped working and was around for whatever was needed. He helped his sister take care of Little Nat while you were at work, and when your wife had run by the restaurant to check in, he’d stay to supervise. You wondered if he’d stay here full-time once Wanda went back to work, but that was something you could figure out later.

“I went by the restaurant today.”

You look up from your plate as Wanda says this and you smile when you see how happy she looks. She loved that place and you swore that as soon as she was old enough, Natalya was going to learn to cook there. It would become her new home away from home if Wanda had anything to say about it. As exciting as this sounds, for now, you focus on the present as Wanda tells you about how everyone is doing in her absence.

“Stella says that the new kids are doing well, and there haven’t been any fires since that first time.”

You smile at this for two reasons. One because when Wanda says ‘kids’, she really means anyone younger than her. The brunette isn’t anywhere close to old, but you swear that once she passed 30, she just started calling anyone younger than her ‘kids’. The two 21- and 24-year-olds that she’s talking about were hired just before she went on maternity leave. They were going to help in the kitchen and Wanda had taken a week to run them through all of the items on the menu until they knew how to make each one. They’d done a fantastic job and Wanda was going to keep them on even as she slowly started working again.

You’re glad to hear that she’s happy with how things are going at the restaurant and you’re about to say this when Pietro speaks up. You look to where he’s trying to feed Nat with a spoon, but she’s more interested in looking at what’s on the floor around her high chair.

“And how’s Bridget doing?”

Both you and your wife roll your eyes in unison at the predictable question. Pietro, despite being freer than either of them, hasn’t made an appearance at the restaurant for a while. He’d had a slightly awkward breakup with one of the hostesses that worked there and he’d been avoiding it like the plague. Wanda was annoyed because she’d warned him not to get involved with someone she worked with, but he hadn’t listened. He’d found it difficult to say no to this redhead’s…charms.

“I was very nice to her sestra. Just ask.”

“She wasn’t there today, and even if she was, I wouldn’t tell you. You weren’t very nice to her.”

You just watch in amusement as you wife chastises her brother about his failed relationship. It had honestly ended amicably, but it hadn’t lasted long because Pietro hadn’t been looking for something serious, and Bridget had wanted to settle down. Luckily, work wasn’t awkward for anyone and it only got a little dicey if Pietro showed up and tried to show off in one way or another.

The two start to argue in their native language and you just smiled as you picked up bits and pieces of it. Wanda wasn’t being very complimentary of her brother, and if you weren’t mistaken Pietro was being lewd. As usual. You sigh as you abandon your mostly finished dinner and get up so you can try and feed your daughter. Pietro’s mostly given up at this point, but you sit down beside her with a smile before picking up a clean spoon.

“Hi little one. This food tastes better than what’s on the ground. I promise.”

You scoop a little spoonful of it out of the bowl and hold it up to Natalya. She looks at you with a smile, but makes no move to try to eat, so you move to another tactic. You start to move the spoon around in an aimless pattern, pretending like you’re flying a plane and although it gets your daughter’s attention she’s still not interested in eating. You eventually give up and boop her on the nose before reaching out to try and clean her shirt. You’ll never admit this out loud, but she reminds you of yourself when she eats. She’s so enthusiastic that she sometimes gets more of it on her than in her mouth. At least she has the excuse of being a baby. You’re just guilty of being overzealous.

You don’t realize that the twins are done arguing and have switched to watching you try to tempt Nat into eating. After cleaning up the mess Nat made, you move her food aside before handing her one of her toys that was out of reach. You let her chew on it because it was sanitized right before dinner and you smile as she laughs happily between gumming the rubber ring.

“You’re such a cutie.”

You’re back in your seat and intent on finishing dinner when you realize that Wanda and Pietro are just watching you. You shoot them curious looks but Wanda just smiles before she takes a sip of her water with a shake of her head.

“Nothing, detka. You two are just cute.”

You sigh inaudibly at this but don’t argue even when Pietro looks at you with a smug smile. You focus on finishing your dinner as conversation about the restaurant continues. Pietro is the one who asks if Wanda will be returning soon, and she says that over the next two weeks she plans to go in a couple more times. You two had briefly talked about this but you hadn’t realized she’d made a decision until now. You’re glad that she’s not trying to rush things because although you know that she loves her work, you selfishly want her hidden away in the safety of your home.

While Wanda’s been with you, both before and after getting married, there are only been a few instances when someone has tried to come after her. It was on days where you were out late working, or you had a sudden change of plans. They hadn’t gotten too close either time, but even someone stalking Wanda was too close for you. These incidents are partially why you’d moved here and tried to make it as secure as possible. You knew short of building yourself and fortress that you demanded she stay in 24/7, there was no way to guarantee her safety. You just did your best by putting your best people by her side and making sure that you had multiple ways of tracking and communicating with her if necessary.

Your wife was very tolerant of all of this because she’d seen first-hand what happens to people who try to hurt someone you love. Although she knows it’s necessary to keep her safe, she wants to do everything she can to spare you from having to kill someone. It’s one of the many downsides of your job, and probably her least favorite, but asserting your authority by eliminating threats is something that you have to do often. She never wants to know how much time you spend a day torturing or killing people, but she can always tell when you come home at night how difficult your day was.

Whether you don’t bother to take off your jacket and shoes, or you look like you’d seen a ghost, she can tell that your work had been particularly rough on you.

She wonders how long you’ll want to do this, and if you have a backup plan for your next chapter. She knows that 10 years is a long time to be in something, and you can’t just leave it. Even if it was something else, like a desk job, she’s sure you’d have to plan your next step and take some time before making any changes. She’s not naïve enough to think that even if you wanted to leave, if you decided to, it would be easy. She’d seen you as you tried to take a step back from it all while she was trying to get pregnant. It had taken a toll on you and she still sometimes sees that you’re facing the backlash of your difficult decisions.

As much as she wanted to have this baby with you, she didn’t want the decision to make things more difficult for you.

Her desire to make your life as easy as possible is why she’s only going to go to the restaurant occasionally for the next month before steadily increasing her shifts until she’s working full time again. She knows that Pietro would be willing to watch Natalya until she was old enough for school, but she wanted him to go back to work too if he wanted it.

He’d started working with your friend Tony a few years ago, and despite not understanding the ins and outs of the technology he worked with, he enjoyed learning and getting to spend time with someone who was more similar to him than a 6-month-old was. This was a conversation for later though because as dinner finished up, Wanda realizes that you’re fading fast. You’d had a long day and you could probably sleep right now, despite your nap earlier. After exchanging a look with her brother, Wanda gets up and starts to clear the table.

“Oh no, wait. I’ll do it.”

The rule is that whoever cooks doesn’t clean, and this is something that you’ve stuck to even on your worst days. You actually didn’t mind cleaning because it was a very mindless, almost cathartic activity. Wanda smiles at you before she takes the stack of plates she has toward the kitchen.

“I know, I’m just bringing them to the kitchen for you while you get Natalya’s dishes.”

You obediently stand up and stack the tiny bowls and spoons before grabbing your daughter with your free hand. You hold her on your hip as you lead her to the kitchen to see the mess that you get to clean.

“Look Nat! Look at all the food, Mommy made. She’s going to teach you how to cook this as soon as you can hold your own spoon.”

Wanda rolls her eyes as she sets the dishes down by the sink, but she doesn’t deny it as she swoops in and steals her daughter. You smile and watch as she takes the baby into the living room. She leaves you to your dishes and Pietro returns from letting the dogs back in now that dinner’s over before settling on the couch.

“Come here, milaya. Let’s go play.”

You’re putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher when your phone rings from where you left it on the counter. You jump slightly at the jarring sound and you sigh as you dry your hands off before reaching for it. You don’t notice Wanda’s frown or Pietro’s look as you answer Bucky’s call with a sigh.

“Hey, Bucky. What’s up?”

You close the dishwasher and set the two pots that Wanda used aside to dry as you hold your phone to your ear. You listen to your friend tell you about what you’re hoping doesn’t ruin the rest of your night. Right before leaving ‘the office’ you’d made sure that everything was set for the hit that you had planned tonight against yet another politician that was trying to interfere with your business. He was trying to get legislation passed that would crack down on drugs in the city, and not only could that potentially ruin you but it would drive the prices of everything through the roof. You didn’t want to deal with that and you honestly didn’t mind taking this route to get ahead of the problem. When reading about the target you’d found that he wasn’t the most upstanding guy, and very few people except maybe his mistress and their kid would miss him.

“What do you mean he can’t make it? Did he double book himself?”

You try to keep your voice down and your anger under wraps as Bucky tells you about the flaky hitman you’d talked to about an hour ago. Apparently, he wasn’t available anymore and not only did that make him the newest addition to your list, but it left you in an awkward position. You weren’t sure who you could find to take his place so last minute. Glancing at the clock on the oven you realize that it was less than an hour before the hit was supposed to take place. You groan under your breath as you consider your options before you ask Bucky what he’d do.

Bucky has been your friend for a long time and you’d worked together for almost the entire time. You know that he always has a plan D while you occasionally get stuck on plan C. In this case, you want to hear what he thinks the best course of action is for this. You’d already had everything in place. His $300k, his spot on the guest list, and a getaway car were all waiting for him. Now, he’d be lucky if he sees tomorrow.

“What do you think, Bucky?”

You wait as your friend tells you exactly what you’d been thinking, but been reluctant to agree to. Not only was it risky, but it was going to cost you a lot more money that you didn’t currently have to throw around. You’d have to talk to Yelena to see if she could move her collection day up to tomorrow instead of later this week. That said, you didn’t expect to be able to cover this bill with that alone. You resist the urge to knock something off the counter top as Bucky gives you the bad news.

“Nat could do it, but you know her fee and I think she’s busy with a deal of her own at the moment.”

You head over to the fridge to look for something you know you won’t find before you take a deep breath. You know Nat is busy, she’s working on getting you drugs that you’d been promised last week. You couldn’t take her from that right now, not if you wanted to pay your employees on time. You reach for the leftover cake from Natalya’s half-year birthday and set it on the counter. You make the mistake of glancing up to see if your wife and Pietro were paying attention to you.

They’re watching you with very different expressions that make you feel equally ashamed and frustrated. Pietro’s eyeing you suspiciously because even after everything you’d done to get better, to prove to him and yourself that you’re doing better, he can’t completely trust you. You suppose you can’t blame him. You want to credit his reluctance to his brotherly duty to keep Wanda’s best interests in mind. He doesn’t want her hurt again, especially now that you have Natalya to take care of, and you don’t think he’ll ever forget how much you hurt her.

Whether intentional or not, a lot of the first year of your relationship had been hell for Wanda. You’d still been drinking and you had no control over your temper. You’d been acting so impulsively and recklessly for years that it had been difficult to just shut it off because of Wanda’s presence in your life. She’d suffered the consequences of your late nights, your random disappearances and your benders, but she’d still stayed. A lot had to happen for her to stick with you, but she did it and the idea of putting her through anything like that again wasn’t acceptable to Pietro in the least.

Wanda watches you with a worried frown as she tries to keep her baby from squirming in her arms. She knows it’s a work call because no one else would reach out at this time, and seeing how you tense and sound angry almost immediately, she realizes this isn’t good news. She waits to see what you decide and she would be lying if she said she’s not saying a little prayer that you don’t leave her tonight to do who knows what.

“She can’t miss that; we need the money.”

You bite your lip as you consider plan C. It’s not great, and you hate that you’re even considering it, but you’re running low on time. You grab a fork and start to eat the cake in front of you mindlessly. You’re not even hungry, but you need to do something with your hands that isn’t punching a hole in the wall.

“What about Steve?”

Steve had been part of your security detail early on because of a few reasons. The first was his experience. He’d been in the military before coming to Chicago, and he was a real asset that you’d been grateful to have. You’d met him and Bucky at the same time, and despite his intimidating stature, he was a kind and dependable friend that you trusted with your life. The other reason he was with you was because he was a crack shot. On the rare occasion that he wasn’t busy or watching over your wife which was the primary task you’d given him, he would help you with loose ends. If the situation called for it, much like tonight’s did, he’d off someone for you. He did it for free even if you ended up paying him anyway for his trouble, but he was one of the most efficient people in your employ.

The only issue with having him do something like this for you was that he was easily recognized at this point. Despite his best efforts and yours to keep him incognito, it was impossible for him to go completely undetected, and people knew what he looked like now. He was recognized by many, and only kept out of jail because of a deal you had with a corrupt judge. You’d negotiated his freedom upon certain terms, and these included not letting him commit crimes, especially murder.

You don’t know what to do. Short of going after Jacobs yourself, you aren’t sure who you can ask to infiltrate the party that starts in 20 minutes and get in and out without being caught.

Bucky is on the same page as you and he sighs deeply as he decides on what to do. He had a couple of things he needed to finish up tonight, but those could wait for a bit. He was privy to the original plan and he was less recognizable than Steve, so he could give it a shot.

“I’ll do it.”

You’re shaking your head as you drop your fork and give up trying to distract yourself. You walk out of the kitchen without a word and step into the closest room with a door. You take a deep breath as you look into the mirror in front of you and cringe at your appearance. You look like shit which is honestly not a surprise considering how shitty you feel. You’re tired, anxious, and now sick to your stomach as you realize what you have to do. You’re not going to let Bucky off the hook completely, but you don’t want him going after Jacobs tonight. It’s not worth the risk, and you’d like to know more about why this happened in the first place. It couldn’t be because someone was so bold that they thought they could change their minds and refuse you. The mere thought makes you want to scream, but you just take another deep breath before finally responding.

“No, Buck. We’ll just wait on it. For now, I’d like you to find Logan for me and keep him somewhere safe until I can see him. I have a few questions.”

Bucky agrees to have this done by morning and you hang up with a disappointed sigh. This is just not your day.

“Y/n, are you okay in there?”

You turn at the sound of your wife’s voice and you nearly curse yourself again for being so broody. You are certain she’s a little on edge because she always is when it comes to your business. She hated when you brought work home, honestly you both did, but sometimes you couldn’t help it. The last time it happened you’d had to leave in the wee hours and not only did Wanda hate having you leave her, but she knew that whatever got you out of bed at this time wasn’t anything good. She’d learned during your time together that delegation was a double-edged sword. It freed you up to do other more important things, like be home with her while staying out of danger, but it also made your anxiety near unbearable depending on what the problem was.

Wanda had learned how to help you manage this through the years of therapy you’d had. She’d helped you avoid replacing one bad habit with another, and encouraging you to focus on something positive is what she was attempting to do now.

You open the door to the bathroom to see Wanda standing there with Nat in her arms. Your daughter was smiling widely as she swatted Wanda’s hair with her grabby hands. You couldn’t help but smile and you reached out for her with a sigh. You kissed her face a few times until she giggled before turning your attention to your wife with a shake of your head.

“No everything’s going to hell, but it will work itself out.”

Wanda is surprised by how relaxed you sound, or rather resigned. She would have thought you’d start cursing and threaten to murder someone, but instead the majority of your focus is on your daughter who despite enjoying herself is starting to get sleepy. You kiss her forehead one more time before you start heading for her bedroom.

“Is it bedtime little one?”

Wanda follows behind you as you head back through the living room to get to Natalya’s nursery. Pietro’s still sitting in the living room but when he sees you, he stands up before looking to his sister. You don’t bother worrying about what they’re deciding as you stop just long enough to see what your brother-in-law’s plans are.

“Thank you again for today. I’m going to put this one to bed.”

Pietro only hesitates for a second before Wanda nods and he decides that he can leave. He, just like Bucky and Steve, lives on the floor just beneath them so they’re nearby if needed. Not to mention they live rent free. Pietro hugs his sister before telling her to call her if she needs anything before he leaves for his own apartment. He’ll be back tomorrow depending on if his sister goes to work, but for now he can tell she’s only worried about her wife.

“What story do you want to read tonight, Little Nat?”

Although she’s too young to understand what you’ll read, just the act of talking to her is good practice for her later months. You also like to tell yourself that hearing your voice will help her recognize you even if you’re gone often. You feel bad that you’re not very present, but you’re trying to do better, and you’ll be damned if you’re here for a bedtime and you don’t tell Nat a story.

You set her down and give her a moment to settle in her crib before you start to look through her books. They’re mostly picked out for when she’s older, closer to 1.5 or 2 years old, but you love these stories and want your daughter to know them. You start to grab the Yertle the Turtle book when Wanda steps in and sits beside you with a smile.

“You read that one two nights ago, detka. I think she’ll have it memorized soon.”

You smile widely at the thought and you go to open the book anyway before you look to your wife with a thoughtful hum.

“What would you have me read instead, Wands? Maybe the scary wolf book, or the sad fish who lost his scales?”

Wanda knows you like those books, but she forgoes the ‘traumatic’ books for one that might be your all-time favorite. She skims the bookshelf before finding it in the exact same place as last time. She pulls it out and hands it to you with a shrug.

“What about the one with all of the colorful animals.”

You can’t help but look interested in this one and you only hesitate for a second before exchanging your book for Wanda’s. You kiss her briefly in thanks before clearing your throat and opening the book. It isn’t until you check to see if your daughter is paying attention, that you realize that she’s already asleep. You chuckle under your breath before you close the book and set it aside with a sigh.

“Maybe tomorrow then.”

Wanda follows you to your bedroom once you make sure that Nat is truly asleep and good for you to leave alone. You make sure that your dogs are in their section of the penthouse before leading your tired wife to the bedroom. You know you’re going to have to talk about Bucky’s phone call, but for now you’d like to jump in the shower and rid yourself of today. When Wanda realizes what your intentions are she takes the baby monitor on the bedside table and holds it as you get changed.

“Would you like some company?”

Wanda rarely needs to ask, but you nod regardless as you shed your clothes and head into the bathroom with your wife on your heels. You let her get the monitor situated while you start the shower and get the hot water running. You sigh before you make sure that your wife is all set before reaching out for her. She shoots you a confused look, but you just bend slightly at the waist before asking dramatically.

“All ready, milady?”

Wanda rolls her eyes, but she takes your offered hand and lets you lead her into the shower. You adjust the water when you realize it’s too hot before letting Wanda lead the way and shutting the door behind her. You sigh in relief as the hot water sprays your sore muscles, and you shift slightly so you’re completely under the shower head. You open your eyes to see Wanda’s watching you as she reaches for the body wash, and you smile in anticipation as you hold out your hands.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

The brunette smiles as you start to lather her arms before carefully moving to her sore breasts. She groans before nodding slightly as she runs a hand through her wet hair with a smile. She hinted earlier that a massage might help, but she’d actually started earlier when you were on the phone and you can’t help but laugh at the image.

“I’m sure Pietro loved that.”

She slaps you playfully before emptying more of the sweet-smelling wash into her own hands so she can start to clean you up. She can tell you’re incredibly tense, and she wants to try and remedy this now if you’ll let her.

“He studiously ignored me and focused on Natalya.”

You smile widely at the thought of Pietro being such a good brother. You sigh once again as Wanda starts to squeeze your biceps as she runs her hands down your arms. You let your eyes fall closed as you let Wanda work her magic. You relax quickly and you have to remember to keep yourself standing upright as you feel the urge to lie down overtake you. Wanda has given you dozens of massages over the years, and it really was the only thing that could calm you down when you were stressed. Well, the only thing you were allowed to have. However, you realize that unfortunately as you get clean and calmer by the minute, this leaves you unprepared for what your wife asks you next.

“What did Bucky tell you earlier?”

You hesitate to answer and you contemplate pretending like you didn’t hear her, but the gentle squeeze she gives your side when a few seconds have passed in silence make this option less appealing. You sigh heavily as you think about your call with Bucky and how this was going to be a pain in the ass to replan. You don’t want to worry about this now. You just want to enjoy your time with your wife, but Wanda is asking you for something. You open your eyes and look down slightly at your wife who’s shooting you a curious look. You can tell that she’s worried and you feel badly about this, but there’s not much you can do about that other than reassure her that everything is fine. At least it’s not worse than it usual is.

“Something I had planned fell through and it’s going to be a bitch to reschedule.”

This was the most detail you would give Wanda, and you knew that she preferred it that way. She’d learned the extent of what you did only hours after meeting you. She remembers Google searching you and learning about all of the atrocities you’d committed and being afraid for her brother. He’d been working with you at the time, and she had correctly concluded that being anywhere near you put a target on him that Wanda was not happy about.

Once you started to care about what Wanda wanted, you made sure to fix this by firing him. He’d been mad at you, but making Wanda happy had overshadowed this and paved the way for you two to start dating.

Now not much has changed since Wanda first learned about what you did. The basics were the same. It was illegal and dangerous both physically and financially. You gambled a lot given how you trusted numerous people to do jobs for you, and sometimes they disappointed and you lost out. When things like that happened it was usually money you lost, but tonight you’d probably lost more than that depending on how successful Bucky ends up being.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s the only thing that Wanda can really say in response. She doesn’t ask for details. She certainly doesn’t want to know who you’d planned on killing tonight, so she offers you the only consolation she can. Once you’re both clean, you head back into the bedroom wrapped in towels as you look for your change of clothes. Wanda throws on a long t-shirt and you find a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before you slide under the covers.

“I’m so ready to sleep.”

You practically moan as you lie down on your very comfortable mattress and wait patiently for your wife to join you. As you look up at her, your gaze travels down to where her shirt stops mid-thigh and you can’t help but smile as you reach out to touch. Wanda settles on the bed before grabbing your hands to kiss them with a sigh. She lies down facing you and she looks you over carefully. The circles under your eyes are darker than usual and she can see your stress lines are more prominent as well. She can’t help herself and she squeezes your hands where she holds them to her chest with a sigh.

“How are you really feeling, detka?”

You expected this question much earlier, so you’re ready for it now even though you’re seconds away from sleep. You aren’t; however, prepared to see how softly Wanda’s looking at you. She’s only inches away from you and despite considering that she might think you’re buying your time, you lean forward and meet her lips for a kiss. She doesn’t respond immediately, but she doesn’t pull away so you take that as a win. You continue to kiss your wife, and your hands roam her body as you think about how to answer her.

You’re feeling as stressed as usual, but despite tonight’s hiccup you don’t think your mood is anything to worry about. You take your antidepressants and you do your best to focus on the good things in your life, like your family and friends, when you feel like lashing out at someone. You only crave a drink a couple times a week, but it’s manageable and you are still avoiding bars as much as possible.

You realize that this sounds way too rehearsed, but it honestly is just how you feel. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to relax with the job you have, and surely that’s a reason to rethink your occupation. You have a wife, and a child, you should be able to enjoy your time with them without having your mob responsibilities looming overhead.

You had to go to one last week to meet a client, and despite the fact that you just got water your nerves about this particular deal made watching him drink his Manhattan near unbearable. You’d gone home and immediately cuddled with your daughter, and if Wanda picked up on your weird behavior, she didn’t comment on it. She also didn’t comment on how you practically dragged her into bed later.

“Stress is a constant, but it’s not overwhelming.”

Wanda eventually just nods before she leans in to kiss you this time. You smile against her lips before you run your hands up under her shirt to graze her ribs. The resulting gasp makes you scoot even closer to your wife so you can tangle your legs with hers.

“I’m glad it’s not overwhelming you.”

You nod when Wanda says this and you mutter something in agreement, but your main focus is on your wife’s breasts. You are careful because she told you earlier that they were sore, but you can’t help but want to get your hands on them. Seeing how Wanda’s body changed was one of your favorite parts of her pregnancy. You’d been called a teenage boy for admitting it, but watching Wanda swell as your child grew in her made you insatiable. When the first trimester filled with sickness, cravings and poor sleep ended, you’d spent all your free time with your wife and a lot of it had been in bed. You think back on these times fondly, but you quickly return your focus to the present when your wife’s voice registers.

“Mhmm, it is.”

Wanda hisses and arches toward you slightly as you squeeze her breasts before slotting your leg between her thighs. You peek under the covers as you continue to push up your wife’s shirt and you can’t help but smile at what you see. You don’t think you’ll ever stop believing that your wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. As she lays beside you flushed and needy, you can’t help but want to spend hours appreciating the wonderful woman who gave you a beautiful, albeit sometimes exhausting daughter.

“You’re beautiful, Wands.”

You can’t help but smile as you break away from Wanda’s lips to kiss her neck. You feel her pulse quicken as you tease her heated skin with your teeth, and her grip on your arm tightens as she releases a breathy curse.

“Fuck, Y/n. You should really sleep.”

It came out as a question rather than a suggestion, but you still shake your head as you roll over so you’re hovering over your wife. She gasps again and you smile down at her as you carefully position yourself on top of her without moving your hands from her heaving chest.

“I feel great, Wands. Will you let me help you feel good?”

While that does sound appealing and the feeling of your hands on her sore breasts make her want to buck her hips, she’s hyperaware of your attention and it’s making her self-conscious. She knows that she’ll never have her pre-pregnancy body again. She’ll never be slim with a body free of stretch marks, and despite your insistence that she’s still perfect; that you don’t care about that, sometimes the voice in her head is louder than yours.

You know her well, and you can sense that her hesitation is due to her insecurity. It also helps that Wanda’s becomes tense beneath you as she squirms uncomfortably and you have to keep yourself from sighing in disappointment. Instead, you lean over to kiss your wife gently before your hands start to drift down her sides. She jumps slightly as you expected, but they keep wandering until they fall to her hips.

“I know I can say it until you’re sick of hearing me talk, but I love you so much. Do you know that?”

Wanda shifts to help you push her shirt up and off despite wanting to stay hidden. She curses when she feels lips against her breasts, and you wait until you feel her relax a little before moving down to her stomach.

“Well, I do, Wands. I love everything about you.”

Your hands squeeze her hips before you press a kiss against your wife’s tummy rolls. She’d lost most of the weight she’d been carrying with Natalya already, but she still had a little left that she’s not sure she’ll ever shed. Given how busy she is with Natalya and how exhausted she feels by the end of the day, there’s not time for any exercise. She doesn’t count running around while she takes care of her daughter, or the work out you occasionally give her in the bedroom.

Tonight’s not going to be one of those nights though because she can already tell by how tenderly you’re kissing her stretch marks, that you’re just trying to make her feel better. She feels herself relax under your touch, and after a few minutes she releases a tired sigh, and with it some of her anxieties. She reaches down to bury her hands in your hair with a smile. You look up at her from where you’ve rested your head with a smile.

“Thank you, detka. I feel better already.”

You smile wider before reaching for one of Wanda’s hands and kissing it with a questioning look. You’re nearly falling asleep as your muscles continue to ache in protest of your continued consciousness. You need to go to bed soon since you have an early morning, but you need to make sure your wife’s feeling better first. You hate that you may have stressed her out, and you want to fix it if at all possible.

“I’m glad to hear it, but is there anything else I can do to help you relax?”

Wanda smirks at you as she runs her hands through your hair carefully. You haven’t put it up yet, and she loves seeing it unkempt and wild like you are. She can see you’re fading but you’re watching her carefully and she knows that doing anything but telling you the truth will get her in trouble. She sighs as she shifts so she’s more comfortable against her pillow. Wanda meets your gaze with a teasing look that immediately makes you perk up. You’re never one to back down from a challenge.

“You can either hurry up and finish what you started, or you can come up here so we can sleep.”

You smile widely as you move up your wife’s body to kiss her deeply. She moans against your lips and is just short of pushing you away from her when you break the kiss with a sigh. You slide back down the bed before moving to sit between Wanda’s legs. You move so you’re where you need to be before teasing her with your fingers along her inner thighs.

“I’ll make it quick, baby.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #wanda x you #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #pietro maximoff #the flip side #mob au

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umbralaether · 6 months

Text

The memories come as they do every night, shadows clinging to the edges. Some were small, fleeting things— bits and pieces shuffled before him only to be snatched away. Some of them new, some of them old.

Some he'd rather never see again.

It seemed the only memories for him tonight were the latter— hot, searing pain as Cazador carves another line into his back. He grits his teeth, the agony blinding as he struggles to remain conscious. He tries to move, fight back, but the memory always stays the same; every flinch, every scream prolonging the process. It takes hours, and every time he's trapped in the nightmarish embrace he swears it will never end. When his work was complete Cazador had just left him there, blood dripping from his newly engraved flesh.

Silence, boy. You will become the piece of art I created you for.

The words echo, repeating almost every other night since he discovered what the scars on his back hid from him. He was foolish for ever thinking it was simple poetry— of course it was a piece of a ritual meant to doom him. He thought it impossible to hate Cazador any more than he already did, and yet here he was finding more and more hatred for the man who had taken everything from him.

The vision fades like a wisp of smoke, bringing forth the next one. The two targets he'd convinced into sleeping with him offered no reprieve, both preferring he remain on his back for their pleasure, even as he winced with each scrape of fabric along fresh wounds. He'd been rewarded for bringing two targets in one go, but not even a meager rat could speed along the healing. His skin cracked and bled for days; again and again, ripping and tearing and scarring until only phantoms of torment remained.

He bolts upright, gasping for air as panic rises in his chest. He looks around— this isn't his tent, this isn’t where he should be. His back hurts, the nightmare still fresh in his mind, fear seeping along the edges.

“You okay?”

Ceruli's voice is light, soft, and it pierces through the confusion. Her eyes wide with concern, she offers an upturned hand. The present comes back to him, then— the stone floors of Shar's Temple were cold, and feeding had left him wanting to stay within the comfort and warmth of her bedroll. He was growing used to staying, to trying out this new… whatever it was they had.

Can't have a good thing without a price, it seemed.

“Only as much as I can be, having my worst memories repeated on the nightly,” he takes her hand, relaxing a bit as she rubs her thumb along his knuckles, “Surely you've had your fair share, with your marvelously deranged sisters and the rest of the Underdark in your mind.”

She looks surprised, “Oh. I, uh… don't see anything when I trance. Just darkness.”

“Truly? Consider yourself lucky, then. Constant reminders of the worst days of your life are not in the least bit enjoyable.”

His back still hurts, the soft fabric of his nightshirt only making it worse. He yanks his shirt off, hoping to free himself from the discomfort but it does little to soothe. Better than the itching, at least.

“Was it about your scars again?”

He sighs, “Even awake now it feels just as it did the night he made them.”

She pauses a moment, and then, “Can I help?”

“I… don't know. What did you have in mind?”

She releases his hand and lifts hers up, a white glow dancing along her fingertips and slowly engulfing her hand, “Its not quite ice, but it helps Karlach when she's having a hot spell.”

He's not sure if it will help; after all, this pain he felt was simply all in his head. If he just pushed it aside and forgot all about it eventually it would go away, but her suggestion was tempting.

“I suppose it won't hurt to try.” He sits back slightly, “How do you want me?”

She thinks for a moment, “Are you comfortable lying face down?”

“Anything for you, darling.”

He does what she requests, resting his head on his arms as he waits for her next move. She shifts, moving closer to him.

“Ready?”

He turns his head to the side, able to just meet her gaze, “I am. Now, don't you start feeling bad if it doesn't work, I…ohhh,” He shivers as cool hands press against his back, heated tension he hadn't been aware of all but melting away with the rush of her magic.

She's seems tentative, at first; hands running along his shoulders and then upper back, squeezing gently. He groans with each tender spot her thumbs find, massaging away any resistance. It sends his mind ablaze, tingling with contentment. Though her hands are cold against him, he feels flushed from the attention. He could sit here for hours, soaking it all in— being cared for, an intimacy he was embarrassingly new at.

The sensations continue to wash over him, buzzing bone-deep and he isn't sure if any of this is even real. Surely this is some sort of fantasy he's conjured up. Her fingers dance along his scars, leaving trails of soothing chill in their wake. Wherever phantom pain persisted, she seemed to find and conquer with little effort.

“Astarion?”

In the pleasure-filled haze he realizes she's asked him something, “Yes, my lovely gem? What is it?”

“I can keep going, but without the magic. There's a limit even for me,” She laughs softly.

Already he feels the loss, bereft and unbearable. Maddening. Magic be damned, he wants more.

“Please, do keep going. This feels… nice.”

Continue she does, and come morning he's all but forgotten the nightmare.

#my writing #ship: love me tender #tav x astarion #tavstarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #bg3 astarion #oc x astarion

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lewkwoodnco · 8 months

Note

Hi I want to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with the song False God, I want it to be best friends to lovers, with the miscommunication trope. Like they were best friends and started falling for each other, and try to hide their feelings. Then then after a case they got into an argument, about Lockwood throwing himself in danger again and he kisses her, but she just gets even more confused and mad, she thinks that he only did it because he wanted to distract her from what happened, so she gets even angrier. The argument gets even more heated and they start even yelling at each other, then they stop talking to each other for days, and the reader just has enough and leaves and Anthony is heartbroken, and tries to find a way to get her back. The ending is happy. He gets her back, and they confess to each other.

I'm sorry this is very confusing. You can obviously add more things, so there is the miscommunication trope, and also, so the plot suits the song more. Thank you, you're amazing, I absolutely loved the I can see you fic, and it was everything I hoped for when I requested it.

False God - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: No worries, its not confusing at all! I'm really glad you liked the i can see you fic cuz its one of my favs too!! hope you like this one toooo :) 4k!

She groaned, shifting in her window seat, forehead fused against the window pane. It was too bright to be looking straight ahead at the glowing skyline, so she was staring down at the pavement baking in the sweltering heat. Summer was in full force, and today it took form by enveloping 35 Portland Row and every building in a five-mile radius with its heat. It was too hot to think straight, too hot to do anything but brood and stew in resentment. Even as she unseeingly looked out at the shimmering roads, all she felt was the same agony growing inside of her being reflected back into her eyes. Loving Lockwood truly was a special kind of hell.

It had been a funny sort of week. On Monday, Lockwood had used a napkin to wipe some sugar off her nose after she had bitten into one of Arif's doughnuts, and he looked just as confused as her when he realised what he was doing. On Wednesday's job, she tripped on a loose floorboard so badly that her knees buckled under her, leading to some very ungraceful stumbling in Lockwood's arms, and when she was finally able to find her feet she brushed past him, face beet red, mumbling an apology.

On Thursday, Lockwood was bandaging up a scrape on her wrist, and she had been so transfixed by his swift, confident movements that she hadn't even realised he was done until he snapped the first aid box close. Later that night, while they were scouting out a new location, his fingers drifted on the edge of her bandage occasionally, as if checking to see if it was alright. Part of her love-addled brain couldn't help but hope that he was checking if she was alright. He apologised profusely each time, stepping back in an attempt to at force at least some physical distance between them. She nodded absent-mindedly, trying to soothe the somersaults her stomach made when she felt his rapier-calloused fingers graze her palm.

So when they were dividing themselves up for Friday's case, a part of her knew it wasn't smart to team up with someone in front of whom she became a stuttering, vacant fool. It wasn't that she daydreamed about him or felt butterflies in her stomach, but there was something about him that short-circuited her systems when he got too close. But now, Lockwood looked so cool, so nonchalant. She couldn't avoid him forever. She had to work through whatever this was, and spending time with him was how she was going to do it.

"Yeah, sure, those teams sound great. Lockwood and I together works." But even as she raised her mug to take a sip, she briefly met Lockwood's gaze, and the look in his eyes triggered this sudden vision of the entire mission going up in flames. Her eyes darted away, and when she looked back, he was looking at something on the thinking cloth interestedly. She struggled to take a sip of her tea with the lump in her throat. Must have been a trick of the light. Not that it helped her get it out of her head.

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

Lucy and George were starting on the first two floors, so Lockwood and her took the elevator up to the third floor. Two floors away, they could no longer hear George and Lucy's footsteps or voices, as if they were in an entirely different building. They split up, and she was relieved for the distance between them, the chance to finally think straight for a while.

However, they weren't having much luck. She ran her fingers over the walls for what felt like the hundredth time, frowning and straining her ears. Every time she felt like she had just gotten the right focus, Lockwood would shift somewhere behind her and break her concentration.

"Quit it."

"What?"

"The shifting. I can't hear."

"What shifting?"

She pulled her ear from the wall to look at Lockwood and immediately felt her spirits dry up. Lockwood was looking at her questioningly, not far from the position she had left him in, and right behind him was a Spectre a split second away from lunging at Lockwood.

It all happened so fast; even now she wasn't quite sure how she had managed to recover her wits so quickly. She barrelled towards the ghost, fingers closing over Lockwood's bicep as she closed her eyes and thrust her rapier in front of her, hoping her blade met the visitor before she did. There was a hissing sound, and then silence. She opened her eyes to see the Spectre gone, and Lockwood looking as pale and shaken as she felt. His lips quivered, forming amorphous words, and she feared she might break down if she looked at him being vulnerable for too long.

She turned detachedly, sheathing her rapier, considering the objects around them until she found one with overwhelming psychic charge. She pulled out her iron net and draped it over the source, and the temperature went up considerably. By then, Lockwood look mostly alright, if a little nervous.

They returned to the elevator, and as the doors shuddered to a close he tilted his head towards her, coughing awkwardly, though his eyes were still fixed to the floor. "You didn't need to...foolish t-to, what you did there...erm-"

"Lockwood, shut up. I'd die for you." She hadn't meant to sound so aggressive, but it made her heart stumble erratically when she saw him sprawled on the floor, moments away from certain death. It made her want to strangle him for being so stupid, then fling her arms around him and hold him close. For so much of her life she had felt like an island, alone and desolate, and she had so little, but Lockwood would forever be something for her to keep, even if it was only all in her head.

She looked up, startled by the dark look in his eyes, rushing to get the words out, but it was a bit too late. "And Lucy. And George." Even she could hear how flimsy that sounded, echoing in the starkly lit rattling elevator. Yes, she would lay her life on the ground for them, but with Lockwood, it was just...different. Anything to do with Lockwood just had to be complicated.

"I know. But still. Thank you."

She gasped, scrambling to her feet, hand clutching the sleeve of his coat before her brain caught up to what she was doing. It was almost comical, the way she had to blink at her hand and Lockwood's face before realising what she had done. She dropped her hand immediately, straightening, but Lockwood's expression didn't change. It was a weird mix of curiosity, contemplation and what looked to be worry. So it hadn't been a trick of the light.

She inhaled, raising her chin to meet his gaze. His eyebrows raised imperceptibly and she felt the air around them shift. She blinked hesitantly, much less confident than she was a few moments ago.

They silently boarded the elevator again, which was miraculously still working, and an uneasy feeling starting to grow in the pit of her stomach. For once, neither of them had made any effort to sweep the electricity between them under the rug, so now it hung in the open, the elephant in the room. It was pure insanity - no, idiocy, to acknowledge the charged air between them. She didn't know about Lockwood, but she was having a hard enough time dealing with the urges that compelled her to run to his side at the first sign of danger.

This was new territory, and these uncharted waters frightened her so. As soon as her attention drifted elsewhere and this tension between them took a backseat, she would look into Lockwood's eyes or feel him brush against her, and she would be certain that it was only a matter of time before she was pulled under. It made her head spin, and yet, she craved it.

Her hand trembled as she pushed her hair back from her eyes, and Lockwood reached out and interlocked her fingers with his own, still staring straight ahead at the dull metal doors. His stoic expression belied the intimacy of the action, and she felt the first strains of annoyance begin to bubble up. How could he just stand there so unaffected, as if he had every right to make her fight for her own breath?

The elevator doors opened to the ground floor, and not a moment too soon. The thick floors had meant that the two groups had no idea what was going on with the other group, and Lucy and George were fighting by the skin of their teeth to stay alive among the hoard of ghosts surrounding them. Lucy was keeping the visitors back while George ducked and rolled around the lobby, frantically looking for sources. Lockwood and her joined Lucy, and soon enough they had the upper hand.

Once the final source was neutralised, they sat in silence, only the sound of them catching their breath filling the room. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lockwood tugging at his rapier that was somehow embedded in the wall, before he suddenly stilled. He was looking in her direction, a familiar fear clouding his eyes. Somehow, a part of her realised exactly what was happening.

She turned, hand on her rapier, stopping short. She certainly felt the chill, and there seemed to be a haze in the air, but she couldn't quite make out anything tangible. She reached out, almost as if in a trance, before she had the wind knocked out of her.

One minute she was standing, and the next she was lying on the floor, a figure crouching over her, blocking her vision, as if shielding her. A few moments passed before the figure looked up and straightened, kneeling now, light falling on the gaunt face of Lockwood. George was sheepishly holding up a musical box draped in a silver net. "Sorry, missed a source. They should all be gone now."

Lockwood turned back to her, offering a hand to pull her up, but there was this weird sort of static buzzing between her ears now. She propped herself up on her own, shoving him, and walked away fuming while he toppled over in an undignified manner.

Fucking Lockwood.

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

The air of the group was fraught with tension on the way back. She signed the report with such force that she ripped a hole in one of them, and she kept rebuffing all of Lockwood's attempts to try to talk to her. Now, they were back at 35 Portland Row. She went straight to the kitchen and started making tea, slamming the drawers, uncommonly violent. Lockwood stood a few feet away from the table, closer to the door, as if furiously working out what exactly he wanted to say to the floor. She saved him the trouble.

"What the hell was that?"

"It was a Phantasm."

"Yeah, I guessed. I mean the part about you rushing in without any equipment."

"I was out of flares and my rapier was stuck. I didn't choose to do that."

"No Lockwood, you did choose. You made that choice when you decided to run in-"

"What the hell was I supposed to do? Watch you get ghost-touched?"

"-throw all caution to the wind, playing the hero-"

"I only play the hero because I have to. You're all my responsibility."

"-because never mind the three people who work in your agency, live in your house, and care so deeply about you that they wouldn't know what to do with themselves if you died-"

"So I'm just supposed to stand around and watch the rest of you die?!"

"-but no, the great Anthony Lockwood has bigger plans, like being an absolute - you won't even look at me!"

She sat down at the table, cradling her growing migraine, muttering to herself. "God, I can't talk to you when you're like this."

"Like what?" Lockwood gripped the chair opposite hers aggressively.

"This! You get so-so distant, like you couldn't be more disinterested in other people. In me. You detach yourself and step away and I know it's all a lie." She felt her heart rate further destabilise. "I see it when you look at me, like I'm some fresh, exciting thing to marvel at. You can get mad at me, or hate me, or strangle me, but I never bore you, Lockwood."

He bent forward by two inches, angling her head in his hand, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips. It couldn't have lasted longer than a second, but they were both breathless when they broke away, faces no further than a few inches apart. Her rage was barely quelled, if not aggravated. Her face was white with anger. Even now, all he wanted to do was distract her, as if he knew it wouldn't take much. In a brief flicker of panic, a part of her worried that he knew how she felt, that he knew all along, and all of this was some sick game to screw her over. She wanted to smash his facade, watch him come undone the way she was on the inside, goad him into feeling something. "Go on, then. Do it."

"Do what?" Her breathing was uneven. The past few weeks of fleeting stolen glances were bad enough, but with his face so close to hers, she could feel her brain turning into jelly. Part of her knew what she was about to do wasn't fair to him, but their relationship had gone too haywire for her to care. There was nothing fair about the way he consumed her anyways. Whoever said it hadn't loved anybody as hard as she loved Lockwood: nothing is fair in love.

"Get rid of me. Wake up to happier mornings where I'm not around, since I'm such a burden." She wasn't entirely aware of what she was saying, or if she meant it. She was grasping desperately for any respite from the brutal assault of her emotions, so all she could do was the one thing she did best - withdraw. She leaned back, welcoming cool, grounding air into her lungs as her tears threatened to spill over the ruins of their crumbling friendship. It was as though she had been struck for having the sin of hubris, for believing her and Lockwood were built to weather the storms of affection beyond platonic love. "Fire me, whatever. Oh, you'd just love that, wouldn't you? Being all official and important? Because all Anthony Lockwood cares about is being the biggest prat in the room, whether it be by throwing his precious life away-"

"So my life is 'precious', but yours is fair game?"

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't NEED TO!" Lockwood was gripping the chair so tightly he looked just about ready to smash it into bits. He took a few ragged breaths, as if physically trying to control his emotions. "Words only express so much-"

"But they express just enough for you, don't they?" she said bitterly. He set his jaw, hardening against the venom of her words. She placed a hand on her forehead weakly, stumbling out of the kitchen up to the attic. There she sat now, cynically judging the trees for being too green.

Over the next few days, she stayed in the attic, forcing down morsels of the food Lucy brought up to her, preferring to communicate non-verbally. After three days, she began to feel as cold and long-forgotten as that tea she was in the middle of making that day. She watched them gear up and lug their equipment into cabs from the window, but none did so as resolutely or with as much mechanical efficiency as Lockwood. She missed them, she missed working, but she wasn't about to go running down the stairs to Lockwood's room, begging for forgiveness. No; she had more pride than that.

Instead, she wiled away the hours staring at the clock and then staring out the window, until her eyes ached. It was so hot, time seemed to be slowing to a stop. The seconds hand ticked occasionally, when it felt like it, and her shirt plastered itself on her back. The heat was so oppressive and glued her eyelids shut, and it felt as though the whole room was submerged in molasses. It just wasn't the right kind of weather to reconcile.

Occasionally, her thoughts drifted to when she first joined the agency, and the words of advice Lucy had given her. "Lockwood, er, he's hard to read," she had said. "Best to leave him to it, most of the time. It takes a special kind of trust to really get to know him. You need a lot of blind faith, and it's certainly not easy terrain...but I think it's all worth it in the end."

Still, she couldn't live at the window forever. Which is why she went down to the kitchen after a fitful sleep on the third night, gingerly choking down some toast, when the rest returned from the job. Lucy hugged her from behind and George immediately set out four cups as he started to brew some tea. Despite all that, Lockwood still regarded her as stiffly as before, speaking into the distance rather than to her.

"I'm not going to fire you, if that's what you're waiting for."

In that moment, when Lockwood disowned any kind of feeling for her yet again, the last vestiges of her hope slipped away. She thought she knew him. Hell, she thought she loved him. But life was full of mistakes and disappointments, and this was yet another she had to contend with. "Fine. I quit."

Even Lockwood was momentarily stunned as she slipped past him up to the attic, blurrily throwing in anything that looked vaguely like hers into a her bags. Lucy had followed her, trying to talk some sense into her, but it all fell on deaf ears. Only George was in the kitchen by the time she was done packing, and he looked oddly forlorn as he waved at her distractedly. The door to the library was open as she shouldered past the memories of the life they had on her way to the front door. Lockwood was in his chair facing the fireplace, back to the door, glaring a hole into his book, looking as furious as she was just a few days ago.

She didn't have anything to say to him, which was just as well, because he clearly didn't have anything to say to her. She stepped out into the night, twisting sprigs of lavender in her hair, walking off into the night. George came up to the library, sighing loudly at the door, and Lockwood jerked up irritatedly.

"What?"

"Couldn't wait till after tea, could you?"

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

Three weeks later, her memories of the three of them were more diluted than she would have liked. With the little savings she had, she managed to rent a cramped apartment which didn't leave much room for decoration, which was just as well, as she didn't have many mementos. She wasn't the best at preserving memories, so all she had were some odd photos on the few times she remembered her camera.

Lockwood was in the pictures too. As hard as she tried, she couldn't just cut him and his presence out of her life; they were too irrevocably tied together. Some nights, before sleeping, she would trace the outline of his face on the one focused photograph she had of him, and wonder if she'd still recognise his voice. In spite of herself, she wondered if he ever thought about her the way she dreamt about him.

The summer heat faded, and these days rain drizzled from the sky like a leaky tap. In her case, that also meant a leaking roof, and the constant drip of the water into the bucket drove her nuts. It was the little things like the leaking roof and the refrigerator with a loud hum that never allowed her to truly rest, always kept her on the edge, that made her new life distinctly more uncomfortable than her old.

She heard a faint disjointed knock on her door. She opened the door to see a gaunt and wane Lockwood, significantly paler than she remembered. She was speechless, not quite sure what to do, and he just seemed relieved enough to see her in person. He still stood the same way he did when meeting new clients, with an air of formality, and she half-expected him to shake her hand. Instead, he pulled her into a hug; a proper one, where his arms went all the way around her. The kind of hug that made you want to cry.

She gripped the sleeve of his coat not unlike the way she did all those weeks ago, and she was suddenly aware of how little the weeks passed meant. Nothing had changed between them, except for this deep yearning tainting the fervour of their grip on each other. He still felt this need to protect her but sucked at communicating, she still reached out to him instinctively in danger but yelled at him for not putting himself first. Strife and misunderstandings were still rife in their relationship, but she had never missed fighting and loving someone the way she had missed Lockwood.

"I'm sorry," he was mumbling into her hair. "I don't know why it took me so long to realise you felt the same way I did. I guess we just express fear in different ways."

"You always were slow."

He pulled back, softly smiling in a way that erased some of his wrinkles. But the smile slipped away, and she felt the worry tugging down the corners of his mouth. "It's just...I've never felt this way about anyone before. I don't know how to express it all the time so sometimes it just feels easier to convince myself it's not there. But it Smooths things over, you know?" He inhaled shakily, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. She could feel how hard it was for him to admit all this. "I felt it most when you were gone. It...it weighed on my mind. Never let me be fully at peace." His lips quirked into a small smile. "Much like you. I'd do anything for you, and I think that scares me."

"It scares me too. I guess the only way I could think of handling it was proving you were more scared than me. As if that would somehow make me strong and not...weak. Or vulnerable." She sighed, as if all the exhaustion of the past few weeks had all caught up to her in this very moment. "You make me crumble, Lockwood, but I've never felt stronger."

His eyes unfocused as his hand on her cheekbone slipped. "What if I can't protect you? What if I can't drive away every single visitor in time? What if you get hurt? How do people live like this?"

She held his hands, stopping his spiral. "I think I have enough experience driving away people who are more than a little obsessed with me."

He laughed, pulling her into a hug. What once felt overstimulating was now oddly comforting. The beat of his heart, the rhythm of his breath, the vibrations of his laughter...she wanted to feel that every day for the rest of her life.

"What I did...it really was different. You do realise that, right?"

"Yes."

"I had my rapier with me."

"You did."

"You didn't have anything."

"Hmm, I panicked." He continued hastily under her stern gaze. "What I mean is, I will try to be more careful. Promise." He put on his most angelic expression. She rolled her eyes. She took his hand as they stepped out in the final drops of summer rain. Life together wasn't always going to be smooth-sailing, or even remotely manageable, but she had a feeling that they would be alright.

#fanfiction #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #false god #lover #requested

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

Note

Hello Val!!

How are you doing? Congratulations on reaching 1k! ✨

Can I request a Tommy blurb with this prompt?

“I want to understand you.”

I’m sure you’ll create something amazing 🥰 xx

An Understanding ~ Dad!Tommy Shelby (Fluff)

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Warning: Babies? (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Words: 1039 words

By now, one would think Thomas Shelby was used to these situations.

He knew the rush, the feeling of his blood pumping and his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour.

If one had the luxury of a warning, one had to use it wisely - such quarter wasn’t easily given but far too quickly squandered.

It had started with the slightest of sounds, but Tommy knew it all too well by now. Small at first, but it was only the beginning, like the first droplets of rain before the storm would come.

Immediately wide awake, he had jumped out of bed and rushed out to the adjourning room before the woman next to him could stir.

"Shh, shh!", He soothed, even before he reached the crib, making sure to close the door behind him that usually was always open.

The baby was squirming inside, little legs kicking in frustration, with swollen and red cheeks and a face torn in agony.

“Oh love.”, he sighed as he reached inside, supporting the little head.

While cradling the child against his chest, he reached inside the cot and retrieved the little blanket before fleeing the nursery for the silence of the corridor.

It was a small thing, embroidered at the edges with rather clumsy needlework, but what it lacked in skill it made up for with the love that laced every stitch.

They reached the corridor just in time as outright cries began to replace the restless groans and sniffles.

Tommy rushed down the stairs as quickly as he dared with the baby in his arms, thankful he had the means to put so much distance between the crying baby and it’s mother.

Once downstairs in the sitting room, he breathed a small sigh of relief because at least they were out of earshot by now.

It was short lived, though, as the baby began to cry again, making him feel the burn of warm tears against his bare chest.

“What was it?”, Tommy asked, rocking the child back and forth.

“Was your room a bit chilly?”, he asked.

He hadn’t noticed a drop of temperature but he would have to check once it was safe to go up again. Things like that could happen all too quickly in times like these.

He checked the nappy but that was still good too. And yet the baby kept crying.

In an effort to spread some sense of calm, Tommy placed his chin on the top of the little head, humming softly.

But it did little to stifle the wails. They were just as noisy and just as piercing as earlier.

So it couldn’t be lack of attention or a mean midnight scare.

Not warmth either, not when the baby was held between his bare chest and that blanket.

Tommy shifted, allowing himself to look into the tear streaked face.

Gently, he stroked a few droplets aside.

“What is it, eh?”, he wanted to know.

The only response he got was another heart wrenching sob.

He had always hated the sound of a baby’s tears, not because he found them annoying, but because it sent a rush through his body to sooth them, to help and to comfort.

Nothing, not those countless hours with Anna, Michael of even baby Finn had prepared him for the heartbreak of hearing his own baby cry.

"Want to tell me?", he tried once more.

When he brushed his finger over one of the tear stained cheeks, the baby leaned into his touch, still wailing as if there was no tomorrow.

“Love, I want to understand you.”, he sighed, “but you have to give me more than that. Otherwise I’ll have to get Mummy.”

And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had heard the women talking about the different types of baby cries, which Ada and Polly had only ever confirmed, and she could probably figure it out at once, but he really didn’t want to have to wake her.

The days with a young baby were long, and the nights longer still.

Carrying a child, giving birth and nursing - these were all strains Tommy could not help with, but he was determined to do his absolute best when it came to nighttime duties. A few more hours of sleep weren’t the world, but it was the least he could do.

He wiped at the tears again, only to have his finger caught and immediately brought to the baby’s mouth.

The sucking was immediate and forceful, the scars of his split knuckles bushed against those pink petalled lips.

The baby sucked and sucked, and when there was no release in the light of a disappointment, Tommy huffed.

“No milk but you keep sucking, so you’re not hungry then.”

His baby was smarter than that.

Then he remembered something and brushed his finger against the baby’s gums only to see the little head flinch.

“Your gums, is it?”, he asked. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

He thought of giving the baby a droplet of whisky - that had calmed Finn, but he knew a certain someone who’d have his head on a silver platter if he did that.

“We could just not tell her.”, he thought, his eyes wandering to the crystal carafe once more, but he hated lying to her unless it was absolutely necessary so he had to find something else. And he knew just where.

The kitchen was pitch black when he entered, and the chill of the ice box made goosebumps appear all over his arms and back.

He muttered a curse under his breath as he gathered a handful of cubes with his bare hand and threw them into a bowl before letting a little water run over it.

“Shh, shh, nearly there.”, he soothed the fussy baby as he waited for a few moments before dipping a clean cloth into icy water.

The cold stung as he wrapped the soaking cloth around his finger but it was a pain he just had to bear.

Compared to the icy water, the warm lips felt almost soothing as his baby began to suck once more.

They repeated the process again and again, Tommy leaning against the kitchen counter and before the ice was fully melted, he felt the weight of a sleepy little head resting against his chest.

“I knew we’d come to an understanding in the end."

Thank you so much @look-at-the-soul for requesting and participating in my celebration - I hope you liked where I went with it, and who knows, perhaps it is not what you expected?

Thank you everyone for reading and as always, I hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your thoughts!

If you want to participate in my celebration, click here!

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul

#valentines1k #valentineswritings #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #ask me to dance #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby fluff

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 10 months

Text

Part 5 - dare not preach

Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 4

"And If I had the answers I'd have written them out so I could tell you what to do and what this thing is about. But all I've ever learned comes second-hand and I dare not preach what I don't understand." -Make A Move by Icon For Hire

//////////////////////

Content warning: briefly implied child abuse (Vlad is not a good guy by any definition),

Time was lost in between bouts of consciousness, flashes of pretty eyes and fire hair, soft muttering and gentle caresses against his skin soothing his aches.

Jason was caught between heaven and hell, wracked with agony behind his ribs one moment and healed with persistent warmth the next, a never ending cycle.

He wanted to scream.

One bout of semi-clarity was of some citrus concoction on his tongue, gentle murmurs of a woman by his ear before she kissed him again, forced something down his throat again.

He both loved and hated that woman. She felt familiar in a way that made his bat-honed paranoia rear its ugly head, the instinct to survive in his gut a heavy weight, but she brought him peace in the same moment she could damn him.

He caught his name once, his real name, spoken by her as he swallowed dutifully, a spike of want in his heart almost a welcome change from the pain by that point.

————————————————

Jazz spoke with the Lady frequently as the Red Hood, Jason, healed in her bed.

The elder spirit, regal in mannerisms and aura, demanded the Regent to aid this one vigilante, this one knight and Jazz had finally figured out why.

It was so obvious when she had all the puzzle pieces, the depth of occult knowledge both in her brain and at her disposal should have been her first resource used to dig deeper, but she’d allowed Danny and Frostbite to assume (and let her assume) that the Red Hood was an awakened Liminal who was recovering from corrupted Ecto in his system.

The Red Hood had been Jason Todd-Wayne, the second Robin- bright light of Gotham- and he’d been murdered by the Joker.

Unburied in my soil.

Jazz groaned in self-contempt as she paced the graveyard of Gotham’s Crime Alley. It was decrepit and uncared for, not like the higher class cemetery of Gotham proper where the Rich and powerful are buried. She what’s spent the better part of three days researching her new bedmate roommate once he’d been stabilized enough to be on a consistent schedule for ecto-infusion. He’d be unlikely to regain full consciousness for another month or so, but he would recover fully.

That was, if he understood what he had become in his near-fatal collapse.

(Thanks to Jazz and her rash actions.)

The Lady had been cryptic when speaking of Red Hood at first, but with his recovery and development of a strong proto-core Lady Gotham was eager to aid the Regent in making her once Robin adjust to a world-changing consequence once again.

(At least this time he would have support.)

Not only was Jason a Liminal with an indisputable death-claim, he had been a- a Revenant whose continued existence was a mind boggling happenstance of circumstance that was one in a infinite chance of ever happening again.

The Lady claimed him. The Lady gave a bit of herself to resurrect her bright Light, the one who shouldn’t have died so young, not while he deserved happiness for the hope he brought to so many.

(Damn it all.)

He clawed himself out of his own casket, to be found by Talia Al Ghul of all people… then survive the Lazarus Pits in body, with only Pit Madness to show for it?

(It was a callous way to think about it, but Jazz knew that it had also given him his freedom in many ways, that Jason wouldn’t have if he was still just a Revenant.)

(Did the Al Ghul know what she had found that night in dreary Gotham?)

(Was she aware she had given Jason Todd a third chance at life- however much of one being death-claimed by Lady Gotham could be called a life.)

The Lady, wistful once assured in the Regent’s anger having passed, swore an oath that Jason would never be forced to be a Knight again.

(Jazz reveled in the understanding that Batman, Bruce Wayne, was destined to be Gotham Knight for his mortal lifetime- possibly beyond.)

(Had he sworn his fealty by accident in his grief? Or had his donning that ridiculous gimmick been enough of a bind to tie his soul to the Lady?)

(Regardless, for his inaction, Jazz privately reveled in the satisfaction of the true consequences of his choices.)

Jazz, who’d been pacing a strict line in the uneven row of headstones, came to a rest at the grave of the once-Revenant who now lay in her bed.

Jason Todd

He’d been only a year older than her little brother when he’d been murdered by the Joker, buried under a name that was half-complete. He was a Wayne in life, but not in death? How hypocritical of the old bat, to not give him the courtesy of giving him the hyphenated last name if he wasn’t going to bury him in the Wayne cemetery.

What would it have been like if Danny had a grave, complete with a stone and inscription?

(The portal was his grave. He’d died there and the house was his graveyard.)

Would it have been up to Jazz to choose the words to describe her little light, the brightest star in the galaxy, the one reason she had for getting up in the morning… or would her parents have cremated him and put him on a shelf to prevent a corpse from ‘piloting’ his corpse?

(Jazz still had nightmares about Danny’s death scream. The portal ripping him apart in the same moment it fused him back together.)

(Into something different, something more.)

(He was her little brother, the same one who she spent her birthday money on to get those ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars.)

(They’d spent hours forming constellations on his ceiling.)

How does one paraphrase a life?

Would Jazz start with his name, his preferred name, or with his date of birth?

Would she put down ‘dearest brother’ or ‘missed’, ‘Be at peace’?

No. Jazz knew she’d give the most important pieces of what made her little brother the brightest star in the sky-

Danny, per aspera ad Astra.

Danny had an unconventional memorial tucked away in the remnants of the Fenton lab, underneath the debris of what was once a strange machine to a world unseen.

The portal was built into the wall with ample access space in the rear for intended maintenance, though it was not required once the portal was completed and functional.

Jazz left flowers for Danny in that maintenance space three days after she first saw his transformation, yellow tulips, though she didn’t know the impact the action would have later in life.

Once a month, Jazz would return to replace the dried flowers, dust away the cobwebs, close the door, rinse and repeat.

Christmas was particularly complicated in the Fenton household, but the first year of Danny’s half-life was the worst Jazz could recall up to that point.

It wasn’t the eerie lack of ghost attacks (thanks to her not knowing of the Truce then), or the winter storm being harsher than any other Amity Park had faced in previous years… No, it was that Danny had died, while nothing and everything changed.

Jack and Maddie still screamed their arguments about Santa Claus, loud and proud for the world to be privy to.

Jazz had extra tutoring to take up for Christmas presents.

Danny… Danny still had to fight a ghost.

Ghostwriter wasn’t a malicious ghost in nature, far from it in fact, but he was never a fan of her little brother.

Jazz overheard Danny tell his friends about his ‘storybook adventure’ and she had to sleep in the access space for the night, just so she didn’t wake anyone with her crying.

It wasn’t right.

That thought repeated on a never-ending loop in her head as she tucked her growing limbs into the cramped space, eyes shut tight and the darkness shrouding her in safety.

(That had been the first nightmare of her own death to come, fingers frantically searching for a pulse as she woke in the dark.)

Perhaps she should have never left that darkness.

Because then the anger that had been building inside of her would never have been unshackled after the release of the tyrant king.

Jazz had been a patient girl her entire life. It was a necessary evil when raised by scientists to follow in their footsteps, though she had no intention to make her life into any imitation of her negligent parents, she learned those lessons at the knee of Maddie Fenton, who had given her life to the pursuit of ecto-science.

(Built a very strange machine to a world unseen.)

When Jazz failed to achieve something, she observed and struck when the opportunity presented it. That’s how she’d survived ghost attacks for so long, escpecially when it was her own dinner- that and the ingrained knowledge to strike hard and quick when it was required. A paradox of a hunter and a hunted, but that was Jasmine Fenton’s upbringing in a nutshell.

Jasmine knew Vladimir Masters was a bigger predator than she was capable of hunting as a young girl.

(Jazz was just a little girl when Vlad became obsessed with her and her mom.)

(Only the dead truly knew what an older man could do to someone so much smaller.)

It was a waiting game that morphed as she grew, bones sturdy and teeth sharper as Ecto-contamination finally settled into her molecules- Death-claimed, Liminality. Vlad was a false halfa, just as he was a false friend to her parents and a false business man, but as long as he stayed out of her way in caring for her little brother than she would not destroy him.

(She was a patient hunter.)

Pariah Dark was the final crack.

(It needed somewhere to go, all that anger, all that rage.)

Jazz had been patrolling the outer limits of the ghost shield now that Amity was returned to the Living Realm, anxiety in her gut as Danny had yet to show from his battle against the tyrant king.

He had obviously won if they were all safe, right? The mech suit would boost him enough, but could it really kill what was already dead?

Hidden in the embrace of familiar shadows, Jazz witnessed Plasmius carrying an unconscious Danny over his shoulder and a…crown in his right hand.

Not only had the bastard released the King for the Crown of Fire, he’d damned them all for the same item he’d stolen in the aftermath.

Jazz’s next actions weren’t borne from Vengeance, they were unfiltered rage.

Vlad had died that night, Jazz believed wholeheartedly, he died before she locked him in his casket- a since soldered shut Fenton Thermos.

Thing was, Jazz didn’t recall what happened between them- all she could really remember when thinking of that time frame was a green haze that was so similar in color to the damned portal.

One moment, Plasmius had Danny and the Crown. The next, he was a beaten man in his human form with no rise and fall of his chest to convince Jazz he was alive.

Was it concerning? Of course. Jazz never wanted to hurt anyone, especially not in a blackout rage state.

(How times have changed.)

Would she ever mourn Vlad? No. He deserved a far worse fate than a second death.

(His sins were numerous.)

If his casket would later be given to Pandora, the trusted Mentor of the Boy King’s Regent…. Well, where better to keep a body hidden than with a Matriarch who understands the sins of man?

(Pandora had always believed in Jazz, the Regent’s soul was far too bright to be snuffed out without a war.)

Within the Infinite Realms, the Regent was called many things- titles that held little meaning to the one in question, but offered weight to her authority.

The Lady of the Acropolis, for her mentorship with Pandora and position of respect among the populace.

First Knight of the Star King, would be granted once her Regency was over and Danny was crowned. His epithet as ‘Star King’ was a beautiful homage of a lost dream.

Death-Claimed Champion.

It made the Regent grit her teeth when addressed as such, especially when she lived in Gotham presently- the city of Lady Gotham’s Knights… her Champions.

Jazz had survived to adulthood as a highly contaminated Liminal, no patron to claim as her- Not even Pandora counted even though they shared a teacher/student relationship.

Would Jason, Red Hood of the Alley, be able to handle managing his territory without the backing of a patron claim? The Lady did swear that the once-Revenant was no longer bound to her service, which meant he could pack up his gear forever if he wanted to.

Though that was highly doubtful.

Jason was a strong willed man to lay claim to his haunt so quickly and hold fast for so long. Jazz shared her haunt with Danny, but that was only because he was the powerful Halfa and future King. His Haunt would never be challenged by a competent opponent, not in Gotham at least.

Perhaps Jason would be willing to unite their haunts?

It was a common tradition for older ghosts to allow weaker ones to share their haunt for protection, but that didn’t translate well to the Death-Claimed.

(Jazz had a hunch that Jason was so in tune with his haunt that he instinctively knew when she or Danny stepped foot across his boundary.)

(They tried not to linger, out of respect of another’s haunt of course.)

Then again, Jason was the Baby Liminal between the two of them. Danny and Jazz should be offering him to share a haunt for protection.

(Jazz couldn’t help but wonder what Jason looked like as a child.)

(She would bet almost anything that he was an adorable kid.)

(Would their kids be so cute?)

There was a slight lilt of sadness that lingered over the daytime hero, Signal, that Danny almost choked on his Death Wish.

The coffee, that is.

Little late on the literal bit.

Gotham (city, not the Lady) was an ever-gloomy fruit basket full of ghastly vibes. You see it and you know you’re in for a bad time, but that’s typically at night.

So what was up with Sunshine Child?

Yeah, he was clearly human and allowed to have off days, duh, but for it to hang like a shroud of storm clouds over Sunny? Yeah, no. That shit needs to be gone, like yesterday.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Danny called out with a false cheer. It was too damn early in the morning for real cheer, are you mad, but Signal didn’t seem to notice as he approached the lawn chair the Halfa had decided would be his new throne.

(At least Jazz would find it funny.)

“Hi Danny. Can I help you with something?”

Danny took a loud sip of his coffee before he went straight for the throat, “You’re doom and gloom this morning, Sunny. Whose bones do I need ‘ta steal?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just…” the meta Hero trailed off, voice tired as he let himself relax for a moment in Danny’s presence.

(That’s right, Danny’s just a friendly civilian teenager with anger issues, right?)

(Oh he would be cackling at that lie when he had a moment to himself again.)

“My brother is missing.”

Danny blinked.

“Your brother? One of the birdies?” He tried very hard not to pull out any of his jokes about traffic lights and Stabby Robin, but at least he didn’t sound condescending?

“Sorta. Red Hood… he went off grid about a week and a half ago.”

(Yeah this isn’t something Danny should be privy to.)

(Like at all.)

(It’s not like he was housing the guy in his home right?)

(Oh wait.)

“Yikes, Sunny. That sucks, ‘m sorry.”

Signal sighed, “Yeah, thanks Danny.” He paused again, studying the canonical adoption bait that was Danny Fenton before he dropped a bombshell.

“Batman thinks he’s dead.”

(Danny almost cackled in manic glee at that statement.)

(Overshot the mark there, Bats. Yikes.)

Danny happily waved goodbye to his meta friend, a dorky salute with his coffee cup in commersiation of a shitty hour of the day to be awake, before he leaned back in his lawn chair and yawned.

“Oh, what drama. Jazz is gonna kill me all the way if she finds out.” He said out loud to no one in particular. The occasional shade that kept him company didn’t bother to move at the sound of his voice now that Signal had left, but it did let out a mournful trill that made Dannny chuckle.

“Yeah, yep, you’re right- when, when, Jazz finds out.” Danny laughed again, “Worth it.”

A/N:

Yeah, I wasn't expecting so much angst either, but apparently, that's my jam, because I literally cannot write anything else. Well, anything that doesn't sound like two robots trying to mimic humans at least.

This was supposed to be a more upbeat entry and look how epically I failed. I had to put a content warning up top because I wrote/heavily implied that Jazz was abused by Vlad due to his obsession with Maddie.

In other news, I have a playlist now for what songs I listen to while writing this. It's called 'Guns & Sword: Jazz on' 'cause 2am me thinks she's clever.

#dpxdc #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #regent!jazz #jazz fenton #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #ooh angst #*points at Jazz* this badass can hold so much angst #some character building for Jazz #I swear I try writing dialogue and I choke.#How did i never learn to write dialogue properly?

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