#so when he was an adult and they had another clutch he left his family

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part one)

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: yeah soo... I think I have some kind of obsession with this trope. And I have never ever seen any azriel x reader forced marriage fics, so I decided to write one myself. But I could be wrong and there are fics out there that I haven't seen, in which case, please let me know about them. (Also, because we do not know who azzie's father was and if he was a camp Lord, for the sake of this fic, lets pretend that he was, indeed, a camp lord.)

Tw: Forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so please let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Y/n poured the imaginary tea in the cups set on the low table in front of her, talking to Mister Fluffkins about the weather. He was her daughter's husband, or she pretended that he was. Her daughter, Alisa, was her favourite doll, who was going to be married today.

"I hope there was no troubles while on the way here?" She asked as she set down the teacup and turned towards her other toys.

Before Mister Fluffkins could answer though, Y/n's mother walked in, crouching in front of Y/n, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just asking Mister Fluffkins about his travels today. Do you want some tea?"

"No dear. I just wanted to tell you that a friend of father is coming here today with his son. I want you to try and become his friend, as he has none. Okay?"

"Okay mother." The little girl turned away and settled down opposite her to be son in law, sipping her imaginary tea. Excited that she'll be making a new friend today. Maybe he can play with her. He could be Alisa's father, and they would be one big and happy family.

As little Y/n was busy musing about her new friend, she lost track of time, and soon they had arrived. The door opened once again and her mother stepped inside, Y/n stood. A small boy, probably her age or older, stepped in behind her, his hands clasped together nervously. His eyes flitted around the room, his hair dishevelled and messy. He looked too thin to be healthy.

Y/n mother nudged him forward, and he hesitantly took a step forward. Then another and another.

"I'm Y/n. What is your name?" She asked when he was standing in front of her.

"Az– Azriel."

"Let's be friends." She said, before practically shoving him in the chair next to Mister Fluffkins and pouring him some tea. "It's tea. Drink, you'll like it."

He blinked. "There's nothing there."

"Obviously. We're playing, I can't use real tea."

Her mother had laughed, walking away. It took some time for Azriel to get accustomed to playing with her, but when he did, he enjoyed it, cherishing this rare moment of happiness. And though he was quite odd, saying he had never played anything in his life, Y/n didn't mind.

But then both of their father's stepped in, as if in a hurry. Azriel's father yelled at him to be quick and clasp her hand, and Y/n decided she didn't like this man. He was too loud.

Y/n's father was looking sadly at her when the bad man told him to make haste. They made Y/n and Azriel hold hands, guiding them through it.

"Listen girl, I want you to say I agree to everything he says, understand?" Y/n nodded, afraid of his father. "Now," he began saying to Azriel, "repeat after me. I will marry you, when I see you after we come of age. Say it." Azriel looked scared, but repeated nonetheless. And she mumbled a I agree after him before a pain shot down her left ring finger and she wrenched it from Azriel's grasp, tears pooling in her eyes. At that exact moment, the door slammed open and her mother stumbled in, gasping and clutching at her head.

"No..." She stared at her husband angrily with tears in her eyes.

Y/n didn't understand, but it wasn't as if she could question the adults. Because, even though her father didn't hate her, he didn't like her very much either, hitting her whenever she got too loud. But he wasn't bad, atleast Y/n didn't think so.

Maybe when her older siblings came home from school, she would ask them about it.

•○🌑○•

As she stared at the rain droplets pelting the window of her room, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that day. It had been almost five centuries since then.

Asking her siblings about it had yielded no information, after all, they were kids too.

But now she knew.

Azriel's father had fame and control over the camp they had once lived in. Her father wanted to be in the good graces of the Lord and also the recently vacated position of the second most powerful person, the camp Lord's second in command. Azriel's father was giving Y/n's father what he wanted in exchange for her marriage to his bastard son.

Who had run away.

But she couldn't fault him for that, knowing what his father was like. She knew Azriel fairly well, considering she met him a few more times after the day they had been promised to each other. The last time they met, he had finally told Y/n that his father kept him in a dungeon. Then he left. They could have been called friends once, but now, Y/n didn't even know if he was alive or rotting somewhere. But, even after all these centuries, Y/n still cares for that tiny, skinny, timid boy with disheveled hair, who would get extremely happy if provided with one small act of kindness.

But she also couldn't stop the tiny kernel of resentment that bloomed in her, because, after he had run away, his father had decided that he no longer wanted to share the power when he wasn't getting anything out of it, kicking their family out of the camp. Her father had gone nearly crazy.

Her sister, Velda, had been in a similar situation as Y/n, having been forced to marry one of the more prized warriors. But she didn't have to make a promise for it, as the warrior wanted to marry her. Y/n had been forced to promise herself to Azriel because his father somehow knew that he couldn't marry Azriel forcefully.

She would have been married too, if not for the mark on the second last finger of her left hand, encircling it like a ring. Every day she woke up with a pot of dead and hope in her stomach. Dread, for if Azriel came to take her, she would be forced to marry him, but if he didn't, she'd have to ensure her father's taunts, as if it was somehow her fault Azriel escaped. Those taunts, which had increased since her mother's death, haunted her at night.

Hope, for if he came, maybe she'll be able to have the life she always dreamed of, and that Azriel would still be the boy she had befriended. And if he didn't, she won't have to leave.

Her father had waited all these years in hopes that Azriel would come to get his bride. But he was tired of waiting, it seemed. And so, today, she and her father they would be visiting Hewn City, in his hopes that the High Lord could find her husband.

•○🌑○•

The Hewn City was hauntingly beautiful. That's all Y/n could describe it as.

They were waiting on the side, her father conversing with someone named Keir while she stared at everything she could get her sights on in awe.

The doors to the court room suddenly opened, everyone falling silent as the High Lord and the Lady, with the little heir in her arms, walked in, with their Inner Circle, as they were called. Y/n kept her eyes downcast, hiding behind her father. Her neck prickles, as if someone was staring at her, but it wasn't something she was unfamiliar with.

Soon, everyone dropped to their knees, rising when the High Lord commanded. After a few people conversed with him, her father stepped forward, her following, still staring at the ground. He bowed, and she curtsied.

But then, when a shiver wound down her spine, she lifted her eyes.

She had to take a step back, her jaw dropping.

Because, staring at her were wide, hazel eyes.

She stared and stared, hoping she was dreaming and hoping that she wasn't. Because those eyes, she would never forget.

Azriel.

Her father bowed, turning away, and she shook her head at Azriel, slightly. He dipped his chin and looked away.

But when Y/n tried to step away, a sharp pain shot through her chest and left hand, a scream tearing from her throat. She fell to her knees, gasping and clutching her hand to her chest. One glance at the dais told her that Azriel had fallen to his knees as well, and everyone was silent, looking between the two of them.

She looked at her father, the confusion in his eyes clearing and a wicked smile blooming on his face.

"Finally."

•○🌑○•

Part 2

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #Acotar fanfic #rhysand #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #Shadowsinger #spymaster #fluff #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #Acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #reader insert #forced marriage #tw forced marriage

[suuuupernovaaa]

txansngum

txansngum [English] n. desperation; feeling of great worry

Anonymous Request: Neteyam's mate from the forest no longer able to stand being away from him after a few year’s travels to meet him at the sea.

After two years apart, you are no longer able to stand being parted from Neteyam, and make the journey across the sea to reunite.

Adult Neteyam. TW: depression.

1,394 words.

I had not slept in two years.

Not really, not deeply, not the way I used to sleep - dreamlessly, peacefully, without worries.

Now, I tossed and turned, sometimes I cried, and mostly, I worried. Every night. I began to dread nightfall, knowing what would lurk for me there.

Dreams of him in danger, of him calling out to me to help, but I was too far away to do anything about it.

I was living a half life, doing only the bare minimum to keep myself alive, to make it through the days, weeks, months, and years until I might see him again.

Knowing he was waiting for me was the only thing that kept me somewhat sane. Sometimes I felt I might be pathetic or desperate, but what was I meant to do about it? I could not stop how I felt.

"I will come back for you, Y/N," he had told me before he left, clutching my hands so tightly I thought he might break them, a great sadness in his eyes, and that was the last thing he said to me.

Over two years ago.

"Y/N," my mother said, gently shaking me awake. Though I was old enough to have a hammock of my own to sleep in, it was too much to bear, and so I stayed with my mother and father. "Y/N, hurry," she said, and I noticed the urgency in her tone. My eyes flew open, and my mother knelt before me, holding a small pack and a poncho.

"You must go, now. You father has left for a hunt. You know the way?"

My mother pulled me into a seated position. "What? What way?" I asked, half asleep, hungry, sad.

"To the Metkayina," she hissed, "to Neteyam. I won't watch you live this way anymore. You must find him."

She shoved the pack into my hands, and pulled the woven poncho over my head.

"Go, now," she insisted.

Still confused, I stood up and exited our home. The clan was not quite awake yet, it was still nearly dark outside. As I breathed in the fresh morning air, my mind began to clear.

My mother was giving me permission to make the journey by myself, to leave her and my father behind, and to see Neteyam again.

My steps quickened, and my heart pounded in my chest. I began to run.

"Ta'ry," I called, clicking my tongue. "Ta'ry!"

Only moments later did I hear the flap of her wings, and she landed before me. "Good morning, Ta'ry," I said, running my hand along the neck of my Ikran. "Are you ready for a long ride?"

With my pack slung over my shoulder, I connected and mounted. I could feel her excitement, reflecting mine.

"Let's go," I whispered, and we took off.

---

The journey took many days, but my mother had put enough food and water in my pack to sustain me. In our down time, Ta'ry hunted for herself and we rested - but not much. I was determined to get there as fast as we could.

My stomach was in a knot the entire time. Though I had faith in Neteyam, two years was quite a long time. Did it mean something that he had not yet returned to me? Had he moved on, joined another clan, and found another woman?

It was not worth thinking about, I tried to tell myself. I would soon find out.

The Metkayina lived along a beautiful shore, on a sandy beach in front of a lush green forest. It was such a sight to behold, my anxiety almost melted away as I approached - but it returned when many gathered on the beach at my approach.

Ta'ry and I landed, and she took off again for the forest, hearing the cries of other Ikran that surely belonged to the Sully family. My heart began to hope.

The na'vi here looked so different from my clan at home. They were a lighter, more green color, and I noticed immediately that most were covered in intricate tattoos.

"Who are you?" a voice called, and I saw an imposing man coming through the small crowd that had gathered. His dark hair was piled on top of his head, and his eyes were narrowed.

"I am... I am Y/N, of the Omatikaya. I come looking for, for the Sullys."

"Y/N?"

I scanned the crowd for the voice calling my name, and through the crowd appeared Lo'ak.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "It's really you! Wait til Neteyam sees!"

He approached me quickly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

The stress of the journey overtook me, and I fainted in Lo'ak's arms.

--

When I began to regain consciousness, I was too tired to move or open my eyes. I could feel that I was laying on a soft bed, and I noticed the sound and scent of the ocean near by, and that was enough to remind me where I was... but I was still too tired to move.

People were around me, I could feel and hear them, and then they began to speak.

"She looks so thin," a woman said, and I thought it might be Netyiri. "Look at her face, her hollow cheeks... she must not have been eating enough on the journey."

"Long before that," another woman said, and I felt someone touch my arm, turning it over. "She has been sick a long time. Sick of mind."

She placed something wet and warm inside my wrist, and turned my arm back down.

"She will be better when she sees him. We should have brought her with us, but she was not of age. He has suffered without her, as well, but will not admit it," Neytiri said, her voice full of regret.

"Your youngest boy, or eldest?"

"Eldest," Neteyam's mother said, and I drifted off again.

--

The next time I woke up, I felt more alert. Taking in a deep breath, I stretched my arms above my head and sighed.

"Y/N!"

My eyes shot open. Sitting beside me was Neteyam, and he looked so different.

He was a man now. He was at least a foot taller, with broad shoulders and long braids, but his eyes were the same, though I had never seen them so full of concern.

"Neteyam!" I sat up, and fell over into his arms. Eagerly, he wrapped them around me, holding me to his chest.

It felt as if I had not truly taken a deep breath for two years, and now my lungs were opening up, finally accepting air. He smelled of the sea, and I began to cry.

"You could have died, Y/N!" he chastised. "Ronal says it looks as if you have not eaten or slept in years. You were not taking care of yourself!"

I winced at his angry words. He pushed me back just a little, and took my face in his hands. "You must eat, and grow strong. You have to keep up here."

"Will they let me stay?"

Finally, his face softened. "You think they would send you away? Bah, of course not. I would not allow us to be parted again, Y/N. Not when you need me to survive." His scowl turned into a teasing smile, and I looked down, blushing.

"I tried. I ate! I just... couldn't sleep," I shrugged, embarrassed at the way I had carried on since we parted.

He pulled me to his chest once more. "Me either. I dreamed of you when I did." He pushed my hair out of my face, and pressed his lips to the top of my head. "I had my bag packed, Y/N. I was set to leave tomorrow to come and bring you back to me."

I sat away from him suddenly, staring at him. "No. Really?"

We were forced to laugh at the absurdity of our situation. "Dad said it was finally safe enough to go back, just long enough to get you and return. But you beat me to it."

He wiped the tears from my eyes, and we smiled at each other.

"You must never leave again, Neteyam," I reached up to grab his wrist. "Not without me."

He pulled my face to his, and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "Never, Y/N."

#avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar fic

[sanakimohara]

“COLA” B.C. PT.2

“Wish you wanted it a little bit. More, but it’s a chore for you to give…”

Synopsis: Having a crush on her best friend’s older brother was a secret Y/n L/n had managed to hide for years. She presumed those feelings had disappeared over time, but when Chris—or rather, Chan, as he’s called by the rest of the world—makes a surprise visit to Australia to spend his last break of the year with his family, Y/N is bewildered to find that she, in fact, is still infatuated with her best friend's brother. Unbeknownst to her, Chan is already well aware of it and isn’t above taking advantage of her innocent crush on him. All fun and games, right?

WARNINGS: [MDNI! 18+] pining, fluff, smut, a bit of angst, cursing, smoking, and alcohol use. oh and the DDGL dynamic is implied…

A/N: Let’s hope I don’t scrap this and at least finish writing it…also Chan is his current age 25 and the reader is 18+

—————————————————————

—————————————————————

People.

She hated so many people around her but had no other place to go.

Airports always irked Y/n. Maybe it was because she’d been to so many in her childhood, forced to behave like an adult in the presence of a crowd all the time, and always afraid of losing her parents when they were there. Which was rare to say the least.

The repulsion and discomfort never really left her system when it came to large crowds. Even at the ripe age of 19 Y/n would rather walk all the way to the Bang residence then deal with constant bustling of an airport.

Unfortunately, walking to her destination would be miserably hot in the Australian weather so she was stuck with waiting for her planes boarding announcement to be made all alone. Thankfully, she’d arrived at a decent time and since it was a continental flight it wouldn’t be long before said announcement would be made.

She occupied herself with a book, earbuds tucked securely in her ears, and her favorite boba drink nestled between her thighs as she read to pass the time. Y/n’s eyes scanned every word on the worn pages of her book, soaking in every detail it could give even though she’d read twice before, but an enticing dark romance novel tends to keep her attention better than anything else.

She delights in the fantasy that’s described in its pages. Where the plot is lack, steamy and disgustingly lustful filler scenes are written, and when a major event does take place it dwarfs in comparison to the impact of headlines the next smutty paragraph brings.

Dark romances are her escape in some way, an acceptable binge she’s allowed herself to indulge in. It’s not a dirty secret or a guilty pleasure for her to read them but rather a way for her mind to envision less then pure fantasies of her design.

Each one of them involves Chan is some way.

She’ll never admit it to anyone, nor dare to say a word alluding to her desires, but it’s hard to put down a book that helps you satiate a hunger you can’t manage right?

Whatever the answer is, Y/n continues to bury herself in the images described in the pages she scans, and if anyone who knew her had walked by they would’ve recognized the tale tell blush starting to coat her cheeks. A sure sign she was either flustered or perpetually turned on.

Luckily, no one around her noticed the tinge to her cheeks, and so she was left to enjoy her book in peace for the time being. Thirty minutes and a couple of sips from her drink later Y/n heard the announcement that informed passengers it was time to board. “

Flight C18 to Sydney, Australia is now boarding. Passengers please make your way to gate 3 and loading dock 3A.”

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin as the announcement echoed around the waiting area. Her heart thumped in her ears as people around her started to make her way to the designated gate. She clutched her book close as a few strangers briskly walked past her. For some reason or another she assumed they’d judge her if they saw what she’d been reading.

A ridiculous fear, but a fear she favored anyway.

With a few swift movements Y/n packed her book away into her carry on bag and finished off her drink before gathering her bags and phone. She double checked if she’d grabbed everything before making her way to Gate 3 but stopped when the subtle echos of cheering sounded from somewhere in the airport.

“Wonder what’s that all about…” a man asked another as they walked past her.

Y/n had the same question and looked around to pinpoint where the shouting was coming from. When she pinpointed the oncoming noise she rose to her tip toes to see who the crowd was bombarding all of a sudden.

Her investigation was cut short though when a woman tapped her shoulder. “Are you line for the ticket check miss?,” she asked and Y/n nodded sheepishly before responding, “I am, sorry I got a bit…distracted.”

The older woman only nodded in understanding, following behind Y/n as she walked up to the gate assistant and handed them her ticket to check. “Must be some sort of celebrity with how much racket those people are making…” the woman scoffed under her breath and Y/n stifled a giggle at how annoyed she sounded.

“Maybe,” she mumbled to herself, taking one last glance back at the moving crowd heading towards the gate before going to board the plane.

By the time Y/n had officially steeped onto the plane she could hear the shouts of excitement roaring where she’d been standing only moments ago. She didn’t bother to look back, deeming it impossible to get any clue to what’s going from staring again, and opted to find her seat. Which was in Business Class as per usual.

One of the few perks she was happy to have due to traveling so much with her parents when she was younger. Less people were crowded together in Business Class and she sometimes ran into interesting or famous people too.

That was if they were seated next to her and as of right now she hoped no one would be. Sleep and read was her only objectives during this short flight and being next to someone might force her to be social at some point.

Y/n found her designated spot, sat down, got comfortable, and placed her carry on in the seat next to her. The cabin was still fairly empty and so she assumed it would stay that way. All there was left to do was wait for take off which the pilot announced would be in a matter of minutes.

She took the opportunity to text Hannah before putting her phone on airplane mode for the flight.

<< Boarded and about to lift off Han! 💕

>> yay finallyyyyy

>> can’t wait to see you. Mom and dad keep asking how long it’ll take you to land lol.

<< that’s sweet of them :) tell them I’m excited to see them after so long btw!

>> what about me??!? :(

<< Han you’re so dramatic…

<< of course I’m excited to see you too dummy..

Y/n smiled at her phone as she hit send, finding it cute how clingy Hannah could be, but her happiness was cut short as someone came to stand beside the seat her bag was placed in.

“Uhm, sorry but I think that’s my seat..”

Her heart fell to her stomach and if it weren’t for the cushioned seat underneath her she would’ve fell straight through the floor of the plane out of shock.

Her cheeks flushed pink and she gulped softly as the familiar voice spoke up again.

“Miss, sorry, but this is my se-“ Chan immediately cut himself short as the girl in front of him lifted her head to look up at him.

His mask hid most of his shocked expression when their eyes met but Y/n could still see the recognition in his chocolate brown eyes.

She didn’t know what to say, how to say it, or even how to react to seeing the one person -the one man- she’d hoped not see.

This can’t be fucking happening…., she thought watching his eyes crease into crescent moons from the smile forming behind his mask.

“Long time no see, princess,” he greeted her in plain English, accent clearly coming through as he called her the same nickname he’d given her the last time they met.

Hearing it, hearing him call her that again, and just being face to face with him had her chest feeling light and her mouth running dry.

She hadn’t moved or stopped staring at him since their eyes met and Chan was slightly worried he’d startled her into a permanent stupor, but then she blinked slowly and timidly spoke back to him. “H-hi Chris..”she inwardly panicked hearing herself stutter and fought the urge to bite her lip in embarrassment. He’d know she was incredibly flustered then and whether that’d make the situation more awkward or not was the least of her concerns now.

Chan laughed softly when she addressed him as Chris. Even after years of knowing him she’d refused to call him anything else. Every once in a while she’d slip and call him “Channie” but that was rare. He didn’t hold it against her though, moving her bag, and sitting himself down next to her instead. Y/n instinctively flinched form his sudden close proximity and avoided looking at him as he got comfortable next to her.

She was almost certain he could hear heartbeat thudding like rolling thunder in her chest and she prayed to god her face wasn’t ten shades of red.

It definitely was.

Chan didn’t point that out though, choosing to enjoy her flustered state rather than teasing her further.

*buzz buzz*

Her phone vibrated on the floor, laying right next to her feet, and it caught Chan’s attention.

She froze, wondering when she dropped the device and how she failed to notice, but snapped out of her thoughts when Chan spoke.

“Let me get that for you.”

He reached down before she could react, picking up the device and placing it back in her lap. Y/n felt her skin grow hot as he gently returned her phone, his hand grazed over her thighs as he withdrew and it felt like he’d shot electricity through her from the subtle touch. It was an accident, she reminded herself as he leaned back into his seat again.

A pure, one time, accident. That’s all.

She shifted her legs, unconsciously pressing her thighs together as a ripple of warmth coursed through her core, and she cursed herself for wearing a shorter skirt than usual.

“Thanks,” Y/n whispered to him, not fully composed yet, and still trying to act normal around him.

Finding her footing felt impossible the longer he sat near her though.

Chan removed his mask, flashing her a kind smile, “You’re welcome. I did sort of scare you, so it’s the least I can do, Princess.” He nudged her shoulder with his and Y/n forced herself to smile despite wanting to scream from the feeling of his muscular arm against her.

This was going to be the longest 5 hour flight of her life….

And he was going to enjoy every last second.

*********

Soon, the plane was off the ground and headed to Sydney but Y/n was still trying to maintain her demeanor towards Chan.

She was failing miserably.

During take off all she could do was stare out the window and try to breathe like her life depended on it.

Ascent and descent on aircraft was her worst enemy and Chan only had to take one glance at her to notice how pale she got as her manicured nails dug into the lush leather of her seat.

He wasn’t the type to not help someone in need or at least a girl who hated ascending turbulence on a plane. So, he reached over, gently resting a hand on her leg, massaging the expanse of her thigh as a gesture of comfort.

At first Y/n was board stiff under his touch, quite literally considering hurling herself out of the plane the second she felt his firm and warm menstruations on her thigh.

Ever so slightly she started to unwind, welcoming the steady pace of his hand running up and down her skin. She let out a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper -Chan couldn’t tell but it made his head spin a little hearing it.

She was so cute.

Still the same pure girl he remembered.

He watched her expression transform from anxiousness to relief as the plane leveled out. She lifted her head off the window, glancing at him with a look of gratitude on her face, and he bit back a smile at the docile action.

“Feelin better?,” he inquired just loud enough for her to hear and she nodded, eyes fixed on his hand that was still on her thigh. He’d stopped stroking it when she sat up right but had yet to withdraw his hand completely.

Y/n swallowed thickly as her mind delved into what would happen if he just slid his hand a little higher up her skirt. But….his hands felt and looked so perfect on her thigh and she could see every vein in them too.

What would it feel like to have them wrapped around her throat, or better yet, clasped over her mouth while he fucks her-

She bit her tongue hard as self inflicted punishment for imaging such inappropriate things but it was proving difficult for her to not let him do it.

He’s your best friends older brother…snap out of it, she scolded herself for what felt like the 50th time since Chan’s surprise appearance…

She took a breath, peeling her doe eyes away from where his hand was and looked him dead in the eye. With the little confidence she had left she answered his question assertively, “Yes, I’m fine now. Thank you for…comforting me.” A shy smile graced her lips and Chan hummed in approval, satisfied with her response, and finally willing to retract his hold on her.

“Good…I’m glad I could help…” he held her gaze, voice uncharacteristically low, and his dark chocolate eyes sharpening on her when she looked away from him.

Y/n had to fully cross her legs at this point, needing pressure on her mound in someway or another. She masked the action as an effort to fix her skirt and then lowered it as if she were some proper lady of a royal family.

Chan didn’t comment, smirking to himself at her innocent attempt to be modest. He’d seen and slept with enough women in his time as an idol to know the signs.

She couldn’t hide anything from even if she tried.

Y/n, on the other hand, couldn’t stop fidgeting, every now and then squirming in her seat as if to get comfortable. She wasn’t obnoxious about it, more naive of her arousal is what Chan called it, and he found it increasingly adorable as the flight went on. If he so much as stared at her for too long she’d squirm like an ant under a magnifying glass. Chan could only imagine how’d she react to him touching her intimately.

That thought alone gave him a hard on.

He controlled himself well though, not letting on how he felt was a skill he’d mastered after years of practice.

Eventually, they made small talk at some points of their trip. She asked why he was in Australia despite his supposed ‘busy schedule’ and he told her the truth.

“I wanted to surprise my family. Since I didn’t get to see them on my break earlier this year I’m making that up with this trip.”

Y/n smiled, forgetting the heat persistently pooling between her thighs, and finding it endearing how much Chan valued time with his family.

“That’s sweet of you Chris…” she chirped with a beaming smile.

He nodded, “I’m guessing you’ll be staying with us again for the holidays?”

Y/n hummed in agreement, “Hannah wouldn’t let me say no.” She giggled softly and Chan laughed lightly at the mention of his sister.

“Yeah, she was pretty ticked you didn’t come last year..”

His face shifted from joyous to slightly reprimanding, “I was too..”

She bit her lip as he stared at her, “I…I got really busy…”

That was a lie. A lie that Chan didn’t believe for a second .

Y/n glanced into his eyes but regretted it seeing the stern haze in them. He knew she was lying and he hated being lied too. That was a fact she’d discovered while watching him and his members on some reality show a long time ago. She also knew it from Hannah herself. He mentioned his hatred of lying many times in many coded ways in his weekly ‘Chan Room’s’ as well.

Of course he saw right through her but at least she’d attempted to cover up her faults from last year.

Y/n did not want divulge her true reasons for ditching her plans with the Bang family but she knew his next words would be, “Don’t lie to me…” and at that point she’d have to tell him.

She’d have to tell him he was the primary reason she chose to cancel.

It wasn’t something she wanted to reveal, ever, so before Chan could interrogate her Y/n stood from her seat and excused herself to the restroom. “I’ll be right back.,” she chirped with a false sense of calm

However, this meant she’d have to shuffle past him to some degree. Not ideal, but necessary if she wanted to escape his questioning.

Chan raised a brow at her. Letting her squeeze past him and into the aisle. Her skirt rode up a bit as she did so, giving him a split second glance at what she wore underneath, and that gained her an instance of much needed distraction on his part.

Pink lace, I knew it…, he thought.

Y/n hurriedly smoothed her skirt back to normal, trying very hard to ignore his lingering gaze as she scurried off to the restroom. Her head was spinning the whole ten foot walk there and it felt like the air was swallowing her whole until she shut herself in the semi-clustered bathroom.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” she whispered as her nerves blazed and her mind raced to come up with a plausible excuse to answer Chan’s oncoming questions. Nothing seemed to be sufficient. Every excuse she thought of he’d probably disprove or see though. It was impossible.

The throbbing in her core was no help either, it intensified every time she thought about him, and at this point she couldn’t think straight at all.

“God, I can’t do this…” she whined in defeat, going to the sink for cold water to dab on her neck for some sort of relief. The shitty attempt at control helped for milliseconds before the feeling of Chan’s hand running up and down her thigh had her body shivering again.

A quiet moan escaped her throat and Y/n dabbed more cold water on her neck to relieve the tension she desperately needed to release.

“Pull it together,” she scolded herself, glaring at her reflection, and attempting to find any flaws that might be there. If she walked out of this bathroom worse than she came in Chan might out her completely.

He already had, years ago, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

Still, that just wasn’t an option she’d like to choose right now and so after a few minutes of steady breathing paired with a silent moment to think Y/n felt composed enough to exit her seclusion.

She opened the door, expecting to walk right out with no problems, but there stood Chan already peering down at her.

A very heavy silence passed between them.

Y/n managed to hold his gaze despite her heart rate accelerating. On the other hand, Chan wasn’t sure why he’d followed her. At first he chalked it up to a sort of proactive protectiveness.

She was his little sisters best friend after all and any stranger could try to harm her. He’d do the same for any other friend…right? Wrong…

Another lie.

An invisible little truth he told himself was valid to justify his urge to watch over her.

The truth was he had less than pure intent to guard her and more interest in helping her solve a problem she clearly wanted to hide from him.

“Sorry, do you need to?…” she politely shifted away from the entrance, allowing him the opportunity to pass by her if he needed to, but he didn’t move a muscle…

Y/n swallowed thickly as familiar sparks ran up her spine the longer he held eye contact with her.

“You okay Chris?..” she sounded concerned, successfully masking her real reaction to his unwavering gaze.

Her voice snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in and he returned to his normally friendly disposition.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Princess. You were just gone for a while and I thought something might be wrong.” He laughed softly, as if to throw her off with the sound so she wouldn’t think too hard on what he’d said, but Y/n held onto his every word.

He’d followed her, waited for her to come out, and admitted it too.

Creepy,,,but something in her liked it.

Her stomach was doing flips, cheeks turning a light shade of pink as a soft “oh..” slipped past her lips. It felt odd to have someone this interested in her, especially Chan, but he seemed to be like that with everyone he knew.

She couldn’t take this one instance as anything more than her best friends protective older brother looking out for his sisters pleasantly naive friend.

Nevertheless , she found it attractive. The idea that Chan wanted to protect or guard her was enough to feed her fantasies for the rest of her life.

Chan shifted, standing to the side and motioning for her to walk past him, “Shall we.” Y/n nodded, smiling softly as she walked past him and back to her seat. He trailed after, stopping to reach into the overhead compartment for his carry on bag.

She caught sight of his shirt lifting, his skin taut with muscle underneath the black hoodie he wore, and his jeans resting on his hips perfectly to show off the band of his boxers that hugged his sculpted v-line just right.

Y/n wanted to reach out and graze her fingertips over his skin, have the blessing to touch him just once, but settled with just stealing glances at him as he retrieved whatever he needed from his bag. He suddenly looked down at her, a smirk on his face as she quickly turned her head towards the window. He’d caught her staring where she shouldn’t be and gave her no time to act as if she hadn’t been.

“You okay?,” he asks her, gaze lingering on her frozen posture before refocusing on the items in his bag. She clears her throat quietly, nodding in response, and shifting in her seat.

Chan didn’t pry further, knowing she was the quiet type of girl who’d get even more shy under pressure, so he let her be. Y/n kept her eyes fixated on the cloud filled sky outside, hands tucked under her legs.

Embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how she felt right now but it was dangerously close.

Chan had caught her staring and not even at his face.

She was fucked.

Totally fucked.

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TAGS: @imastraykidsfan 🖤 + @channniesslefttt 🖤

Just wanted to thank you all for supporting this series and all my other posts. It’s good to know I’m not the only delulu and extremely unhinged stay out there….thats all I have to say lol 🖤

BONUS CONTENT +

#Spotify #skz #stray kids #skz smut #bang chan #bang chris #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #chan skz #chan x you #christopher bang

[bumblesimagines]

“shit, i wasn’t supposed to enjoy that as much as i did.”

- Sarah Cameron

“shit, i wasn’t supposed to enjoy that as much as i did.”

pronouns: he/him/his

timeline is iffy in this one but implied to take place somewhere in the 18 month timeskip

Everything had gotten so complicated over the course of a year. Her summer had started off with a bang and took a turn for the worst, from her impulsive relationship with John B to joining the Pogues to the treasure hunts. She'd planned her summer to be one filled with fun and family bonding time with her most recent boyfriend, and instead, she ended up with no family, no boyfriend, and enough tears to fill the ocean. At eighteen she was an adult and heavily known for her disappearances, Ward, and finding long-lost treasure.

Which was why she was thankful for Kiara and Cleo's endless supply of support. The two girls took Sarah by the arms and pulled her out of the guest bedroom in the Carrera house to take her to a fun party the graduating class had hosted. Many of their classmates were preparing to take off to elite schools while she remained in Kildare with no diploma and a murky future ahead of her.

"Come on, girl! Lighten up a little!" Cleo smiled, brushing some of her braids over her shoulder and offering her a red solo cup. Sarah sighed quietly and took the cup tentatively, clutching the cup close to her chest and looking around at some of the people she once considered good friends.

"Listen, I love JB. He's like a brother to me," Kiara began and paused to sip her drink, eyes gleaming with delight. "But you need to forget about him for the night!"

"Look around, let loose." Cleo bumped her hip against Sarah's, a laugh falling from her lips as she swung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Cleo playfully squinted her eyes and searched the crowd for someone to call over. Sarah leaned into Cleo's side and lifted the cup to her glossy lips, already feeling some nerves bubbling up in her stomach at the thought of speaking with an old friend, or worse, an old fling. Cleo suddenly perked up at her side and lifted a finger toward the crowd. 

"Actually, I-"

"Hey, you! Pretty boy! Yeah, you! C'mere!" Cleo shouted and waved whoever she'd chosen over, prompting Sarah to peek around the taller girl. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of a familiar face walking over with a smile and cup in hand. It'd been months since Sarah last even thought of (Y/N) (L/N), someone she'd once considered a friend and even a potential future boyfriend. And now, he walked toward them, completely oblivious to her friend's plans. His eyes found her and his smile widened, arms stretching out and enveloping her in an embrace. 

"Good to see you, Goldilocks!" He laughed, his cologne washing over her like a tidal wave and bringing back memories of the times she playfully wore his letterman jackets during games. His arms tightened around her waist and her feet left the ground as he heaved her up into his arms and gave her a quick spin. Surprised laughter tumbled out of her and she clung onto his shoulders, careful not to spill the contents in her cup. She caught the knowing look exchanged between Cleo and Kiara and felt her cheeks flush with heat.

"You know each other?" Cleo questioned once Sarah planted her feet back on the ground, one of her brows raised and the ends of her lips curled into a smirk. Sarah breathlessly chuckled and tucked some hair behind her ear, her eyes bashfully flickering between the ground and the faces around her. 

"We were in the same friend group with Kelce and the others." She explained, finding an ache for his warmth when he pulled away to greet her two friends. Cleo hummed lowly and clapped a hand over (Y/N)'s shoulder as she sent her blonde friend a wink.

"Well, I guess you two got lots to catch up on, right? We best leave you to it then!" Cleo snaked her arm around Kiara's shoulder and led the brunette away, casting another mischievous grin over her shoulder at the two. Sarah's lips parted to protest but the two quickly disappeared into the crowd, leaving her with her former friend. Humming, (Y/N) beckoned her toward a quieter area in the backyard and led her to some lawn chairs.

"I heard you've had a crazy year, Goldilocks." (Y/N) smiled at her as he sat, and for a moment things felt normal. The treasure hunts, her turbulent relationship with John B, the constant fleeing from danger dissipated with just one sweet smile from a jock she'd spent so many years overlooking. Sarah breathed without a heaviness in her chest and returned the smile.

"That's an understatement." She chuckled and sat down on the chair beside him, swirling the contents of her cup before lifting it to her lips again.

"Your boyfriend and his friends are getting something for discovering the gold, right?" (Y/N) tilted his head, eyes slightly widened with curiosity. "I can't imagine following someone out to Venezuela, but I guess that means you're a real ride or die, huh?"

"He didn't seem to think that." Sarah inhaled sharply, gaze drifting away from him. "We broke up. I, uh... I realized I only liked him 'cause he was something new and different from other guys on Figure Eight. He was more exciting than Topper at the time but... in the casual, normal moments we just didn't really click, you know? I thought I loved him. I just loved what came with being with him. And he loved that too. He got to be the guy who bagged Sarah Cameron. He... He was like Topper in that sense." 

"I mean, I'd brag too if I had you. You're a catch, Goldilocks." Her face flushed as he laughed quietly, a playful smile on his face. Sarah turned her head back toward him, the gentle wind pushing some loose strands of hair over her face. Before she could brush them out of the way, (Y/N) reached out to tuck them behind her ear.

Familiarity knawed at her back, reminding her of her previous mistakes of jumping from guy to guy too quickly. But when (Y/N)'s finger brushed along her jawline as he retracted his hand, she took another deep breath and leaned forward. Her lips clashed against his and (Y/N) made a muffled noise of surprise, only needing a few seconds to process before his hand cupped the back of her head. A prickle of guilt stabbed into her stomach, a feeling she detested considering she was single and free to do as she pleased. When she nearly found herself pouting as (Y/N) pulled back, the guilt vanished. The other jocks whooped and hollered at them before calling (Y/N) over for a beer-drinking competition. 

"We should meet up later." (Y/N) flashed a less-than-innocent smirk before standing and leaving the blonde with her thoughts. Sarah's grip on her cup tightened and she slumped back in the lawn chair.

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to enjoy that as much as I did.”

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x female reader #x fem reader #x gender neutral reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks x y/n #outerbanks x reader #obx #obx x reader #obx x you #obx x y/n #obx x male reader #sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x male reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron x fem reader #john b routledge

[villainsimpqueen]

Echos in Paradise Lost

Adam X reader X Eve.

Reader is intersex.

(My fics are 18+)

Chapter 8

By the birth of their second son Abel, Adam had made sure he did not leave Eve's side not wanting to leave her and give birth alone like she had for their first son Cain.

He had made changes in the cave with her, no longer did their bed of furrs lay on the ground of the cave floor but he had raised it up by building earth's first bed.

Cain was not able to get in the way because Adam with Eve's input had built the first kids pen to place his young adventurous son into.

Building had become a new discovery that Adam found himself enjoying, one that Eve liked to challenge seeing as the longer she kept Adam busy the better his moods became. He was eager to be of use to their small family and was even more so to provide so when she made a comment about wishing to stop beating the furrs of their bed out before they lay down to get any insects that found way into their cave home, he built it off the ground. When she commented about Cain being too quick for her to stop her wifely tasks to catch him each time, Adam provided an area of the Cain that had small fences made of cut logs and vines keeping their son safe in an area while Eve did her work.

She never commented on how he made the bed big, bigger than two full grown adults.

Now she was grateful for that space as she screamed, able to clutch the beds sides anywhere she needed to as she stood, labor pains ripping through her as she tried birthing their second son.

Cain had come out with ease, so why was her second child so difficult?

Hard labor breaths left her as pain wracked her body. She could feel cold presses of a damp cloth pressed to her temple, Her hair being pulled from sticking to her back and hips. Adam retwisting it and tying it back above her shoulders.

There wasn't much he could do but feeling him wipe her clean of sweat, keeping her hair from being covered in blood that pushed out between her thighs while going to tend to their already wailing toddler, that was all she could ever ask of him, He tended to her and their son making sure both were fed and while he neglected cain of his comfort and time they could forgive him as he focused all of it on her. Helping her up and down the bed, cleaning her skin from sweat and rubbing up and down her back providing her soft praises.Ones she did not know of how highly he saw of her.

"Thou art more splendid than thy maker, for they know not the toil to bestow true life.” He had softly whispered in her ear before placing a kiss on her temple.

She had felt strength fill her as she screamed out another contraction.

It had taken a full day and half a night before she finally was able to rest upon in their bed, small wails cried and she opened her tired eyes to see Adam standing at the end of the bed, a fur blanket wrapped around the small bundle that she did not feel was small minutes ago.

She took in how soft his golden eyes were as he stared down to the bundle with adoration.

His eyes moved to look at her in pride and adoration.

"His eyes bear thine own reflection.” He tells her a gentle smile on his face as he nears her side of the bed carefully placing their second son in her arms, Eve looked at their son's gentle features, his hair dark like Adams, his skin tone a mix of them both but bright honey eyes looked up at her. She cooed at their little one moving her lips to his crying head kissing his little temple.

"He doth embody perfection.” She softly mummed as she held their second son closely. Adam had smiled but it fell when he heard the wails of his first son, he scrambled from the bed heading back to Cain.

Picking up his first son holding him tightly, he whispered soft apologies for his attention not being provided as he carried his son to where his mother and brother rested, sitting beside Eve he held Cain in his lap to see his brother.

"This, thy brother Cain, anon shalt thou findeth a companion for mirth.” He softly told his young son as he looked towards his second born in Eve's arms. Cain let out soft small words as he was just starting to learn them as he reached his small hands out towards his brother too quickly.

Eve had jerked her arms away from Cain holding their second son closely to her chest.

"He shall inflict harm upon him.” She had protested and Adam frowned, shaking his head as he moved Cain to settle on his lap before moving an arm to take his second son from her, bringing him carefully to his chest.

“He shall not. He's only eager.” He said sternly as he let Cain look at his younger brother, his other hand stopping his first born from snatching ahold of his second born with gentle scolding, taking Cains hand with his own and carefully placing it on his second son.

"gentle son, he is but small as thou once wert, thou must handle him tenderly.” Adam softly whispered, allowing his sons to meet each other under his supervision.

Eve had watched, watched her boys together with a smile before she allowed sleep to fill her, exhausted from the long hours of labor.

Her eyes opened to a familiar place, one she hadn't been in for so long. Sweet smells of flora hitting her nose as the bright perfect sun landed on fields of flowers.

The meadows she adored.

Soft squeals of children echoing in the field and she felt a hand squeeze her own making her turn to see you. You were staring out to the fields where she followed your gaze to see Adam playing with her sons. Cain chased his legs in the flowers with their little son tied to his back in leather swaddling softly cooing and letting kut shrills of his own.

"Fair wife, they are exquisite to behold.” Your voice softly hit her ears making her heart swell as she looked at you squeezing your hand.

"I do yearn for thy presence amongst us.” Eve spoke, watching how your face frowned and turned to look at her squeezing her hand so tightly. Grasping as if she would disappear, as the world around the both of you started to go quiet.

"In thy presence I stand, by thy side... behold?” Your words spoke quickly, almost pleading.

a sense of panic filled her and she quickly spoke

“Of course!” The drumming sounds of Cains and Adams laughter and the gentle wind with the tall grass of wildflowers grew once more. You haven't smiled at her simply squeezing her hand as you turn to watch them, she did not miss how your eyes looked dewy.

She thought of her words carefully.

"Art thou secure? As the fields doth oft wither come season's end.” She speaks while watching her children and shared husband play.

A soft squeeze on her hand, the feeling of trembling fingers.

"I am no flower, but a bear in slumber 'near the first snow. Yet vigilant as a rabbit, shedding its coat, and in some way, my mind doth soar through thine like an owl in the night.” You softly whispered turning to her showing tears leaving the wondrous eyes Cain's mimicked.

Eve went to say something to comfort you, her hands finding a way to your face to wipe away tears but your hands cupped her own.

"I am burdened with the task of never unveiling my eyes, my mind tethered to two yet distant as the mist. And when one of these two minds doth find its way back to me, it must deem it as the capricious winds. And when they depart from me once more, 'tis as if the moments together were of fleeting snow.”

your tears warm under her fingertips as she stared at you, your warm hands squeezing her own.

She wished she could say more,

but all she could do was stare into your E/c eyes as everything faded away.

As did her memory of the spoken words between you two.

The boys grew up quickly, Eve could not believe how fast the years went by. She remembers Cain's first steps so clearly then his first words, Abels first little walks with shrills of delight as he learned to chase his older brother.

She smiled as grabbed a clay pot down from a ledge Adam built in their cave, bringing it down to a table. She moved her hand inside pulling out strips of dried dehydrated meat from a sandy powdery substance.

Salt. Adam had so cleverly named it.

She moved a blade through it cutting through the toughen meat into shorter chunks before placing them into a clean clay bowl, reaching up to the ledge she grabbed another clay pot she brought down pouring water into the meat chunks, she then gathered smaller clay pots to drop in plants and herbs she had collected, allowing the mixture to sit she washed her hands and moved out of the cave that was her and her families home.

The bright sun greeted her and so did the laughter of her boys as she focused her honey eyes to the side of the clearance of the cave house. Cain and Abel ran around chasing each other, both their hands digging into woven bags she had made to throw handfuls of seeds at each other, squealing as the seeds would hit them.

Her husband not far from them, his spear long changed into a hoe, rising above his head to be plunged into the ground, ripping away weeds and roots out of the soil he churned. Sweat moving down from her husband's temple and neck, his robes lower to his hips leaving his skin exposed to the sun to burn and darken as he created row after row of piled fresh exposed soil and tumbled seeds thrown around by their sons.

She neared his starting cropping area watching how he turned his head to her, a smile forming on his face as he leaned into his new tool, the sweat coating him shining.

“My sun.” He greeted her with a pull of his lips growing. “Come to bless me?” a light tease coming from him causing her to smile, his eyes moving from her to their sons a sigh leaving him knowing he would have to go find more seeds from the meadows making her giggle.

"I have arrived to witness what new endeavor thou art embarking upon, my dear husband.” She tells him as she turns to watch their sons play in their glee.

"To summon the Gathering to our humble abode, wherein thou mayst cultivate thy desires, my dearest... That is, if any seeds doth take root and flourish.” Adam explained as he watched their sons, shaking his head as he watched Abel chunk a handful of seeds at Cain's face making his first born sputter before lurching at Abel tackling his younger brother into the soil where both boys laughed at each other and tumbled each other through the soil not at all caring if they ruined their fathers straight rows.

"Aye, cease thy antics, ye mischievous scoundrels! The garden does not serve as thy playground. Take thy frolics to the creek or the meadows, anywhere but amongst the sacred blooms!” Adam scolded their sons, his words being met with their childish laughter being utterly ignored making his brows furrow before he looked at eve.

“Verily, 'tis as if their birth hath forsaken them the gift of hearing.” Her husband huffs, making Eve's shoulders shake as she covers her lips with her hand, not so silent giggles leaving her as she moves her other hand to his arm.

"Observe and glean wisdom, my dearest husband.” She softly tells him before she moves her hands on her hips letting a noise leave her lips that caused both boys to freeze at their mothers scolding noise.

"Begone, depart, leave thy father's labor untouched, for thou shalt return ere the sun fades to night.” She scolded them moving a hand to shoo the boys away, and to Adams squinting eyes at how fast both boys scrambled up seeming intentional kicking more of his straight tilled lines apart as they took off giggling down the trails to the creek where they would play in for hours until dinner was served by their mothers hand.

His wife had only laughed at his temporary misfortune before kissing the bittersweetness away and headed back to the cave, with a glance back eyes slanted in a tease as she vanished behind the door into the cave.

Making him freeze side eyeing his new made tool before back to the door of the cave before he headed to the cave leaving the Hoe laid against a tree trunk.

A hard working man deserved a break, after all.

By the time the boys were young teens, their home was transfixed and they were given work by their father to help around the house.

Cain was entrusted with a portion of his fathers fields, which had grown far larger than the gardens when he and Abel were in boyhood.

Cain had enjoyed the work, he liked tending to the plants and keeping pests away from the crop that would feed his family. He believed he had the most important task, tending to the crops with his Father and helping his Mother harvest only the best and ripe to be served on their clay dinner plates.

What was work in the sun surrounded by the freshest air compared to working at cleaning animal dung like his younger brother?

Cain grinned with pride as he filled two baskets of only the best fruits and vegetables. One to bring to their home for his mother to use for supper and the morrows break fast. The other he would take to the place his father would provide sacrifices to the heavens in good faith and hopes that their family would continue to be good.

He headed to the sacrificial stone, first setting the basket on it. He got to his knees holding his hands together to pray the words his father had taught him, but the words did not come from his lips.

His Mother Eve had told him that the heavens do not always listen.

And he sometimes wondered if that was true because he never felt like his Fathers words that he was taught to say ever felt true. They did not fill him like it seems to with his Father and Brother. Cain opened his eyes to the basket on the stone before at the bright sunny and cloudy skies.

The young teen thought for a moment before tipping his head back down in respect, his eyes closing.

He would not praise the heavens in his prayer.

Instead he would pray for a new meaning, a request that he hoped for his hard working Father and gentle ever loving mother would come true.

Perhaps it was selfish to request heavens instead of praising it like his Father Adam had always done.

"Oh, merciful heavens, I offer not this humble basket in mere praise of thy blessings. Today, I beseech thee to return unto my father and mother, my missing parent. If thy love, as my father still fervently believes, be as boundless as the sea, then I implore thee, release my parents Y/n back into their loving embrace... May our family be whole once more.” The words fell from his lips and once they finished leaving him he opened his eyes looking up at the fluffy clouded sky in hope before crossing his hands against his chest and head like Adam had shown him and Abel in their boyhood before he pushed himself up from his knees bowing his head once more before turning carrying the second basket back home eager to give his mother the basket.

Surely the heavens would be touched by his humble request for his parents to be reunited that it couldn't be ignored.

Abel groaned as he dug his shovel into piles of sheep dung, moving it to an area where he would later cover with the sheeps leftover uneaten straw, where it would all break down for Cain to use on his crops.

Abel had been tasked with aid in tending to his Fathers flock, mostly in feeding them, and cleaning up after them and carrying their waste to the pit where it will break down into a rich soil folder to be used on Cains and Fathers fields.

He huffed as he dragged a basket of freshly cut meadow grass his father had harvested in the early morning and spread it around the pin that held the flock. His work was filthy work and it always sent him to the creek to deeply clean himself and scrub away at the robes he wore now coated in straw bits and what he liked to think was mud and not the other brown substances he moved back and forth with the shovel crafted by his fathers hand.

"Thou dost appear most unsightly.” a teasing tone called from the pin making Abel snap his head to meet the e/c eyes of his older brother with his own honey ones. A huff left him too quickly as he stared at Cain.

"Thou art most gracious in thy compliments, elder sibling.” Abel answered back, his eyes rolling as he shoved the shovel back into the piles grunting as he lifted and carried it to the pit just outside the fence to drop the load into.

He heard the creaking of the wooden pen first making him turn his head watching with honey eyes as his eldest brother climbed into the pen moving towards him rolling his sleeves up his arms as he held a hand out for the shovel.

"Relinquish it swiftly, for thou tarriest overlong, and I have no desire to sup late due to thy tardiness.” Cain spoke with a tease in his tone but also with a firmness that made Abel most eager to hand the shovel to his older brother who took it and began to carry out his given task.

Abel let out a sigh as he leaned against the fence watching his older brother work.

"Pray, why dost thou always conclude with such haste?”Abel asks his brother, making Cain chuckle as he carries a loaded shovel to the pit.

"I doth awaken with father were the dawn's first light, unlike thee, who rouses with mother mere hours before noon's zenith.” his older brother tells him before tilting the shovel letting the flocks dung fall into the pit and he turns to look at him.

"Hadst thou risen earlier, brother, thou wouldst find thy tasks completed ere the sun's descent, thy ablutions done ere the sky's first blush, and thy supplications to the heavens concluded ere mother's call to supper.” Cain tells him, before moving back to shovel more of the flock's waste.

Abel had fallen silent before he moved forwards to take his shovel from his older brother, a determined look on his face.

"I shall strive to prove my worthiness, to demonstrate that I am indeed capable.” Abel said strongly, earning his brother chuckles and hand ruffling his hair.

"Thou art already capable, dear sibling, merely lacking in swiftness.” Cain teased instead before taking his leave to go to the creek to wash himself and the harvest clean before returning to the cave where he helped his mother with the cooking.

Abel had approached the offering area covered in mess but he looked at the heavens painted skies with gentle loving eyes as he got down his eyes, holding his hands over the stone and tipping his head.

"I may not have earned the honor of presenting thee a lamb, as father does, yet I humbly offer my praises and gratitude for the blessings bestowed upon my family. May thy divine light illuminate the morrow's sun.” Able softly whispers to the great heavens before looking up at the gorgeous painted skies of the sun set and moves his hands across his chest and head before rising from his knees and head to the creek to wash himself before heading home in time for supper before his mother calls.

Time moved fast and the young boys had gone from boys to young teens and from young teens to merely the starts of men.

Both brothers worked hard on their given jobs, providing for their family in different ways, and while Cain did aid in providing the family with the bests harvests, his work began to be overshadowed by his youngers brothers brilliance of tending to the Flocks and having them produce many lambs in the fresh spring, which meat was able to butchered and salted stored away for the upcoming winters. The fresh sweet milk from the sheep collected and turned into a new delicious treat that was thicken cream on their tongues.

His younger brothers praise clearly being more thickly than the praise he got on his own.

Cain tried to feel pride for his younger brother Abel, but what could he create that was new with simple plants when his brother could do so much with the flock?

And while his own work did not go unnoticed by his Father Adam, as his father would always place a hand on his shoulder or ruffle his hair speaking highly of him, and how his Mother Eve always seemed delighted in using his harvests for their nightly and daily meals.

It was the heavens that made him feel so inadequate, unworthy. For his request to have all his parents to be in each other's arms did not seem like it would ever be granted. He had been begging the heavens for such an event for so long.

Why was it so unattainable to have all of his parents?

Cain wanted to meet the parent his mother and father said that would and had been loving him for so long. He did not understand why they all could not be a family.

It also strung a ravenous sting when he had sat in the meadows one day with his younger son talking of their prayers and hearing of what his younger brother had prayed for and had it granted.

"The heavens have ever bestowed their blessings upon me and heeded my prayers.” Abel told his brother as he rose to his feet to gather at some of the tall grass wispy grains playing with them, it made Cain feel a bitterness in his chest.

"It appears the heavens turn a deaf ear to my entreaties.” Cain let out a huff, Perhaps his mother was true in her words.

Heaven ignores them, it's merely luck when one's prayer is answered.

Yet it still stung him so deeply.

"Perchance they find favor in me more than in thee, simple though it may be.” His brother's teasing words hit his ears hard.

And Cain felt something scorching burn through him as his eyes darted to the back of his youngest brother's head harshly. Moving to his feet the feeling grew heavily, as he hissed a noise he had never made before causing his brother's head to turn to look at him with wide honeyed eyes.

Blacken claws gripping his younger brother's robes as he yanked him towards the slitted yellow eyes that burned out from his head as he snarled at his younger brother.

"Who thou art to presume to speak on behalf of the heavens?!” Cain hissed at his brother, two fanged teeth enlarged from his jaw as they bared at his brother in that scorching feeling of his chest.

“Cain- '' Abel sputtered his tone wavering as a fear blossomed in his eyes as he took in his brother's sudden appearance, his chest shook with the urge to flee and he struggled in his brother's grasp to get away from the thing that had taken his brother's voice.

"Why do thy foolish desires find favor in their sight, whilst mine pleas for our family's wholeness are disregarded and callously cast aside?” Cain yelled at his brother, his hands shaking in his brother's robes before he shoved him backwards watching Abel fall to the ground, a small cry leaving his brother as Cain snarled glaring to the sky.

Abel fell his body colliding to the meadows ground harshly his back eating the dirt and his head coming down upon rocks hidden by the tall grass, his vision blurred from the awful thing that had took his brothers place from.the blurring of the sky before it spiked with n arrangement of colors as his head bounced from the rocks to land back down on a sharp edge.

A sickening cracking echoed.

Cain found himself freezing as he heard a shuttering gasp leave Abels lips before his slitted eyes moved from the heavens to the ground where his brother had landed, Ables neck snapped at an angle and golden blood seeped from his head, Abels honey eyes still wide open as his body shook.

Cain let a breathless strangled noise from his throat as he rushed to his brother's side grabbing at Abel a surge of panic coming from him.

"Brother, Brother, forgive me! I shall mend this rift... I shall bring healing unto thee.” Cain sputtered as he pressed a hand to his bleeding head. Watching how Abels eyes were unmoving, Cain moved his brother's neck back from a strange angle; another sickening cracking noise that made his stomach sink came from doing such action.

Cain ripped at his own robes tying the long strips around his brother's head before pulling away with trembling hands.

"There, there, all is restored, brother…” Cain spoke to the limp body of his brother, his body shaking with each second Abels unblinking eyes stared through him, to the sky above, the gloss in them fading.

“Brother, thou art healed now... Abel... Abel, speak to me!”

Cain shook his brother, his eyes burning with tears as he did not understand why Abel was unmoving. They both had been hurt before and had healed quickly. Surely his brother was playing a nasty trick on him and Cain shook at him.

"You win, thou cursed trickster of thine! I yield, but prithee, speak to me!” Cain begged a wail leaving him as the tears began to fall as his brother did not move an inch. Worry Settler in his stomach as well as something else he did not know off, Cain had risen to his feet and ran through the tall wisps of grass into the overgrowth of trees until rocks ate at his feet and larger ones slicked with green that nearly made him fall.

The soft serine trickle so rushing water hitting his ears as his cupped hands dipped harshly into cool waters scaring away the aquatic life there before his rose them, droplets dripping as he ran back through the rocky trails until soft grassed and dirt kicked from his pace, until tall wispy grasses slapped against the hips of his robes as he found his brother still unmoving. Cain wheezed and heaved as he moved his trembling cupped hands to give the little water that managed to stay in them to his brother's lips, filling his mouth full of the cold refreshing water of the small stream.

Cain could only watch helplessly as his brother's lips were filled to the top with water and it dribbled out from the corners of Abels mouth and a choking sob left Cain as he threw himself onto his brother's chest clinging to the fabrics of his younger brother's robes sobbing.

“ABEL!” his screaming voice echoed through the silent meadows.

When the sun had begun to reach its setting peak and A few yells from Eve outside the cave, It was only a worried look his wife gave him before Adam was on his feet, grabbing a spear and heading out to find his sons.

"Bringeth them back to me safely.” Eve had called to him softly by the door as he exited, Adam did not reply but he did spare his wife a gentle gaze before he left.

He did not tell her that he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He started on the field's, and the pens, seeing if his sons had merely gotten busy in helping each other with their workload, but he found them empty as he headed towards the creek.

Perhaps he would find them wrestling each other in the cool waters, he had hoped so, but when he came upon the cool peaceful scene of an untouched creek the pit of dread started to consume him more as he rushed towards the meadows that lead to the beaches.

He called for his sons by name, waiting to hear them call back or their laughter.

He only heard his eldest screams of panic from his brother's name.

Worry and relief filled him as he rushed through the tall wispy grass not caring if they hit and stained his robing as he neared his eldest screaming.

“CAIN! ABEL!” he called out for them both, hearing a silent form before his eldest screamed a retching while calling him.

“FATHER! "FATHER! FATHER, COME NEAR! FAST!” Cain had wailed, hope filled him immediately when he heard his father, Adam's voice. His dad could fix anything, he's seen him fix and build so much in his whole lifetime. Cain just knew that his father could fix Abel and that they could all go home and eat the supper his mother made them and tomorrow will be a new dawn. He had expected to be comforted by his father, then to be teasingly ridiculed for playing too rough and he fixed his little brother as if none had ever happened.

He had only felt the harsh shove from his fathers hands and watched as his father grabbed Abel's head watching how it rolled back to the harsh angle with a much more dull sickening sound. His fathers chest moved quickly as he moved his hand from Abels locs to be coated in gold.

"What hast thou wrought?!” His fathers voice had trembled with fear, rage, and agony.

"I... He... He mocked me, and I nudged him; 'twas not with much force! He fell to the earth and hath not stirred since... Yet, thou canst mend him, father... Thou canst mend him... Canst thou not?” Cain explained himself, tried justifying his actions, his voice had been stronger but it began to waver and leave him as he saw the haunting face of his father who stared at his unmoving little brother.

"Mend him...?... How can I mend one who is DECEASED! He's DEAD, Cain!” Adam screamed, pulling his dead boy's face to his chest, his hand gathering into his dead second born's hair, the other gathering the robes on his back that his mother mended him. His scorching eyes raging as he stared at his first born with scorn and pain.

Watching how yellow and red eyes watered, no longer playing into the lies of mimicking a false sire. No longer the wondrous E/c that you and only you possessed.

No because one that committed such a thing could never have your eyes.

Nor could bare any reflecting light of your image.

So here he kneeled holding the dead corpse of his second born, whose body had grown cold and starting to stiffen in his arms, whose golden blood seeped into his robes staring into the eyes of his wifes bastard who killed his real first born.

Listening to how the snake bastard cried and pleaded for forgiveness, to Him, to the heavens even to his dead Abel's body to come back.

But Adam did not blame Cain.

For Cain was simply a byproduct of his true sires darkness.

No, Adam blamed himself for ever believing a deceiver, a sinner, could be trusted with the safety of his family.

His eyes unmoving from him, kneeled down weeping, his once child, the spear across his back heavy as he laid Abels body down and grabbed it standing to his feet.

Cain reached for his fathers feet, his anguished wails increasing as a small terror formed from the silence his father permitted, his head not moving from facing the ground where his tears fell nourishing the greedy weeds that had already spoken in the gold from his brother's veins.

Adam felt the spear heavy in his hold, his hand trembling as he stared down at the one he raised.

And when the deceiver he raised looked back at him with his yellow and red eyes swirling into the false dull, no longer as bright and vibrant e/c. A choke swelled in his throat as he lowered the spear with shaking hands.

Because how could he strike his boy?

The little boy he held and cried for the day of his birth?

The little lad who squealed in delight and took his first steps to follow him.

Him?

Like a true father?

How could he bring pain to his son?

But what of his other boy?

The one he failed to protect because he took a sinner under his arms.

Killed by the one Adam had told him was his brother.

Murdered by one Adam said he could trust and love as kin, regardless if it was an accident or not.

How could he trust a deceivers words when his first act from birth was to trick one's mind?

How could he ignore such an atrocious act?

When the cold body of his only blooded son slowly rots behind his feet?

“Father-” Cain's words were cut short as Adam brought down the spear, strong as his own will, but true to his heart as it plunged into the ground beside Cain's frame.

"Thou shalt depart. Take this spear for thy protection and one of the laden baskets at the altar, then depart.” Adam words shaken with his emotions but he steeled his eyes to not give such as he glared down at Cain. Ignoring how the tears stained his once son's face or how his eyes trembled with emotions.

"Thou shalt depart, and returneth not. Go far, yea, farther still, for thou canst not flee far enough. Thou art no more my son, and should I chance upon thee again, thou shalt not be the lad I raised, but the demon that slew my sons.” Adam growled slowly watching how the other flinched backwards and stumbled.

But Adam did not give the sinner any more attention than that, he turned on his heels to gather his dead boy in his arms and carry him past the one who cried meaningless words of forgiveness.

Words could not bring back his son.

Words that could not bring back both his sons nor the illusion he allowed to trick him.

Adam left the meadow, tears falling down his cheek.

For he had lost two sons this day.

chp 9

#eve x reader x adam #adam x reader x eve #adam x reader #eve x reader #adam hazbin #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #eve hazbin hotel

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hey!! Can I do a request? So, how do you imagine the hashiras with a child that don't have parents?

I'm sorry about my writing, I'm Brazilian and I'm really good at reading and speaking, but I'm really bad at writing for some reason, anyway, g'night!

Please, don’t worry. Your English is wonderful and your request is just as wonderful! I will do this! Thank you! Mui is, yes, aged up to adulthood for this

Rengoku Kyojuro

He immediately runs to the crying of a lonely child. He missed somebody who needs his help

Kyojuro is extremely saddened by the traumatising sight before him. A little young girl surrounded by the bodies of her parents as she cries her eyes out

Kyojuro gently approaches her and attempts to lower his voice as to not scare her, introducing himself fully

“Hello, dear! My name is Rengoku Kyojuro and I’m your friend. I have taken care of that evil monster, would you like to come with me?”

He takes her out of the destroyed home on his hip and requests the Kakushi clean up the bodies as he tries to comfort the little girl the best he can

Kyojuro does everything he can to cheer her up. Act silly, give her his food, play piggybacks. He does it all so she’ll smile and eventually, he succeeds and it brings forth a smile of pride

He can’t leave her alone and helpless so he decides to try look for her family within the huge town, just to find out all she had was her parents

Then, Kyojuro just takes her in himself after deciding it was the right choice. He is a fully grown adult and can take care of children, he take cares of Senjuro so he knows how to

Tomioka Giyuu

The echoing cries of a child concern him as he immediately rushes to it. Is the child hurt? The demon has been slayed, is there another?

Giyuu finds a little girl clutching the body of her dead mother and next to her dead father, and his heart breaks. He relates to the pain of losing parents

Giyuu takes a few seconds too long to approach the child as he is afraid he’ll scare her. But he explains himself in the best way he can when he does

“Hey. Please don’t be scared. I’m the good guy, my name’s Tomioka Giyuu. I’m here to protect you, what happened?”

He helps lead her out of the house so the Kakushi can clean everything up as he listens to her

Giyuu sees the best way to comfort the child is to let her cry on his shoulder so he picks her up gently and holds her. He doesn’t speak, he just lets her cling onto him

Giyuu went around the town to ask the surviving townsfolk about her family, only to discover that she has nobody left

Even if he doesn’t see himself fit, he decides to take her in and look after himself. Everybody else won’t so who will?

Iguro Obanai

Crying? Somebody’s hurt. Obanai speeds off without hearing out the Kakushi as somebody still needs his protection

The sight before him disgusts him to his very core. A young girl hiding in the corner with her parents body thrown into the other wall

Obanai panicked in the moment. He was never good with children, he was very harsh to most people. Should he just let the Kakushi handle you? In a blink, he is before her explaining everything he can to try keep her calm

“Don’t panic. Don’t panic, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to protect you. The demon’s gone. My… name is Iguro Obanai. Can you come with me?”

He gently helps her out of the house whilst ordering the Kakushi to get to work so he can give his attention to handling the girl

Obanai has never been good at comforting but he picks her up so she could vent her heart out to him. Kaburamaru did his best to comfort her by pressing his snout on her skin

Obanai quickly gathers the townsfolk to find someone who can take care of the child. His mission is unsuccessful as she has nobody left in Japan

After a little while, he brings himself to the conclusion that he can’t leave her alone. He must take care of her himself. He will have to manage, for her sake

Kanroji Mitsuri

Her legs yank her in the direction of helpless crying the moment she hears it. It sounds like a child

Her heart almost breaks in half when she finds the source of the noise. A young girl holding the hands of her two bloodied dead parents and begging for them to wake up

Mitsuri instantly rushes to the girl and explains herself as she pulls her away from the bodies, out of a sense of protectiveness

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to drag you around! I’m a friend, I’m on your side! My name is Kanroji Mitsuri and I defeated the scary monster to save you”

Taking her away from the gruesome sight as quick as possible, the Kakushi enter as the Hashira and the girl leaves. In her arms, she asks the child to talk to her

Mitsuri, just like Kyojuro, does her best to cheer the young girl up. Playful hugs, braiding her hair, finding rope to play skip rope. Anything to make her smile

Mitsuri, as the girl tries to calm herself down, wonders around the town, talking to everybody she can to find out who can take her in and look after her but to no luck, she doesn’t have anybody

In a instant, she decides to bring the child to her Estate and look after her herself. She has lots of younger siblings and plenty of experience in caretaking!

Tokito Muichiro

Originally, the sound of crying wouldn’t bother him but the fact it sounded rather child-like was concerning so he took off

To find where the problem is and when he did find it. He wanted to puke on the spot. A crying young girl covered in the blood of her parents and their body parts scattered around her

Muichiro does consider his next move heavily as he slowly approaches the child. He’ll say hello, tell her who he is and bring her away from the bodies to figure out what to do next

“Hey— please, don’t be scared. I won’t harm you, I want to save you. I see… that this happened and I’m here to help it go away. My name is Tokito Muichiro”

Muichiro brings her out of the house in his arms, covering her eyes from the bodies so the Kakushi can take care of the mess

Like Obanai, Muichiro isn’t the most skilled at comforting but he listens to her and pats through her hair in attempts to calm her down

Muichiro runs around to try find any of her family members so they can take care of her. This doesn’t go well as he finds out she has nothing left

So, he takes her to his Estate and will try to take care of her himself. He is more than capable of looking after himself, how hard can a child be?

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Prowling for any spare Demons to dispose off. His ears are alerted to sudden loud crying and he almost dropped his katana to reach the child in danger

His anger and hatred over demons grew stronger in that very moment at what he saw. A poor innocent child with a cut on her knee and the headless bodies of her parents in the back

Sanemi doesn’t bother thinking, he rushes to her and picks her up. Surprising the poor thing as he explains himself with the softest voice and smile he can muster

“Hey. Please don’t cry anymore, you’re safe now. I will protect you, okay? My name is Shinazugawa Sanemi, allow me to help you with… this”

Sanemi basically jumps through the roof in a instant to get the girl away from the bodies, though, he didn’t need to order the Kakushi to go in as they did it for him

Sanemi is actually quite good at comforting and cheering children up, thanks to his past with handling so many younger siblings. He cuddles her and always responds with such caring words

Sanemi almost shakes down everybody around him to find you a suitable home, though, it doesn’t go the way he was hoping as he discovers the harsh truth of her lack of family

He can’t just leave the girl without a home so he brings her back to his and promises to take care of her with everything he has. He can do it, he has plenty of experience just as Mitsuri does

Himejima Gyomei

Silence enveloped the scene when blaring cries for help struck the Rock Hashira. He didn’t waste anytime to hear his way to them. A child that needs protection

He may not be able to see the scene in front of him but he can, for sure, smell and sense it like no other. A young girl crying over dead bodies, he jumped to assume they were her parents

Gyomei hesitates as he has grown afraid of children, due to his past experience with them, but his righteousness told him he must. He approaches her slow and low before explaining himself the best he can

“Hello, young one. I have arrived here to protect you, no harm will come before you as long as I am here. Trust me, my name is Himejima Gyomei”

Gyomei helps lead the child away from the horrifying nightmare she had to experience and senses the presences of the Kakushi going past, to clean up in that broken room

Like Sanemi, Gyomei is quite good at comforting, if not the best, thanks to his experience with childcare. He doesn’t try cheer her up playfully, he lets her speak until she has let it all out

Gyomei asks every single one of the victims he rescued if they know anything about the girl and her bloodline, all to such vanity when he must conclude she has no family left

Gyomei may be afraid of children but his compassion made him unable to leave the child homeless. He brings her to his Estate in a quick decision to take care of her until he can find a better home. He’ll have no problem with it after all

Uzui Tengen

He wasn’t only alerted to loud crying in concern but in empathy, he hated it when children cry. Especially if demons are the cause as he arrives as fast as he can

Disgusted and revolted at the hideous yet familiar sight, he had to lay his eyes upon a little girl crying as the mutilated bodies of her beloved parents sat in front of her

Tengen didn’t bother trying to be unheard or gentle, he needed the child in his arms and out of the house as soon as possible. He told her all he could

“Whoa. Whoa, no need to be scared of me. I may be big but I’m not a mean scary thing like the one I slayed. I’m here to stop the bad people and save you. My name is Uzui Tengen”

Tengen brought the child out on his back as he played with her whilst waking away, in hopes to distract her from her distress whilst the Kakushi enter themselves

Tengen isn’t the best at comforting nor cheering up but he is very playful and he knows how to be silly so he uses games and jokes to try keep her calm

Tengen went up to everybody he could find in the town with the girl tucked under his arm playfully as he asked them about her family. Learning that she had nobody to look after her now, his heart broke

Though, he did not skip a beat to take the girl to his Estate and show her off to his wives. He knew they’d love the idea of taking care of a child and he was excited over taking care of her too

Kocho Shinobu

She rushes over to the sound of a crying child at her top speed. There could still be a demon wondering around or somebody injured

She wished the image before her was a illusion so bad as her eyes dulled in raw empathy. A poor little girl alone in a chipped apart room with no parents around but stains of blood on the floor

Shinobu thought for a few seconds before she decided to gently approach her, she didn’t want to seem scary so she tried as she did her best to ease the girl

“I’m so glad you’re safe, darling. My name is Kocho Shinobu and I am your friend. Your protector, nobody will hurt you. May I help you up?”

Shinobu hides the girl’s head in her shoulder, carrying her so she doesn’t see the ruined house anymore whilst signalling the Kakushi to enter and clean up the pools

Shinobu, like the number of Hashira, is decently skilled in comforting children. She has many little ones she cheers up so she knows just to hug and stroke her hair until she calms down

Shinobu leaves the child with Kanao so she can scout out her family faster and get her sorted out faster but her efforts are thrown away when she finds out she has no family… how Shinobu related so much to it

She grew to like the young girl in little time so she decided to make it official and take her to her Estate, and look after her herself. She has lots of experience as she takes care of over five people everyday, one more isn’t a problem

#anime and manga #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny imagines #kny hashira #kny angst #iguro obanai #obanai iguro #kanroji mitsuri #mitsuri kanroji #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #tomioka giyuu #giyuu tomioka #himejima gyomei #gyomei himejima #uzui tengen #tengen uzui #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #kocho shinobu #shinobu kocho #tokito muichiro #muichiro tokito

[blueraineshadows]

Thank you so much for responding to my request last time, it was so good! I have another concept that's also inspired by something else if you don't mind?

Sebastian and MC are married, but he goes missing (due to his dangerous job) and is thought to be dead for years. MC is still grieving, but trying to move on. She gets engaged to another wizard, but Sebastian finally returns after trying his best to get back to her. They have a huge fight when Sebastian finds out (it'd be nice if it had a happy *smutty* ending, though).

"Where do you get off letting him think he can have you? You're mine and I'm yours. That's it!"

Great Request! 😃 Thank-you 💜

This has angst! It's also long! NSFW 🌶 🔥

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Mrs Sallow) as adults.

My beloved, Sebastian,

They tell me you are gone, forever, lost to me...dead. I haven't seen your face for over two years now, and my deepest fear suspects they may be right. But in my heart, safe for always, you will remain. As much as it hurts me, I could never let you go completely, for that would mean the end of me also.

I know our friends mean well, they wish to see me happy, at peace perhaps. But it has been hard to hear their insistent pleas for me to move on. Of late, I have had to succumb to their pleas. I'm not sure I can handle another visit to the morgue to identify another poor soul, the guilt of my relief that it is never you under the cloth, but some other lost loved one. I don't envy their family's pain, but it is another desperate scrap of hope that you are still alive.

We are holding a ceremony for you, to say goodbye, to let you go. I cannot say goodbye, merely farewell, for one day I know we will be reunited. How could we not? Whatever awaits beyond the mortal realm, I will find you there, my whole soul is destined for it. It always was.

It breaks me that you had to go before me, and all I have left are my memories, precious moments that are a comfort during dark, lonely nights.

Forgive me for having to let you go, if only for a time. I will love you forever, just as I promised you.

Wait for me. I will wait for you.

Your wife, MC.

Six months later...

"Matthew has proposed," MC said. Her fingers clutched her teacup a little tighter. The words sounded so terribly real when said out loud.

Poppy paused as she went to take a sip from her own tea cup, her eyes widening. She quickly put down her cup and put a hand on MC's arm. "Oh my goodness," she said. Concern clouded her face. "How...I mean...what did you say?"

"I told him I needed to think about it," MC said. Which was the truth. She looked down at her left hand, the silver band symbolising her eternal promise to Sebastian still there on her finger. Her voice became a whisper. "I can't help but feel like I am being unfaithful."

"Oh, MC," Poppy said. "I know it must feel strange, and of course it's so very difficult. But, you deserve to find some happiness, MC. And, Matthew is so lovely, I know he would take care of you."

MC nodded. "That's what makes it so difficult, Poppy. Matthew is wonderful, so understanding. He told me to take all the time I need to think. He would make a wonderful husband, but..."

The pause lay heavy between them. Poppy nodded knowingly. "He isn't Sebastian."

MC took a swallow of tea to loosen the restriction in her throat. She took a deep breath. "However, I did make a promise to try and move on, didn't I? Maybe a new beginning would be the best way to go about it."

"I agree," Poppy said. "It would gladden my heart to see you happy again, MC."

....*....

The fire crackled and dipped in the hearth. MC sat cross legged before it, her eyes watching the flames dance. Passion, and heat, unpredictability, fire had always reminded her of Sebastian.

A hand on her shoulder made her look up. Matthew smiled down at her, handing her a wine goblet. She took it with thanks. He folded to sit on the rug beside her. "Are you cold?" He asked. He wrapped an arm about her, rubbing her arm with his hand.

"No, just unwinding," she smiled. She leant her head against his shoulder. He was sturdy, safe, comforting. Traits that had made her gravitate towards him. It kept the edge off her loneliness.

He pressed a kiss to her head, his thumb making lazy circles on her arm. He had never pushed her to be physical with him, knowing how fragile her heart was. He had been an exemplary gentleman, and she was grateful for it.

She sipped her wine, the firelight glinting off the diamond she wore on her ring finger. She had accepted his proposal. Sebastian's ring was now on a chain around her neck, close to her heart. She rubbed a hand absently against it through the fabric of her blouse.

"I thought perhaps we could take a boat trip tomorrow," Matthew suggested. "We could get some fresh air, maybe take a picnic. It would be good to escape the city for a while."

"That sounds perfect," she smiled. She looked up at him. He had lovely, blue eyes, blue like the sky. His hair was fair, neatly trimmed. He was nothing like Sebastian, and that was how she wanted it.

Matthew's gaze was warm, loving. He tightened his hold a little, his gaze dropping to her lips. MC felt a little breathless and wondered if perhaps she had drunk too much wine. His kiss was soft, testing. He did not want to pressure her.

MC felt her body respond. It was weak, just a flutter, but it was the first time she had felt anything remotely close to desire in years. She kissed him back.

As the kiss deepened, the warmth of it seemed to ease back the cavern of loneliness that had carved itself in her chest. So, she let him lay her back on the rug, his mouth claiming hers more deeply.

There was a war going on inside of her. Half was opening up, reaching out for the closeness, the warmth, after so long in the dark. The other half of her was screaming, no, this was all wrong. She was wrong, a betrayer, she was betraying Sebastian.

She pulled back from Matthew's kiss, her hands flat against his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart.

"Are you alright?" He asked. The concern in his gaze made her want to scream and rip at her own hair. She was being so unfair to him. She would be a terrible wife. He deserved so much better.

"A little overwhelmed," she breathed. She winced. "Forgive me. I think I need a minute."

"Of course," he said. He immediately sat up, adjusting his trousers.

"You must think I am a terrible tease," she grimaced. "That is not my intention."

"No, MC, I don't think that at all. I think you have suffered a terrible loss, and I do not ever expect to fill the hole Sebastian left behind." Matthew said. "I wish I could take the pain away for you, truly I do. I only hope that, one day, you can love me even a fraction of what you felt for him."

MC felt her heart squeeze painfully. Matthew was a good person. She did not deserve him. She reached out and took his hand. "How are you so perfect?"

A sharp rap on the front door made them both jump and turn. "Who on earth could that be at this hour?" MC asked.

Matthew frowned. "I will see to it." He got to his feet and MC couldn't help lift her eyebrows. He was sweet for thinking that she needed protecting, after all, she was a far more powerful witch than most.

She heard the door open and the surprise in Matthew's voice. "Ominis!"

MC immediately got to her feet. It was very unlike Ominis to call upon her so unexpected like this. Her heart kicked up a notch and she twisted her fingers together as he appeared in the living room doorway.

"Good evening, MC. I am sorry to call on you so late, but this couldn't wait," he said. He looked grave, a little flustered even. He tilted his head trying to locate her.

She went to him, reaching for a hand. "Ominis, I'm here, it's alright." He squeezed her fingers, his usual cool fingers hot and sweaty. She swallowed. "What is it?"

"I don't know where to start," he said. He pressed long fingers to his brow. "I had word through the Ministry that a stronghold of slavers has been discovered in America. There were many prisoners, witches and wizards from all over the world, Aurors, Unspeakables..."

MC felt his grip tighten on her fingers, his bones grating against hers. She didn't even feel the pain. Her vision was starting to tunnel. All she could see was his face, her eyes fixed on his lips as the words came out. "Go on," she urged.

Ominis took a deep, shuddering breath. "The list of survivors, the ones they brought back..."

"Ominis," she said. Her voice was a strangled plea. She was clinging to his hand, her other hand reached out to grab the front of his immaculate robes. Hope was being dangled in front of her eyes. Years of agony were twisting harshly in her chest and her ears were screaming for what he had to say next. Oh, Merlin, please!

He nodded and got a hold of himself, his eyes blinking back the sudden shine in them. "His name was on that list, MC. Sebastian...he has been found."

She could hear someone wailing, a terrible, wrenching sound and then all was quiet. Soothing blackness wrapped around her and then there was nothing else.

....*....

She blinked. Once, twice, the living room swimming into view. She felt heavy, sluggish, her mouth glued shut. MC tried to sit up on the settee, and then hands were there steadying her shoulders. Matthew's face was a picture of worry.

She turned her head, and there in the wingback chair sat Ominis, looking anything but his usual composed self. His fingers were clutching the arms of the chair, his face rigid, his hair a little ruffled.

They had found him!

"Is it true?" She croaked.

Ominis turned his face her way, his lips trembled, and he nodded. "The survivors were brought back to England three days ago. I made some enquiries and Sebastian was placed in a safe house. I had trouble believing it myself, and so I made arrangements to go and make absolutely sure it was true."

Her heart was a wild thing in her chest, it hurt to breathe. "You've seen him?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I saw him not two hours ago."

Her breath left her in a rush, a tear slid from her cheek. She shook, uncontrollably, and shifted, fully facing him now. "Can we...can I," she gasped. She put her fingers to her lips. "Is he alright?"

"He is alive, and not badly wounded. I can't say much about his state of mind, of course. He is...understandly, traumatised. But he did ask for you. It was one of the first things he said to me." Ominis said. He hesitated, his fingers flexing. "He wanted to know everything...about you. I...filled him in a little. I apologise."

She flinched and slid from the couch to her knees, literally crawling across the floor to clasp Ominis' hand. "Take me to him, please."

Ominis held her hand, but his head turned in the direction of Matthew, a pained look on his face. MC gasped and swung her gaze around to Matthew, horrified that she had completely forgotten he was standing there. She began to stutter out an apology, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't say another word," he said. His eyes were sad, but his mouth was firm. "Go, go to him. It's only right." He faltered. "He is your husband, after all."

....*....

Ominis and MC Apparated to the location of the safe house. The road was dark, quiet, a chill breeze tugging at the trees. Set back from the road was the house, an Auror standing guard near the door. A light glowed in a downstairs window.

MC was clinging on to Ominis' arm, too afraid to let go lest she just collapse to the ground. None of this felt real. He led her through the gate and towards the door, her feet stumbling along the path.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Ominis asked.

"I will crawl through that door if I have to," she said through gritted teeth. "I need to see."

The Auror guard gave a nod to Ominis. "Gaunt," he said, respectfully. His eyes took in MC. "Mrs Sallow, I take it."

"I think Mr and Mrs Sallow need some time," Ominis said. "By all means, keep your guard, but perhaps at a distance. I will be nearby as well, but they need some privacy just now."

"Understood." The Auror gave the door a long look before he made for the gate. "I will be along the front of the property."

"Why are they guarding him?" MC asked.

Ominis frowned. "Not all the slavers have been caught yet, and every survivor is a witness. It's for Sebastian's protection."

"Anyone coming for him will have to get through me first," she growled. It gave her some of her strength back to think that anyone might be about to snatch him away from her again, and she hadn't even seen him yet.

Ominis held her close for a moment. "I don't doubt it," he said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she looked up at him in surprise. Ominis was not one for overly displaying affection. "Will you be alright, now?"

"Yes," she said. "And thank you. Thank you for bringing me here."

"It's only where you belong, MC," he said. He moved from her grip and knocked on the door. "I doubt you will need me, but I won't be far away. He...he did not take the news well that there is another gentleman in your life."

MC could well imagine it. Sebastian wasn't the sharing type, especially when it came to her. But then, she would have felt just the same if another woman had laid a hand on him. She opened her mouth to reassure Ominis, but the latch sounded on the door.

The door opened, the light from inside spilling out onto the front step. MC stared, eyes wide, heart pounding as Sebastian stepped into view.

"You have a visitor, brother," Ominis said. He gave MC a gentle nudge forward.

Sebastian and MC looked at each other for the first time in almost three years. Her eyes devoured his face, ogling the shape of him, lines and angles she knew so well, but they were oddly strange to her now. He looked leaner, shadows under his eyes making him look weary, and there was a scar on his forehead that disappeared into his hair line.

Her name whispered from his lips. She took a faltering step towards him, and then another. He just stared, his eyes trying to comprehend that she was truly there at all. Her hand reached up, her fingers trembling so badly, that she missed on her first attempt. But then, she was touching him.

Her fingers trailed from his forehead, down over his nose to brush against his mouth. "You're real," she breathed. "It's really you."

A tear slid from his eye, rolling over his cheek. Her lips trembled. And then she was in his arms, crushed against him, as a sob ripped from her throat.

He held her so tightly that she could hardly breathe, but she didn't care. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing him in with small gasps, her fingers gripping at whatever she could get a hold of. He was solid, he was warm, he was here, alive.

Ominis slipped quietly away into the shadows, leaving husband and wife to find each other again.

....*....

The inside of the cottage was sparsely furnished but warm, a fire burning in the grate. The remains of a half eaten meal was on a tray, and a blanket was hanging off the edge of the settee.

MC wandered in behind Sebastian, her eyes constantly checking he was still there, feeling a little adrift since he had released her from that choking hug. He hadn't looked at her since, his face tense as he began to pace before the fireplace.

"I can't believe you're actually here," she said. "It's like a dream."

He spun to face her, his eyes hard. She flinched as he strode towards her, snatching up her hand to look at Matthew's diamond on her ring finger. He dropped her hand as if it burned him. "Some fucking dream," he hissed.

"Sebastian..."

"Do you have any idea what it was like!" He snapped. His face was so harsh, so cold. "Night after night, the screams, the beatings. An endless loop of nothingness. I thought I was going to go mad, I felt myself slipping away, but I kept hanging on. It was you! Your face, my memory of you, that kept me going. And now, now I find out that you replaced me! You're wearing another man's ring on your finger instead of the one I gave you!"

His voice had reached a pitch that made her press her fingers to her face, the fury in his eyes so much to bear that she gasped, her heart breaking into a thousand splinters.

He growled viciously and kicked out at a chair at the table. It clattered to the floor.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "Let me explain..."

He glared at her. "Does he touch you? Does he make you feel good?"

MC remembered the kiss her and Matthew had shared mere hours ago and flushed, but she shook her head. "No, Sebastian, please..."

"You're lying," he spat. He began to pace again, his hands raking through his hair. He swore harshly.

MC gritted her teeth. Her own shame at accepting Matthew gnawed at her, had she not felt like she was betraying Sebastian? She had not wanted to let him go, but had tried to, tried to please her friends, tried to be happy.

This was not how she had envisioned a reunion taking place. She watched Sebastian pace, his fury darkening his face, the pain flickering in and out in his eyes. "Stop this," she said. "I never stopped loving you."

He lunged for her arm, holding her hand up between them. The ring shone brightly in the firelight. "This says different."

His face was close and her heart ached for him. She felt the sting of tears. She fumbled her chain from out of her blouse, his ring hanging from it. "I never let you go, not really," she said.

He eyed the ring and then her. He shook his head. "You were all I thought about." He sounded broken.

He released her arm and turned away.

"I had to bury you!" She wailed.

He stiffened.

Her hands curled into small fists. "We had a ceremony, each of us saying how much we loved you. We put momentoes in a box and buried it because there was no body to say goodbye to. I wrote you letters, hundreds of them, but I had nowhere to send them. I had to bury them in the ground, with all the hope I could barely hang on to that you were still alive."

He turned to face her. She was really crying now, huge, fat tears of despair. She jabbed a finger at him. "You were gone. I was alone, so fucking alone, and I tried to find you. Searching, begging, pleading, driving everyone mad with my nonstop hope that you would be found. I almost threw myself into death's arms at one point, I thought it might be the only way to escape the pain of you not being there when I woke up every day."

Sebastian swallowed, some of the fury fading from his face. "You...you were going to kill yourself?"

She was panting, sucking in deep breaths, chest tight. She swiped the tears from her face and turned away from him, her cheeks colouring with her shame. She had never admitted that out loud until now. She calmed herself, smoothing her hands over her hips

"How was I supposed to go on without you? It was a really low point, but I was lucky. I had friends who cared enough to pick me up. And then...and then I met Matthew."

Sebastian scowled. But MC continued. "He was kind, he tried to help me. He works at the Ministry and he tried to help in my search for you. He took care of me, he never pressed me for anything in return."

"Sounds like a right hero," Sebastian muttered.

"Maybe he is," she said, whirling to face him. "He was certainly there for me. After we all said goodbye to you, he asked me to marry him. I agonised over it, but eventually accepted. But do you know what he said when Ominis came to get me tonight? He told me to come to you, that it was only right that I did. He didn't try to stop me."

"He wouldn't have got far if he had tried," Sebastian growled. He stalked towards her, his hand catching hold of her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "How could you ever think about letting him touch you?"

MC was breathing hard and fast again, her heart hammering in her chest. Their gazes were locked, the fire in Sebastian's eyes shifting from fury to pure desire, a hunger so deep and vast she was starting to drown in it. A flame flickered into life deep inside her, trails of fire spreading thick and fast through her veins.

He could still do it. After all this time apart, he made her blood sing, made her melt into the merest touch. "We didn't...he hasn't..." She swallowed hard. "I wasn't ready."

He lowered his face to hers. "Good," he breathed into her mouth. "You're mine, and I'm yours. That's it!"

MC lowered her eyes to his mouth. Slowly, agonisingly slow, he leant in and pressed his lips against hers. A moan, relief mixed with need, sounded in MC's throat.

He gripped her hair at the back of her head, kissing her deeply, stumbling back towards the table with her. Desperate groans fell from their lips as he lifted her skirt, parting her legs as she sat up on the edge of the table.

He stroked his fingers against her heat, finding it pleasingly wet. "Oh fuck," he groaned. He shifted, opening his trousers and pulling his arousal free.

Need came before anything else. He pressed inside of her, thrusting deep, greedily. She cried out at the immediate stretch. It had been a long time, his thickness burning along her walls, but she didn't stop him. Instead, her hips lifted to meet him, needing to feel him fill her up. His eyes were glazed, drunk on the very feel of her, he began to thrust, deep, desperate, like a man starved.

His fingers dug into her flesh, his lips were parted and his breaths came harshly as he fucked. He wasn't violent, but neither was he gentle. His release came hard and fast, his hips bucking desperately and a growl tearing from his mouth as he collapsed over her. She held him, her hand stroking through the unruly locks of his hair, calming him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His head was buried against her chest. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. It felt so good to be holding him again. It had been a long time, she had understood his need, let him take what he longed for.

He straightened and took hold of her hand. "Come on," he said.

"Where are we going?"

He smirked. Her heart glowed at the sight of it. The memory of that smirk had haunted her dreams, but there it was, for real. "I'm taking my wife upstairs to my bed," he said. "I am far from done with you."

....*....

MC couldn't have told a soul what that bedroom looked like when she first entered it. So intent were they on each other, removing every barrier of clothing, tossing it all to the floor without a care, just desperate to feel skin against skin.

The blanket was cold against her back, no fire up here, just the moonlight gleaming through the window. She arched her back, welcoming the feel of Sebastian's lips as he kissed her breasts, learning every curve again like it was the first time.

Her heart beat for him, her pulse skittering madly as he sucked at her neck, his hands exploring the curve of her waist. Her nipples brushed against his chest hair, hardening into desperate peaks. Fuck, she was aching with the need for him, it was almost a pain that only he could heal.

"Sebastian," she whined.

"I know," he whispered. He kissed her, his teeth tugging on her bottom lip. "Patience, my love, I need to taste all of you. Trust me, I will give you what you seek, and more."

MC moaned, her fingers seeking greedily through his hair, massaging his scalp, drawing moans from his lips. Every sound he made was a balm against the pain in her chest. He was alive. He was here.

Her fingers traced new scars on his chest, hurts he had endured so far from home. She kissed them, her tongue trying to soothe the pain inflicted on him. She caught a nipple in between her teeth and tugged, his cock twitching and dripping onto her thigh.

She reached for him, teasing fingers drifting up the silky hardness. "MC..."

She smiled against his skin, breathing in the scent of him, feeling like she was finally at peace. She began to stroke up and down his length and his hips bucked. He groaned and pressed her back down onto the bed. "No," he breathed. "It's your turn."

His mouth worshipped her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel, swirling hotly. She found herself lost in a haze of fire, only his mouth, his hands, the sounds of his breathing mattered. She reached up to grip the blanket behind her head, her thighs separating, her hips grinding as his hot tongue slid luxuriously up her slit.

Oh, he knew what she liked!

Waves of delicious flame circled hotly at her core as his tongue swirled over her clit, his fingers teasing cries from her lips as he fucked her, slow, and with a knowing touch. She whimpered, her thighs beginning to tremble, as her release began to build.

Three years without him, three years of yearning, and now he was here, driving her over the edge again, sending her spinning outwards to see stars. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding his head right where she needed him most as her climax hit.

She was shaking, tears flooding her eyes, and he held her. His kisses warmed her cheeks, her neck, his hands smoothing up her back and over her hips. "That's my girl," he whispered. "Gods, I have missed you."

Barely having caught her breath back, Sebastian rolled them, settling her above him. "Fuck me," he begged. "Show me how much you missed me. I want to watch as you fuck me."

Aftershocks tingled through MC, her cunt pulsing with a need to feel him deep inside her. She caught his arousal in her hand, pumping him softly, her thumb sliding over his tip. He held her hips, his hungry eyes watching as she lined him up against her soaked entrance. He parted his lips, anticipation thick on his tongue, a delicious groan leaving him as she slid on to his cock.

She rolled her hips, her head falling back, her hair trailing down her back, the moonlight soft against the sweat on her skin. He let her move at her own pace, licking his lips at the sounds coming from her throat, at the hot slickness of her walls sliding along him.

MC still had a hunger for him, a need to feel out of control, lost in him. She angled her hips, ensuring that his throbbing tip was stroking just where she needed him. The pressure began to build and she began to bounce harder. His hands caressing her breasts as they jiggled with her efforts.

He was appreciating every move she made, his hips bucking to meet her, his own fire building to the limit. "Cum for me, MC," he said. He slid a thumb to press against her nub. She cried out, her hips twitching. He looked down, saw the slick shining on his cock. He licked his lips. "Mine, all mine."

She clenched around him, desperate cries echoing around the room. Sebastian knew the Auror was still outside. He hoped he could hear her, let the whole fucking world hear what he did to her. She was his wife, his love, his fucking everything. He wanted everyone to know it.

Driven mad by his utter need to claim her again, he flipped her, her hair fanning out across the blanket. He grabbed her hand, tugging the diamond free and letting it tumble across the bed. He linked their fingers, his eyes roaming over her as she panted below him. He saw his ring, attached to the chain around her neck, pooling in the dip of her throat.

He bent to catch it up into his mouth, rolling it on the tip of his tongue. He bent to kiss her, softly, his cock aching to fuck her, the ring caught between their mouths.

"I love you," she breathed. "I've never stopped."

He smiled, the ring slipping to fall onto the bed near her ear. He would be putting that right back on her finger where it belonged. But first...

He slid into her, rolling his hips, revelling in the way she clenched around him, sucking him deeper. He couldn't hold it off any longer. He fucked her, hard, unforgiving, burying her into the mattress under the fire of his need. She clung to him, her nails scraping against his flesh and he savoured every scratch.

The sweat dripped from his face, the room was filled with the slap of their skin, the grunts and cries of their pleasure, and then he squeezed his eyes shut, hips bucking. Hot release spilled into her, and she squeezed her muscles, drawing every last drop from him.

They collapsed into a breathless heap of limbs, mouths seeking and finding each other in a long, slow kiss.

As their breathing calmed, and their flesh cooled, he drew the blanket over them both, holding her close. She looked sleepy, content. He kissed her forehead. As he settled onto the pillow beside her, holding her warmth close, he thanked every star for letting him get back to her.

His nightmares hovered over his shoulder, but he grit his teeth, willing them to stay away. Let him have tonight, just tonight, to hold her, to remember.

Tomorrow, the healing could begin for real.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #blueraineshadows #sebastian sallow smut

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

Haha so I'm assuming kidnapped Richter makes some escape attempts. How far does he get? Does he ever stop trying? What measures does Olrox take to stop him?

On a more comedy bent embarassing dad olrox when Richter starts getting crushes on people.

(Young Richter gets captured by Olrox as revenge: bittersweet found family AU introduction post)

Olrox didn’t entirely understand what he was in for when he decided to use Richie for his plan. Of course, a certain level of feistiness had been expected, but Richter’s determination has far exceeded anything Olrox was preparing for.

It was easy to deal with at first. As soon as Richter was left alone in a hotel room, he began checking every window and door, after which he promptly melted the lock on the entrance and almost reached the hallway if not for the vampire standing right on the r other side of the doorway. He repeated the trick twice before Olrox had to eventually share a room with him, because trying to excuse magically burned doors grew progressively difficult each time.

However, Richter refused to settle down, as he tried another escape later that same night, thinking Olrox was asleep. He melted the lock off the window and tried to crawl out onto a ledge, but heard a tired sigh and knew that, for tonight at least, it was over. Especially so when Olrox had enough and threatened to whoop his ass if he’s not tucked in and snoring by the time he turns his back. (Olrox could never lift a hand on a child, but Belmont didn’t need to know that)

His next several attempts were performed while in public, and they turned out to be most successful. Being around humans meant that Olrox’s hands were tied as he couldn’t use most of his vampiric abilities or magic. In one attempt, Richter successfully stayed out of his clutches for nearly three hours by blending in with the crowd but when the sun began falling beyond horizon, he walked just a little too close to a dark alley, and a mysterious dark fog smothered him. That being said, Olrox mostly solved the problem by threatening to hurt his mother. (Olrox had no problem dishing it out to an adult and Belmont absolutely needed to know that)

After weeks though, things grew…complicated. Richter got plenty of chances to slip off, but was either too demotivated or not observant enough to notice them, all because the more time he spent with his captor, the more he lowered his guard. Escape attempts stopped being an immediate priority because Richie realised that he himself was in no danger. That’s not to say that the didn’t want to escape, or that he didn’t wish with all his heart to come back to his mom and forget this ever happened, but…he didn’t know. It felt confusing, things changed since he’d been first abducted. Olrox changed too, and they found out so many things about each other, and he defended the child against other vampires, so the kid could no longer see him as just a villain, just a vampire. The old man was a person underneath all the hate and vengeance (although by no means a good person), he was grieving for a lost love, and Richter hated himself for thinking that it wasn’t all bad with him and that he cared. Olrox cared so much, even if he half-heartedly tried to hide it, and Richie never had a father and he hated how his heart placed that immortal into the empty spot against his permission ans better judgement.

Olrox trusts him, no longer locks the door, no longer has an eye on him at all times. It’s a great opportunity escape. He has to escape. Why isn’t he trying?

Why isn’t he trying?

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #castlevania richter #richter belmont #nocturne richter #castlevania olrox #Olrox #nocturne olrox #castlevania netflix #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania au #castlevania orlox

[madhatterbri]

Welcome Home | L.M. Part 2

Summary: Lucius offers her a deal in exchange to not take Finn away. 18+.

"Lu- Lucius," she gasped in fear. Her heart beat loud enough that she could hear it. The loud thumping made it hard to hear the words coming out of her mouth. She gasped and tried to steady her blood pressure. Tears pricked her eyes. Her son would know the truth about his father. The thought alone made her panic more.

"An interesting young lad I met at Flourish and Botts. He looked exactly like me but with the reddest of hair," he started. His fingers touched the bottom of her hair. The snake head on the cane never leaving her chin. "Peculiar as from what I recall you left twelve years ago,"

"He's my son. I don't know who the father is," she lied. A lie she didn't have to tell. He raised his eyebrows in interest.

"Really? No idea huh? I am sure a simple test will prove I am the father. Draco always wanted a younger sibling," he smiled. The fear in her eyes like a drug to him. Her brother seemed to be the braver of the two. Arthur was always attempting to thwart his plans at the Ministry.

"Please," Isobel begged. She swallowed a sob. "Please don't take my son from me,"

"I propose a deal, Isobel. One that I think will satisfy both our wants.... and needs," Lucius offered taking a step back. The cane left her chin. She looked down trying to steady her breathing.

"I'll do anything. Anything. I love Finn," she confessed. Tears poured down her cheeks. "I can't lose my only child,"

Lucius scrunched his face at the simplicity of his son's name. Finn. The name was certainly in poor taste but he figured the poor boy already had a liking to it.

"You want the boy? Fine. He is yours," he began allowing her a chance to sigh in relief. She expressed her gratitude by thanking him. She wiped her eyes. "But in exchange, I will expect us to continue where we left off all those years ago,"

Isobel stopped in her tracks. She looked up to see he wasn't kidding. He had to mean something else. Before Finn was before she led a completely different life. One that happened to find herself in Lucius clutches often.

"I don't understand," she admitted. He was a married man. He couldn't possibly want anything with her.

"My wife and I have been married for years. We are still madly in love but we have grown bored of each other. We agreed to an open relationship. Knowing my enemy's sister is getting her pleasure from me makes it so much more... special,"

Isobel was floored by the deal. She would get to keep her son but now be a mistress in the Malfoy marriage. This wasn't a new thing for the Malfoys. She remembered his father was the same way. The wives were known to look away or get their pleasures for their own.

"There has to be something else. Please. We can discuss this like mature adults,"

"I will be at your house tonight. You know what I like," he informed her. Before she could say another word he vanished.

The rest of Isobel's day was spent worrying. Finn was staying at the Burrow once more. He had plenty of fun with his family. Arthur didn't mind. She paced around her house. A good portion of the day was spent cleaning. The flat wasn't anywhere near his standards but it was home to her.

As the night wore on she hoped he forgot about her. The hours continued to pass by with no sign of him. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. They could have lunch somewhere and discuss this. All her hopes were dashed when he knocked on her door.

She opened the door and allowed him in. Lucius made a face while looking around. He couldn't believe this is where he agreed to allow his son to live. Merlin, he wouldn't let his worst enemy live here.

He stood in front of her fireplace. His eyes darted towards her. The patriarch of the Malfoy clan seemed pleased at her apparel. The Malfoys were one of the first wizarding families as such their tastes were more ancient. Lucius was fond of corset lingerie. Isobel wore a burgundy lace corset with matching underwear.

He motioned for her to stand in front of the fireplace. She obliged. Lucius circled around the woman like a shark.

"I see you made the wise decision to accept my offer," he smiled. A smug expression on his handsome face. "You know the drill. Go to your bed and bend over. I'll be there shortly,"

Isobel didn't need to be told twice. She quickly raced upstairs to her bedroom. He always enjoyed spanking her. He wanted to know that he was in full control of her. A part of her wondered if it had to do with her being a Gryffindor or a Weasley.

She bent over the silver satin sheets. Her palms laid against the bed. The redhead laid on her cheek closed her eyes and waited for him. Lucius paused in the livingroom and watched her willingness to please him. He couldn't believe after all these years he was going to have the Weasley once more.

The witch tensed upon hearing his footsteps come closer. They stopped when she calculated that he was right behind her. Two crooked fingers slid her underwear down to the floor.

"I enjoy the lower born purebloods more than the higher borns," he degraded her. "You all are so easy to manipulate and control,"

A swift slap fell on her bare ass. The stinging resonated on the sore spot. She counted each time a blow landed on her flesh. She bit her lip after the tenth spank. She knew her skin was now bright pink.

"I have been thinking about this all day," he whispered and sat on a chair in the room. Isobel laid still not wanting another spanking. She knew to wait for orders from him or face the consequences. "I missed those perfect lips. The way you would kiss me all over. I especially miss them around me,"

Isobel understood just what he was implying. He always said a blow job was his favorite. It showed that the woman would do anything to please her man. His wife didn't seem like the type that would ever allow that. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to him.

Lucius began to undo the zipper from his pants allowing his erect penis to spring to life. He wished Arthur could see this now. His little sister crawling towards him. Her mouth would soon be stuffed with his cock.

She stared at him before her. He smiled upon seeing her eyes lay on his most prized possession. It felt like old times. Two horny teenagers sneaking around Hogwarts to get each other off. Now they were two adults both getting what they wanted.

The witch slowly licked the tip of him. Her actions were met with a grunt. She wrapped her mouth around him. He breathed heavily as her head bobbed up and down. Lucius snaked his long, slender fingers through her hair and started to guide her head quickly. Tears slid down the side of her eyes, yet she didn't pull away. The lengths she would go through to keep her son. The wizard smiled at her.

Loud moans echoed inside the room. His breath ragged as he felt himself getting closer. He yanked her away from him. She looked at him worried that she did something wrong.

"Get on the bed," he ordered and pointed to the bed. She scurried onto the bed and laid down on her back. Another game for him. A woman's place was obeying her man.

Lucius removed his shirt and wiggled out of his pants. His naked form stood proudly before her. He dropped to his knees and dragged her closer to him. Her skin burned at his touch. The wizard placed her leg on his shoulder and kissed her inner thigh before sucking on the soft flesh. He removed himself from her thigh showing off the hickey. He suddenly buried his face between her legs. She whimpered feeling his assault on her. His tongue lapped and swirled around her. Lucius smirked against her skin.

"Lucius," she purred arching her back. She rolled her head back.

To her surprise, a finger slipped inside of her followed by two more. More moans escaped. His thumb roughly played with her clit. She gripped the sheets under her. The stimulation overload starting to toy with her mind. The fire in her belly started to roar as she felt herself closing into pure ecstasy. Isobel warned him that she was closing in on the chase to orgasm. Lucius stopped his actions immediately. She cried out in frustration.

"Now, now little Weasley," he patronized and let her leg drop on the floor. He crawled on top of her and kissed her lips hungrily. He wrapped one of her legs around his waist while the other leg was propped upon his shoulder. "Lets see how you take me now. Your brother would be so disappointed,"

The blonde wizard slid himself inside of her eliciting a moan from the pair. He rocked his hips feeling himself chasing his own orgasm. His head was brought back as he continued his movement. He started to pick up the pace.

"Don't hold back for me. I want to hear you scream. Let everyone here know who you belong to," he pushed inside of her roughly as if to show his point. Her walls started to clench around him.

"Lu-Lucius!" She moaned feeling herself orgasm around him just as he wanted. He gripped her hips roughly giving himself a few more powerful thrusts before cumming inside of her. He gasped as he placed her legs back on the bed. Her eyes started to flutter closed. The events from today starting to catch up to her. Lucius rolled her over on her stomach. Isobel looked at him in confusion.

"We are far from over. Welcome home,"

#fanfiction #imagine #lucius malfoy imagine #lucius malfoy fanfiction #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy smut #harry potter

[strawwritesfic]

Bilbo Baggins x Female!Hobbit!Reader: Save

Summary: The beginning of your own story might be worth writing down someday as well.

Rating/Tags: All (Post-Hobbit; pre-Fellowship of the Ring; The Green Dragon; Drinking; Alcohol; Server!Reader; family problems; inheritance problems; meet cute)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Save

Any Hobbit worth their salt could recite upon command any number of stories about far-off lands and daring adventures. Children might shudder in their beds thinking of shadowy forests filled with creeping spiders; even adults could blanch over news of wolves spotted near Buckland. But that was all such tales were in the end: Distant news and exciting fiction, meant to entertain and never to touch its listeners. Nothing could ever really involve the Shire. The people of Hobbiton were free to continue their vicarious quests–until one day such a quest did involve the Shire.

“I already told you, Otho, I don’t have a mountain of gold hidden away to give to you. I’m certain that if I did, there would be nothing left after I was forced to buy back my home and all my possessions.”

You looked up from your work behind the counter to see one Bilbo Baggins sitting at a table across the room. He had a mug of ale clutched in one hand and a look of polite distaste on his face. 

Upon recognizing his drinking companions, you couldn’t say you blamed him for looking like that. Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins were not your favorite customers when they were minding their own business. Throw in harassing other patrons, and you couldn’t help but shoot them an ugly look of your own behind their backs.

Normally, you would have tried to throw them out. Now that you were in serious competition with your younger brother over the inheritance of the inn, however, you decided it would be better not to make a scene. "A patron is a patron, so long as they’ve got gold to spend," as your father had reminded you since you’d started working at the Green Dragon in your tweens. Apparently your brother had no trouble remembering this, though you suspected his good memory was because he didn’t spend much of his time on the clock doing any work, not because he lacked any hint of your admirable temper.

“[Name], quit lollygagging. Table Eight wanted supper fifteen minutes ago,” your father called over the usual evening hubbub. 

His watchful eye prevented you from eavesdropping further on Bilbo and his guests, so you flashed your haggard father a grin, picked up a waiting tray of food, and dove back into the throng.

The Green Dragon had been owned by your family since it had been built several generations ago. Sometimes you got the feeling your father would have gladly given up five square meals a day to be rid of the responsibility of running the place. Not so you. Working at the inn made you come alive more than any other place in the whole of the Shire. You had been hanging around it since you were old enough to follow your father to work as a youth and working there since you were bold enough to convince him to give you a job. By necessity, you knew every nook and cranny, every regular’s name, and every story ever told by the grand stone fireplace.

Except, that was, for Bilbo’s story. Even knowing that the mere sight of Otho and Lobelia would anger you, you sneaked another peek over at their table as you set the food down on another surrounded by ravenous tweens. Sure enough, the trio was still there. Bilbo’s polite façade appeared to be fading quickly as he listened to the two of them rant.

“[Name],” whined one of the tween boys, “you’re in the way.”

You hastily removed your hand before any of them could mistake it for part of their meal. Your constantly-hungry youth wasn’t so far behind you that you had forgotten what it felt like.

“Make sure to pay before you leave this time. Don’t want me to have to talk to your parents again, do you?” you asked.

None of them replied. 

With a deep breath and a roll of your eyes, you turned away. Before you lay a buzzing dining hall. Hobbits laughed and ate and drank in seemingly every inch of the building. It warmed your heart to see so many happy people enjoying your family’s business. All except for Bilbo, of course, who had dismissed faking politeness entirely and now stared grumpily into the space about his relatives’ heads as they prattled on about whatever it was they had a bone to pick about that night.

Before you could even attempt to interrupt the conversation, your father caught your eye and motioned impatiently at the growing assortment of food and drink waiting to be delivered. You picked your way toward him, progress hindered by the many customers that stopped you to say hello. The conversation at Bilbo’s table had grown quite lively by the time you arrived at the bar to pick up another order.

Truth be told, Bilbo’s fascinating disappearance and reappearance were not the only things about him that kept you looking at him. Neither were his rumored riches; you planned to take over the Dragon and raise your own small fortune, after all. Bilbo had, in fact, always interested you. He had had his own schedule before he’d left the Shire, coming in once a week to drink and listen to the same old stories you did day after day. Always polite, that Bilbo, if admittedly not forcibly friendly like most of the others. You had never had to throw him out for poor behavior, at any rate.

That night was the first night he’d been back to the inn after all his time away. You’d been dying to talk to him since the minute you saw him walk through the door. Between your job and the Sackville-Bagginses, you hadn’t had a chance.

Then an idea occurred to you–a wonderful, terrible, perfect idea. Before any of your fellow workers could guess that you were up to something, you filled your tray with the waiting glasses of ale. Your plan might not have had the best timing, considering the dinner rush and how flustered your father had already become, but he would have to do without you. You were only one Hobbit, and if your father truly believed passing the Green Dragon onto your brother (who was, as usual, suspiciously absent that evening), then what good was your working your fingers to the bone to please customers?

You turned and marched purposely toward the table at which Bilbo, Lobelia, and Otho sat. As you drew nearer, you could understand why Bilbo looked as pained as he did.

“As far as I’m concerned, you forfeited your right to Bag End when you left without saying a word and without electing an heir. The hole is ours,” Otho was saying.

“Is it,” said Bilbo.

Lobelia gave him a very nasty, almost un-hobbotish sneer. “You clearly aren’t right in the head anymore. Dragons? Dwarves? Why don’t you just admit you got into some messy business with that Gandalf fellow and step aside for Otho to be head of the family?”

“Difficult to do when I’m not at all mad, my dear Lobelia. For why should you think I had gold to spare if I never had my grand adventure?”

“You’re a fool,” she said, “a fool and perhaps even a criminal. We could go over your head, Bilbo. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“We aren’t done here,” Otho growled, getting up to follow Bilbo away from the table.

Oh, yes you are, you thought. 

Just as Otho reached over to pull Bilbo back into his seat, you arrived along with half the dining hall’s drinks. Otho standing up actually provided you with the perfect opportunity. All you had to do was angle your feet just right, and–

Lobelia’s scream told you that you had succeeded. Your staged trip and fall managed to tip all the ale on your tray so that it spilled over the Sackville-Baggginses heads. There they sat, dripping in abject shock, as Bilbo stood staring on in astonishment.

“Oh no!” you squealed dramatically. “Did I do that? I’m ever so sorry. I’m such a klutz!”

With a lurch toward Lobelia, you made to press a towel to her sopping hair. She flinched away before turning the full brunt of her wrath on you.

“You-You-You,” she said. Apparently, your act had rendered her unable to form complete sentences. 

This unforeseen bonus didn’t last long; before you could so much as attempt to offer a fake apology, Otho got in your face: “I’ll have your job for this, girl,” he said, and any desire to apologize, falsely or otherwise, vanished. 

You hooked a thumb over your shoulder toward where you’d last seen your father running around like a chicken with his head cut off. “Boss is that way.”

The two left without more than several glares in your direction. You watched only long enough to see your father shoot you a knowing, aggrieved sort of look when the Sackville-Bagginses approached him. 

Shrugging, you turned away. Well, it was difficult to feel sorry for him. If he really wanted a supper rush without incident, he really ought to have forced your brother to show up for his shifts every once and awhile, especially if you were expected to give up your inheritance without a fight.

All the same, you knew better than to leave a mess behind. You began to pick up the (thankfully unbroken) glasses littering the table and were almost finished by the time Bilbo spoke:

“Thank you.”

You had assumed he had taken the opportunity to escape your inn entirely, actually. His voice surprised you, and even more so that he was standing exactly where you’d left him. 

“You don’t need to thank me for being clumsy,” you answered, then smiled mischievously at his blank expression. “It looked like you could use a rescue. Those two shouldn’t bother you again tonight.”

“Thank you,” he said with more feeling.

“It’s your first time back since your adventure. Wouldn’t want you spooked off forever.”

Much to your confusion, Bilbo hesitated before he replied. His eyes slid toward the door and back to you, and then he took a wide step backward. “Right,” he said. “All the same, I think I had better get going.”

As you looked on, he began to shuffle toward the front door. You realized with a jolt exactly what he thought: Bilbo believed you, too, were after his gold. He didn’t exactly look less nervous when you followed after him either.

“That’s a shame,” you said. “I really was hoping to hear your story.”

That got him to pause. “You…were?”

“Sure. Dwarves and dragons and spiders and elves. Sounds better than half of the stories the rest of them have been telling all week. I'm getting a little tired of the time the creek froze over and let the wolves in, personally. ”

“Mine is a rather exciting tale,” Bilbo confessed, then seemed to decide you weren’t so frightening that he couldn’t size you up. “And you are?” 

“[Name]. My dad owns the place.”

At that, a look of slight disappointment crossed his face. You didn’t understand it, not until he went on: “Then I suppose you wouldn’t be able to join me at my hole for a cup of coffee and a chat? I find myself wanting a quieter atmosphere, but I could do with some company still.”

The words no, not tonight were right on your lips. You couldn’t just abandon the inn, or your father for that matter. 

But on second thought, why couldn’t you? Really, your brother ought to have been there by now to take over, and there were other servers, too, picking their slow ways from table to table. Besides, when was the last time you’d been given time off, or even a break for that matter?

“You know what?” you said. “I’d love to.”

“Delightful!” cried Bilbo, and he held out his arm. 

It took you less than half a second to place your tray on top of one of the other server’s trays as she passed by. She gave you a wild-eyed, panicked looked, but you did not explain. 

You’d hear all about your lack of responsibility in the morning once your father discovered you had slipped away. For the time being, you were just like any other Hobbit. Who cared about work, the inheritance, or the inn when there was such a fine story to hear and such a fine Hobbit to tell it? Even as you thought about the lecture you were in for, you couldn't find yourself regretting your decision. 

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #challenge fic #one shot #request #bilbo #bilbo baggins #bilbo x reader #bilbo x you #bilbo x y/n #bilbo baggins x reader #bilbo baggins x y/n #bilbo baggins x you #hobbit x reader #hobbit x you #hobbit x y/n #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #lord of the rings x y/n #lotr x reader #lotr x you #lotr x y/n #hobbit reader insert #bilbo reader insert #bilbo baggins reader insert

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 74 (Finale) Part 2

Find Part 1 of Chapter 74 HERE.

Masterlist HERE.

"Years I have known I am living in a war zone

Poison of my enemy blatantly attacking me

War goddess arouse your power

Know this is indeed your hour

Dying to be heard literally

Constant screams convincing me

War"

Caron Wheeler – "Beach of the War Goddess"

"Hand me your beads."

Disa stretched out her arm toward Joba and waited for her daughter to slowly, and reluctantly pass over her kimoyo beads.

"Little girl, it is three-thirty in the morning. You know better."

"I wanted to see the blue butterflies with Riki," Joba said, crawling under her bedcovers in the hotel suite.

"They'll still be migrating when we return. Goodnight."

She kissed Joba's forehead and tugged on her hair.

"I'll give these back after I talk to your father. We have to keep all lines open."

Disa slipped the beads over her left wrist where they lined up with her own kimoyo. Turning off the lights, she cracked the door and moved into the living area to take a bottle of water from the mini fridge. Swiping her hair back she moved to the far side of the suite where her bedroom door was closed. She slipped in quietly. Adebiyi waited for her in the king-sized bed.

"Everything fine?" he asked.

He lifted up his nude body, ready to scramble out of her suite if needed. Disa snuck him into her room hidden from Joba and under the nose of the Kingsguard assigned to them. Adebiyi pretended to be checking on them under the instructions of the king. He just never left the room hours later.

It took Disa twenty minutes to fully relax into making love to him with Joba across the way. She wanted her daughter asleep. The thought of going to his junior suite crossed her mind, but she didn't want Joba to wake up in the middle of the night with her mother gone.

Being with Adebiyi made her giddy, reverting back to a teenage innocence of being on a first date and worrying about everything being perfect. She was a grown woman with a child, and so was he…two adult ones. His affection toward her had grown into love and she matched his energy and desire. Having him above her with her heavy thighs spread wide felt like the return of heaven in her life. He took his time. There was no need for switching positions or trying to impress each other with lovemaking tricks. They simply wanted a bonding, a spiritual connection that proved that what they felt for one another was real.

His soft grunts rained down on her ears and she gasped when he held her breasts, squeezing their weight and stroking her down deep. She liked the sprinkles of gray in his pubic hairs and she appreciated the thickness and stamina of Jabari men. He made her cum quickly before he spilled into her. She bit into his shoulder to stifle loud moans. That's when she heard Joba's voice. Her daughter and Riki had a habit of whispering together, but then their voices would get loud from the excitement of communicating together.

N'Jadaka's voice had her jumping out the bed and throwing on a hotel robe to check on the family. Now she slipped it back off and climbed in next to her lover.

Wait.

She touched the pillow that had once been bare when she left to check on Joba. A four-stranded layer of silver and lavender waist beads sat waiting for her.

"What is this, Adebiyi?" she asked, palming the beads.

"I'm asking for you to allow me the honor of claiming you as my woman."

She clutched the beads to her chest and sat down hard.

"Will you take me as your man, Disa? Can I call you my own?"

"I…Adebiyi…"

He reached for the beads to take them away. She jerked her body away from his grasp.

"I want them! I want you!"

Disa jumped on top of him and the older man chuckled and ran a gentle hand over her hair. She snuggled into his neck.

"I will have to follow the proper procedures of the palace. Ask for your mother's blessing…and the king's—"

"I'm a grown woman. I can accept on my own behalf—"

"I said blessing, not permission."

"Well okay then."

"In the past, a widowed royal could marry within noble bloodlines. But you and King N'Jadaka were never married—"

"And he's still alive."

"Yes. This will be a delicate courtship."

"Your sister will love the idea of two powerful families uniting," Disa clucked, tickling the beard hairs under his chin.

"We must plan a time for our children to meet. They have been waiting years for me to find someone of my own. There will no longer be name-calling from them."

"What kind of names?"

"Old meanie on his porch. Grouchy mouth homebody. Solo Joy killer."

"Ouch."

He tilted her chin.

"If you do not think I am worthy at any time, you may end our union before it goes further, Disa."

"I want a full-on courtship, the way the Jabari do it."

"Dear Hanuman, that will be a long and arduous process. I was hoping to do it like the Wakandans."

"As long as we do this right, I really don't care."

Disa crawled on top of him, allowing the peaks of her breasts to brush against his lips while she rode his dick.

By mid-morning she was holding back tears staring at N'Jadaka's face, terrified of the unknown coming down from the sky. Her feelings for Adebiyi notwithstanding, N'Jadaka was always going to be her heart, too. He looked so brave and strong. Even Yani appeared powerful standing next to him. Something was different about her chosen little sister. A new confidence rested within her and it was visible to everyone.

When it was time to go walking in Central Park, her conversation with Yani stayed at the forefront of her mind. Her kimoyo beads notified her that a half cruiser had reached the Atlantic and would be arriving off the coast of the Hudson River in a few more hours. She sent word to her family, then gripped Adebiyi's strong hand and stepped into harsh sunlight and humid temperatures. Joba walked in front of them, exploring the hedges and scuttling sounds of wild rabbits and squirrels. While they were meandering around the park, Wakanda was in the midst of a battle that the rest of the civilian world was unaware of.

"Are you and Uncle Adebiyi dating?"

"What?"

Disa halted in front of a large black tupelo tree to enjoy some shade in the southern part of the park in billionaire's row. Joba looked up at her with questioning eyes. Adebiyi squeezed Disa's hand.

"Are you getting married like Umi Yani and Baba?"

Disa swallowed dry air with nervous energy. Releasing Adebiyi's hand, she threaded her fingers together.

"Yes, we are dating."

Joba pointed to the beads around Disa's waist.

"Adebiyi has asked me to start a courtship with him. At the end of that, we would like to consider marriage. What do you think of that?"

"You love each other?"

"I love your mother very much, little one," Adebiyi interjected.

Joba waved her hand at him to make him get on one knee so she could be at eye level with him. Adebiyi obliged, lowering himself the way N'Jadaka always did to speak earnestly with his children.

"Mommy loves my Baba…"

"I understand that," Adebiyi said.

Joba's eyes darted between the two adults, assessing the situation thoroughly in her own special way.

"Will Baba get angry?"

"No honey, Baba has no say in this really. We'll become a bigger family, that's all."

"Where will we live?"

Disa sensed the tense nature of Joba's voice. She hadn't spoken of moving or any fundamental changes yet with her daughter.

"For now, we'll stay in the palace until I speak with the rest of the family."

"And then?"

Joba poked at her cheek and her brows knitted together.

"We'll decide all together on what happens next," Adebiyi said. "I know you are close with your siblings and I want to know what you think about us dating. I have a lot to prove to your mother that I am good enough for her, Princess Joba. This will take some time…lots of planning and talking."

Joba inhaled deeply and nodded her head. Letting her know that they weren't rushing into anything calmed her. A small smile lifted her lips.

"Shall we continue walking, little one?" he asked.

Joba grinned and Adebiyi grunted when he lifted back to his feet. Her daughter helped him and he patted her head.

"I need to walk more. My knees need to be oiled… they are creaking so loud," he joked.

"I will help you," Joba said, grabbing his fingers and pulling him toward a small, rocky bridge that crossed over dirty brown water.

Joba walked between Disa and Adebiyi admiring the foliage that would turn color in a couple of months. New York seemed so dry and drab compared to Wakanda, and the urge to return tickled the back of her neck like a soft nudge.

Joba halted, refusing to take another step in the middle of the bridge. She touched her stomach.

"You okay?" Disa asked.

A scream ricocheted throughout the park and Disa immediately picked up Joba and held her close to her chest. The two Kingsguards that followed discreetly around them wearing dark suits and sunglasses stepped closer from behind. The Dora further ahead of them glanced around and released her sonic spear from its hidden sheath.

People west of them began to run in a stampede as more blood-curdling cries rang out in the air.

"What's happening?" Disa shouted to the Dora.

A white man running with his female companion fell on the ground and disintegrated in a cloud of grayish-black ash. His companion shrieked hysterically and flailed her arms before turning into a dark cloud of dust.

"We must return to the hotel!" the Dora shouted.

She ran forward three steps throwing out a vibranium shield to protect them and collapsed into fluttery ash. More people ran their way in a rush of terror. Adebiyi wrapped his arms around Disa and Joba to push them toward safety with the Kingsguard, but his face froze in horror. The color of his skin rippled and drained into sooty patches.

"Adebiyi!" Disa shrieked.

"My love," he gasped, pressing his forehead against hers.

Disa's chest compressed and the air in her lungs felt like liquid sand filling her up.

"No!" she hacked out with a raging cough.

Her eyes connected with Joba's whose solid flesh slipped out of Disa's flakey grasp.

"Mommy!" Joba shrieked.

Disa's skin fragmented away with the breeze and mixed with Adebiyi's and the Kingsguards behind her, floating up into the sunlight and through the tupelo and elm trees as their consciousness mingled. Despite the terror of loss, Adebiyi's love energy became a mixture with hers and then they were all gone…leaving Joba to fall from their arms on the hard stone bridge.

Alone.

N'Jadaka exhaled onto his arm as he rested his head on his desk.

The half cruiser they deployed to standby off the coast of the Hudson crashed into the sea with the disappearance of its entire crew. Luckily the aircraft was equipped with autopilot and a soldier from the Wakandan Air Force programmed it to stay put under the ocean halfway to its destination. He had to assume that Disa, Joba, and Adebiyi had vanished with their security team. His heart ached and he exhaled again into his arm.

Yani's parents had disappeared as did most of her extended family back in St. Thomas. In Wakanda, the Avengers lamented their losses among the Wakandan people. Throughout the streets in Birnin Zana, N'Jadaka listened to the wailing and ululations of grief. Four billion humans snapped out of existence. He had done everything in his power to save them, but he failed because of the Scarlet Witch. The bitch got dusted too before he could kill her with his bare hands. They wasted time giving Vision a window of a chance and it cost the world. His rage salted deep in his bones. He ordered the Avengers to leave Wakanda before he ripped Roger's head off for not destroying the mind stone the moment they knew what was coming to Earth.

"Kumkani, you must rest."

Okoye and W'Kabi watched him from the door of his office. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm good," he said, checking his kimoyo beads. Yani, Sydette, and Riki were in their home safe.

He couldn't push away thoughts of Disa and Joba. Rage coursed through him again. Okoye brought him hot tea and herbal pills to sleep. He took the tea and pushed away the pills.

"We can handle the status reports and updates without you. Kumkani…please. You fought in a battle and have been up for over twenty-four hours. The golden jaguar you may be, but you are still human," W'Kabi said.

"What about you two? You're in the same boat as me."

"We are trained for this," Okoye said.

"So am I."

"Go be with your family. Elder Zinzi will make a statement to the public within the hour. We will contact you after you have slept for at least ten hours, nothing less," Okoye insisted.

N'Jadaka drank his tea and carried the small cup with him out of the office. In the grand halls, the hem of his oyster gray jalabiya dragged on the floor. Ahead of him, a palace attendant wept while waiting to receive him at the private elevator to his home.

"Hey now," he said.

Holding his arms out, he hugged the young woman who stood stiffly in his royal touch.

"Forgive me kumkani," she said.

She pulled away from him and took his empty tea cup.

"I told the evacuation wardens to release everyone except for essential workers still here for the night shift," he said.

"I know, but I wanted to be here when you finally came home. To give you comfort for your loss of Lady Abdullah and Princess Joba."

"Don't you have a family to tend to at home?"

"My parents are fine. Some of my family have vanished but it is easier for me to be here, serving your family."

"Go home. We will be in a state of national mourning and we are still figuring things out. Be with your own, okay?"

"Thank you, kumkani. And thank you for protecting us."

"Go on now."

She scurried away and he turned to his Doras and Onyx squad.

"You all do the same. Split your shifts and go check on your loved ones," he said.

None of his protective duty left him.

"Stubborn like me, I see."

Ayo approached from the rear, her spear held tight.

"You fought bravely before the decimation took people away King N'Jadaka. Many of us fought beside you or watched the battle from behind the defensive line in the capital. We will stay on duty to watch over our protector."

"I will relieve Aneka so you can see her," he said.

"No need, kumkani."

Aneka's voice chimed in from behind him on the elevator. She stood tall with Noxolo. N'Jadaka reached for her, giving her a hug.

"Thank you for watching over my family," he whispered in Aneka's ear.

Noxolo didn't even give him a chance to release Aneka before she hugged him tight with one arm, her other hand never letting go of her spear.

"Listen everyone. We have been through the wringer and this isn't over yet. Stay strong and please take time for yourself if you need to," he said.

All heads bowed as he entered the elevator with Aneka and Noxolo. He noticed Ayo blowing Aneka a kiss, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

The ride up was quiet and entering his home was like walking into the silence of an ancient tomb. Elana and Zora rose from the couch cradling their hands and watching his face.

"Yani?" he asked.

"She is asleep in your bed, kumkani," Elana said. "I gave her a sedative with tea two hours ago."

"The children?"

"With her," Zora said.

"Noxolo and Aneka, go rest in your quarters—all of you. Please rest. I'll call you if needed."

Aneka and Noxolo tapped their spears and departed to a lower floor below his living room that was kept for in-house staff.

"We saw you," Zora said.

She pointed to the screen on the wall that played an emergency Wakandan broadcast. He caught a glimpse of the Royal Talon Fighter swooping past a giant death wheel ripping the land to shreds. He shot at it in a vulnerable spot and it exploded, ripping into several of the monstrous outriders. Someone on the front line leaked the images for the Wakandans to see. He flew low to the ground and his cousin T'Challa leaped onto the aircraft for a lift to kick some more ass on the battlefield.

N'Jadaka groaned when he watched his cousin slam his fists together directing his built-up kinetic energy to destroy a giant alien. Elana ran to him and gripped his hand. Zora rubbed his back to comfort him, their tears springing forth making him feel worse.

"Go to her," Elana said, pushing him toward the stairs.

He climbed his way up two long flights and wandered down a long hall to reach his bedroom. Yani had the children nestled under each arm, their heads on her chest fast asleep. Or so he thought.

Riki sat up, bleary-eyed, but awake. He rubbed his eyes and crawled over N'Jadaka, climbing onto his lap.

"Hey, Lil Man."

Riki clutched him tight, pressing his face into N'Jadaka's chest like his mother did when she was scared or needed comfort from him.

"Are the monsters gone?" Riki breathed into the center of his chest.

"They're gone."

"Will they come back?"

"I don't think so."

"Why did they have to kill people? I saw them come apart, Baba…like smoke."

He held up his small wrist. His kimoyo beads were there again.

"I can't get Joba to answer me, Baba."

"She's gone, Riki—"

"No! I feel her…right here."

Riki touched his chest.

"We've tried calling Umi Disa, Joba…their security people. They're gone, Dumpling."

"No!"

A deep cry erupted from the boy's chest.

"We have to go there and find her!"

Riki jumped down from his lap and pulled N'Jadaka's arm to leave the bedroom. Yani stirred on the bed and Sydette woke up.

"What's going on?" Sydette asked.

"Go back to sleep Sweet Pea," he soothed.

His oldest wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face on the back of his neck.

"I can't," she said, the warmth of her breath a comfort for his internal anguish.

Riki tapped his beads and called out Joba's name in a high-pitched tone.

"Please…answer me," Riki murmured.

"She didn't have her beads anyway. That's what her grandmother said," Sydette said.

"You spoke to Grandma Theresa?" he asked.

"Mama did. She said Umi Disa took away her beads so she wouldn't sneak-talk to Riki while you were away fighting."

N'Jadaka stood up. He stared at both of his children and pulled away the collars of their pajama tops. Touching their necks he moved away from them fast, dashing down the hall and to the stairs. He took them two at a time and ran toward Yani's bedroom. Flinging open one of Yani's jewelry boxes, he searched for three necklaces. One drawer after the other he looked until he shouted for Yani on the intercom system.

"Yani, where are Riki and Sydette's unvikeli necklaces? The ones T'Challa gave them?"

Yani mumbled, the sedatives still clinging to her consciousness. He ran back up the stairs and gently shook her.

"Baby…wake up…please…I need your help. There's a chance Joba is still alive and here with us somewhere in New York."

Yani sat up groggy with a scrunched-up face trying to figure out what was happening.

"Joba?" Yani said.

"Yes. Where are the unvikeli necklaces?"

He helped Yani step off the bed and she shook her head, following him back down to her bedroom. She walked into a separate dressing room where a long glass jewelry case housed enough necklaces, earrings, and finger trinkets for each day of the year. Many were family heirlooms given to her from Baba Z and Umama's bloodlines. Sliding open a bottom case, she pulled out a corral pink satin jewelry box. N'Jadaka took it from her and opened it. Three necklaces rested there. An adult one that once belonged to T'Challa, and two smaller ones that went to Riki and Sydette.

"Thank you, Bast," he said.

The king lifted the one precious adult necklace that glowed. There was no communication access on it, but the tracking device would locate his youngest child. Only her fingerprint could access the security touch needed to activate the adult necklace. If Joba had disappeared, no life could call out for help without her personal signal. Tears burst from his eyes and he cradled the necklace against his forehead.

Breathe. Release the tension in the shoulder muscles. Breathe deeper. He kissed Yani on her lips, thanking her for saving the necklaces.

"I have to go find her," he said leaving the dressing room.

He rang the alarm with the staff he had left and called Okoye on his kimoyo.

"Bring the Royal Talon fighter to the king's port right away. I'm going to New York. Joba is alive. I have the unvikeli necklace T'Challa owned and it's lit up with her signature. I'm sending you the coordinates now!"

"We're going with you," Yani said.

"You and the kids stay here, I will bring her home."

Riki grabbed his hand with a tear-stricken face.

"I want to go too," Riki said.

Sydette stared at him with pleading eyes too.

"Okay, go get dressed and meet me at the king's port in ten minutes," he said.

N'Jadaka leaned his left temple against the glass partition of the king's port waiting for Yani and the children to join him. Okoye stepped down from the ramp of the Talon Fighter with Ayo. Behind them were four members of the Onyx Squad assigned to his family.

"We can retrieve her for you," Okoye offered.

He shook his head.

"I want her to see me. I have to be the one to get her. I know what it's like to lose a mother and only I can comfort her properly after something so traumatic."

"Then you must sleep while we travel. You look like you will collapse on your feet. Forgive my bluntness," Okoye said.

Yani and the children hurried to his side with Elana and Zora in tow. The two Ladies in Waiting wept, their keening moans piercing his soul. He escorted his family on board, insisting that they ride in the back. The sleeper couch extended into a flat comfortable bed and Yani helped Sydette and Riki onto it. Ayo brought them soft Border Tribe blankets and they all hunkered down in a pile.

The Royal Talon Fighter lifted and rotated with an array of stinger escorts. From the side viewscreen, he and Yani regarded the destruction down below as Wakandan military crews led a coordinated effort to burn up dead alien bodies and cart off the last remains of their own soldiers. Two of the giant earth destroyer wheels smoldered while embedded in a rocky hill looking like giant monuments. N'Jadaka commanded that the wheels would stay as a testament to the war they had fought valiantly for and lost.

"Oh, God," Yani murmured.

The land below smoldered and bore scars of a great battle. The wide swath of ruin brought tears to her eyes. He comforted her in his arms. She clung to him and buried her face in his neck. Her gentle fingers rubbed his bicep, occasionally squeezing it as if to make sure he was still with her.

"What happens next?" she whispered, the horror below stuck in her throat.

He glanced at his side where Riki and Sydette were bundled.

"Sleep, Yani. Right now I can only think about Joba and getting her back with us."

She patted his chest and he rubbed her back. Closing his eyes, he tried to rest so he could have the energy for rescuing his baby girl.

Ayo woke him up with a light shaking of his arm.

"Kumkani, we have arrived above Central Park. Okoye has tracked the location of the unvikeli necklace on the southern perimeter."

N'Jadaka sat up, disturbing Yani's sleep.

"We're here," he said.

They left Sydette and Riki sound asleep under the watchful eye of Ayo. At the bottom of the ramp, Yani touched his wrist.

"Would you prefer me to stay here and wait? I don't want to overwhelm her," Yani said.

N'Jadaka threaded his fingers with hers.

"I need you with me."

"Okay."

Okoye and the Onyx Squad guards spread out and sealed them all inside a protective spectral camouflage shield. The setting sun shrouded the park in the growing shadows of creeping darkness. Okoye kept her gaze on the tracker image on her wrist.

"Over by that bridge, kumkani," Okoye said.

The Onyx Squad fanned out toward the bridge and N'Jadaka picked up his pace with Yani.

"Joba!" N'Jadaka called out.

They ran onto the bridge, eyes darting about.

"Joba!"

All of their voices sprinkled the hollow air. Disheartened, N'Jadaka ran to the north end of the bridge.

"Joba…daddy is here. Where are you?"

Fear laced his voice.

"Please…please…," he mumbled, biting back the terror welling up in his chest.

He ran down the side of the bridge where the Onyx squad checked the water with scanners.

"The signal is here, kumkani," Okoye said, her voice ready to crack from disappointment.

A pile of leaves under the arch of the stone bridge moved. He jumped back thinking a wild animal was about to pounce on him, but he noticed small brown hands pushing the fallen foliage away. He reached for the hands and pulled Joba free from the covering.

"Joba."

He cradled his daughter's trembling body which felt cool to the touch.

"Mommy and Uncle Adebiyi disappeared, Baba," she said.

Her voice was weak from dehydration and her head lolled forward. Okoye brought her water and helped her take small sips. He lifted his child and carried her out from under the bridge. Yani ran to them and caressed Joba's forehead.

"Get her back to the Talon Fighter," Yani said.

He raced back to the ship, holding Joba close to his heart. Once on board, he handed the girl to Yani who placed her on the makeshift examining table she turned his war table into. She had brought along a medical bag and injected Joba with fluids to hydrate her faster. After cleaning her up and changing her into some fresh pajamas, N'Jadaka picked her up and cradled her on the converted couch next to the still-sleeping Riki and Sydette. Yani moved to lay next to him and stroked Joba's hair.

"I got you Sunshine," he said.

His youngest fell asleep in a matter of minutes, her small form warmed up by his body heat. He touched the necklace T'Challa gave her when he was her protector, none of them knowing how true that sentiment had become. Without the necklace, he may have lost Joba forever in the panic of the new world order because of Thanos. Or a nefarious American government agency could've taken her and used Joba to get to him. His baby girl was smart enough to hide and trust that her own people would find her. But she sure did take a chance staying out in the elements all alone without seeking an adult authority figure's help. They were very lucky.

Yani helped him move Joba over next to Riki and covered them both with another blanket before curling into N'Jadaka's side again.

"We're heading across the Atlantic Ocean, kumkani. Ayo and some of the Onyx Squad can go aboard the half-cruiser hidden five miles away if you wish to bring it home," Okoye said.

No one from Disa's immediate side of the family had contacted him about anything. If there were any members of that family left, he wanted them to have the option of coming to Wakanda.

"Leave it for now. Have a reconnaissance team in the lower Atlantic take care of it for now."

"As you wish," Okoye said.

N'Jadaka closed his eyes and clutched Yani's body tight against his. He'd have to face dark days in the morning, but at least he had all of his children. He cried softly for Disa and was thankful that Adebiyi was with her in the end.

Wakanda passed through a sorrowful month assessing the total missing and then another month of mourning and rebuilding their lives. They resolutely transitioned through the decimation and adjusted to the loss of life in order to stay focused on the future. Memorials and public commemorations were the daily norm and N'Jadaka spent his time comforting Joba.

His youngest daughter and baby boy said strange things.

While most Wakandans cried and lamented the loss of life, Riki and Joba declared to him that the missing billions weren't truly gone. He sought therapy for their entire family as most Wakandans adjusted to the trauma, but Joba and Riki insisted that they could feel the presence of the disappeared citizens.

Shuri understood it to mean that there was hope for their lost loved ones, but they kept the chatter of the children to themselves. False hope was a detriment to the mind, and N'Jadaka couldn't afford to tease a mentally stretched population of mourners. However, it appeared to give some solace to Joba, even though she cried on and off sporadically for weeks, missing her mommy's physical presence and going through spells of silence that worried him and Yani. To her credit, Yani smothered the girl with love and helped her transition into a new life without Disa. It wasn't easy. Yani wept privately when she thought he didn't know. She missed Disa, her parents, and all the people she loved in Wakanda who had winked out of existence. Yani barely slept and he made Elana and Zora give her sedatives to force rest upon her. He stayed strong in front of them all, especially the nation, his stoic mannerism hiding the sadness in his soul.

World leaders called on him for details of the Infinity War, but he left the Avengers to that. Fury never returned calls and N'Jadaka stewed in the knowledge that his insider track into U.S. intelligence was gone.

The final day of public mourning arrived and he dressed to address the nation outside the ancient gathering temple where he brought his late parents. Yani dressed herself and the children in the same colors of his pale blue royal robes to usher in the continuation of life. There were rumors of war in the outside world as other countries quietly pressured America to force Wakanda into sharing vibranium simply because they all experienced the madness of Thanos. Even in the midst of entering a third month away from the events of the global disaster, America and her lackeys commenced with their daily fuckery. He refused to be shamed into sharing any resources or technology with people not aligned with his agenda. If Wakanda had to fight another battle, there was no fear of them failing this time. No nation was a match for them. If a bit of otherworldly sorcery hadn't happened two months ago, they would've no doubt conquered Thanos.

World War Three with outsiders was the least of his concerns. Healing his family and Wakanda were the only items on his actionable tasks going forward.

They arrived at the formal ending of public mourning to much fanfare from the people. His children walked in front of him and Yani showcasing the Wakandan way of centering their children as the future. Yani kept her head covered the way Disa used to in public appearances paying homage to the woman whose child was now in her care for life. Yani fretted often about raising Joba up in the way that Disa would've wanted, and he had to reassure her that they were going to be fine. Even his grandmother and Ramonda put on confident faces to help their family make it through the pain. He worried about Umama the most but his grandfather Dante kept her spirits up. They had to move the country forward as a solid unit.

"There are still a lot of people, Baba," Joba said.

She clasped his hand and looked up to him, her head covering making her face look even smaller.

"I know. They look to me to make sure we are alright."

"We are," she said.

She patted his hand and leaned her head into his hip.

"The other people are still here… we just can't see them."

N'Jadaka stared at her.

"What do you mean? What people?"

"The ones that disappeared."

Joba held her hand out like she was feeling something invisible.

"Kumkani, step this way please," Elder Zinzi said.

N'Jadaka placed Joba's hand inside Yani's and walked to a floating podium that adjusted to his height. Thousands of faces gazed at him, hopeful and expectant. He wasted no time getting to the heart of the matter and did his best to provide comfort and future agency for the people. His eyes latched onto Mpilo's. The young man beamed from his seat, eating up every syllable N'Jadaka uttered. He glanced at Yani and his children, then observed the audience before him. This was not a time to appear uncertain or weak. Drastic changes in societies often precipitated hostile takeovers by those who needed a significant catastrophe to wedge them into power. He was ruling during a dangerous time and all of his Special Ops senses told him to be wary of the political challenges to come. He moved his hands from the podium and stepped in front of it, going off script. A king had to appear in control and he wasn't going to give off a whiff of uncertainty to his enemies watching. He felt his mama's energy building up within and he spoke the way she would have to the people. Bold. Fearless. Encouraging.

"Who are we to fear the unknown ever again? We stood our ground and Wakanda still stands. This battle looks bleak but the war for our sovereignty is not over! The days ahead may still look dark for some, but I promise you, Wakanda will always stand. We are the light of the world and I will never let it dim. Never!"

Mpilo leaped to his feet with more than half the people joining him in a rousing display of support. Others still seated clapped, and he knew he had to prove his convictions to them in the months ahead. Joba jumped up and down with her hands clapping above her head. A warmth filled his heart. If his baby girl believed in him, then who could indeed doubt him?

"All hail King N'Jadka, the Golden Jaguar!" Mpilo shouted.

A chant started up and overwhelmed the exterior of the temple with amplified voices. The sound washed over him and he closed his eyes for a second just to feel the sensation. He had fulfilled his life goal. The moment he uttered the words at eleven years old, his life trajectory was a rocket-fueled ride to a speech in front of his father's homeland. His homeland. His people.

A final chapter of his past life closed. A new one was being written right where he stood.

"Wakanda Forever!" he shouted.

The nation affirmed his place by shouting back to him, "Wakanda Forever!"

W'Kabi rushed forward and pulled N'Jadaka aside as the Council of Elders concluded the event with a prayer. They stepped behind a wall of security.

"This was left on our shores. A witness stated that someone looking like a Talokanil female came on land to deliver it."

W'Kabi thrust out a giant conch shell with a pale salmon coloring so distinct that it didn't come from their African waters. He tapped his kimoyo bead and an image of a young water woman with a feathered headdress appeared dropping the conch shell on the sand. She spoke in Talokan and the person recording the image kept stating they didn't understand her. W'Kabi replayed the image again with a translation.

"K' uk' ulkan wants your king to speak with him. Blow on this shell after your mourning period finishes and he will come to your ruler," she said.

"Who made this vid recording?" N'Jadaka asked.

"A fisherman hauling in shrimp. What will you do?"

"He can wait. They don't know when our mourning period is over so I'll act as if it is ongoing until I see what else is happening beyond our borders. It's only one woman so I will not take this as a threat or anything urgent."

"We have stayed out of their territories and have not pried into their lives. What can they want from us?"

"Perhaps intel on the surface world from our perspective since the war. I will see to him later. Keep our navy informed of the intrusion on our land. If they can slip through our coast easily, then we have to tighten up."

W'Kabi left his side and N'Jadaka held the conch shell. Namor could be a potential ally or an enemy. He wasn't in the mood to speak to the flying god. Not anytime soon. He gestured for Mpilo to come forward.

"Mpilo, take this to my office. Do not blow into it and let no one else touch it on the way there. Understand?"

"Yes, King N'Jadaka."

Mpilo covered the shell with his overshirt and left the temple.

N'Jadaka's family joined him and they walked toward the transportation that would take them to an outdoor celebration of music and poetry. His mind wandered amidst the chatter of his loved ones. Riki and Joba whispered together in the seats behind him and Sydette focused her attention on his face while sitting between him and Yani.

"Baba, will we ever be happy again?" Sydette asked.

"Yes, Sweet Pea. We are all getting better. Today we're celebrating happiness again. For all of us still here, we will live a good life."

Sydette nodded and picked at her dress. Her eyes looked wary.

"I wish we could go to St. Thomas. I miss it there," she said.

"When I get things settled here, we'll go for a couple of weeks."

Sydette grabbed his hand in excitement. Twyla and Bibi had gone there a month ago on Yani's behalf to help with any family who needed assistance. They were all grateful that Aunt Leona had been spared. He glanced behind his seat to check on the quiet. Riki and Joba had both nodded off, their heads touching in their slumber.

Attendants greeted them stepping out of the royal SUV. Yani carried Riki and he lifted Joba in his arms. She woke up and wrapped her arms around his neck. They were all guided to a private platform to observe the musicians and other artists scheduled to perform. The younger children stayed on his and Yani's laps while Sydette watched from her own seat.

Dancers, singers, poets, and aerial ballet performers entertained the enormous crowd in stadium seating. He rested his chin on Joba's hair when she fell asleep again. Riki was knocked out also and snoozed on Yani. All of the lengthy ceremonial rites exhausted the children. Sydette's ability to stay awake surprised him.

Talented Wakandan artists lifted the hearts, minds, and spirits of the people. Yani leaned over and kissed his lips. Her beautiful eyes gave him peace. He thought of making love to her once they returned to the palace. It had been too long since they'd been intimate. The stress of the last two months doused his arousal and hers. Their lives centered on keeping the children mentally well and working through their collective grief despite her job and other royal responsibilities. The reduction in hospital staff at the birthing centers created a medical crisis and Yani filled in where she was needed. Birthing babies didn't stop in the middle of a national emergency. Yani worked long hours and maintained her composure even when he knew she was worn thin like him. She made the curious observation to the national census bureau that not one pregnant woman registered to give birth had vanished throughout Wakanda or the Jabari mountains. He wondered if it was the same in other countries.

The music helped remove the gray in his mood, and looking at his fiancé brought back the desire for her touch and some alone time. He reached over and fondled the soft curls she cultivated letting her hair grow out. He kissed her again and she took the hint that he needed a more intimate connection later.

The palace had been cleaned from top to bottom with the Bashenga mountain priests blessing the halls and walls with divine incense and burned bundles of lavender and chamomile leaves mixed with the precious dried petals of the udomo flower that was only used for ceremonies releasing the dead. Nakia wore them in her hair during the family dinner as Toussaint suckled from her breast. The Council of Elders had been invited with their families to dine in the hall named for the great queen herself, Shuriya, and it filled with genuine laughter and grasping at closure from the decimation.

But not Nakia.

Despite her winsome smiles and small chuckles at jokes about the baby, a wound festered unhealed in her heart.

"I have something to say," she announced abruptly in the middle of dessert and coffee.

N'Jadaka glanced at Yani as if she knew something was up, but Yani only flicked her eyes over toward Elana and Zora who only shrugged at the outburst. The richly brocaded table seated forty people in their inner circle.

"Speak," N'Jadaka said.

Nakia looked at him and then at Ramonda.

"T'Challa and I were married. Before Toussaint was born. We wanted a small ceremony just for ourselves once we knew the baby was coming. Our nuptials were in America, right before we told the family about the pregnancy."

"Eh eh," Ramonda clucked, tilting her head back with a delighted smile on her face.

"Forgive us Queen Mother Ramonda, Umama…we didn't want any big ceremonies. T'Challa doesn't…didn't like them. We planned on having a small party instead when Toussaint reached six months."

"You are officially family…even though you have always been my daughter in my head since you were a little girl," Ramonda said.

Umama chuckled and nodded her head.

"I wanted you all to know that. I would also like to say that this trying time has made it difficult for me to be in Wakanda. Everywhere I go, I see him…I hear his voice…I feel his presence all over the palace. It hurts. Lately, I have been able to laugh again because of my son, but I cannot live here anymore. I want to go to Haiti again. Raise Toussaint away from the palace and the pressure of being an Udaku. I want a regular life for us where I can rebuild my heart and move forward as a mother."

"Nakia, no…" Ramonda said.

"Daughter Nakia, I understand how you feel. Losing my life partner, my best friend…my beloved husband has bruised me on top of all the other losses I've endured in this family. If you need to leave in order to heal yourself, you have my blessing. I will miss you both," Umama said.

"I will be selfish and say I do not want you to leave us," Ramonda said. "You need family around you to get better. Please give yourself time to think this through."

"I will stay until after King N'Jadaka marries Princess Yani. This will give me time to prepare for our new home."

"What will you do there?" Yani asked.

"Run a school…teach… raise Toussaint up to be a good person that Wakanda can be proud of."

"Will you stay there forever?" Sydette asked.

"I don't know."

"That's not fair!" Riki interjected.

He slammed his fists on the table.

"I promised Uncle T'Challa that I would be Toussaint's big brother. How can I do that when you go?" Riki blurted in a rage.

"Riki…" N'Jadaka said, leaning over and covering the boy's left fist.

Sydette chimed in.

"But it's true, Baba. Uncle T'Challa told us we were very important to Toussaint. He expected us to help teach him how to be a prince and love him as if he were our little brother. If Auntie Nakia leaves, we can't keep our promise," Sydette said.

Joba kept silent and watched her brother's face.

"None of this will happen for a while, so there's no need to get upset now…here, raise your glasses everyone…let's congratulate our new Princess Nakia of the Udaku clan and the Panther tribe," Yani gushed.

N'Jadaka raised his glass next to Yani's. All the adults at the table did the same. Riki jumped down from his seat and ran away from the table. The patter of his feet struck the marble floor becoming a resounding slap to the joy Yani tried to muster. Joba slid from her seat and dashed after him, calling Riki's name with aching clarity.

Shuri ran after Riki and Joba and consoled them both outside of the dining hall.

Umama glanced at N'Jadaka and he waved a hand down to keep her from leaving her seat.

"It's okay, Umama," he said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset everyone. I just wanted to share how I feel and tell you that T'Challa couldn't wait to get married. He wanted me to be his wife for so long and I guess he was afraid I would change my mind again."

Umama chuckled and stood up from her seat. She walked over to Nakia and hugged her. Ramonda joined in the hugfest. Sydette lowered her head and picked at her dessert fork.

"May I be excused to check on Riki and Joba?" Sydette asked.

Yani nodded and Sydette slid down from her seat and walked away.

"I should go check on them too," Yani said, folding away her linen napkin.

N'Jadaka lifted a hand out toward their guests.

"There will be more coffee and cake in the Tea Room. Enjoy the rest of your evening everyone. We will take our leave," he said.

Everyone else stood up as N'Jadaka clasped the fingers of Yani's right hand and escorted her out of the dining hall with her Ladies in Waiting following behind. Riki stood outside kicking a pillar and fussing with Shuri about the unfairness of everything. Joba and Sydette stood near him with fretful expressions.

"Lil Man," N'Jadaka said.

Riki stopped kicking the pillar and kept his bottom lip poked out, his eyes downcast.

"Let's go home," Yani said, holding out her free hand.

Riki reluctantly dragged his feet over and took her hand.

"Stand like a prince," N'Jadka commanded.

Riki raised his head and straightened his back. That bottom lip stayed put. The urge to tell him to fix his face the way his mother used to tell N'Jadaka as a child percolated in the king's mouth, but he allowed the boy to feel his disappointment. Sydette and Joba fell in line beside him and they strolled to an awaiting elevator.

"Do you think I should've stayed with Nakia?" Yani asked Elana and Zora back inside their home.

Elana lit up a cigar for him and Zora poured Yani a glass of wine and they all sat together in plush chairs watching the moon rise above the river lagoon surrounding the palace. Zora puffed on a thin cigarillo filled with the sickly sweet pungent odor of a Wakandan mind-altering plant. She passed it to N'Jadaka and he puffed before passing it to Yani. The effects were immediate, relaxing them all in a dull buzz of serenity. He appreciated the company of Yani's Ladies in their guest parlor. They had all grown closer in the trying times and their deference to Yani was duly noted by the nobles who envied their positions and the leeway N'Jadaka gave them around him. The rumor mill had also started up during the mourning period that he had taken them on as low-tier consorts for himself. Traditionalists took it as a sign that he had gone old school and watched his every move with wry smiles and others who knew it wasn't true vied for Elana and Zora's attention with their accomplished sons eligible for marriage. Their stock had gone up and being baddies already gave them a wide variety of high-quality men to choose from. They ate it up and shared all the juicy details with Yani and him. The insular social media of the elites adored the glimpses of photos taken of the four of them visiting parts of Wakanda to boost the morale of the nation. He had to acknowledge that they all looked amazing stepping out into the public together, and he was grateful that they carried the emotional burden of the difficult times Yani experienced mothering Joba and feeling the guilt of stepping into Disa's missing shoes. The sisterhood encouraged Yani to release that guilt. Zora constantly reminded her that Disa would've stepped up without worry if the roles were reversed because the children had been raised to see both women as their co-mothers.

"Lady Nakia is in a delicate place right now. She looks at you and King N'Jadaka and wishes her family unit was still intact. That will crush any woman with a newborn child. It is better to leave her to Queen Mother for now and seek her out after a day or two. This long celebration day was too much for her. I believe she will go away in a year and come right back once she sees that life goes on and she will miss all of you," Elana said.

N'Jadaka patted his lap and widened his thighs. Yani left her seat and sat on his lap. He rubbed on her backside and nuzzled his face in her bosom.

"It is wise for her to leave here after all that has happened? And why Haiti? She could go live in the mountains with the Jabari if the palace brings on too many memories. Her parents would love to have her back in the River Tribe territory," Zora said.

"Many people have a hard road to walk still. That evil alien stole lives and every one of us here has been touched by that. None of us can hold up a family lineage blanket and not see the holes in it from all the ones missing," Elana said.

The cathartic smoke lingered in the air like thick perfume, relaxing their minds in a glorious haze of pink smoke the color of the burning plant. A house attendant brought them small puff pastries filled with chocolate and covered in powdered sugar. He fed one to Yani and she licked warm melted chocolate from his index finger.

Yani cradled his face and licked powdered sugar from his lips. Zora turned on music from their sound system and Elana kicked up her heels, puffing on a fresh cigarillo, and linking her pinky finger with Zora's as they danced around the room, swirling their long skirts.

"Tired?" he asked Yani.

She cuddled up closer to him and sighed into his neck.

"Happy to have you like this…away from everyone."

"Everyone?" he said, glancing at her Ladies.

Yani waved a dismissive hand at Elana and Zora.

"They are so far gone. Look at them. They've smoked more, drank more…the entire nation seems to breathe again…like a new door has opened and we can all see some light finally. You've worked non-stop since the decimation. We should drink all night and get higher than that moon," she said.

She slurred her words and her glassy eyes held love within them. Her lips trembled.

"Baby?" he whispered.

Tears swelled and fell from her eyelids.

"I want to feel like them," Yani shuddered.

N'Jadaka wiped away her tears, kissed her nose, and pulled her onto her feet. He rocked against her in time to the soothing music. A Wakandan woman with a passionate alto voice sang of having fun and loving life. The beats had them stomping their feet and clapping their hands above their heads until Yani found her smile again. After an hour, he turned the music off and summoned attendants to clear away their snacks, empty wine glasses, bottles, and ash trays filled with refuse.

Zora and Elana lowered their heads to them.

"We bid you both a goodnight…finally," Zora teased, eyeing his hand squeezing Yani's backside.

N'Jadaka pretended to shove Zora away. The two women left them for their own quarters on the lower floor. Yani passed him the last cigarillo as he mashed his cigar in an empty ashtray on the end table. Sitting cozy together once more, they smoked down the cigarillo and continued watching the evening sky together, the intimacy he craved satisfied with Yani's heartbeat thumping in time with his.

"Does it feel the same?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka took a deep breath as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight striking the water of the cove.

"Nothing has changed," he said.

The place where it all began for the two of them looked the same and his soul rejoiced at the peace that came over him. He shucked off his swim trunks and followed his naked woman into the sea.

Their children were preoccupied eating conch fritters, grilled hot dogs, and chicken roti with Aunt Leona back up at the front house, so he and Yani had that part of Our Lady's Manor in St. Thomas to themselves. Yani splashed water on him and he grabbed her by the waist, lifting and throwing her into a gentle wave. She laughed and beckoned him to swim closer, his Black mermaid back in her realm. Her breasts bounced as she shook them to tease his eyes.

They had been on the island for less than an hour before the kids were stuffing their faces with food and he was palming titties in the pristine liquid paradise. He scanned the waters to his left where the craggy rock formation led to the place he lost Yani and his children that first time. N'Jadaka had been so frightened for them and thinking about himself as a mercenary brought a chill down his royal spine.

The past was no longer prologue, and the seeds he dropped on the island had brought forth fruits to his new future. Next spring he would marry Yani and maybe a few years down the road she would let him put more babies inside the soft belly he splayed his fingers on. Lifting strong hands north along her body he gripped her breasts and played with them. She pressed her backside into his groin and his thick dick plumped up between the cleft of her ass.

Deft fingers trailed down the supple skin of her torso until they found her jeweled clit. Yani whimpered as her slippery folds were played with by an expert. They tilted their necks so that he could kiss her while he rubbed slow circular motions on the tender parts of her body. To hold and caress his future queen ignited a flame in his heart. He made a sacred vow to himself to love and honor Yani for all of their lives in that world and the next.

Their lips smacked with wet friction and he stopped tonguing her down in order to watch his fingers grow slick from her wetness. He held her breasts again, enjoying the weight in his hands. That's how it all began so long ago between them. Him asking to touch her nipples as milk ran down her breasts. He groaned thinking of touching her that first time. She had been ripe and ready for his plucking and he took Yani for himself understanding implicitly that he would never know a love like that again. Ever. All of the gods converged on that day knowing the wheels were set in motion to unite them for life.

His dick grew long and strong enough to part her folds without help from her, and he packed his dick inside her walls and pumped her pussy with harsh grunts. That first time he could only masturbate and watch her play with her pussy. Not anymore. He took what he wanted.

Another wave brushed against their legs, but not enough to push them off their footing. Yani widened her stance and he thrust harder, gripping her elbows to keep their balance in the sifting sand under their feet. The warm water made him feel like he was inside another pussy while fucking and listening to her cheeks clap.

"Fuck that dick," he gasped

Yani moaned and dropped her head forward. Her pussy was a sweet throbbing on his fat dick. Ain't no way Bast didn't form Yani's pussy to fit around his girth like that.

"Oh my God, this the best pussy….baby…fuck this dick…oh you're fucking it so good Yani…'

A nigga wasn't afraid to cry like a bitch with pussy that sugary on a big dick that knew how to work all the angles. N'Jadaka shed thug tears while talking that talk to get her to squeeze her pussy muscles the way he liked. How many dudes fought over her to have access to the pot of gold he dipped his meat in? Only N'Jadaka was the big stepper to claim his rightful ownership of the walls gripping him. A surge of boastful pride flooded over him even as tears flicked away in large droplets into the sea. This woman loved him and showed out on the dick. His toes curled over lumps of sand. How could pussy be that fucking exquisite? He couldn't even breathe anymore as the life was sucked out of him because of the gushy walls snug around his length.

Water and tears fell on Yani's ass. He gripped her hips and wrote love poems in her depths, the tip of his dick a master at transcribing scripture on tight wet walls. He grabbed her arms and pulled them back further, pumping faster, his eyes on the waves coming in. His first nut coated her walls fast and hot before he pulled her out of the ocean and forced her to bounce on his dick in reverse cowgirl on a beach blanket warmed by the honey-yellow sand. Yani rode her king, looking over her shoulder at him with a slick smile on her glossy lips. The second time he came he screamed her name as loud as he pleased while bucking his hips. No one would hear them from the front house so far up on the hillside.

Yani slithered across his chest and switched directions so that he could taste her pussy after he fucked it well. She came in his mouth and he had her on her back before his cum flooding her pussy ran back out.

They learned to work out a system to handle his stamina, so the rest of their time on the sand was spent with his dick between her breasts hard fucking her tits and cumming all over her chest. He let her swim and rinse off and then afterward he fingered her clit. Watching her face during her loud release pleased him.

After a short nap, they dressed and returned to the main house. Yani snuck off to their master bedroom to rub their special cream on her folds and inside her pussy. They walked up a familiar path to the top of the compound and ate leftover lunch with the children and Leona sharing the events on the island and the remnants of old gossip about remaining family members. He observed Yani nourishing her body heavily for more pounding after the children were put down for naps. It was good to catch up with Aunt Leona. The world was different, but she was still the same, which was what the royal family needed. Joba took an extra shine to her and the older woman had her laughing and feeling loved into wholeness.

After they ate, the children scattered before Yani could catch them.

"Come with me for a minute. I want to show you something," he said.

Yani walked with him back down to the main house. They entered the coolness and sauntered into the room where Ulysses Klaue once tried to shoot him with his arm and where greedy mercenaries attempted to end his found family. Next to the collection of ancient drums, he picked up the conch shell left to him by Namor.

N'Jadaka sat Yani down and told her everything about the ocean dweller. She listened and asked no questions until he was finished.

"When will you call him?" she said.

"Maybe after we go back to Wakanda… I dunno. I really don't want to. As long as he stays down there and we mind our business up here…I'm not itchin' to get tangled up with that dude."

"Is he more dangerous than Thanos was?"

"Thanos had a distorted sense of purpose…sympathetic righteousness. At least that's what I got from the Avengers. Imagine the biggest liberal white vegan with a magical power screaming about saving the planet. He thinks he's saving people from future ills. That's Thanos. Namor…there's no compassion for surface dwellers. He had the most 'I don't give a fuck' energy I have ever witnessed. That man does not care. He only accepts Wakanda because we act the way his people do. As long as we continue to mind our business, I don't see us being a threat to him."

"Then let's do that," Yani said, holding his hand.

He put the conch shell back on the drum shelf and checked his kimoyo beads.

"Let's get the kids," he said.

Strolling hand-in-hand to the middle house, they ran into Twyla and Bibi.

"Go get your wild children and we'll catch up later. You two look worn out," Twyla said.

She held onto Yani as N'Jadaka shook Bibi's hand.

"How are you liking island life?" he asked Bibi.

Twyla's husband grinned and touched his forehead.

"So much to see, but Aunt Leona makes me eat so much. I think I will be twice my size when I go home."

"Are the kids with you?" Yani asked, looking behind them.

"No, they were in the middle house a few minutes ago. We gave them gifts before coming out here. We're going swimming. Want to join?" Twyla asked.

"We did that earlier," he said.

Twyla looked over Yani's shoulder.

"I can't believe you brought that hellion back here on vacation," Twyla said.

She pointed to Jerome who had lodged himself comfortably in an overgrown flamboyant tree. The burnt orange foliage made his mottled green and pink skin stand out on the hanging branch.

"We couldn't come back here without him," N'Jadaka said.

"Just leave his old bossy ass here. He can keep Auntie company. See you guys later," Twyla said.

"No, no," Leona said walking down the path to hand N'Jadaka freshly washed bathroom towels. "That boy loves living his rich life in the palace. He won't want to stay here anymore. Him spoiled."

She looked at Bibi.

"Bibi, are you allergic to shellfish? I'm making us a sweet and sticky shrimp tonight for dinner."

N'Jadaka stared at Leona as a sense of déjà vu washed over him.

"I can eat anything, Auntie, as long as it isn't too spicy," Bibi said, rubbing his belly.

Leona patted his arm and shuffled back up toward her domain to prepare a lavish spread for her family.

"Bye!" Twyla said pulling Bibi toward the main beach down below.

Waving the couple off, N'Jadaka threw an arm around Yani's shoulder and entered the middle house.

"Where y'all at?" he shouted into the house.

Toys were spread on the living room floor unattended. He placed the towels on the couch and looked around more.

"Shh…"

Yani stood in the doorway of the master bedroom and wiggled her index finger to get his attention. He joined her and peeked into the bedroom. All three of the children were fast asleep on the bed. He kicked off his sandals and moved around to the side of the bed they shared. Riki and Joba were curled into twin balls facing each other and Sydette was on her stomach.

A lump lodged in N'Jadaka's throat.

"This is where it all started, Yani," he said.

"Hmm?"

"Here…this bed. You put Sweet Pea to sleep and I found her. Look at my baby now. She'll be nine next year."

He reached down and touched the frazzled curls let free from the humidity on Sydette's head. From one child to three. He gazed at Riki and Joba. A gust of hot wind flowed through the open door and tickled the back of his neck. He touched it and closed his eyes thinking he could smell the aroma of Disa's perfume riding on the wind too, reminding him that her love would surround their daughter.

Yani climbed on the bed next to Joba and he curled around Sydette. They held hands across the bodies of all three children creating a protective arc.

"We'll be okay," Yani said, reassuring him with the dulcet tones of her melodious voice.

"I know," he answered.

He watched his loved ones sleep and listened to the sounds of the sea and their calm breathing until he joined them in the bliss of slumber and sweet dreams of family.

N'Jadaka was finally rooted and free.

The Golden Jaguar rested as the world waited for his next move.

A.N.

Hey faithful readers, it's done!

The next book in the series will start next month. It's called "King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar"

#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 4 #killmonger fanfiction #uzumaki rebellion #black panther fanfiction #wakanda forever #uzumaki rebellion writes #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #wet sugar 2 #Youtube

[shallowoak]

Little Words in the Small Hours

>> Or read on AO3 here! <<

Summary: Finding himself as Law’s guardian and father figure, Rosinante ponders the nature of parenthood through his own experiences. With thanks to @lunarforrest for proofreading! ❤️

Word Count: 6.9k Rating: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Sengoku The Buddha, Donquixote Pirates (One Piece), others mentioned - Character

Additional Tags: Rosi-centric, rating is for themes and explicit language, descriptions of physical abuse, descriptions of childhood trauma, Canon-Typical Misery, Canon-Typical Violence, Pre-Canon, One Shot, Character Study, Introspection, spoilers for dressrosa, both Rosinante and Law are autistic, it was just going that way, Autistic Trafalgar D. Water Law, negative views on the military, though this is OP so I don't suppose you were willing to accept authority anyway, but just in case, headcanons galore, what can you do when your fav is taken away 5 mins after being introduced, yes I'm fine thanks for asking, yet another excuse to write a blonde man having a crisis, use of Den Dens as assistance animals, we love worldbuilding, Medical Inaccuracies, (X Drake drowning in the pool) this ain't about him

Through the gap in his cabin curtains, Rosinante watched as snow fell. Aboard passenger ship “The Mixer”, the gentle sway of their overnight crossing should’ve rocked them to sleep hours ago.

Swaddled together under his feathery coat, Law’s breathing was barely visible. Sat upright, one arm supported the small of Law’s back, the other gently petted his hair. Head limply resting against the cabin wall, the scratchy boat-issued blanket was used instead as a foot warmer for Rosi’s too-long legs. Staring unseeing into the dark, unable to find rest, Law clutched Rosi’s unwashed nightshirt as though it were a lifeline.

Not many moons ago, he would’ve craved a journey like this. No knots to tie, no Marine business, no family matters. Just quiet days for reading and long nights for chain smoking with a stranger. Enjoying the easy sounds of a cheap musician as the crew changed over. The liminal space of getting to know a ship, people, the bottom of a glass he knew he’d never see again.

Now, he despised that quiet. The pair could only hold one another as the boy’s laboured breathing filled the room. Quiet gave intrusive thoughts leverage, the pain and lethargy seeming worse at night. Free from the day’s rush of route planning, hospital visits and running, all they had to think about was reality. The increasingly rapid deterioration was more apparent as Law’s skin became less and less his own. The kid scratched it compulsively, wanting to be free of his discomfort, to somehow peel away the poisoned flesh and see himself underneath. He’d tried to teach Law to ground himself, to hold something comforting when he felt the need to itch. His little body had no extra energy to keep stitching up his arms.

An early night had turned into all night.

Nearing thirteen, most kids Law’s age would recoil at the idea of cuddling as the awkwardness of puberty set in. Too proud, too independent to need his love. On the surface, Law was certainly no different. He left a strong impression on everyone he met, unafraid to challenge the world and every blind adult who inhabited it. He’d sooner carve a hole through Rosi’s coat than admit he wanted to be underneath it.

The dark, the relentless cold, the long, fruitless search and endless hours of travel… These things had an effect. One that even Law was not immune to. As extraordinary as this kid was, he was still just a child. A child who had seen and been through things that would leave an adult scarred. A child who needed a gentle hand and comics as a reward for visiting the Doctor.

Over time, his beautiful brown skin had become ashen and cold, all the warm tones cruelly drawn away as the poisoning progressed. White spots-turned patches became increasingly prominent. All but impossible to ignore in the low light.

So, they did the only thing they could do. Wordlessly try to comfort one another, afraid to speak the truth. It did precious little to stop the long note in the back of Rosi’s mind filling him with dread.

Public transport and cosy overnight cabins were a luxury the pair could ill afford. Too traceable, far cheaper and easier to steal a vessel. Between being a Marine and a pirate, manning a small one single-handedly should be a cinch. Equally, it would be easier and safer to leave Law to die. For him to carry on undercover, to not cause a fuss. To let fate take her course and let Law succumb- or live his remaining years believing dying for Doflamingo was ‘love’.

As the deadline loomed, Rosinante’s heart grew fonder. Softer. Determined. It wasn’t justice nor kindness to leave Law to the wolves. It was unbearable to leave Law alone overnight while he manned a stolen boat.

He wouldn’t go down without kicking and screaming, even if he failed. If they couldn’t secure a cure, Law would pass peacefully by Rosi’s side, knowing he was loved. Safe from having to commit atrocities to live. If his brother got hold of Law, he’d sooner shoot the boy himself. He’d choose Law over himself in any situation.

The easiest option was rarely the right one. Rosinante tried to tell himself he deserved to sleep in a bed.

Until a year ago, Rosi had never imagined children in his cards. He’d never enjoyed being a kid, let alone seen the appeal of raising one. He’d never even entertained the idea of a girl -or boy- friend. Before all their strife; Law had been one of two. Rosi was one of two. He did not doubt that Doffy had fathered many more kids than he adopted. People chose to do this all the time. But it never crossed his mind that it was something for him.

A small part of him wished he had a better childhood, a normal one. A small part of him yearned to understand what kind of life Law had led before the disease ravaged his homeland. Maybe then he’d feel more ready for this. Others his age had tried to kill him, just as their parents encouraged. The brothers had been hunted down and punished for their father's and their community's sins rather than their individual actions. He only had Doffy for guidance, a boy brutalised by their ordeal and forced to turn to violence to cope.

They were both changed for the worse. What part of that experience was supposed to help him here? There was so much to fuck up with child development. So many ways to permanently damage a young psyche. So many of Doffy’s learned, twisted ideals he didn’t want anywhere near Law at the most impressionable time in his life. Rosinante hardly felt better. He didn’t feel as though he’d ever truly recovered from his childhood traumas, and now he was tasked with guiding Law through his own. Poor kid had already been through so much. Rosi couldn’t afford to lead him astray.

He’d known a few families in his life, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of any of them. There was a memory of his birth parents trying to provide Doffy and him with a real life. With more than what they had. To try to give Law more than what he had wasn’t saying much- yet still felt like a mountain to climb. Sengoku had made it look easy, taking in someone so young and vulnerable with only the simple job of raising them on the line.

As a child, he thought Sengoku was awesome. The shit, invincible. He was like a Dragon, rich and powerful with the world at his feet- but he got to blast bad guys, too. He got to go wherever, command whoever, have whatever. For all their birth parents wanted Rosi and Doffy to lead a normal life, he had fallen on his feet with Sengoku. After months of abuse, mouldy food, loss and sleepless nights in drafty shacks, he’d been comforted to find a familiar home with hot water and soft sheets. In the end, what he knew was luxury.

As an adult…? He wasn’t so naive as to think a family had to be nuclear to work. A family could be a single father and his adopted son. That was his normal; lived it. If he had his way, he’d be reliving it for many years to come. But nothing about his life with Sengoku was normal, really. An admiral for a father figure, almost twice Rosi’s current age when he’d chosen to adopt. He was wise and sound, and he had access to the most powerful support network in the world for anything he needed.

Except… Many of Rosi’s first months were spent not in his care- but in that of a hospital or visiting specialist. After that, he was often away on duty for weeks or months at a time. Even at home, he worked long hours, hardly seeing Rosi as he chipped away at his desk. With Sengoku, he’d been shielded from so much of the world he’d known on the streets. That had been nice at first, but he came to miss someone to play with, regular schooling, and unlimited family time. There was good reason why any sensible Marine took leave or retired to raise their family.

But one of the things he’d never wanted for was medical care. Having found a random child on the street, Sengoku had been wise in getting him checked out. The fleet of Navy Doctors had returned him billed with a long receipt of new diagnoses.

A catalogue of the extensive wounds from his clear history of abuse. Horrific, ugly, burned into the memory of the physicians who saw them. But easy enough to identify and begin to treat. Physiotherapy for his torn shoulder muscles, from where he had been strung up for hours on end. Careful reintroduction to food after malnutrition, a specialised diet to build mass and strength. Extensive grafting and liberal use of creams for his burns. Bedrest for his angry bruises and burst eardrums. He was littered with so many cuts, holes and scrapes that just needed respite and time to repair themselves. For months, he’d looked like a moth-eaten quilt while he recovered. Sengoku amused him, studying the diagram on how to wrap bandages on awkward areas of skin like he would a battle plan- hunched over his desk with his brows furrowed.

Then, there was the acceptance of the permanent hearing loss brought on by prolonged -close-range- exposure to gunfire and explosions. His left ear now heard nothing, whilst the right teetered in the 40-50% range. Therapists helped him learn to live with the difference but there was no cure for clumsiness, only fuelled by the new lack of balance.

He’d been offered something special, a then-experimental surgery. A surgery Vegapunk’s team had been fine-tuning for public use by implementing it in Marine hospital trials. An implant into his left cochlear would allow him some hearing back. A specially shaped Den Den Mushi earpiece would sit on the shell of his ear and act as a receiver and interpreter for sounds. The telepathic snails were billed to provide an overall clearer, more stable sound to the internal components -adapted from the telephone originals- than using electronics alone.

At the time, he’d been sick of surgery. The seemingly endless cycle of groggy pain, tubes, and check-ups. Being stuck inside, summer days wasted with their melding together. Adults looked at him with concern as they kept turning up shrapnel in his scans, time and again. Phrases like ‘implant’ and ‘clinical trial’ had been too much for him then, and he’d been quick to turn down any added grief. The Snail solution was also not a perfect one, as it needed rest and to be fed. It would be closer to working with a service dog, and he’d need to learn how to look after it. He wasn’t sure how to look after himself. No, the old wounds were enough.

Perhaps he would’ve taken it now, having felt the impact of hearing loss in his day-to-day life. Perhaps he’d been a stupid, rash kid. He’d often looked back on himself that way. Though if he had taken it… He couldn’t have cheesed the Marine health check. The external components were much too obvious for even Sengoku to be able to hide on his record. He never would’ve gone through basic or field training, never deployed to spy on his brother. Never would’ve come to meet Law. If he’d made the choice he’d always scorned himself for? His dad could still probably swing him a desk job for the Marines: pencil-pushing anti-scurvy fruit deliveries. Safe. Sonless.

On the mental side, there were long-term conditions to contend with. The aspects of Rosi that were harder to pin and even slower to treat. Hordes of unprocessed grief, paranoia, generalised anxiety, insomnia. It culminated with a healthy topping of PTSD. Rosi’s schedule of pills and appointments rivalled Sengoku’s business calendar for a time. Finally, the one that stumped his father the most. Autism. He’d always remember the look on his father’s face as they sat in that office.

In time, it would be something he’d come to learn he shared with Law, although the two experienced it differently. Rosinante’s own was sensory-biased, his social symptoms negligible before the abuse exasperated them. Noise, light and touch. All things he struggled with. Some days, he’d shriek in the bath, find the hospital too bright, or try to bolt when Sengoku hugged him. It had taken a monumental amount of trust and gentle convincing for the hair to be removed from over Rosi’s eyes. He’d resented the sharp, unfamiliar equipment, the feeling of little prickly hairs against his skin, and the prospect of more light hitting his eyes. Audio processing issues combined with hearing loss made calming explanations difficult to understand. Things often needed to be repeated and for a time, the world only grew more terrifying. Sengoku didn’t recommend him for undercover work because he was good with the sounds of battle or because he could process new information quickly. In battle, there was a real chance he’d be stabbed long before he noticed the wielder’s approach.

From what he could gather, Law’s experience was more socially skewed. He struggled to both display and understand emotions. He took things literally and spoke bluntly, the heart on his sleeve sometimes seeming unforgiving to the uninitiated. Law tended to fixate, tunnel visioned for months on end. He could tell you in (literally) nauseating detail about his favourite medical processes. Or his favourite writing techniques used in the comics he liked.

They both found change hard, their new circumstances confusing. Their lack of routine or stability, the constant new faces and towns, made Law antsy. As their journey continued, Law had less to say. Less patience to spare. As a self-conscious teen, Doctors often assumed Law was brought in to be referred for counselling- that he needed help accepting his Autism or ‘Vitiligo’. He probably did, but it was never the main issue. After a while, Law stopped correcting them and stopped speaking up. He let his dad run him through the motions.

It was hard for Rosinante, too, to see and understand that pain. Not being able to do anything to alleviate it. Forced to carry on with the only option they had. He was starting to resent himself for the quiet his power created. For taking Law into a place which made him uncomfortable. For feeling like he wouldn’t be enough.

Sengoku was neither detached nor the most gentle of hands. His job was to be confident and turn the neurotypical into soldiers. He represented the World Government and expected others to fall into line. But even when he wasn’t sure what to make of Rosinante’s behaviour, he’d always been enough. A warm hand to hold, a secure home, a steady job.

Despite his choosing to tackle Rosinante’s trauma response with navy indoctrination. Despite his belief that regardless of Rosinante's disposition- discipline and structure were sure to yield results. That in Sengoku's mind, it was business as usual.

Despite his numerous faults, Sengoku had been a good father to him. He diligently and often single-handedly took care of Rosi when he was around. Rosi had been a quiet, sensitive child, and Sengoku had always been firm enough to slowly push him out of his shell.

Once he’d been deemed old and fit enough, he’d been allowed to accompany his father on safer voyages. Time on the sea had been presented to him as part of his recovery, that it would be good for him to get fresh air and see some sights after being inside for so long. Whilst not untrue, both father and son knew it was cover so they could spend more time together.

His days as a glorified ship’s mascot had been a blast. He had no official job, but he spent his days soaking up information, experiences, and affection from his crew. He got to see his dad daily and get tucked in every night. They played board games in their quarters and identified sea mammals together. When the cannons were tested, Sengoku comforted and taught him how to protect his ears. And why Marines needed those loud sounds he was so afraid of. How they could be used to protect. They bonded, truly, as father and son.

The books and globes in the map room showed him the world, the navigation crew was only too happy to show off what they knew. Having only known sunny, moderate climates, places like deserts and tundras seemed like that of myth. Watching the cadets work by day, he got a good feel for terminology, knots and drills. During mealtimes, they'd chat about daily life back home and regale him with fanciful tales of mermaids and adventure. Being with them was the closest he got to normality his parents dreamed of.

Hanging around with his Dad gave him exclusive access, too, to explore the private areas of a ship without being summoned there for punishment. Eventually, he even learnt what it was that his Dad actually did.

He'd never thought of it as conditioning, but at 16, with a gentle push from dad, he’d signed up for basic training to join the crew full-time on the other end. And sure, he did turn out to be a decent Marine. He never fought back on Sengoku’s ideas. Eventually, they even put him in charge of others, which had always seemed like a mad decision to him. Being a Marine gave him something to do and a way to make his father happy. Being with Law now was the first time he’d ever carved his own path.

Rosinante still felt young in the only way he had left. Even after years of therapy, he felt no closer to true normalcy. Too much to reflect on, much more to learn- and precious little time. His kid couldn’t afford for him to be lost in his head, reeling from the past- wondering if Sengoku was any parent worth replicating. Wondering even if he could. Law needed his guidance, his support, and his answers now. Could Rosinante be trusted to provide a good life for Law- where professionals had failed him?

Thinking back, he was starting to feel that Sengoku had been this way, too. He’d loved Rosi unconditionally but hadn’t really known what to do with him. Nor had he the time to learn. For all his good intentions, it had been easiest to put Rosi into a box of his ideals and call the job done.

Bringing his mind back into the present, he held Law closer, resting his chin on the crown of the boy’s head. As if he wasn’t already too late to shield Law from anything.

Maybe enlistment was the only way Sengoku could think of to keep an eye on his vulnerable son. Maybe he was actually insane, thinking the military was any autistic person’s first career choice. His head spun listlessly. What the hell did either of them know about raising kids?

Shifting at the pressure, Law looked up at Rosinante.

“Toilet.”

Right. They’d been lying here awake for four or five hours now. He should probably go himself. Smiling gently, Rosi shifts the arm supporting his back to scoop up Law, his rear now resting on his arm. Law clings to him like Koala joey as they leave the cabin.

He thinks it sweet that Law still wants his security. That a kid so willing to kill still doesn’t want to walk an unfamiliar hall alone at night. He has to have hope that there’s still time to fix this. Law might not have his sea legs yet, but Rosi isn’t much better. Thank goodness it’s a calm night; he’d rather not go ass-over-hat with his kid in hand. That clumsiness never failed to amuse his fellow seamen. He traces along the wall with his free hand until they reach a small communal washroom.

The pair leave each other to their business, taking a stall each. He takes a longing look at the showers, knowing he’ll have to take a bath stool to fit under the shower head. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. He’d been putting off washing and using the laundry service so their clothes would stay clean for longer once they were back on dry land.

Eventually, the two finish washing up, and Rosi scoops Law back up to pad back to their room. Even if Law wanted to walk, Rosi couldn’t reach down far enough to hold his hand. Somehow, he feels more tired after having gotten up. He’s thankful every night that Law came into his life not needing to be fed at 3 am.

He lifts the feather coat left on the bed, gently depositing Law underneath it. The small lump on the mattress doesn’t move. Rosi stares blankly at the dozing lump before tucking it in and arranging the sucky boat blanket as a pillow on the floor. For such an underdeveloped kid, be sure does take up a lot of space. He doesn’t mind, though. He’d known this was coming; he’d been too tall for the standardised mattress from the start. Besides, Law had the rule of cute and couldn’t be moved.

Only as Rosi shifts to curl up on the floor does Law stir, shuffling the coat to stare at his dad. Rosi stares back. A little hand appears from under the fluff, patting the bed and making a grabbing motion. His whole body then scoots closer to the inside of the bed, up against the windowed wall.

How can he say no to that? He’s so proud of Law for considering him!

Feeling sufficiently sleepier, Rosi opts to lie down facing towards Law, his knees bent and feet hanging out of the covers. The position isn’t optimal but it makes Law happy. His arm finds Law’s hat and passes it to him before loosely resting on the coat in a gentle hug.

Like them, that hat had been through a lot. It was the one thing Law still carried from his home island. He used it as a plush toy at night and thumbed it during the day when he was nervous or needed to itch. Frayed patches in the brim were already starting to appear. If it wasn’t being held, he wore it as though he’d crumble without its presence.

When Law joined the family, they’d tried to prise it from him. Tried to burn it with the rest of his old, corpse-stained clothes. There was no way they’d ever been clean, healthy enough to wear again. He wouldn’t say exactly how many days he had hidden in the corpse pile, let alone how long ago they had been fresh on. The rest of his wardrobe had been replaced, and Giolla and Baby 5 loved the opportunity to start fresh and dress Law in the same fun patterns as their Corazon. But taking the hat crossed a line. Even for the eccentric family, that hat was disgusting. It still had old, caked in blood on it. It reeked of sweat, bile and death. Turns out Law liked the stench of death. That was what home smelt like.

Law had bitten Diamante several times for trying to take it, threatening to eat his fingers so that Doffy couldn’t sew them back on. Ultimately, Doffy had to oversee an ‘intervention-negotiation’ to sort the matter out. Gladius tried to convince him a replica could be made, as his own clothes often needed replacing. Pica suggested some form of resin encasement. Baby called him a rat boy. No dice. Eventually, they’d reached the compromise that Law could keep the hat after a thorough washing. Sugar was picked as most suitable for the care of materials, and her soul was bored by gold eyes during the entire process.

After the washing, Law wasn’t happy for days. Not until the hat smelled right again- if a little less like death this time. But much to Rosi’s horror, Doffy’s intervention on Law’s behalf had only strengthened their bond.

There was real irony in how Law and a surprising number of other kids liked Doflamingo so much. A man equally damaged by his past as Rosinante and Law, only his trauma had manifested itself in a far more dangerous way. The way Doflamingo dealt with his issues made self-destruction look preferable. It was endlessly worrying to Rosi that these strays found care and support from an adult, he would argue; was the worst he knew. That Doffy would radicalise these kids like Trebol and the others had done to him all those years ago. He could see that cycle beginning to continue and it horrified him.

In trying to appear ruthless, to protect them, there hadn’t been any room for bonding. Even for their safety, he couldn’t allow himself to slip. But being so close to Doffy did allow him to learn the patterns.

He'd never anticipated this many when he’d agreed with Sengoku to ward off kids and stop the crew from growing. For all his brother did underground, he was far from subtle with his daily persona. Dressed loud, laughed loud, dreamed and dealt loud. Where he went, people took notice. People got ideas.

Kids whose parents had chosen the pull of the tide over them. Brave, stupid kids who egged each other on to test their mettle talking to a real captain. Desperate mouths who needed feeding, thinking they could learn his underhanded methods. Those were the ones who were easy to scare off, to knock sense into.

It was the ones with nothing to lose and everything to gain that were dangerous. Doffy was drawn to the ones with strong ambitions and no inhibition. He had been that child. He knew how to exploit brave souls who ignored all the red flags for personal gain. Letting Rosi scare off the ones with sense was an effective screening method, cutting out a lot of legwork for Doffy. Anyone who stuck around after being beaten by the ‘half-giant brute’ was the most vulnerable. The easiest to manipulate.

Easy to manipulate… Diamante's harsh criticisms of Rosi being 'damaged' and 'unintelligent' rang through his mind.

Mariejois was a strange place. Eerie, dreamlike. Nightmarish. It stood perpetually in the witching hour of the Gods, within the veil of unreality. A confusing place. The inhabitants were supposedly the freest, most powerful, most important people in the world. But still, they had to conform. Rosinante and Doflamingo had been expected to dress the same way as their parents and attend the same functions from birth. They were expected to live outlandishly, frivolously, in the same manner as everybody else. Their personalities and futures had been decided from the start.

Their father had been cast out for his sensitivity, for thinking differently. For wanting differently. Ultimately, he had died for it. Doflamingo didn’t think differently. At first, he had wanted back in, more than anything, to ascend both figuratively and literally. Even for a choice the child didn’t make, Doffy’s bubble of conformity burst. Forever outcasted and angry, he was going to destroy them.

Even if Rosinante had never left, he would’ve never truly fit in. No matter how many years passed, there would be no closure as to whether his emotional sensitivity was natural or an effect of his abuse. Attuned over the years to look for imminent threats, the slightest changes. If his difficulty speaking -the ease with which he slipped into his role- was a product of being unsocialised as a child or through trauma. Could even his clumsiness be a mask? A learned behaviour to appear less threatening, less deserving of abuse? He was frequently described as aloof. Off-putting. People thought of him as abnormal, unhinged, and incomplete. Lacking in personal style. That was before he put on his undercover persona. He was still adjusting. He’d never stop adjusting.

It was neither here nor there. Being autistic was not the prescribed way to be a Dragon. There would be no understanding or adjustment. Not if the material of his clothes made his skin crawl. Not if the frequent parties burnt him out or tripped him into social faux pas. He’d be laughed out without ceremony, and for all the power his father didn’t hold, Rosi may have found himself as a servant or even a slave.

For what it was worth, those loyal to Doffy were supported and accommodated. He’d never let anyone talk shit about Pica’s voice or show discomfort around Trebol’s mucus. He happily facilitated Diamante’s weird need for both approval and bloodlust. The kids he took in were provided for and protected by their elders. Despite popular belief and countless reports, he’d defended Law’s right to exist without hesitation. With his countless connections and eye for cutting through bullshit, he’d learnt the truth and dispelled fear from the family. Just once, he’d used his powers for good. But it was useless to imagine his ways ever changing as he welcomed Law’s nihilistic ideals with open arms.

For what it was worth, Doffy had always defended Rosi. From when they were small and Rosi could do nothing to defend himself. To now, riddled with afflictions, real and fake, even if Doffy saw through them- he still accommodated all of them. He never assumed Rosi could do or be less. Didn’t assume Rosi wasn’t listening just because he couldn’t speak. Always checked in after a briefing, explaining things slowly and giving Rosi time to write. He kept the other members off his back and ensured he was comfortable.

It was easy to see why troubled kids liked him, really. To come from nothing and find sanctuary, understanding- and power. To not be dissuaded but enabled. To be pushed to new heights was to serve his needs. Most troubled adults still couldn’t see past his platitudes. But that was how he got people. He lured children, Law, further and further into this underground world of terror, from which they would never be able to escape. Doffy’s latest scheme, to groom Law to die for him as another cog in the Donquixote machine, was perhaps his most heartless yet. How little another Human life meant to him.

Manipulation had always been one of Doffy’s strong suits; he knew what buttons to push. Try as he might to mask it, he had not returned unscathed from their ordeal. It was an open secret among the family that their head was legally blind. He saw in tunnel vision, the dark surround of which flashed with half-processed light. Though his fashion sense was widely regarded as worse than Rosi’s own, the bright colours were easier for his eyes to detect. For a time before his Haki was fully developed, he used the parasite puppet to see his new members. Not accommodating other’s needs would be hypocritical of him.

Physical health aside, that plague-drenched rat of a man had been more apparently damaged in his psyche. He could no longer truly care for anyone except himself and would never be able to put another before him. The last time he had done so, he had lost his entire family. Never again would he be controlled or outplayed. Understanding his people was only a means to an end; allowing them to work harder for him. Making them believe they couldn’t live without him. Trust Doffy to put sanctuary seekers under his thumb. Those with issues were just easier to manipulate. They both knew that from experience.

He knew from the first utterance of ‘family’ that there was more to the dynamic than met the eye. He and Doffy were thankfully dissimilar in all the ways that mattered, but in the end, they both still value family. Doffy had always yearned for what he had lost, forever unable to escape the past fully- and what that companionship and validation meant.

It was foolish to expect it to be innocent. True, you could take the reading that ‘family’ was perhaps more fitting for a crew who largely did not sail. And yet. Whitebeard rather famously referred to his men as sons. Germa was publicly a royal family but presented itself as an army and force first. What his brother had was not a family. It was a collection of people who ate his lies and believed the hype. It was a crime den more akin to a cult than a family. A ring of false promises and safety in numbers, impossible to leave once entered.

In becoming a family, he’d tapped into something more akin to the mindset of Big Mom. With family came loyalty and expectation. It was much harder to betray a family member than a disembodied leader. Not that he’d have any experience with that. He had no doubt he was doing the right thing by running off with Law but ‘family’ always left niggling doubt. No matter how far they ran, the Marines and Donquixotes would always be his family. It would always hurt more to think he was disappointing Sengoku by running. To disappoint mother by harming another. That was a sick power only madmen like Doflamingo would think to wield.

For all those doubts and feelings of self-hatred, Rosi was proud of how far they’d gotten. So far, Law was safe. In another life, he’d take Law further. Keep him safe forever. Truthfully, he knew there was no way they could both survive this. Not for any extended length of time. Even if he cured Law, there was no way Doffy would let Rosi live to see it. He wouldn’t take kindly to his scapegoat being influenced by outside forces or his plans being ruined. Doffy was the type to hold grudges, even if he had to hunt them down for years to come. If Doffy couldn’t live forever, he would at least take Rosi’s years down with him.

But seeing Law peacefully asleep, he allowed himself a small moment to imagine their future- how he’d establish them. A timeline in which this accursed boat wasn't taking them to some dark, Arctic recess of the North Blue.

Naturally, they’d hide in the East Blue. Skip seas to be far away from the family’s eyes. With any luck, the fabled ‘safest sea’ would have a lessened military presence. He’d pick some relatively safe, nowhere island where they wouldn’t be recognised. This meant nowhere too noteworthy or prosperous, lest it attract the attention of pirates and Marines. They’d be poor but happy; nothing wrong with that. He’d known rock bottom before and it wouldn’t be that way again. He wasn't a Dragon now. He was safe, could hold a job and had military training. He could protect them.

Somewhere completely average for a perfectly normal family.

Requirements aside, he wasn’t looking for much from the island itself. All he really wanted was other kids for Law to learn and play with. His mind���s eye chased the fantasy. A quaint schoolhouse of just two classes. Well-used blackboards and slightly rocky seats, old names and jokes scratched into the desks. A quiet, undemanding school where all the parents and kids knew each other. Surrounded by friends and well-meaning adults. Seas, he hoped Law would be able to make some nice friends. How lovely would it be for him to be influenced by normal kids? Kids who hadn’t grown up like Rosi and Law had? Kids who shared games, got messy outside and would copy Law’s homework…

A library or bookshop would be nice, if not a formally organised school. Law had already come so far with self-study; he’s sure they could make a form of homeschooling work. By the time Law was old enough for medical college, they should be safe enough to move island.

His boy graduating. All grown up and helping others. Successful in keeping a heart full of love and compassion. A prodigy who would continue to research new methods of recovery. This fruit could change everything. How nice it must be to be a parent with normal ambitions. He’d love to be there for as long as Law would have him.

As for himself? Well, he’d need a new identity to start. He’d seen enough witness protection procedures to know that much. Easy. Just become someone new. Someone far removed from the records, the bounty posters, the divine descension. Trafalgar Rosi had a cute ring to it. Rosey. Rosy. Rossi. Rosie? Rosie. Then it would look different on paper, enough to deter anyone who didn't already know the name Trafalgar Law.

Of course, it was only practical to change his name if he were to be inconspicuous as Law's father. Father... the thought made him giddy. Maybe he'd finally try growing that beard Sengoku had always warned him off.

As for his career… hm. He’d need something very ordinary for that, too. After burning down so many hospitals, he could definitely have a future in demolition. The medical circle probably wouldn’t want to see his face as a nurse. But then, what peaceful village would have steady work for him? Equally, they were unlikely to need his skills as a trained gunman except as a game hunter in Autumn. There was always childcare; after the kids of the Donquixote Pirates, nothing these ragamuffins had could phase him.

He could set up a Den Den switchboard and direct calls. Plenty of islanders didn’t keep them due to the care and set-up costs weighed against the usage. A small fee to use one when needed was preferable to most. Communication was at the crux of his role as a spy, so he may as well lean into his training. Plus, he’d get to take care of lots of cute Snails. He could see himself whiling away an afternoon painting one or making up the accessories.

Maybe there would be some kind of neighbourhood watch or council? Then he could do all these odd jobs. Get involved with all the news- a good source of information and an easy aid for his sense of security. Sounded peaceful enough.

A peaceful life was all he really wanted. Having tasted freedom from The Family and Marines put things into perspective. Travelling with his son and making his own choices, it becomes harder to want to return to work. Risking his life was a thankless task, one he likely wouldn’t see the benefit of whilst he still drew breath. He’d be excited to be a homemaker. Get to know some people his age and settle into a community. Share fruit and books and make-up tips whilst their kids hang out. Feel his presence in a space. To truly matter to people.

If only they lived in a world where all they had to worry about was where to settle down or which school to send Law to. The worries everybody else had-

Rosinante wiped the growing tear from his eye, holding Law ever so slightly tighter. Enough.

There is nothing material he can guarantee. As with his own parents, there is no home to return to. No money, no power, no community. For better or worse, there is no one to fall back on but themselves. Like Sengoku, he cannot magically fix what is broken. He succeeds or Law dies. Like Doffy, he cannot force Law’s hand. It must be guided.

But. Equally.

Like his own parents, he can hope for a better future for his child. Like Sengoku, he can offer all that he can within his power. Even, like Doffy, he can open Law’s heart to the concept of family once again.

There is no guarantee that he’ll be able to undo the damage done, but there’s hope. Maybe, like Rosi, Law will always be recovering. Maybe that constant growth isn’t a bad thing.

The only promise he can make is that his love will never waver, that he will always try his fucking hardest for his son. With an open mind and heart to go forward in their relationship, with whatever time he has left.

For that, he can't be as bad as he thinks. Surely.

Increasingly tonight, he was getting the impression no one knew what they were doing. That all anyone could do was try not to repeat the mistakes of those before them. To treat each other as equals. They were both different to the others around them. But in that way, they understood each other. And through each other, they found the other was every bit as deserving of love as they were. Rosi would be happy if Law came out the other side of this with even an ounce of love and humanity left in his heart. He would’ve succeeded.

Being around Law brought out the best in Rosinante. Law gave Rosi the courage to follow his idea of justice and choose a path for himself. For Law, he would betray everyone he’d ever known. Start a new family. Law gave his life meaning and purpose and made him smile again. Around Law, Rosi knew no bounds.

Rosinante brought out the best in Law. Rosi gave Law energy and brought out the kid in him again. For Rosi, Law would smile and talk about his fixations for hours. Would show compassion and trust. He would give people, and life, a second chance. He’d hope- and dream of a future. Around Rosi, Law was happy.

Together, they were free.

#There are not enough Cora fics here OR AO3 #So here one is :3c #one piece #one piece fanfiction #donquixote rosinante #rosinante corazon #donquixote doflamingo #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #sengoku one piece #sengoku the buddha #donquixote family #donquixote pirates #corazon one piece #corazon #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #long post

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Five]

With this chapter, the first arc of the story is completed! :D So beware if this starts in 1 and ends like in 8/9 jkfjhdkjfjkf

I'm also playing around with a slightly different formatting for my fics, but it isn't like very obvious right?

Viktor x Fem!Reader----Gothic AU/Spooky Sea-----3K----SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T &lt; ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis: Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both building are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: Even when there's seemingly nothing left to lose, you find yourself fearing still. But all new beginning start with a slight flick of dismay.

Tags: Strangers to Lovers| Haunted House| Ghosts (?)| Arranged Marriage| Slow Burn| Forced Proximity| Mystery | Spooky (?) imaginery|

Taglist: @local-mr-frog

The only sound echoing in the middle of the dining room was the clinking of the silverware against the dishes, and the occasional glass settled against the wooden surface of the table.

Your hair was still wet from the boiling bath Viktor coerced you to step inside as soon as your legs felt steady enough to climb toward the house, occasional drips falling from your shoulders toward the worn-out sweater that had been better days; the black wool loose from the knitted geometric pattern around the wrists, softened on the elbows.

You could almost picture it stretched in Viktor’s lean arms as he reclined against the desk, all those books you dusted off scattered over the surface, keen to his scanning gaze.

“I hope the meal is of your liking,” Viktor said, tearing you up from your sidetracked mind. “Not many people like fish.”

You were playing with the fork, hovering it against the mashed potatoes he had thrown in with whatever remnants of food he had in the pantry. "Not liking fish when your family is constituted by fishermen it's like sentencing yourself to starve," you replied despite the way talking about them make your heart sink into an unknown abyss within your chest that howled just like the cliff.

Viktor clutched his spoon, eyes filled with worry that not even the bright lamp hung above your heads could conceal.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, trying to change the topic, for you didn’t wish his pity. “You didn’t have to. It’s truly delicious.” Even if your stomach couldn’t contain that much food right now, each spoonful and bite weighting as if you'd been fed lead.

He observed you, eyebrows slightly raised when you forced the mashed potatoes down—your worrying brain telling you that you hadn’t tasted anything ever since early morning, that it would be rude not to eat what he served you.

“You don’t have to finish everything,” Viktor muttered noncommittally. “Forcing yourself would only make you sick.”

One would think that you were used to forcing things into your life already. From following people that clearly didn't care about you; a life aboard a swaying, tiny fisher boat despite your aversion to deep water; an adult life bound as a perfect housewife to another human in exchange for money without the chance of second-guesses.

You looked at him, thinking the way he pictured you now. As a broken, unstable person that was about to jump off the cliff. If Viktor was rehearsing the gentlest way of firing you, your mind couldn’t blame him for it.

Because your aunt was right, you were too unlovable to find a shelter that would be willing to guard you.

“I think you should go sleep now,” Viktor said, settling the napkin from his legs back to the table. “It’s getting late.”

Your jaw tightened, and a strange dread settled in your heart when you thought about how in the upcoming morning, you would have to say goodbye to the old lighthouse.

The chair scraped the wooden floor with a horrible shriek, and you cringed for being so petty after all the kindness Viktor had shown you.

"Ah, yes. Of course." You nodded, forcing a smile. "Where can I borrow my raincoat?" you muttered, walking toward the living room without daring to see him when you felt his gaze burning at your back.

“I mean here,” Viktor said. “You shouldn’t go outside alone at this hour.”

Because you may truly jump this time, your brain told you. That was it, then. Your entire recollection of encounters with him will be reduced to that fatal misleading call from the hollow echo of the waves scrapping the rocks of the maritime abyss.

“And what about the lighthouse?” You bit the inside of your cheek. “It’s my job to keep watch.”

Viktor stood up, his cane thumping against the floor when he took a couple of steps closer to you. You blinked, looking from the corner of your eye at how his hand raised awkwardly only to fall back to the back of his chair before hovering in the air. “You’d been maintaining the power system, so I’d say the lighthouse can stay alone for one night.” He left the crinkled napkin atop his full glass of coffee with milk. “Allow me to lead the way.”

You returned to the familiar second floor, passing further down his office toward the end of the hallway that was flanked with closed doors and wide windows covered in dusty curtains Viktor had to change soon. From the drapes, golden light flooded in flicking pools against the red wood of the floors, the windows vibrating with the howl of the foghorn.

"I'm afraid I have no spare rooms presentable enough for a guest," Viktor said, opening the door of his bedroom at the far end of the hallway. "But I hope you can be comfortable enough here."

“Oh, no, no!” You looked at him, cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “I can’t take your room. Please, I would rest somewhere else.”

He observed your state with a slight smile, barely curving one side of his lips. “Take no mind. I have urgent work to do tonight anyway. You will be using it better than I can tonight.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “Is that a coaxing lie?” you had to ask, because how he could have already work piled up when he had just returned from Piltover?

Viktor shrugged. “There’s always something to do,” he answered with an amused smile. Barely an answer at all. “I will be in my studio.” Viktor gestured to the second door to the left, at the start of the hallway. “In case you need something.”

The bedroom was just how you left it, except for the towel hastily thrown in the bed—Viktor had been in a hurry to find where you had been, it seemed. You peeked at his figure as he hurriedly took the towel to put it under his arm. Crumpled bedsheets and the tossed duvet half-laid in the ground, the open curtain showing the ghostly tower of the lighthouse, white and red against the grey of the endless sky, the gargantuan eye watching over ink-black waves, and mossy cliffs.

“Thank you, Viktor.”

He didn't stay long to extend the awkwardness of both your presences inside a single room. Muttering an "It's nothing," Viktor walked away with you watching his reflection from the misted window, his white shirt contrasting against the darkness outside while you seemed to be absorbed by it.

Viktor closed the door with a soft click, and until then you allowed yourself to sit at the edge of the fluffy bed, your hands passing over the worn-out fabric of the bedsheets.

You didn’t wish to pry, but your eyes were drawn to the organic chaos inside the room. This room had been locked when you were cleaning the rest of the house, so papers were scattered over the desk, tucked in the bookshelves. All filled with Viktor’s cursive and tilted calligraphy—written with the inferior velocity of the hands while the brain concocted thoughts much faster.

The door of the closet was left ajar, your feet muffled against a carpet when you went to close it, not without smelling the essence of Viktor’s clothes as the air blew toward you when you swing the door closed.

At that moment, the entrance door creaked open, Viktor's face looking inside.

You jumped backward, almost tripping over a coffer filled with sweaters and shirts.

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “Eh, I’m… I’m sorry.” He extended a glass of water toward you. “I forgot to bring this the first time.”

Your nails scratched his fingers when you took the cold glass with a shaking hand. “Uh, thank you. Thank you, Viktor. You didn’t have to,” you said with a smile. “I could go for one myself.”

He opened the door enough for his body to slip inside, closing the door behind his back without getting you out of his golden gaze. For some reason, your heart started beating faster.

“Viktor?”

He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, getting out your pink and orange shell. "I almost forgot to give you this. You left it in the lighthouse."

The shell was warm from his body proximity, soft and bright against your skin when he put it in your palm. 

The ghost of a smile appeared. "I suppose it doesn't bring much luck to me, huh?" you commented. "Or perhaps it did until I forgot to carry it with me today."

Viktor didn’t say anything, instead placing an elegant hand over your shoulder, long fingers barely squeezing through your sweater. “Perhaps, if I carry it around enough, things will get better,” you added in a whisper.

He chuckled. "We shall see." Viktor stepped away, eyeing the door. "Miss, I would like to ask you to please refrain to get out of the room later tonight," he said suddenly, making you want to seek his gaze. Finding nothing more but a fleeting look from the corner of his eyes. 

“Why?” It wasn’t like you would like to creep around his property when he wasn’t looking.

Viktor stood on the threshold of the bedroom, only looking back at you when he was about to close the door. "Do you remember what I told you when we met?"

You blinked, and he sighed.

“I’m not trying to scare you now,” Viktor said, his tone serious. You could imagine it reverberating in a fancy lecture inside Piltover’s university. “But you should consider my words tonight, at least.”

How all stories might have something of truth wrapped between them.

He left after that.

*~*~*~*

The foghorn startled you awake, in one of those flicking instances when slumber grew thin enough for sounds to filter from reality through the dreamlands. The cliff's screams vibrate in your window. Calling you back.

You sat in the dark room, the headrest solid against your shaky limbs, hands barely swiping away the beads of sweat clinging to your forehead.

When your fingers took the glass off the nightstand, your mind had already accepted that something was off. It was too light, and when you tilted it between your lips, there was no water left.

Viktor's words clung to you like a heavy coat when you slipped out of bed, thinking that rather than go to the kitchen, you could fill the water with a tap in the sink outside the bathroom. Or better, you could ask Viktor to accompany you all the way to the kitchen.

It didn't matter if you felt childish, voice trembling while asking. It was better than the heavy weight of expectation settled in your stomach when you opened the door, the orange light of the bulb above your head mixing with the one drawn with the oil lamps turned off all along the hallway.

You closed your eyes, a sigh relaxing your muscles when all the air was out of your body.

The wood was calm and silent tonight, forgotten the tantrum of early in the day. You thought the house had been amused by the sight of the conundrum, the most interesting thing that had happened in the vicinity in how long.

You stopped at the start of the hallway, where the stairs were sunk in a dim light from the landing below, the oil lamp flicking as if a window had been left open.

Viktor wasn’t in his studio. Or maybe he was, but asleep already. The door closed and the space beneath the wood and the floor tinted in black. You bit your lips anxiously, gripping the glass in a forceful grip.

You swallowed; tongue so dry it made you want to cough for the salty aftertaste clinging to it.

Tap water was it—nothing you weren't used to doing back with your grandparents.

Without thinking, you turned back toward your room, the corner of your eye still and covered in darkness. After a couple of steps, you heard a door closing downstairs, the same cry of rusty metal hinges protesting.

You looked back at the stairs, hoping to see Viktor appear after a night of hard study.

But then, doubt settled in your stomach, gluing your cold feet to the ground. What if he gets upset to see you disobeying the rules of his house? You were already being a nuance with how many things he had been doing for you, from feeding you to saving your life—

Stop, you begged your mind. Stop.

But your mind didn’t. My aunt is right. I’m a nuance. I understand why they wanted to exchange me away.

The light in the first oil lamp started flicking, the supply dying from being kept on all night. From bright yellow to sicken orange to, finally, red blinks.

Your nails got buried in your palm, steps go backward without turning your back to the stairs. The bathroom door was at an arm's distance, doorknob cold when you turned it in your palm, slipping inside so quickly you felt a cold breeze against your cheek.

The bathroom was divided into three parts, the first one with a sink, a mirror, and a cabinet filled with amber glass bottles with shampoo and lotions. You filled your glass there, waiting with your ear against the wood to hear any sound coming from the stairs.

When nothing happened and you felt your eyes weighting from sleep, you opened the door, welcoming the orange light of the lamps that would guide you back to the ajar door of the bedroom.

The stains caught your attention the first second you exited the bathroom. Coming from the stairs down the hallway, stopping in front of the bedroom. The brown outline of muddy feet.

Your heart sank, ironically picking up speed. The glass slipped from your grasp, water absorbing the mud marks closer to you, almost erasing them away.

"Viktor?" you said, knowing that it was impossible. It was impossible to gather mud like this so near the sea, here where everything was endless sand and broken shells.

Nobody answered. You didn't see messy chestnut hair coming from the office door, nor golden eyes squinted in sleepiness and confusion at the sound of broken glass.

A silly thought danced in your head. I should’ve brought the shell.

You returned to the bathroom, finding a cold, uncomfortable bed in the bathtub. The mosaic filtered its freezing temperature through your back, but you weren't shivering because of it.

You had to be seeing things. It was still a dream. You had sleepwalked, painting all sorts of fantasies into the real world. And yet you didn't move, you didn't look away from the tiny window until the grey and black of the sky faded into blue, where the light of the beacon died alongside the foghorn.

Until then, you slipped out of the bathroom with a sore back, peeking out the hallway that still had the oil lamps turned on.

Only that this time, the muddy prints were gone, leaving only the shards of your broken glass behind that prickled your skin when you picked them, walking toward Viktor's bedroom, empty and silent. The glass had opened light cuts on your fingerpads, as if to assure you that it hadn’t been a dream.

*~*~*~*

“Bad night?” Viktor said when you entered the living room. His voice made you jump, hands grabbing the stairs rail with so much force your fingers felt numb.

The coffee table in front of him was dirty with breadcrumbs, and two plates were left on top of each other in front of his untouched toast.

You quirked an eyebrow, wanting any excuse you could hold onto to forget that last night even happened. You didn’t have to return to this damn house at night anyway.

“Did you have visitors?” Who would come so early in the day? Were they still here? You removed awkwardly on your place, feeling your face hot if said visits get to catch you here with him, alone. It wouldn’t do good to his reputation if they were friends who came from the city.

Viktor reclined against the couch. "Your family is very insistent," he said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his beverage. You wanted to recoil into yourself, to become a speckle of dust and fly away unnoticed. "It's alright. After all, it was me who told your aunt I wanted her blessing," he commented, and you couldn't stop a smile from growing.

"Oh, Viktor. I'm so sorry," you started, making your way to pick up the dishes they had left behind. "I've abused your hospitality too much for my liking." You tilted your head. "I—I'll pay you. Please. I don't like to feel as if… as if I owe you something." To him and everyone.

He reclined his chin against his elbow, propelled between the cushions. The living room was slightly dark from the curtains covering the windows near the hearth despite being drawn already.

"Miss," Viktor breathed, his soft voice stopping you midway toward the kitchen, dishes, and cups balanced in your arms. "Please sit."

He’s going to fire me. He had enough of me. And could you blame him?

You sat there, your back stiffening as you felt tears of frustration prickle in your cheeks. The only noise flowing through the room was the distant roar of waves.

Viktor started stirring his coffee cup, movements so forceful the black liquid started pouring over the porcelain rim. His eyes kept you from squirming nervously, shining like twin suns in a clear sky.

“I ask you to please listen to all I have to say before answering—before you even decide to go away, even.”

What? How could you even fantasize to go away from this place that was everything left for you?

With growing fear, your nod was barely perceptible. But he was watching you so closely that he caught the gentle sway of your hair.

Your mind was sent overdrive, filled with a turbulent whirlpool of ideas. He's going to fire me. He knows I snuck out of the room last night. He's the one behind the footprints. He—

In the end, nothing could have ever prepared you for what came out his mouth right after calling your name in such a strange tone, you could try all your life to decipher, only to come out fruitless.

 “I want you to marry me.”

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor fanfic #viktor arcane x you #viktor arcane fanfic #arcane x female reader #viktor x reader arcane

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Harlan Thrombey clutched his sad ridden face as he rested his elbows on the wooden luxurious desk of his study.

He asked his nurse, Martin Cabrera to step out for the moment. 

The door opened and walked in Ransom Drysdale. Harlan’s eldest Grandson and successor of his life's work. 

“What's up, Harlan?” Ransom grinned playfully at his favorite family member as he sat down Infront of him. Well… tied to first place family member. 

Harlan didn't want to come to this but his suspicions were eating him alive. Ransom reminded him of his late son, Ian who died twenty five years ago. It was obvious that Ransom was his favorite grandchild. Well…. Tied with you.

Ransom narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Did the stock of your publishing company decrease?”

Harlan ignored him. He leaned in. “Did you rape my granddaughter?”

The widened sapphire blue eyes of his Grandson confirmed his evil actions. 

Harlan sighed and leaned back on his leather office chair. 

It's true.

One day, you came to his mansion without announcing yourself. Which was odd. You were always the best mannered in the whole family. 

Harlan was worried. His favorite granddaughter was crying. She told him that her mean cousin blackmailed her to bed him.

The poor man couldn't believe it. Then remembered all the times he caught Ransom staring at you. Like he was possessed. Harlan dismissed it saying it was natural hate cousins had for each other. 

Rivalry. When you came to America after the death of your mother in Afghanistan. Ransom was more rude and sarcastic. 

Harlan assumed that Ransom was jealous that you tried to be his new favorite grandchild.

Now. It's not the case. 

“I didn't rape her. She consented. She changed her mind out of shame and now blames me.” Ransom clenched his jaw as he explained.

Shaking his head. Harlan reminded all the times Ransom would pick on Name. Poor girl would not come to family events because she feared Ransom. 

Harlan glared. “If you don't leave her. I am going to sue your company and condemn your name. Understand?”

The handsome face of his grandson was stoic and emotionless. But Harlan knew on the inside. The young man was pissed. 

Ransom embarrassed the entire family almost his whole life. Why? He was a player. Slept with many celebrities and models mostly. He published a dirty book series. Fifty shades of Grey. Then became the CEO of only fans. 

Harlan was glad Ransom was not a moocher. His kids always depended on his money despite being adults. Especially his son Walt. 

Ransom became richer than Harlan and made his own empire. Not the way Harlan was expecting to.

But, if Harlan disowns Ransom, and ruins his name. Damages and loss of money can be to Ransom’s property. 

Ransom scoffed. “Whatever.” He picked up his jacket and left the room.

He doesn't need you. Fuck you. Oh, yeah. He already did.

Ransom started his car. 

He can easily get another girl. Of course he will choose money over you. He will risk losing it all if you snitch on him again. You are not worth it.

………

It has been almost five months since Ransom boycotted you. It was nice. You would be given calls by your grandfather for family dinners and events. Harlan would not invite Ransom if he wanted you to come. 

As for Ransom. It was hell. He didn't say anything to anyone. He missed you. When you first came from that war zone country, he was attracted by your bizarre beauty. 

But, he kept his distance from you. He hated your dad, Walt. And assumed you would be a bitch like Meg. 

To your surprise, he loved your manners and personality. A genuine good person. Too bad Harlan noticed. Ransom became jealous and assumed you were trying to replace him.

Trying to be the favorite grandchild. 

So, Random bullied you and said sexist insults. You avoided him. Then it snapped at him when he didn't see you for a long time. He threatened to Photoshop your face to porn videos and publish them on his only fans site. You gave yourself to him.

He was so happy he was with his dream girl. 

Now, he regrets it. He misses you. What good is wealth if you're lonely? Ransom decided he will win you back into his arms. 

In my old Tumblr account I was forced to delete it before making this new blog. I got harassed by making ransom Drysdale x cousin reader stories

Funny how step parents x reader

And step siblings x reader stories are lit.

I don't care anymore. I will republish them all again 

Your dad is Walt Thrombey and your Mom lives in Afghanistan. You're just a citizen. Don't change your race. You used to live there.

#knives out #chris evans #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you

[thethistlegirlwrites]

For Love

Josefina Quintero slips the framed photo from the front hall into the battered brown duffle bag and zips it closed. She pushes the curtains back from the window before opening the door. No cars moving on their street, and the old brown dog is still sleeping on the corner. That loco animal chases anything that moves, even though he has three good legs and two teeth left. 

They’re safe. For now. 

She presses her fingers to the medal around her neck and prays the car starts and doesn’t blow her to hell.

Nothing and no one can be trusted right now. 

She can’t let any more of the Quinteros be headlines. It’s bad enough her mother’s name moved from the bylines of articles condemning a local businessman for mistreating his factory employees, to the headline of a brutal murder.

Everyone knows who’s to blame. Marco Reyes may not have been the one to put a gun to Sofia Quintero’s head himself (and he’s probably too much of a coward to do so), but he wanted her silenced. 

No one is to say he won’t go after the rest of her family to make his point. 

The car starts, coughing and sputtering, but at least not exploding into a fireball in the alley. Josefina leaves it running and steps out, knocking on the door. Mauricio and Olivia are looking up at her wide-eyed when she opens it, clutching their school backpacks, stuffed until the zippers are straining with clothes, books, and Olivia’s seizure pills. 

“tenemos que ir de verdad?” Mauri asks, eyes wide, the turtle shell of his backpack held against his chest like it’s armor that can protect him from the outside world. 

“Si.” She can’t be sure how much they understand of what happened to Mami. 

Her only job now is to make sure they don’t end up like her. 

…

Joey adjusts the braided bracelet around her wrist, that covers the faint pink and white scars, and counts out the money onto the top of the wire spool.

“You can pick them, Lonnie.”

“When you been watching fights all your life, you just know who’s gonna win.” Lonnie mumbles around the blunt pinched in his cracked lips, then picks up his winnings. He steps out of the makeshift room, and another man takes his place. A loser this time, who hands over his cash with a scowl.

They’re all gamblers here.

Somehow, she’s had pretty good luck playing the odds so far.

Her father gambled, before he left them. Mauri and Via probably don’t even remember him, but Joey does. She’d sat beside him at the breakfast table, with his coffee and his paper and the little notebook of numbers and figures.

If he ever actually won the fortune he’d dreamed about, she’d never known.

She’s not making a fortune either, but it’s enough. 

She’d tried to do things the right way, the legal way, and it had fallen apart. The first lawyer she’d found had scammed them, and the second had only agreed to take Mauri and Via’s cases. No legal adults.

Joey tried on her own, but the only visa that made sense was one that had work requirements attached, and Via’s hospital visits and doctor’s appointments made holding down a steady job nothing better than a dream.

After the third dismissal in as many months for being ‘unreliable’, Joey had given up.

The right way wasn’t working.

So she’d found her way here.

At the last place she’d worked, a grimy little bodega where she stocked shelves at night, one of the guys was always betting. On everything. He’d been going to a new underground fight club sort of thing happening near the docks, and right before she was fired .

Joey had decided to try her luck. As it turned out, luck had favored her a little more than she’d expected. The bookie who normally worked the fights had failed to show (she’d found out later he’d been arrested and is currently serving a five year sentence), and Joey had known enough of the right words to take his place.

Turns out, a lot of people tend to hand over their money a little faster when there’s a pretty face taking it. She’s at least making enough to get Via the medicines she needs to actually get better, not just survive.

When the smell of sweat suddenly gets a lot thicker, she knows the fighters are showing up for their cut. Winners get a share of the take on their fights. Her own personal strategy, and while it means she doesn’t take home as much as her predecessor, it also means she has the goodwill and protection of a lot of very dangerous men. 

If she ever does get challenged for the right to take bets on the fights, she’s got plenty of people who will stick up for her.

It’s the long game that matters.

Of course, there’s a downside too. 

“Hey, sweetheart, what say we forget the money and you make it up to me some other way?” 

She’s none too fond of Aidan. Never has been. He’s too forward, too aggressive, even in a circle of men who beat each other half senseless for the fun of it. 

“Hey.” A hand slams down on Aidan’s shoulder. The man behind it is a good head taller, in a different weight class entirely.

Shane Barrett.

He’s one of the regulars, and he’s good. Fights like there’s something feral inside him that wants to get out. It’s rare he doesn’t get a nice handful of cash from her at the end of a night. 

She’s not sure if it’s the money or just a genuine kindness that makes him defend her, but she’s inclined to believe it’s the latter. 

“How many fights did you win tonight?” Shane asks. His voice is quiet, but dangerous.

“Two.” Of the four everyone usually participates in unless they get too severely injured or choose not to join.

“I’m about to win five, if you don’t take your money and get out of here right now.” To drive the point home, Shane’s hand squeezes at the curve of the man’s shoulder and neck. 

Aidan flinches, grabs his take off the table, and bolts.

Joey counts off Shane’s money and hands it to him with a small smile. “Thanks for the help.”

“He fights dirty.” Shane shrugs. “And clearly he’s worse outside the ring.”

Joey just nods.

She collects the money left over and tucks it into the inside pocket of her jacket, then walks three and a half blocks out of her way and spends half an hour in an all-night bodega making sure no one from the fight is following her.

She won’t let the one way she can take care of her family be the thing that gets them killed.

Because everyone is nice until they find your weak point.

And if anyone finds out Joey has anyone she calls family, they’ll know exactly what hers is.

…

Joey is all too familiar with hunger.

It’s been a constant part of her life for the past seven years.

She knows how it clouds her mind, how it slows her steps.

How it makes her want to take back the food she’s placed in her brother and sister’s hands so badly she has to clench her fists until her fingernails bite into her palm, because there’s not enough. Not for three.

How eventually, if she can ignore it long enough, how it fades into an echo in the back of her mind, in the pit of her stomach.

This isn’t hunger.

This is something else entirely.

This is something that has crept into her veins, wound itself around her heart like barbed wire, and turned her mind into the ruthless cunning of a predator.

This is why she snapped to awareness standing over the feebly-thrashing body of a jogger, the woman’s pale blonde hair stained crimson, a wound in her neck dripping more onto the concrete, seeping toward a fallen, faded photograph of four people on a sun-drenched veranda. A photo that must have fluttered out of the dirt-streaked jacket Joey was buried in, when she lunged at the jogger like some kind of starving wolf.

This is why the moment she realized what she’d done, what she’d become, she found the sturdiest building in this graveyard, a massive stone crypt owned by a long-dead family (she’d counted the years on the wall niches to distract herself at first, and the last burial in this place was in 1935, unlocked the door long enough to slip in, with a key that some careless caretaker had left half-visible under a fake potted flower, and let the latch slam shut behind her with a sound that seemed as final as death ought to be.

She thanks a God whose name she can no longer speak aloud that whoever owned this crypt was rich enough (and wanted to flaunt it enough) to have the door handles and hinges plated in real silver. She can feel it whenever she comes close.

Her newfound strength wouldn’t even be enough to force it open. She can feel herself weakening the closer she gets to the bright metal.

She huddles into a corner, clutching the photo with blood-stained edges she snatched from the ground to remind her why she’s doing this in shaking hands, repeating the words she wishes there was some way to get to her family.

I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to leave like this but I don’t have a choice. The one thing I’ve always tried to do is protect you. From the monsters in this world. And now that means protecting you from me.

Tía Patricia will take good care of you.

Because now, I never can again. 

(You can read this story and more from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter @the-lovely-wren

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday24 #I'm doing this because I care about you #lady whump #josefina quintero #vampire whump

[creepypastasomethingsomething]

No Escape

I was pretty bored, so I wrote this little one-shot for you all. If anyone has a request, you can just send them in. Also, 123 followers?! What the fudge?! Thanks to everyone who enjoys the stuff I make, I really appreciate it a lot :3 I'm actually thinking of making a second part of this.

TW: Swearing, Blood, Violence, Death, Decapitation

Ticci Toby X NB! Reader

*1,964 words*

The October night was cold and busy, trick or treaters scattered around the neighborhood wearing various kinds of costumes. Most of them were children with their family, some were teenagers, and others were adults going to parties. Police were in some places, watching and making sure everything was alright and no one was in trouble. The night was fun and happy, as usual. Nothing really bad happened in this neighborhood, it seemed. There hasn't been a murder, or attempted murder, in over fifty years, which was good.

The edge of the forest was full of life as a party was taking place. It was rather large as a family was hosting it; they invited friends and some brought their family and pets. There were many different games and the family that was hosting the party made sure that it was child friendly, as many children were there. At a table, a group of young adults from college were sitting and eating and drinking as they chatted. They were all in costumes and looked as happy as can be, a few on their phones.

"Hey guys." a tall girl their age wearing a pirate costume with a few objects in her hands walked to the table, a concerned expression on her face.

"Oh, hey Leana. You and (Y/N) enjoying the party?" A guy with freckles asked as he tapped his Ghost face mask on the table.

"Yeah, that's the thing, Jarred. I haven't been able to find them. Have, uh, have any of you seen them?"

"No." Jarred replied as he frowned.

"Do you know where they might have been?" Another guy with a Scream costume asked. Him and the other one were probably going as Billy and Stu from the famous slasher movie.

"They said they were going to go get their cousin Annie who wandered into the forest. Annie came back, but (Y/N) didn't."

"Maybe they're just lost or taking pictures of the forest?" A girl dressed as a cat hypothesizes as she fixed her cat ears.

"I-I don't know." Leana sounded worried and showed something that was in her hand. "The thing is... I found their phone and it now has a crack in it."

"What in the?" Another girl who was dressed as a clown looked at the phone. "I- Did you look for them?"

"Yes, yes I did but couldn't find anything else but their cane, lantern and mask. But I left those where I found them."

"Did you tell their parents about this?" Jarred looked at your cracked phone, and took his mask, and clutched in tightly.

"No. But I was hoping you all could go get the police while I tell their parents."

"Of course we will!" the cat girl shot up, "Right guys?" she looked towards everyone else at the table who nodded.

"Yeah, (Y/N) might be in some trouble." the second guy with the Ghost face mask shot up as well. "And I'll come with you to tell their parents."

"Thanks Xander." Leana started to look even more worried and concerned for you.

"Me, Brittney, and Saffron will go get the cops, while you and Xander will go tell (Y/N)'s parents about their disappearance.

Everyone nodded and left to go do what they were told.

---

You ran as fast as you could through the forest, careful not to trip over your dress. This Halloween, you custom made your own plague doctor costume with your close friend Leana. You had a full on mask, hat, and clothing, along with a lantern and cane, but you lost those with your phone. Your four year old cousin Annie wandered into the forest and you went to fetch her and bring her back. When she was safe you went to retrieve your cane and lantern (and mask), which you dropped when you noticed Annie was gone.

But, before you could get those, a gloved hand, cold and tasted like dirtied leather, was put roughly against your mouth. You screamed and scratched at the arm that pulled you away from the scene, but it was no use. No amount of screaming or moving around would let your capture let go of you, even if you did hit him, it had no effect. Finally, when the two of you were deep enough in the forest, your capture roughly tossed you on the grassed ground.

The fear when you looked up at the man who was now chasing you was nearly indescribable. The man had to be at least six foot and four inches, his dark hair disheveled with pale skin, and clean looking orange goggles over his eyes. He had on a dark colored coat with dark pants and a pair of sneakers; a belt was around his hips with two hatchets attached, the metal part gleaming in the moonlight. That was scary, the hatchets, but possibly the most terrifying thing about him was probably his face. On his left cheek, there seemed to be a large open gap; it showed his pink flesh and gums and his teeth.

You've seen photos and heard about a guy who had some sort of piercing in his face, showing off his teeth. You thought that was cool, a little strange, but cool. But this man, this man was not doing that. The open wound did look healed, but it was obviously a wound that was left by some sort of accident, or the man did that to himself. He quietly looked down at you, shivering and crying, and you just looked at him, too scared to get up and run.

"Not runnin', huh?" He asked you.

Hearing his deep voice made you gulp, and you swore he had some sort of accent. German, maybe. After a few seconds he reached down to a hatchet and you gasped. You got up hastily and started to run. You knew that this wasn't the way back to the party, but you ran anyways, not wanting to risk running around him. You looked behind you and saw that he was chasing after you, making you run even faster.

.

.

.

Toby chuckled and gripped his hatchet harshly in his hand. He thought it was funny that you thought you were getting out of this forest and live your life. Of course, he had strict instructions from his Master to kill you. You were doing a report of people who went missing in this forest around fifty years ago for school, and the survivors talked about a Slender Man who nearly killed them. You were getting close to knowing the truth, weird as the news reports were all destroyed. How did you get access to them? To Toby, The Slender Man was known as The Operator, his boss and the eldritch-like creature who would torture him if he didn't kill you.

Toby raised his hatchet, getting ready to toss it at you. He looked around at your body for a perfect place to strike you with it.... a couple seconds passed.... and a few more... and then he tossed it! The hatchet flew over to you and hit you in the back. You screamed in pain and fell over, tears falling down your face as you sobbed. You couldn't get up and the hatchet was lodged in your back, up a bit, and it definitely cut through your clothing. Warm blood seeped out from the wound and began to stain your clothing. You shook and Toby walked over to you; he took the old hatchet's handle and put a foot on your back, and then pulled the hatchet out, blood pouring out of the wound like a waterfall.

You screamed louder at the pain, and gripped the grass in your gloved hands. You bit your lip as you tasted your salty tears and tried to fight the pain. Maybe you would get out alive somehow? No. You were going to die. You were going to die alone in this forest by the hands of a fucking maniac and your body was most likely never going to be found. Your friends would be devastated at your loss and the town would most likely go into a panic as a crime like this wasn't committed since the early seventies.

Toby leaned down and took your shoulder in his iron grip and turned you over. You held in a scream from this; your back was bleeding, your spine most likely severely damaged, and it was touching the gross ground of the forest. Toby stomped a foot on your chest and you closed your eyes, whimpered, and gripped the grass so hard that under your gloves, your hands were probably going white.

This is it, you thought, shaking and biting your lip so hard that it started to bleed, I'm going to die in the hand of this asshole. Fuck.

Toby smiled down at you, your eyes closed and blood running down your mouth to your chin and to your neck. He raised his hatchet, and like an executioner, swung it, almost decapitating you. Your head was still on your shoulders, but it was almost off. You were still aware of what was happening. Crying harder, you tried to take a breath, but started to choke at the blood. Toby groaned and raised the hatchet and cut your head off completely.

He watched as the blood pooled around you and squirted out from your neck. You opened your eyes and looked around. What the hell. Weren't you just decapitated? Wait.... You have heard of people's heads, like Ann Boleyn, being conscious for about 4-30 seconds after being separated from the body. Your head, still half conscious, looked up at the sky and the man who did this to you loomed down, a devilish smile on his face. You frowned and tried to speak, but your eyes lidded and you started to black out.

You were dead.

Toby was told by the Operator to leave your body where it was after killing you, so he didn't do anything. He put his hatchet back where it was and looked at your body. It was too bad you died. You were young and quite the attractive person in his eyes. But oh well, he had orders to do.

Toby cracked his neck and walked away, leaving his work to rot.

The next day, a whole entire search party went out looking for you. Your friends were part of it and everyone was quite shaken up when they didn't find you. The search lasted a few months until you were found by a police officer, who almost threw up at the sight of you. You were in the same position, but bugs flew around your decomposing corpse and you had worms and maggots in your neck. When the town found out you were dead, your prediction was right. Everyone panicked.

Your family and friends held a funeral for you and had you cremated. Your body was far too decomposed to be in a casket or coffin. People thought that you being dead was connected to the mysterious murders and missing people fifty years earlier while other thought that your murder was just some sick bastard. The whole town mourned you, as you were quite popular, and they all said "They're in Heaven, flying with angels."

Little did they know that you weren't in Heaven, nor were you in Hell. You became a ghost. A headless ghost. You wander the forest, lost and scared, your head under your arm as you walk. You never saw anyone else besides the cop who found your body at your death place, so you became lonely. You were dead, angry, scared, and lost.

You knew you couldn't escape this monster named Toby the moment you laid eyes on him.

#CreepyPasta #Creepypasta X Reader #X Reader #Ticci Toby #Ticci Toby X Reader #Toby Rogers #Toby Rogers X Reader #one-shot #Halloween