#and after this song came on yesterday i gasped

[iabandonedmybois]

has anyone made a billford animatic to “tornado warnings” by sabrina carpenter yet…

i mean, the lyrics are RIGHT THERE

[luveline]

hiii! i adore you jade so much and can’t thank you enough for all your amazing writing! your fics are incredible! can i have more reader and hotch with their new baby? maybe their night routine takeing care of their newborn? or literally just anything i just love the way you write hotch taking care of both babe and reader! thank you!! xoxo🤍🤍🤍

thank you for your request! fem

“Ready?” Jack asks.

“No. No, no, no!” you cry, giggles slipping through your facade as Jack pelts himself full force from the end of your bed to the pillows where you’re curled. You put your arms out just in time to avoid getting them snapped, catching Jack, and feeling the brunt of his face as he lands on your chest. “Oh! You broke me, Jack. I’m broken!”

“You’re not broken,” Jack says breathlessly, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“You better not be breaking your stepmom, Jackers,” Hotch says from the bathroom. “I’m not getting you another one.”

“Boo!” you say.

“I don’t want another one,” Jack declares, still gasping for breath as he presses your faces together.

You pull him in for a cuddle. “Good, baby, I love you too much to be replaced. And I don’t mind dad either.”

“Jack, you gotta stop jumping on her, remember? She just had a baby. It really hurts to have a baby, and it hurts afterwards to get better. Gentle hands,” Hotch says, pulling the bathroom door open completely, the baby bathed and changed in his arms.

Hotch has cared for a baby before, so while you’re not useless, the majority of things have defaulted to him while you recover. You’re lucky, even if it’s how a woman should be treated —Hotch hasn’t made you get up once since you came home almost a week ago. He’s forced you to sit down a few times, actually. And you’d told him how thankful you were for it in whispers only yesterday night, grateful to be cared for with so much dedication.

I should've been better, for Haley, he’d whispered back. She was amazing all by herself when she didn’t need to be. You’ll be amazing too, but we’re gonna do it together.

Maybe he’s overcompensating for past regrets, maybe he’s just looking after you.

Jack strokes your cheek with a little hand. “Sorry. I don’t want to break you.”

“You won’t.” You lean back and attempt to bring him in with you, but Jack won’t be contained.

He springs down off of the bed to crowd Hotch’s legs, face up and smiling. “Dad, are you done?”

“I am.”

“Can you help with the robot now?”

“Yeah, yes. Sorry, I’m gonna fix your robot. You ready, honey?”

You open your arms eagerly. You’ve had a hug from Jack, and Hotch held you under his arm while you were eating your lunch, so all you need now for the trifecta is a cuddle with your baby. One day he’s gonna be able to hug you back, but for now he stretches out in the well of your arms and coos when you kiss his tiny forehead.

Hotch and Jack leave to fix their robot. You slink down, further and further, too tired and sore to want to sit, sliding the baby’s weight into one arm beside you and leaning down to watch him smack his lips. The few baths he’s had have made him tired each time. You feel sleepy just looking at him.

You’d hope that the baby will be handsome like his brother, though Jack looks so much like Haley they probably won’t be very similar. There are hints of Aaron in them both. Babies look like babies, sure, but he has the Hotchner nose. You can tell already.

“My handsome handsome boy,” you sing-song under your breath. He sniffles. You bring your pinky to his nose and give it a gentle touch. “Beautiful baby. I love you.” Your voice turns to sugar. “I love you, baby, you’re so beautiful, just like daddy.”

Footsteps creaking on the landing. You quieten without looking away from the baby, until you feel a familiar hand on your arm. “You okay?”

“Did you fix the robot?”

“Of course I did.” He leans down and in, lips and nose pressing to your arm. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

“I am tired. Maybe I’ll nap while he’s sleeping.”

“That’s a good idea. Give him a kiss and I’ll put him back in the crib.”

“No, no, can’t he stay?”

“You want me to stay here and watch you sleep?” he asks, laughing into your arm, pressing another kiss in a path toward your shoulder. “You can keep him until you fall asleep, okay? Then I’ll move him.”

“Will you do that thing to my cheek?” you ask quietly.

“If you tell me what you were saying before I walked in, yes.”

Hotch sits on the bed behind you where you’re sidled up to the baby, the back of his hand falling gently against your cheek, fingers curled and knuckles brushing the skin just shy of your eye one tender centimetre at a time. “Well?” he prompts.

You close your eyes with a contented smile. “Was just telling him he’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” He turns his hand, his pinky finger rubbing the delicate skin under your eye briefly, and the his palm flat to your face. His thumb takes up the guard. You feel fatigue pulling at you from the sheer comfort he offers, though you can manage a few more words, at least.

“He’s beautiful, he has his daddy’s nose.”

“I don’t think that’s what makes him so handsome.”

“No?” you mumble.

Hotch lets his face rest again on your arm. “No, that’s his mother. Couldn’t be anything else.”

[always1star]

break up (and make up)

gojo x gn!reader

hurt/comfort (kinda), fluff

not proofread :(

-----------------------------------

Satoru Gojo is actually the most arduous ex-boyfriend you have ever had. 

After dating for a year, you figured that your relationship no longer held its initial excitement, now frankly becoming boring. You found that both you and him no longer had the time nor enjoyment to spend the days with each other anymore. It was almost like you were avoiding each other, and splitting up seemed inevitable at that point. Even though you loved each other, you bit the bullet and told him how you felt. It was almost in passing: he was about to leave your apartment after stopping by to pick up his forgotten laptop, and you suddenly blurted, “Let’s break up… I just don’t think this is working anymore.” Satoru, who was putting on his shoes by your front door, paused. He slowly looked up at you, smiled, and simply said, “See you tomorrow” as he continued to tie his sneakers on. He shut the door behind him, leaving you in shock. Did he just totally ignore you?

He really meant what he said. The next day, he came to your apartment unannounced early in the morning. Banging on your door, he loudly shouted, “LET ME IN BABE!!!!!!!” to be sure that you could hear him. Since it was barely six, you were still in bed, a pillow wrapped over your ears as you tried to ignore him. You sighed. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t afford to have a noise complaint sent to you. So, grudgingly, you dragged yourself out of bed and opened the door, eyes barely open. 

There he was: smiling, dressed up, and holding two cups of what you assumed was coffee. He invited himself in, brushing right past you and rambling. “Seriously, the barista kept falling asleep on me or something, it took him forever to even get one drink done. I mean, I get that it’s early in the morning, but can’t you do your job? I felt bad, so I tipped the poor guy like 50% of the order total haha.” Satoru was setting his things down on your counter and sitting in one of your dining chairs, making himself totally at home. You still stood by the front door, and looked at him in utter horror. “Satoru… We broke up yesterday… What are you doing here?” 

He continued to ramble, ignoring you again. “While I was on the way here, I saw this little cat too! It was so cute, seriously. It ran when I approached it though.” He sipped from his coffee, “Ah, it’s so hot!” Satoru gasped and fanned his hands at his mouth in an attempt to alleviate the burning. You sighed as you walked over and took a seat beside him. It was too early for this: the sun just barely came up. “Hey, I’m serious. Why are you ignoring me?” You rested your head on your hand, exhaustion threatening to take over. He finally looked at you, and you noticed his swollen eyes. Had he been crying? “Were you really serious?” he asked sadly. “I was. Won’t you work with me? Please-” He interrupted. “Why? Why do you want to break up? I said I wanted to live the rest of my life with you, and I don’t say that lightly…” He swirled his coffee around in the paper cup slowly. You thought carefully about your next words. “I don’t think that I can make it through what’s going on between us. I’m sorry.” You looked down as you spoke. When you looked up, you saw him… smiling? 

“Here, I even have something for you. Please reconsider!” He perked up; his enthusiasm suddenly skyrocketed, contradictory to his previous sadness. He whipped out a speaker from his bag, and turned on a piano instrumental. Satoru started singing awkwardly shouting “When I Was Your Man” by Bruno Mars. You looked at him, mouth agape. How could someone make such a good song sound so damn bad? You started laughing at his tone-deaf attempt at singing. 

Suddenly, the spark you thought was missing came back. You hunched over, unable to keep in your giggles as he put his heart and soul into his performance. In the back of your mind, you wondered what ever made you think to give up on him. This was the love of your life. You may have hit a rough patch, sure, but that didn’t change your love for each other. You started to tear up, partially because of laughing so hard and partially because of regret. As the song came to a close, Satoru sat back down out of breath. “How was that? Take me back yet?” You looked into his eyes, the ones that you adore so much. “You know, I thought that we weren’t going to make it through this stage of our relationship. I regret giving up so early, because I really do love you.” Satoru beamed. “So… does that mean you take me back?” You giggled. “You make such a bad ex, I think I might just have to take you as my boyfriend again…” Satoru jumped up, pumping his fist in the air, shouting “Woo!” 

You guys literally stayed apart for less than twelve hours. You will never leave this guy.

[starkwlkr]

banned pt. 2 | charles leclerc

welcome everyone to banned pt. 2 ‼️ in this fic, ruby is 7 and mathéo is 3 and making their ig debut, introducing the schumi kids, mikey and demri <3

It had been years since Ruby introduced herself to social media. Everyone loved her and loved how funny she was. No one ever thought they would get another ‘Ruby goes on social media’ video since Charles had stated multiple times that she was forever on a phone ban. All it took for Charles to give up his phone was a couple of drinks and a distraction from Lorenzo and Arthur who had dared him to jump into the pool.

This time, Ruby wasn’t alone. She had her brother Mathéo with her so the media got to see two Leclercs mess around.

It was a Pascale’s birthday and the family had decided to surprise the mother with a cake and gifts. The Schumacher’s were also invited so Mikey and Demri were hanging out with the Leclerc children. By the end of the night, almost everyone was giggly and singing random songs every now and then.

The kids had just taken a bath after spending most of their day inside the pool. Ruby had come down from her room and saw Charles starting to empty his pockets onto the table.

“Charles! No!” Y/n laughed as Charles was debating whether or not to take his shirt off.

“Jump in fully clothed!” Arthur yelled as Carla tried to get him to shut up.

“Okay.” Charles replied, but before he jumped in, he grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her to the pool. She had no choice but to jump in as well.

Ruby saw Charles’ phone and quickly ran to get it before anyone saw her. Thankfully they were all distracted by drunk Charles. She ran back up to her room where Mathéo was playing on the IPad.

“Théo! Look!” Ruby showed the boy what she had in her hands. “Want to make a video?”

“Does it have games?” Demri asked, following her best friend.

The boy nodded and put away his IPad where he had found it. Ruby and Mathéo were completely different from their personalities to the way they dressed.

Ruby unlocked Charles’ phone and clicked on the instagram app. The first post that she came across was not her mother’s like last time. It was a family picture that was taken yesterday posted on Arthur’s account. She immediately went to the comments and typed one herself.

charles_leclerc yo u snore 😂😂😂

“Ruby, I want to see!” Mathéo whined since his sister was not sharing like they were suppose to.

“That’s my papa’s name!” Mikey pointed to Mick’s username in Arthur’s instagram likes.

“Go get maman’s phone! She has the same thing!”

So the little boy stood up from the floor and ran to get his mother’s phone. Y/n had been charging her phone in her room so Mathéo knew where to find the phone. When he came back, he saw Ruby pointing the phone to her doll collection that had grown since Instagram last saw it.

“Ruby, how do I get the game you’re playing?” Mathéo asked as he handed the phone to his sister.

Ruby sighed and set the phone down on her bed. “It’s not a game, Théo! Look, it’s this one.” Ruby opened up the instagram app on Y/n’s phone and saw the same post she had seen on Charles’ phone. Her fingers accidentally made the screen go from Y/n’s instagram feed to the camera. Demri and Mikey gasped when they saw filters.

“Take a picture!”

“Wait! There’s funny faces!” Mathéo excitedly said and started to put filters on his face. “I want to show papa!”

“No! If you show papa then he’s going to take away the phone and then you won’t be able to play and he’s going to be mad with you and he won’t give you kisses and he’ll give me more kisses. He told me.” Ruby said.

paddockfashion “he told me” me when i lie

forzacha16 room tour when?

schumacherlegacy this is so unexpected i love it

“I can show you papa’s trophies. Um, you have to be quiet because Uncle Enzo and his girlfriend and Auntie Carla and Uncle Arthur are here. I helped maman with grand-mère’s cake and it’s pink and I drew a heart and she loves it.” Ruby had a habit of talking about one topic then talking about another.

“My papa has a room like that too. But his has more because he said my opa’s trophies are in there too. He has a lot. I counted them the other day and I counted a lot.” Mikey explained.

“Where are you going?” Mathéo asked, still holding his mother’s phone in his hands.

“I’m going to papa’s trophy room.”

totowolffisadilf of course charles has a trophy room

gosports44 WHATS HIS CREDIT CARD NUMBER

nomichaelno tell charles to follow me on tiktok

“TikTok? My maman has TikTok.” Ruby said as her and Mathéo walked to the end of the hall where Charles kept all his trophies and helmets in a room.

“Show my helmet!” Mathéo shouted as he pointed to a helmet that Charles had gifted him for his birthday.

“No,” Ruby simply said and pointed the camera towards all the trophies. “I wanted to show the helmets Dem and I have but they’re not here.”During the Monaco Grand Prix, Charles had gifted Demri and Ruby matching helmets with their initials on the side. Ruby had hers in Mick’s house since she had taken it when her and Demri had a sleepover and forgotten it. “never mind this is boring. Uncle Pierre got me more barbies!”

She ran back to her room and dropped the phone. “Ruby! That’s papa’s phone!” Mathéo gasped.

“It was already broken when I got it,” Ruby picked up the phone and saw the comments and lightly gasped when she saw a familiar name.

pierregasly you’re still banned

pierregasly don’t break your papa’s phone

“What does that say?” Mathéo asked as he took the phone from Ruby’s hands.

“You can’t read, I can! It says listen to me and to give me two euros.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does. I know how to read too!” Demri defended her friend.

“You can’t count, how can you read?” Mikey teased his sister.

yukisrestuarant ruby and demri stan until i die

formulasbitch gaslighting era

wagstyle i agree it says give her two euros

“Ruby? Do you have my phone?” The kids heard Charles shout.

“No!”

[momhwa-agenda]

Start of time | Octoberfest Day 7

Pairing - best friend!Younghoon x fem!reader

Drink - Piña Colada with a shot of tequila (aka Friends with benefits & Mirror sex)

Summary - You know how the saying goes. What are friends for if not matching your freak? But when emotions run deep and pleasure becomes more than just a pastime, will Younghoon be the one who proves that sometimes, your best friend really does know you best?

Word Count - 3.8K

Warnings - SMUT (18+ minors DNI!!!), some angst, drunk kissing, sneaking around, Younghoon wears glasses here (yeah that’s a warning), mirror sex, oral (m! and f! receiving), overstimulation, unprotected sex, petnames (“baby”), they’re cute idiots in love, it gets really soft along the way.

Author’s note - I overindulged 🤭 and if you picked up on that here’s a ⭐ for you, beloved hahadksd. The title is indeed from Gabrielle Aplin's song Start of Time, and other than it making me feel fluttery (with Younghoon in mind), it just fit with how the relationship here evolves into something more. Also uhhh yeah reader briefly dates Byeon Wooseok in this fic. Yes, him. Please guys, this is just a fic and it’s not an accurate portrayal of the persons mentioned in this.

Taglist - @daisyvisions  @midnightfantasiez @kitschun @snowflakewhispers @jaminthemiddle @nyu-topia 

⇀ OctoberFest Masterlist

“Okay, break time,” Younghoon grins, tossing his glasses and pencil onto the table with an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms overhead as if he'd just finished an impossible marathon. You giggle as you make a break for his room, throwing yourself onto his bed.

The soft thud of the mattress beneath you is soon followed by his weight pressing down, Younghoon laughing as he pounces, settling between your legs. His smile is boyish, mischievous, and your heart skips a beat when his hands cage you in. His breath fans your neck as he leans down, peppering it with light kisses, playful at first, then more lingering.

“Come on, you’ve only got until one o’clock,” you tease, glancing at your phone before your grip tightens on his broad shoulders. “Make the most out of it.”

His eyes darken with intent, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as his fingers swiftly find the waistband of your sweatpants. There’s no hesitation as he pulls them down in one fluid motion, leaving you bare beneath him.

He leaves a trail of soft, teasing kisses along your inner thigh before his mouth finds your core. His warm breath against you makes you tremble, and a soft gasp escapes your lips as his lips brush over clit. “I intend to,” he murmurs against your skin.

It was months ago, but you remember it as though it was yesterday. The night that changed everything.

You two attended an engagement party together. After some time, Younghoon noticed you weren’t enjoying yourself anymore, so he pulled you away from the crowded room with that charming grin, dragging you out to the garden where the cool night air enveloped you. Both of you were a little tipsy on piña coladas, and everything felt funny.

“This party’s lame,” he joked, the alcohol making his voice a little slurred. You giggled, leaning against one of the wooden posts, the twinkling stars decorating the night sky. You tried your best to enjoy the gathering even just for the lucky couple, but halfway your social battery ran out. So to cope, you ordered something strong. 

“You know what would make this night better?” Younghoon had said, a twinkle in his eye. “If we made out.” He sounded like he was joking, but when you turned to him, his face just inches away from yours, the air between you had shifted.

His smirk faded slightly as you stared into his eyes, and then, with a slight bite to your lower lip, you replied, “Well, what are you waiting for?” The words came out sultry, your own confidence surprising you, fueled by the buzz of alcohol and curiosity.

The kiss that followed wasn’t what you expected. It was electrifying. At first you both leaned in, it was like testing the waters with just a feather light kiss. But when in those short seconds, he crashed his lips against yours, hungry for another taste, while his hands cupped your face with a possessive kind of tenderness. It wasn’t a joke anymore, the heat between you was undeniable. His taste was intoxicating, a mix of alcohol and something purely Younghoon.

“You taste like tequila,” you giggled after pulling back to catch your breath.

“Tequila?” He smiles, his fingers tracing your jaw. “How would you know that?"

“I don’t know…guess I have a superhuman tongue,” you snicker.

“Huh. I didn’t get a taste of that let me try again” He pulls you back in for another kiss, but this one is messier. His tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and tasting with newfound intensity.

Things quickly escalated after that kiss. The next morning, both you and Younghoon tried to brush it off, blaming the alcohol and the romantic atmosphere of the engagement party. Only to resolve it with a kiss that proceeded to become a messy makeout session at your apartment. When you untangled yourselves from each other in your bed, it became clear that the sexual tension between you was undeniable. From that point on, the two of you agreed to stay friends—with the added bonus of becoming “fuck buddies.”

At first, it was meant to be casual, something to pass the time, and satisfy both your sexual itches, but it soon turned into something far more addicting.

So addictive, in fact, that even in the middle of family gatherings or hangouts with friends, you’d exchange heated glances, your touches lingering just a bit too long under the table. Once, when you wore a sleeveless top, Younghoon tried to keep his composure, but the brush of your arm against his sent a surge of desire through him. He sighed, a futile attempt to control the growing arousal simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Then came the stolen moments—quickies behind closed doors while your relatives were just rooms away.

“Are you serious?” His eyes were wide with shock, though excitement flickered just beneath the surface.

“I'm really horny right now, and they haven’t left the house in hours,” you whispered, your lips grazing his ear, your words sending a shiver down his spine. “So we have to be quick.”

His mouth quirked into that familiar smirk. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you.”

You narrowed your eyes, heat pooling between you. “I’m about to suck you off, Younghoon, so watch your tone.” The teasing edge in your voice made him groan, anticipation flooding the space between you. Your tongue dragged slowly from the base of his length to the tip, savoring the moment, savoring him.

You debated with yourself several times why you kind of felt attached to Younghoon, because ever since this became an official thing, the prospect of seeing other people bored you. What was the point of putting yourself out there and meeting someone new, even for just a casual hookup, when you had your best friend taking care of those needs?

It gnawed at you, that creeping sense of attachment. Younghoon had unintentionally ruined other men for you. He was goofy, sweet, and maddeningly attractive. He knew your body, knew how to make you feel good without any of the pressure or awkwardness that usually accompanied hookups. When things didn’t go as planned—whether it was a mishap in position or one of you finishing too soon—you just laughed it off, teasing each other, finding your rhythm again.

Even your little bickering sessions had a playful edge, a tension that only made things sexier.

And then, there was his body. You couldn't deny it—Younghoon was unbelievably hot. Just looking at his fingers, his chest, and his thighs, you often felt this animalistic need to make him crumble. Make him feel good the same way he did with you. Every casual encounter had stripped away your inhibitions, pulling out parts of you that you never showed anyone else. Things you were too nervous to share with other men because, unlike Younghoon, they might not have understood. They wouldn’t have accepted you like he did.

But then, months later everything changed. You met someone new—Wooseok. And as promised, once either of you began dating someone else, the arrangement between you and Younghoon had to come to an end.

You and Younghoon were still friends, of course, but there was a lingering tension, an emptiness that neither of you could ignore. He told himself it wasn’t that serious, and your friendship came first, which meant putting your happiness first. But he couldn’t shake how much he missed you. He tried to fill the void you’d left behind—reliving the memories of you, the way you looked with his length in your mouth, the way you rode him, the sounds you made—but no matter how vivid the images in his mind, it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t even finish, the hollow sensation of your absence overwhelming him.

Months passed. You were away with Wooseok, accompanying him on a modeling shoot, while Younghoon tried to focus on work. He kept busy, but everything felt dull without you.

Just as he clocked out one evening, his phone buzzed. Your name lit up the screen, and his heart leapt at the thought of hearing your voice again. But the moment he answered, his heart dropped upon hearing the tremble in your tone.

“Younghoon, I need help…c-can you please come over? Please?” Your voice was shaky, fragile, and it stirred something deep inside him.

Younghoon didn’t hesitate. Following the address you gave him, he rushed to the hotel, his heart racing with worry. The second you opened the door, your face crumpled, and you collapsed into his arms, your tears soaking into his shirt as he held you tightly. His arms wrapped around you, grounding you as your sobs shook your body.

Younghoon shut the door behind him, his voice tense with concern. “Where’s Wooseok? Did he do something to you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze as you struggled to find the words. “No…he didn’t do anything. And that’s the problem.” Your voice cracked, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you wiped at the tears.

Younghoon pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows knitting in confusion. “What do you mean? He just left you?”

You nodded, wiping at your tear-streaked face, but it felt useless. The pain of rejection was written all over your expression. “He broke up with me. We were gonna…I prepared something for him, and then he…” With each word your heart feels heavy, recounting what happened. “He said I have a problem.”

“No, no, stop—” Younghoon’s hands were gentle as he cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “Don’t say that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You shook your head, pulling away slightly. “But it’s the way he looked at me, Younghoon…he made me feel like I was disgusting, like I was wrong for wanting him like that.”

Younghoon’s jaw clenched, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his warmth. “That asshole.” His voice was low, full of restrained anger. “He could’ve handled that so much better. You’re not disgusting, Y/N. You’re exciting, funny, beautiful…everything anyone could ever want.”

“You’re just saying that, Hoon. I’m a sex addict, I get it.”

“No, listen to me,” Younghoon's voice softened, but there was a quiet desperation beneath it, as though he couldn’t bear for you to believe that. “You deserve better. Maybe he wasn’t ready for you, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.” He took your face in his hands, his gaze piercing through your shame. “You deserve someone who sees how incredible you are...someone who can love you for everything you are. He couldn’t handle that, and that’s his loss.”

He hesitates for a moment, his breath catching as he tries to say more. “You deserve love, Y/N... the kind that never makes you feel ashamed of what you need.” His words lingered, the unspoken promise hanging in the air, thick with meaning.

The weight of his reassurance washed over you, like a balm soothing the ache deep inside your chest. For the first time that night, you could breathe again, but your heart pounded with something else now—a realization creeping in. Younghoon’s words, his warmth, his unwavering presence... it all crashed over you, the truth that had been building for so long finally breaking through.

Without thinking, you kissed him, desperately pressing your lips to his, trying to convey the words that wouldn’t come out: I don’t trust anyone else. Only you got me. The kiss was raw, intense, as if you were trying to pour all your unsaid feelings into it.

“Hoon…” you whisper against his lips, yearning for him to make the pain go away.

“Shh,” he places a finger against your lips before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You don’t need to say it. I’ll take care of you.”

The world outside faded as Younghoon carried you to the bed. There was no urgency in his movements, no sense of rush. His touch was gentle as he laid you down and brushed the hair from your face. His fingers grazed your skin as he undressed you, slowly, reverently, as though every inch of you was sacred to him.

He kissed you softly, then deeply, pouring everything into that kiss—his comfort, his care, his love. You knew it wasn’t about filling the void Wooseok had left. It was about something more. Something that had been there all along, quietly building between you and Younghoon. Fuck, you just realized how much you missed him.

Younghoon pauses, his gaze drifting upward as he takes in the room's setup, finally noticing the mirrors on the ceiling. 

“Huh,” he smiles a little as he returns to brush a soft kiss against your lips.

“What?” you ask, frowning slightly at the look on his face. 

“Nothing it’s just" he plays with your hair “Just remembering how you once mentioned wanting to try mirror sex. Looks like tonight’s your chance to make it memorable.” His tone is playful but loving.

You pull him back to your lips, tugging at his clothes, your hips pressing up against him, in need of his touch. For that same electric feeling only Younghoon knew how to give you. He chuckles softly, amused by how eager you are.

“Let’s slow down,” he whispered against your lips “All this time, we’ve been rushing into it…I just want to pace myself with you.”

You blink up at him, your breath hitching at the tenderness in his eyes. “Going slow sounds good.” 

The intensity in his stare sends a shiver down your spine, making your breath hitch just before his lips find yours again. He trails soft, lingering kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower, until his mouth meets your breasts. His lips move slowly, savoring each kiss as though he’s drawing out every bit of your pleasure, setting your nerves alight. 

His hands slide over your waist, his touch both gentle and possessive. As his teeth graze your inner thigh, a gasp escapes your lips, and his eyes lock with yours. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” His voice is a low, reverent rumble, full of awe, as if he’s seeing you like this for the first time. Now that you’re watching him you realize how different this feels. How it’s always rushed when you two fuck. 

As he runs his tongue between your folds, you whimper. The way he was hitting that sweet spot of yours, but teasingly just so he could prolong your pleasure. You start to feel like you might cry from how good it felt. The fact that it’s been a long time since you felt Younghoon eat you out sounded like a crime. As if it was illegal that you two have been kept apart this long.

“Younghoon…please” you moan “I want…” 

He hums against your skin, his lips brushing your clit, sucking your juices. His gaze then flicks up to meet yours as he murmurs, “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

“I want to ride you. Now,” you breathe out, your words filled with longing.

He shifts, moving you so you’re both lying on your sides facing each other, his body pressed against yours. His length slides teasingly up and down against your soaked core, and both of you moan at the contact. Younghoon grips your hips, the tension in his body palpable as he rubs against you, his restraint only heightening the anticipation.

“You don’t know how much I missed you,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck, his lips finding your skin as he presses soft, desperate kisses there. 

Slowly, he enters you, his movements measured, deliberate. His eyes flicker to the mirror, where the reflections of your bodies entwined are an intoxicating sight. “I want you to see what I see,” he groans in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “See how perfect you are…see how we fit together.”

Your body responds instinctively, arching into him, the pleasure building with each deep, steady thrust. You look at your reflection, entranced by the way Younghoon moves, his body a picture of strength and control. It clicks for you—how he always fucked you with purpose, giving you his all. Now you see him in his element, in a way that feels raw and intimate. And my god, he looked fucking amazing.

The mirror reflects your ecstasy, amplifying the sight of his body pressed against yours, his movements becoming just a bit faster, hitting that spot that makes your breath hitch and his name fall from your lips.

“Fuck…how could he not want you” he growls, his voice low and full of disbelief as his thrusts slow, becoming sloppier. “He doesn’t know how special you are. How sensual you are.” His words are a mix of frustration and admiration, his eyes clouded with longing.

You wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his shoulders. With a pull, you bring him above you, your body shifting so he can take you from a new angle—one that gives you the perfect view of his back as he moves, filling you completely.

“I know you more than he does. I can-fuck…” he growls in your ear, his breath ragged as he increases his pace. “I can love you better.”

His words are enough to pull you to the edge until your body trembles, the orgasm hitting you so hard you cry out into his chest. In the haze of your high, you tug at his hair, kissing his neck, collarbone, and chest, every inch of his skin you can reach, showing that you love him.

Younghoon’s hands trail gently down your back, his touch lingering as he shifts you into a new position with you on top of him. His gaze is intense, his voice husky as he tells you, “Use me all you want, Y/N. Let go of everything with me.”

You bite your lip as you slide his cock back inside you. The sensation sends a shiver through your body. The moment he fills you again, you throw your head back, pleasure rippling through you as your hands steady themselves on his strong thighs. His fingers trace the curve of your breast before gently teasing your nipple, his touch sending sparks of desire down your spine.

You glance at the mirror again, and despite the lingering aftershocks of your last high, the sight of the two of you—intertwined, bodies moving in perfect sync—ignites something deeper inside you.

“There…look at yourself,” Younghoon moans, his voice breathless as his hands grip your hips, guiding your movements. “See how gorgeous you are.” His words send a rush of heat through you, amplifying your arousal.

It’s intoxicating to watch yourself ride him. The way your body moves, the raw passion reflected in the mirror, showing how free and unguarded you are with him. Here, with Younghoon, you can be yourself completely, and it’s perfect. The way he watches you, his dark eyes full of desire and admiration, only drives you further.

“S-shit…Y/N, I’m close,” Younghoon groans, his voice strained, his hands gripping tighter. His muscles tense beneath you, and you can feel him struggling to hold back.

You meet his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips as you begin to move faster, bouncing faster on his length, determined to push him to the edge. But as your pace quickens, you feel yourself tightening around him, your body responding to the rising pleasure, the intensity building once more.

“Then come with me,” you moan, your voice breathless, full of need.

The look in your eyes, the sight of your sweat-slicked skin, the way you’re driving yourself toward release with him inside you—it’s all too much. Younghoon’s control snaps. The tension that had been building in his body breaks, and with a guttural moan, he spills himself inside you, the sensation triggering your own release. The room fills with both your moans, your bodies trembling together as you ride out the waves of your shared climax.

You feel almost drunk with the intensity of it all, the pleasure lingering as you continue to move together, riding out every last bit of your release. Finally, with your body spent and your breathing heavy, you collapse onto his chest, both of you lost in the afterglow.

The two of you lie in the aftermath, your head resting on his chest, the soft thrum of his heartbeat lulling you into a state of peace. His hand lazily traces patterns along your waist, while your fingers absentmindedly play with the strands of his hair.

The silence is warm, comforting, but you feel a shift in the air. This time feels different—it’s not just about the sex. It’s the way he’s looking at you, with something deeper than lust.

“I…I don’t think I’m forgetting that anytime soon,” you finally say, breaking the silence. His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he kisses your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear my performance was more than you expected,” he teases, the humor in his voice making you smile, but there’s a softness behind it—like he’s been waiting for this moment, for something more than just the physical.

You prop yourself up, resting on your forearms against his chest, your eyes meeting his. The words are on the tip of your tongue, a confession you’ve been too scared to say, but you can’t hold back anymore.

“You always have.” You bite your lip, trying to play it off lightly, but your voice betrays you. “What if this could be a permanent thing, Younghoon. I like being with you…and I hope we can keep seeing each other. More than just friends.”

Younghoon’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. He pulls you into a tender kiss, slow and full of emotion, and when he pulls back, there’s a radiant smile on his face. He’s overjoyed, eyes shining with a happiness he can’t hide.

“Took us long enough," he murmurs, his voice soft, full of warmth. You can feel the love in every word, in the way he’s looking at you as if he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

He presses another kiss to your lips before saying, “Mark your calendar, Y/N, 'cause I’m taking you out on a proper date. No sneaking around, no quickies…just you and me.”

You chuckle softly, relaxing into his embrace, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted.

“We better not be having piña coladas again,” you tease, recalling the beginning of this whole arrangement with a smile.

Younghoon grins down at you, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “Well that wouldn’t be so bad. But we’re going back to the beginning” he says, his voice tender, full of meaning. “Before that night. Before we complicated things. A new start, just you and me.”

[tacticaldiary]

You are so talented?? Hells bells!!! could I please request Simon Riley x Wife!Reader where Simon is “pronounced dead” for a mission and it has to seem real enough so like price shows up to your shared home and hands over dog tags? And then like months later he shows up at the house and they reunir?! Like all just very very sad and very comfort/ hurt??

please and many thanks , sugarbean

Till Death Do Us Apart

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"Love..." He finally breathes out, and she realises that she hasn't said a word in a full minute.

The single word tears a gasp out of her throat, makes her take a small step back. The rasp of his voice, the scent of him as she breathes in...

It's him.

Death itself couldn't stop him from crawling home to her.

Masterlist

Song: I, Carrion (Hozier)

It's funny how fragile the illusion of safety and content is.

Her life had seemed so unshakable, so sure and sturdy and promised. She'd fought for what she had with her husband, made a home with him, gone through years and bumps and ups and downs all because the chance of having him was better than giving up without ever having tried.

Truth be told, she'd never really liked the silence of their home when she was the only one living in it. Simon had asked her a couple times if she got lonely, whether it was too much. He'd asked her about it pretty much every time he packed up and left for a mission halfway across the world. Brows furrowed and voice lilted in concern late at night with his arms around her.

He's met with her smile and a reassurance that the silence was worth his arrival back home. Distance makes the heart go fonder, doesn't it?

And so Simon took it in stride, let the knowledge settle the creep of doubt in his heart beacuse this? Them?

It was more than he'd ever hoped for himself.

Never did he think he'd be the reason someone smiled at him like she did, not once did he consider himself one to want something so cliche as a home until she came around with her warmth and promises of unshakable devotion.

And God had he tried to shake her off. His indifference had only fuelled her determination to worm her way under the cracks of his armour. Once she'd reached inside and pulled out a part of himself he'd long thought was killed by 'Ghost', Simon had found himself letting go of his carefully crafted distance and crumbling under her hands. The best decision of his life.

It's why his breathing is ever so ragged as he watches Price console his hysterical wife from afar, a pair of bloody dog tags with his name engraved in them clutched in her shaking hand.

Simon Riley. Deceased.

If he didn't feel like his world was off kilter he might have made a joke about how it's the second time.

Simon barely manages to hold himself back from running to her, to their home, their bed. It's his instinct to protect, and right now seeing Price let her clutch onto him in grief, everything in Simon is telling him to go, to run and hold her, console her, assure her that he hasn't broken his promise of coming home to her.

It had been a vow whispered against her lips in the dead of night after she'd aired out her fear under the light of the moon. The fear of losing him. Of opening the door to Price instead of him.

Just a few months, he repeats in his head over and over again, because it's the only thing keeping his legs from moving. Just a few months and he can fix this, go back to how everything was. He feels like a jackass, making her go through this, but there was no other option.

And fuck if he hadn't tried to argue.

Death itself couldn't stop him from crawling home to her.

But his line of work could.

                               · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

Four months and it still feels like yesterday.

Nothing felt...right anymore.

She felt guilty sitting at the kitchen table where the use to eat together, the sheets on their...her. On her bed had long since lost the subtle scent of him. The living room where she'd curl up in his lap, snicker at him complaining about her choice of movie even when the bastard was just as enraptured and into it and she was.

Everything felt off.

She sets down the half eaten plate of food in the fridge and swallows down the lingering emotion.

When she'd opened the door that day, she very nearly slammed it back shut.

It seemed surreal. Her Simon, her untouchable husband gone in the line of fire. An accident, Price had phrased it as.

She missed him so much it fucking hurt.

Taking a deep breath, she grabs the shopping list she'd scrawled last week onto the fridge and tucks it in her pocket. The dog tags clink against each other around her neck, tucked into her sweater as she moves.

It had taken weeks for her to even look at them.

The doorbell cuts the search for her car keys short.

It's been a while since she's seen anybody, really. Her friends come over every now and then to keep her company, bring her homemade foods and gifts to cheer her up and it does work, but only for a few hours. She appreciates it, she really does, but the small periods of relief are only followed by the guilt of trying to forget and the pain of remembering all over again.

She'd tell them to come back later, she decides. Today was worse a day than usual and she's not in the mood-

Simon.

Simon...?

Her knuckles pale with the grip she has on the doorknob, it's all she can do to stare up at the figure that she only held in her dreams nowadays.

He's so familiar, with that hair she loved to rake her hands through, the slight downturn of his lips, the scars that scatter across his face that she loves to trace in the dark. He's looking down at her with brown eyes so tortured and serious, and...and a little anxious?

This is a cruel joke.

Here he is, bare faced in front of her just like how she'd dreamed about for all those weeks. How often had she cried at night, hoped that this was all a joke and she'd pull open the door to him one more time?

But he wasn't here, was he? No, there was no way. Her fingers touch cool metal and distantly she realises she's clutching onto the piece of himself he left behind, looped around her neck.

"Love..." He finally breathes out, and she realises that she hasn't said a word in a full minute.

The single word tears a gasp out of her throat, makes her take a small step back. The rasp of his voice, the scent of him as she breathes in...

It's him.

It's him.

Something akin to a sob tears its way out of her throat as she lunges towards him, tangles her hands in the fabric of his uniform. She only cries harder when his arms circle around her just as tightly, crushing her to his chest.

"You...you're home?" She manages to push out between stuttered intakes of breaths and sobs. "No, you're...you were-"

"I'm here." He hooks his chin over her head, sways her a little from side to side. If she hadn't been trembling she would have noticed the slight shake of his hands. "Said I'd always come back to you, didn't I?" He walks them backwards, shuts the door with his foots.

"You died!" She exclaims, choking on the words as she pulls back, not far but enough to meet his own red eyes. "You died, I thought you died-"

"Mission," He rushes out, "For a mission, yeah? Wouldn't ever leave you alone-"

"You did!" She suddenly pulls away from him barely out of his grasp and it takes everything in Simon's willpower not to pulls her back in.

Beneath the worry and the grief and the sadness, there's a hint of running anger.

"Four months, I thought you were...were dead." She wipes away her tears, still crying but angry. "And you show up now? Just like that? What the fuck, Simon I thought I was a widow!"

"I'm sorry." It's all he can say. It's pathetic and desperate and he feels frustrated and angry at everyone and himself but it's all he can say to her and he'll repeat it as many times as possible.

They stare at each other for a second, grieving and angry and crushed and hopeful...

And she falls back into him with the promise of an explanation later on, a tangle of limbs, muttered apologies and kisses.

Not because she forgives him. Not because she's willing to brush past it and move on, but because this crushing wave of relief feels better than the last four months of suffering. Because they'll always find their way back to each other.

Because she has her husband back, in one piece, and for the first time in months...

Something in her life clicks back into place.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(20/10/2023)

[amethystarachnid]

Please, please, can you write a second part of Room for Two for me? First, thank you so much for the first part, I loved it, and the cute way you wrote it, Dumpling is beautiful 😍🧡

But now, I’d love to see their life after graduation. Now they have their own beautiful house they bought together, the jobs of their dreams, married, another furry baby to keep Dumpling company, and maybe reader is already pregnant too? Imagine how cute it’ll be Tony and reader designing the baby’s room together? 🥺🧡

ROOM FOR TWO - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: Graduation finally arrives and with it the struggles of being two fresh graduates with no clue on how the job world works. But you and Tony are sure you can do everything together, your love stronger than ever with a new fur baby and another big surprise on the way.

ᯓ★ TW(s): pure fluff, twin pregnancy

ᯓ★ AU: Accidental roommates

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The day of graduation is a blur of ceremony, speeches, and the sea of caps and gowns. You and Tony are sitting side-by-side, dressed in identical caps and gowns, trying to look like the solemn graduates you’re supposed to be, but Tony keeps leaning over to whisper comments in your ear about the people on stage or the terrible music playing in the background. You have to bite back laughter more than once, playfully elbowing him to get him to quiet down, though your cheeks ache from smiling. Dumpling would have loved to be here, you think, though she would probably be far more interested in batting at your tassels than the pomp and circumstance of it all.

Finally, you hear your names called, one after the other, and you step up to receive your diplomas, pride swelling in your chest as you glance over at Tony. When it’s his turn to walk across the stage, he makes a dramatic show of waving to the crowd, earning a mixture of laughter and eye rolls, and you can’t help but beam with pride. Despite all the ups and downs, the late-night study sessions, and the endless cups of coffee, you’ve both made it here together. You cheer him on, clapping so loudly you almost drown out the official applause, and when he walks back to you, he pulls you into a spontaneous hug, lifting you off your feet right in front of everyone.

After the ceremony, the campus is bustling with families and friends snapping photos, laughing, and celebrating, but for you, it’s just you and Tony. He tugs you aside, away from the crowd, down one of the quieter paths near the library. He’s grinning, eyes shining with excitement, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope with both your names written on it.

“Guess what?” he says, holding it up. “This came in the mail yesterday, and I figured, what better time to open it than right now?”

You look at him, heart pounding as you take the envelope. It’s from the company you both applied to—the one you’ve been dreaming about for years, the one that’s so competitive it felt like a long shot, even with your best efforts. Together, you tear open the envelope, unfolding the letter inside, scanning the words. When you reach the line that says, “We’re thrilled to offer you both positions,” you gasp, and Tony lets out a whoop, spinning you around in pure, unfiltered joy.

“We did it,” you say, voice full of disbelief as you look at him, the reality sinking in.

He’s grinning from ear to ear, pulling you into another hug. “We did it! We’re both in!” His enthusiasm is infectious, and you laugh, feeling like you’re on top of the world, the future stretching out in front of you like an open road.

With your new jobs confirmed, it’s only a matter of weeks before you and Tony pack up the apartment you’ve shared all this time and make plans to move to the city center, close to where you’ll both be working. The day you leave campus is bittersweet. You walk through the now-quiet campus one last time, reminiscing about the memories you’ve made here—the countless study sessions in the library, the late nights in the dorms, the spontaneous runs to the campus coffee shop when you needed an extra caffeine boost. It’s strange to think of leaving it all behind, but with Tony by your side, it feels less like an ending and more like a new chapter beginning.

Moving day is chaotic. Boxes are stacked everywhere, labeled in varying degrees of legibility, some scrawled by Tony’s messy handwriting, others by your own. Dumpling watches the commotion with wide, curious eyes, perched on top of the couch like a little queen surveying her kingdom. Every so often, she bats at a loose strip of packing tape or tries to squeeze herself into a box that’s far too small, and you and Tony can’t help but laugh at her antics.

The apartment you’ve chosen is perfect—or at least as perfect as two just-graduated college students can afford. It’s on the small side, with creaky floors and slightly outdated cabinets, but it has large windows that let in an abundance of light, and from the living room, you have a view of the bustling city below. The first night, you and Tony collapse onto the floor, too exhausted to even think about unpacking, Dumpling curling up between you as you lie there, looking up at the ceiling.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Tony murmurs, reaching over to take your hand.

You squeeze his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “I know. It doesn’t feel real yet.”

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes soft and filled with a warmth that makes your heart flutter. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For… everything. For sticking with me, for helping me get here. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

You feel a lump in your throat, touched by his words. “Right back at you. I don’t think I’d have made it through some of those all-nighters without you keeping me sane.”

He laughs, a deep, genuine laugh, and in that moment, you realize just how lucky you are to have found him. You lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, feeling his smile against yours as he pulls you closer.

The weeks that follow are a whirlwind as you both adjust to your new jobs, new schedules, and life in the city. Dumpling quickly becomes a fixture in the apartment, staking out her favorite sunny spots and delighting in her new vantage points where she can watch the people and cars go by. She’s thrilled with the large windows, and you often find her perched on the windowsill, tail twitching as she watches the city below with wide, curious eyes.

Your jobs are demanding, but every evening, no matter how late you get home, you and Tony make time for each other. Some nights, you cook together, experimenting with simple recipes and laughing when things inevitably go wrong. Other nights, you order takeout and eat it right out of the containers, sprawled out on the couch with Dumpling tucked between you, her tiny head poking out to sniff at whatever you’re eating. It’s a routine that feels both familiar and new, comforting in its simplicity.

The city itself is vibrant and alive, filled with endless places to explore. On weekends, you and Tony take long walks through the streets, discovering hidden coffee shops, bookstores, and parks. Dumpling becomes a little explorer in her own right; you buy her a small harness and leash so she can accompany you to the park nearby. It’s amusing to watch her little paws gingerly tread over the grass, her eyes wide as she takes in the bustling world around her. Tony likes to joke that she’s a “city cat” now, and you find yourself snapping countless photos of her as she discovers her new territory.

One evening, after a particularly hectic day at work, you come home feeling drained, your shoulders tense from hours spent hunched over your desk. Tony senses it immediately and guides you to the couch, gently massaging your shoulders as Dumpling hops up, purring and nudging your hand. The three of you sit there in the soft, warm glow of the apartment, the stress of the day slowly melting away as Tony’s fingers work their magic.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, “no matter how rough the day is, coming home to you and Dumpling makes it all worth it.”

You look up at him, smiling softly. “I feel the same way.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes, savoring the quiet, intimate moment.

As time passes, you and Tony start to feel more settled. The city that once seemed so big and intimidating now feels like home, a place filled with familiar streets, favorite spots, and memories that you’ve created together. Your jobs are challenging but fulfilling, and each new accomplishment feels even more meaningful because you have Tony to share it with. Every so often, you still catch those envious glances from people on the street or coworkers who haven’t quite gotten over Tony’s charm, but it doesn’t bother you anymore. You know that he’s yours, just as much as you’re his, and that’s all that matters.

One night, as you’re lying in bed, Dumpling curled up at your feet, Tony turns to you with a thoughtful look on his face.

“I was thinking,” he begins, his tone hesitant, “what if… we stay here for good? Like, really settle down.”

You blink, surprised but not entirely caught off guard. You’ve thought about it, too—the idea of building a life here, with him, in this apartment, this city. You smile, reaching out to take his hand. “I think I’d like that.”

His face lights up, and he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Me too,” he whispers.

It’s a simple moment, but it feels monumental, a promise of a future that you’re both excited to build together. You fall asleep that night with your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath you, Dumpling’s soft purring filling the room like a lullaby.

Years from now, you’ll look back on these days—the late-night takeout, the lazy weekends spent exploring the city, the quiet evenings in with Dumpling—and you’ll remember them as some of the best days of your life. Because here, in this little apartment, you’ve found everything you need. And as Tony holds you close, his arms wrapped around you, you know that, no matter where life takes you, you’ll always have this place, this moment, this love.

It starts on a rainy Thursday. You and Tony are on your way home after a particularly grueling day, the kind that feels like it should’ve ended hours ago. The two of you are drenched by the time you reach the apartment building’s front steps, even with the umbrella, and your only thought is getting inside, slipping into cozy clothes, and ordering something comforting for dinner.

Then you hear it—a tiny, pitiful meow that somehow cuts through the downpour.

You freeze, peering around in the dim light, your gaze finally landing on a small, soaked bundle huddled under the awning by the building’s door. It’s a kitten, barely larger than your hand, its fur matted from the rain, its big eyes wide with a mix of fear and desperation. It looks up at you, letting out another weak meow, and your heart shatters.

“Oh, no…” you murmur, already bending down to reach for it.

Tony follows, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Guess we’re going to have to get used to being a two-cat household, huh?” He gives you a small, fond smile, and the kitten reaches out a tentative paw, making a soft chirping noise. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

You laugh softly, ignoring his teasing as you gingerly pick up the shivering little creature, cradling it close to your chest. “Look at her, Tony,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “She’s just… she’s so helpless.”

He wraps an arm around you both, guiding you inside. “Alright, I’m sold,” he says, pulling the door open with his free hand. “Guess Dumpling’s getting a little sister.”

Once you’re in the apartment, you make quick work of finding a fluffy towel to dry her off while Tony prepares a shallow dish of warm milk. Dumpling, who’s lounging lazily on the back of the couch, eyes the new addition with the faintest hint of curiosity but seems more annoyed at the idea of sharing her territory.

The little orange kitten, still trembling slightly, settles into your lap, kneading her tiny paws into the fabric of the towel as she drinks, her eyes never leaving yours. You feel a warmth spreading through you, a fierce protectiveness over this small, vulnerable creature, and you can already imagine her becoming part of your little family.

As the days pass, she adjusts quickly. Her orange fur, now fluffy and clean, gives her the look of a tiny, mischievous tiger. She’s lively and fearless, pouncing on everything from Dumpling’s tail to Tony’s toes, chasing after shadows and batting at imaginary creatures with boundless energy. Tony, ever the playful spirit himself, takes to calling her “Pumpkin,” both for her orange coat and her wild, playful energy that fills the apartment with laughter and life.

“Pumpkin it is,” you say one night, watching as Tony gently scratches her behind the ears, his expression filled with such unguarded affection that it makes your heart ache.

Dumpling eventually warms up to her new sibling, the two of them becoming inseparable partners in crime, though Dumpling still looks at you from time to time as if to say, Wasn’t I enough?

It isn’t long after Pumpkin joins your little family that Tony makes the decision to leave his job. He’s been restless lately, his gaze often drifting out the apartment window as if he’s searching for something that’s just beyond his reach. When he talks about his work, you can sense his frustration, the feeling that he’s capable of more, that he’s meant to create something of his own.

One night, after the two of you have finally settled down for dinner and the cats are contentedly snoozing on the couch, he takes your hand, looking at you with that determined, focused expression that always signals he’s about to do something bold.

“I want to start my own company,” he says, voice steady but eyes betraying the hint of vulnerability beneath his determination. “I know it’s risky. I know it’s going to be hard—maybe harder than anything I’ve done before. But I need to do this. I want to create something… something that’s mine.”

You study his face, seeing the quiet intensity in his gaze, and you realize just how much this dream means to him. The job he has now might pay well, but it’s stifling him. You’ve seen him come home, drained and dissatisfied, too many nights, and you can’t bear the thought of him feeling trapped in a life that doesn’t fulfill him.

Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand. “Then do it, Tony. I believe in you. I know this is what you’re meant to do.”

His shoulders relax, and he lets out a long breath, his grip on your hand tightening. “You… you really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You reach up, brushing a lock of hair from his face, smiling softly. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll keep working, and we’ll make it work. We’ve done harder things before, haven’t we?”

A small, grateful smile tugs at his lips, and he nods. “Yeah, we have.” His voice is thick with emotion, and he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how much it means to me… that you’re willing to do this. That you believe in me.”

With that, Tony makes the leap, leaving behind the stability of his job to throw himself into building his own business. At first, things are rougher than either of you anticipated. His days are consumed with meetings, networking events, late nights hunched over his laptop, trying to secure funding, struggling to get his ideas off the ground. The income you bring home is just enough to cover your essentials, and every month is a delicate balancing act, stretching paychecks and counting every penny.

Pumpkin and Dumpling seem to sense the shift, often curling up beside him as he works late into the night, their silent companionship a comfort amid the stress. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night to find him still at his desk, eyes bleary but unwavering, his determination burning brighter than ever. You bring him coffee and gentle encouragement, rubbing his shoulders or simply sitting beside him, your presence grounding him as he pours everything he has into making his dream a reality.

But there are nights when the weight of it all becomes too much, when the bills pile up and the uncertainties loom large. One night, after an especially difficult week, he comes home, his face drawn and exhausted, his shoulders slumped with a heaviness you’ve never seen before. He sinks onto the couch, burying his face in his hands, and you feel your heart break at the sight of him so defeated.

You sit beside him, reaching out to gently rub his back, and he finally looks up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “What if… what if this doesn’t work?” he whispers, his voice cracking. “What if I’m just… dragging us both down?”

You shake your head, tears filling your own eyes as you reach for his hand, holding it tightly. “Tony, look at me,” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re not dragging us down. You’re trying to build something amazing, something that will change our lives. And I’m here because I believe in you. I love you, and I know that, no matter how long it takes, you’re going to make this work.”

A tear slips down his cheek, and he swipes at it, his expression crumbling as he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid to let go. You cling to him just as fiercely, your own tears falling as you whisper reassurances, promises of a future that you’ll build together, no matter how long it takes or how hard it gets.

“You know…” he murmurs, voice muffled against your shoulder, “I’ve thought about what I’d do if things worked out. When things work out.” He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, his gaze filled with a raw, unguarded vulnerability. “I want to marry you. I want to make this official… as soon as I can give you the life you deserve.”

Your breath catches, and you reach up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing away the tear that’s escaped. “Tony, I don’t need anything fancy. I don’t need a big house or a huge income. I just need you. This… everything we have here, with Pumpkin and Dumpling and us… this is all I need.”

He chokes out a laugh, his hand coming up to cover yours, his fingers trembling slightly. “You say that now, but one day… one day, I’m going to give you the world, I promise.”

You shake your head, smiling through your tears. “All I want is you, Tony. Just you.”

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, all the worries, all the fears, fade away. It’s just the two of you, together, stronger than any struggle that comes your way. And as you sit there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that, no matter what challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together, with a love that can withstand anything.

The next day, Tony is back at his desk, his determination renewed, his drive stronger than ever. And each night, as you come home from work, you find him there, pushing forward, fueled by the promise he made to you. And slowly, bit by bit, his hard work begins to pay off. Clients come in, investors take notice, and his little company starts to grow, the future you both dreamed of coming within reach.

Years of grit, late nights, and unwavering resolve pay off, and Stark Industries becomes the name on everyone’s lips. Tony’s vision—a dream that he’d clung to even through the darkest moments—is finally a reality, and not just any reality but a monumental success. Word spreads quickly; clients are no longer just trickling in—they’re arriving in droves. Investors who had once overlooked Tony’s pitches now scramble to buy shares, and the profits start to soar. With every new partnership and product launch, Stark Industries climbs higher, taking Tony and you along for the ride.

And with this sudden, extraordinary success comes change. You and Tony move from your cozy apartment into a breathtaking penthouse, one with towering windows that offer a panoramic view of the glittering cityscape. The penthouse is all steel, glass, and modern sophistication, with soaring ceilings and an open layout that feels both grand and intimate. In the center of the space is a large, plush sectional that becomes Dumpling and Pumpkin’s new kingdom. They lounge on it as if they’ve always known that one day, this high-rise palace would be theirs.

On your first night in the new penthouse, you and Tony stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city’s twinkling lights. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, both of you quiet as you take in the surreal view. You marvel at how far you’ve come together, from cramped dorm rooms and tight budgets to this—the culmination of years of relentless dedication and an unbreakable bond that had weathered everything thrown at it.

“I never thought we’d make it here,” you murmur, resting your hand over his. “It feels… unreal.”

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your skin. “Believe me, I’m still processing it, too.” He turns you around to face him, his eyes warm and serious as he holds you close. “But I wouldn’t be here without you. Every time I doubted myself, every time I thought I couldn’t do this, you were there, telling me I could. I owe all of this to you.”

You shake your head, smiling as you look up at him. “We built this together, Tony. You and me. And Dumpling and Pumpkin,” you add, laughing as you glance over at your cats, who are now nestled together on the couch like two furry queens.

His gaze shifts, something tender and unspoken in his expression. “Then I think it’s time I make things official.”

You blink, momentarily confused, until he gently takes your hand, guiding you toward the center of the penthouse. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, dark blue velvet box. Your heart pounds as he opens it to reveal a stunning ring—a brilliant, intricately set diamond that catches the light, shimmering with a fire of its own. The sight of it takes your breath away, and for a moment, you can’t move, can’t speak, just staring at the symbol of everything you and Tony have built together.

He drops to one knee, his hand still holding yours, his eyes soft and filled with love. “From the first day we moved in together, I knew there was no one else I wanted to go through life with. You’ve been my partner, my inspiration, and my best friend through everything. And now… I want you to be my forever. Will you marry me?”

Tears sting your eyes, and you feel your heart swell with a joy so intense you can barely contain it. “Yes,” you manage, voice barely more than a whisper as you nod, the word coming out again, stronger this time. “Yes, Tony, of course!”

A relieved, joyful laugh escapes him as he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He stands, pulling you into his arms, and you kiss him, the world around you blurring as the reality of it settles over you.

When you finally break the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you grinning like two love-struck kids. “I can’t wait to start forever with you,” he says softly, his voice choked with emotion.

“Neither can I.” You reach up, touching his face, memorizing every detail, every line and angle, your chest bursting with happiness.

Behind you, Dumpling and Pumpkin observe the moment with disinterest, already settling into the lavish life they seem to have instinctively known would one day belong to them. And as you and Tony hold each other in the dim glow of the penthouse lights, the city glittering below, you realize that every struggle, every sleepless night, and every whispered promise has led you here—to a life you’ve built together, and a future that, now, feels limitless.

The wedding planning unfolds with more ease and joy than you ever expected. With the newfound success and wealth, Tony insists that you both have the freedom to go all out. He’s so animated about the entire process—sifting through floral arrangements, sketching out seating charts, even excitedly browsing suit designs. Despite the resources at your disposal, though, you both agree: you want something beautiful, but simple. Intimate, elegant, a true celebration of all the quiet moments and love you’ve shared.

You choose a venue just outside the city, a sprawling garden tucked away in the countryside. It’s the kind of place that feels like magic, with sun-dappled fields, flowering vines, and a historic stone hall where the reception will take place. The guest list remains small, just close friends and family. Even so, the evening promises to be grand in its own understated way, the joy and anticipation electric in the air.

When the day arrives, the garden glows under the afternoon sun, warm and golden, with a gentle breeze stirring the air. Pumpkin and Dumpling are staying with a friend, probably napping in their usual lazy contentment, but somehow you feel their spirits there with you, a little touch of home that completes the day. As you walk down the aisle, the world fades around you. All you see is Tony, waiting at the end, his gaze fixed on you with a look of awe and wonder that makes you feel like the only person in the universe.

The ceremony is filled with laughter and love, heartfelt vows exchanged as tears shine in both your eyes. When he promises to love you “through every late night, every crazy dream, and every step of the journey,” his voice catches, and you reach for his hand, grounding him just as you always have.

The reception flows seamlessly afterward, your guests mingling under a canopy of twinkling lights, soft music drifting through the air. The food is impeccable, a blend of both your favorite dishes, and everyone laughs as Tony makes a dramatic toast, recounting the early days of your relationship with a fondness that leaves you both blushing and laughing.

As the evening deepens, waitstaff come around with glasses of wine, and laughter and merriment fill the air. You accept a glass to keep up appearances, even though you hold it without sipping. For weeks now, you’ve been carrying a secret close to your heart—a secret you’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to share.

Tony, as perceptive as ever, notices right away. As you’re both sharing a moment alone by the garden edge, he reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours as he lowers his voice, eyes narrowing in concern. “Hey, sweetheart, you’ve barely touched your wine. Are you okay?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a grin that’s threatening to spill over. You weren’t sure how you’d break the news to him, but this moment, here and now, feels absolutely right. With his warm hand around yours and the gentle scent of garden flowers in the air, you can already picture his reaction.

“Actually,” you begin, your heart racing, “there’s a reason for that.”

He tilts his head, eyes searching yours, the worry giving way to curiosity. “Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, you look up at him, unable to hold back your smile any longer. “Tony… I’m pregnant. Just barely three months.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, the words sinking in as his face shifts from confusion to realization. His eyes widen, and his mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. You watch as the full meaning of what you’ve said washes over him, his face breaking into a brilliant smile that lights up his entire expression.

“Wait,” he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re… we’re going to have a baby?”

You nod, feeling your own tears well up. “Yes. We’re going to be parents.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight, as if grounding himself in this incredible new reality. You feel his body tremble slightly, his joy spilling over as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, then pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks at you with pure adoration.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, brushing a tear from your cheek. “This… this is the best surprise of my life.”

He cups your face in his hands, leaning in to press a tender, lingering kiss to your lips, and when he pulls back, there’s a soft, awed smile playing on his lips. “I thought today couldn’t get any better, but you’ve just made it unforgettable.”

The rest of the evening is filled with stolen glances, whispered secrets, and shared smiles, the two of you reveling in the quiet, beautiful knowledge that your lives are about to change forever. As you sway together on the dance floor later that night, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, knowing that this is only the beginning of the life you’ve always dreamed of—filled with love, laughter, and a new little heart soon to join your family.

The first few weeks after the wedding bring a unique and gentle kind of excitement as you and Tony settle into the rhythm of married life with a baby on the way. After sharing the news with close friends and family, your days fall into a new pattern—one where work, plans for the future, and a soft undercurrent of anticipation for the baby blend into the everyday. And soon enough, a single priority emerges above all else: the nursery.

Even though you’re still in the early months of your pregnancy, Tony’s enthusiasm is unmatched. He talks about colors, themes, and toys with a boyish excitement, and every spare moment is spent in one design store or another. He’s constantly coming home with inspiration, ideas, and sometimes items he “just couldn’t resist.”

“I found this mobile with little planets and stars,” he says one day, brandishing it with a grin. “Perfect for our little one’s room. Gotta start their science education early, right?”

You can’t help but laugh, heartwarming at the thought of your child growing up surrounded by so much love and wonder. But you’re more practical, balancing Tony’s big ideas with sensible additions—a crib, a changing table, and soft blankets, which you pick out in soothing shades of cream and soft blues, just neutral enough to work for a boy or a girl.

As the weeks pass, the nursery begins to take shape. Tony hangs the planetary mobile over the crib, which you’ve positioned in the middle of the room so it’s the first thing anyone sees. Together, you carefully arrange the toys and a few framed pictures on the walls, both of you quietly envisioning your little one growing up in this cozy, inviting space.

Your belly starts to swell slowly but steadily, each new centimeter adding to the wonder. And Tony is with you every step of the way—holding your hand during doctor’s visits, marveling at every new detail the ultrasound reveals. He’s so deeply invested, always asking questions, always curious, like every new milestone is a gift meant just for him.

One afternoon, as you sit cross-legged on the floor of the nursery, holding up tiny onesies to show Tony, he settles onto the floor beside you, a softness in his gaze as he looks at your growing belly. “You know, this is going to be the coolest room on the block,” he jokes, but his voice is thick with emotion. “Our little one’s going to love it.”

You smile back, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. “With a dad like you? They’ll think the whole world is theirs to explore.”

The crib is in place, toys line the shelves, and the walls have been painted in a soft, soothing gray that matches the stardust-themed curtains you picked out together. Everything feels perfect—until a few weeks later when, during a routine checkup, your doctor squints at the ultrasound screen with an unusual expression.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, exchanging a glance with Tony, who’s squeezing your hand a little too tightly.

“Oh, everything’s fine,” she says, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “In fact, I’d say it’s more than fine. You’re expecting twins.”

For a moment, you and Tony are completely silent, processing the news in stunned, joyful disbelief. And then you both burst into laughter, a mix of joy and shock filling the room.

“Twins?” Tony repeats, still sounding amazed. “We’re… we’re going to have two babies?”

“Yes,” the doctor says, grinning at your astonished expressions. “Two baby girls, actually. Congratulations, you two.”

Two baby girls. The words echo in your mind, and you feel your eyes well up as you look at Tony. He’s staring at you, his face lighting up with a combination of surprise, joy, and a hint of panic. But as he pulls you into a gentle embrace, you feel the excitement in his arms, the unspoken promise that he’s ready for this—whatever it brings.

When you get home, the nursery takes on a whole new meaning. Suddenly, the space feels smaller, and your original design plans are tossed out the window as you begin to reimagine the room for two little girls. The next few days become a whirlwind of rearranging, replanning, and revisiting every decision you’d made so far.

“We’ll need two cribs,” Tony says, scratching his head as he stands in the center of the room, staring at the carefully arranged furniture. “And more storage for all their clothes and toys… not to mention double the diapers. Oh, and I’ll have to get another mobile!”

You laugh, watching him slip seamlessly into his role as both planner and dad, and as the weeks pass, the nursery undergoes a complete transformation. The single crib is replaced by two, positioned side by side, each one adorned with matching linens and soft, embroidered blankets. You pick out another mobile with tiny animals to hang over the second crib, so each girl will have her own special piece above her.

Tony throws himself into every decision with all his heart. Together, you select two cozy rocking chairs—one for each side of the room—where you’ll be able to sit and feed them, or rock them to sleep on those long, quiet nights. You add a second changing table and rearrange the closet to fit all the tiny, beautiful outfits you’ve picked out, each one smaller and softer than the last. And you feel a warm, tender satisfaction knowing that everything has been done with love, crafted by your own hands and Tony’s for your daughters.

Your belly grows steadily, more rapidly now with twins on the way, and as your body changes, Tony’s attentiveness only grows. He talks to your belly every night, telling stories, asking the girls to kick for him. Sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, you feel his gentle hand on your stomach, his whispering voice, as if he’s having a private conversation with your babies, sharing his dreams and promises for the life they’ll share.

One evening, Tony catches you staring at the nursery with a wistful smile, your hands cradling your growing belly.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I was just thinking about how much our lives are going to change,” you say softly, leaning back against him. “Two little girls… I can’t believe it.”

He chuckles, resting a hand on your belly. “It’s going to be chaos,” he admits, but his tone is warm, filled with love. “But the best kind of chaos.”

The following weeks are a whirlwind of final touches. You and Tony spend countless hours folding tiny clothes, arranging stuffed animals, and adding little decorative touches that make the room feel alive with warmth and anticipation. One wall becomes a gallery of framed prints with soft pastel colors and uplifting quotes, each one a small promise of the happiness that will fill this room.

As your belly grows rounder and the due date draws nearer, Tony becomes even more doting, always ready with snacks, pillows, or gentle foot massages. He attends every doctor’s appointment without fail, his face lighting up at every ultrasound, marveling at the sight of his daughters as they grow. Your heart swells every time you see him so in love with them, even before they’ve taken their first breath.

One evening, as you both lie in bed, Tony turns to you, his face shadowed by a soft, thoughtful look. “What do you think they’ll be like?” he murmurs, brushing a hand tenderly over your belly.

You smile, imagining two tiny faces, two sets of eyes staring up at you. “I think they’ll be perfect. Little pieces of you and me, each with their own personalities.” You feel a slight movement, and Tony’s eyes light up as he feels it too. “They’ll be our little adventure,” you add, feeling your throat tighten with emotion.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he whispers, his voice filled with a quiet awe. “And I can’t wait to see you with them. You’re already the best mom.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you rest your hand over his. “And you’re going to be the best dad, Tony.”

As the weeks pass, you and Tony spend as much time as possible in the nursery, each addition and detail reminding you of the life you’re about to welcome. The two cribs stand proudly side by side, the mobile planets casting soft shadows across the room. Dumpling and Pumpkin occasionally wander in, curling up by the rocking chairs, as if they, too, are awaiting the arrival of their new family members.

One night, just as the final touches are complete, Tony holds your hand, guiding you into the nursery one last time. He flicks on a small, warm lamp, the soft glow illuminating every corner of the room.

“What do you think?” he asks, his gaze moving over the room, his expression one of pride and love.

You look around, feeling your heart swell as you take in the space you’ve created together. It’s everything you’d dreamed of—soft, warm, and filled with love. “It’s perfect,” you whisper, turning to him. “They’re going to love it.”

He smiles, pulling you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Then it’s ready,” he murmurs, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “Just waiting on our girls now.”

The anticipation builds with each day, the love and excitement filling every corner of the nursery.

The birth of your daughters is a moment you and Tony will never forget. After hours of labor, Tony by your side every second, whispering words of encouragement and holding your hand, you finally hear the first cries of your little girls filling the room. The sound is miraculous, small and new, yet somehow commanding all the space in the room. The nurses place each baby in your arms, and the weight of them—tiny, warm, real—washes over you. Tony’s eyes are bright with unshed tears, his face a blend of awe and love as he looks down at his daughters, his whole world in that small, fragile bundle.

Your firstborn, nestled against you with sleepy eyes and the softest patch of dark hair, reaches up with a tiny hand, and you marvel at the delicate beauty of her fingers, so perfectly formed. Tony holds your second daughter, whose bright gaze and peach-fuzz hair make her seem even more precious, a tiny version of you in his arms. You exchange a tearful, joyful glance with him, each of you knowing that no words are necessary.

For names, you’d had many options in mind, but as you gaze down at your daughters, the choice is suddenly clear. Your firstborn, with her delicate, observant eyes, is named Lily—a name that feels soft and sweet, like the petals of a lily blossom. Your second daughter, who seems full of spirit from the moment she’s born, is Rose. Tony chuckles through his tears, noting that their names are like a garden, and you can already picture the flowers they’ll grow into, each one beautiful in her own way.

The first night back at home, you settle in, bracing yourselves for the new reality. The nursery, which had seemed so big and perfect for a family, now feels cozily filled with your two little daughters. The cribs are side by side, and you and Tony can hardly bear to put Lily and Rose down, both of you lingering at their bedside, watching every tiny movement, each sleepy yawn, and every rise and fall of their little chests.

Dumpling and Pumpkin approach with cautious curiosity, sniffing the air and stretching their necks to peer at the new arrivals. Dumpling, the more curious and daring of the two, pads up close to Rose’s crib, giving a soft, inquisitive meow as if to say, And who are these new tiny humans? Rose stirs, her tiny hand jerking in her sleep, and Dumpling looks up at you, blinking slowly in acceptance, as if she already senses her place as the older sibling.

Pumpkin, ever dignified, holds back, sitting primly at the nursery doorway, watching the scene with reserved interest. But as you and Tony return again and again to soothe Lily and Rose during the night, Pumpkin eventually follows, settling herself by the rocking chair in quiet acceptance, her large, round eyes trained on the new family members. Soon, the cats both settle in as quiet sentinels, occasionally creeping closer to observe, then curling up in the corners, as if keeping an eye on their new sisters.

Those first nights are a whirlwind of wonder and exhaustion, filled with soft cries, endless feedings, and groggy exchanges as you and Tony navigate this new world together. You take turns pacing the nursery with Lily and Rose, rocking them gently until they settle into sleep, only to start again a few hours later. It’s tiring, far beyond anything you’d imagined, but every time you look down at their tiny faces, any trace of fatigue fades.

One evening, Tony finds you in the rocking chair, Lily cradled against your chest as you hum softly to her, the glow from the small lamp casting a warm halo around you both. He watches from the doorway for a moment, and when you notice him, he smiles, coming over to brush a gentle hand over Lily’s head.

“They’re perfect,” he whispers, looking down at her with so much love it fills the room.

“They really are,” you whisper back, unable to take your eyes off her. Rose sleeps soundly in her crib, and you can’t help but marvel at how incredible it feels to have them both here, real and whole.

Tony takes over, cradling Lily in his arms and swaying gently, his eyes never leaving her face. You watch him, heart swelling with pride and gratitude, knowing that he’s already the most devoted father. He hums softly to her, a tune you recognize from his late nights tinkering away in the early days of his company, a melody he’d told you once he’d saved for his future children.

Each night becomes a precious ritual of shared wonder and care. You and Tony take turns holding the girls, whispering softly to them, marveling at their tiny fingers and the way they curl their fists while they sleep. And whenever one stirs, the other often follows, as if they already sense their twin bond, their hearts beating together even in sleep.

One evening, as you’re both sitting in the nursery, each holding a baby in your arms, you exchange a tired but joyful smile with Tony.

“Can you believe it?” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “Two little girls. Our girls.”

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “It’s everything I ever dreamed of… and more.”

He reaches over, his hand warm as it rests over yours. “Lily and Rose,” he says softly, looking down at them. “Our little flowers.”

In the weeks that follow, you and Tony fall into a rhythm. The days are a blur of feedings, naps, and little moments stolen here and there to catch your breath. Tony dives into his role as a father with everything he has, waking up for midnight feedings, changing diapers with surprising skill, and always finding a way to make you laugh even during the most chaotic moments. On those rare mornings when the girls nap in sync, he’ll bring you coffee, settling beside you on the couch with a look of contentment that makes your heart ache with happiness.

The girls are growing before your eyes, each day bringing a new discovery—a new expression, a tiny sound, a small fist reaching up toward your face. Dumpling and Pumpkin continue their watchful routines, following you to the nursery each time you go in, sometimes even curling up by the cribs as if silently promising to protect their human sisters. Pumpkin occasionally hops up onto the rocking chair, her head cocked to the side as she watches you and Tony with the girls, her silent approval clear in her wise, patient eyes.

One quiet afternoon, as the girls sleep peacefully, Tony pulls you close on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both steal a rare moment of peace. He lets out a contented sigh, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your arm.

“We’re pretty lucky, aren’t we?” he says, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I mean… look at them. Look at us.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, watching your little family, feeling a sense of wholeness that’s impossible to put into words. “We really are,” you whisper, the warmth in your chest blooming even more. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

He kisses the top of your head, a quiet promise, and for a moment, the two of you simply sit there, basking in the gentle, perfect chaos of your life together.

The nursery is full now, with soft giggles, sleepy murmurs, and the occasional curious sniff from Dumpling and Pumpkin. Every day with Lily and Rose is a new adventure, a new page in the story you and Tony have been writing together since the day you met. And as you watch him reach over to brush a gentle hand over Rose’s tiny head, his face softened with love, you know that the best parts of your story are only just beginning.

tony as a girl dad lives in my mind rent free, sorry not sorry. if you liked the story don't forget to leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow If you want to read more! <3

[chimivx]

champagne confetti.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader (ot7 minus two) (vegas addition)

summary: Jungkooks secret listening party is full of surprises.

word count: 7400

warnings: 18+, adults doing adults things and talking about adult things, no explicit sexual content, drinking, mentions of miscarriage/pregnancy talk, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!

a/n: I was supposed to post this in the beginning of January. Apologies for the delay, been goin thru some things. Love you all. xo. This feels like an ending... But, I dunno... It also feels incomplete...

~ october 11th, 2023 ~

It took three rings for her to answer the phone.

Leaning over the bathroom counter, iPhone propped up against the mirror, your lips were pressed together firmly, an unreadable expression as Sunny’s bright smile popped up on the screen and fell within milliseconds, her pink glossy lips frowning. Behind her, palm trees and sunshine, a backdrop she’s become accustomed to, one she belongs in front of.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, squinting. Voices chattered in the background, a prominent one belonging to none other than Khloe Kardashian herself.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “You’re filming?”

“No, having dinner with the girls,” she spoke fast, her eyes locked on you. “What’s going on? You okay? Dae okay? I can fly back.”

A small smile broke onto your lips. Nerves jittered in your veins, your heart beating a little faster than it should be. “We’re okay, just finished breakfast. She’s running around my room right now, she’s obsessed with Kook’s dirty ass song. We’ve had to listen to it everyday. Everyday, Sun. I hate it.”

“The Jack Harlow one?” she asked, and your grimace answered for you, making her cackle.

“First Seven, now this,” you said, teeth clenched. “What happened to sweet baby Jungkook?”

Sunny’s laugh sounded through your phone once more, triggering the pitter patter of little footsteps to come barreling into the bathroom door. “Honey, you’re funny, you know who changed that man.”

Your smile grew, shaking your head because you knew damn well who changed that man. Glancing to your right down at the floor, a two year old in pastel yellow footed pajamas was watching you, holding onto the doorframe with her little hands. There were messy pigtails in her hair, black as night, the skinny rubber bands slipping out after a good night's sleep. Eyes wide, the ghost of a smile on her face, she knew who you were talking to. 

“Hi,” you said to her, and she giggled, her cheeks squishing her eyes like her fathers would.

“Dae?!” Sunny called, lurching forward in her seat. She excused herself from the table and hurried into whoever’s house she was at, walking into a hallway grander than your own. Your daughter’s lips parted, curiosity written all over the face she stole from your husband. 

“Who is it?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the toddler as she walked toward you, wrapping her arms around one of your legs.

“Where’s my girl?” Sunny’s tone was eager, all she could see was the top of your head. Crouching down to pick Dae up, you propped her on your hip and grinned as Sunny gasped. “Hello, beautiful!”

Dae smiled, looking down at the phone, then looked at you, putting a finger between her little teeth.

“Say hi to Sunny,” you nodded, brushing leftover crumbs from breakfast off of her pajamas. “Tell her you haven’t brushed your hair yet today.” Another dramatic gasp came out of the phone, catching Dae’s attention.

“Baby, you tell your mother I blame her for that.” Sunny clicked her tongue. “You can’t even reach your hairbrush, it is not your fault.” She squinted at the screen. “She had those rubber bands yesterday, Honey, get them out!”

Dae was laughing, Sunny’s silly tone making her giggle in your arms, subsequently making you giggle along with her. “Dae,” you said softly after a breath, your daughter pointing her gaze at you. “Tell Sunny we’ve been really busy.” Your Californiacated best friend froze, her sculpted eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“Busy,” Dae said, copying you, her listening ears on full alert. Her little voice soft, smooth, the words broken as she tried to pronounce everything correctly.

“I’ve been gone for two weeks,” Sunny deadpanned. “How busy can you be?”

A laugh escaped you, Dae smiling back at you.

“Hey,” Sunny whined, “I’m over here, girl party, I want in on the secret,” she glanced around the room she was in, “I’m alone, promise.”

Your girl threw her arms around your shoulders, burying her head into your chest. Taking a look at Sunny, you laughed again at how smushed she looked on the screen, like she was trying to push her way through. Tapping your daughters back a few times where you held her, she perked up, still wearing a smile.

“Do you want to show Sunny?” you sighed, the nerves spiraling out of control.

“Show Sunny,” Dae said, drumming her hands on your shoulder.

“Show me what?!” Sunny cried from the phone.

A sudden deep breath shot through you. Dae, studying your form, placed a hand on your cheek, getting you to look over at her. You’ve seen the sparkle in her eyes elsewhere, in someone you’ve been without for a few weeks now. Someone you both had to say goodbye to, a day you wished to never have to relive.

She was half his, Dae was. Half Yoongi. A part of him you could still hold onto during these long months he’d be gone. It was never certain when you’d get to see him again throughout his service, but you held onto to hope that it was sometime soon. Especially now.

“I love you,” you whispered to your baby.

Dae, without missing a beat, whispered, “I love you.”

~ november 4th 2023 ~

Music played throughout the room soft enough to still be able to hear the person next to you speaking, yet loud enough to keep conversations private. Dressed in all black, flowing pants and a long sleeved bodysuit, you walked throughout the room with your chin held high, eyes searching the place for a familiar face. You’d come with Sunny, but she was stolen away from you the second you stepped in the door.

The night was alive, this venue buzzing with excitement and happy vibes as people who were both close friends or acquaintances of Jungkook came together to celebrate his brand new album, Golden. After listening to him, and watching him work on this project for ages, it meant so much to be able to be a part of this night. He was the last one to put out any solo music, meaning this was a celebration for the end of an era, and you were not ready for the start of the next one.

The one where you’d have to do life without any one of the seven boys around.

Greeting a few familiar faces, and a few new ones who just started to pay attention to you this year because of what went down in February, you moved throughout the room with a sprinkle of attention on you. During Yoongi’s tour that you were very much involved with, your daughter included, your entrance into the media world exploded. After February and the announcement, of course word of his family spread like wildfire, but the tour brought it all to life.

Now that he was gone the people who spoke to you tonight gave you the sympathetic half smile and nod, asking you how you and Dae were holding up without him. To each and everyone of them, you’d grin and shrug, letting them know this was no different than him being on tour, or him going away for work. Time spent a part was the story of your life. Especially after the last three years with your daughter.

Though, you weren’t going to lie, this go around the time a part was rough. You aren’t able to call him whenever you please, nor was he able to jump on a plane, or get in a car and come home to you whenever he felt like he needed just twenty minutes of your time. He truly was absent, and it sucked. Your two year old didn’t understand it, though she was used to her father being away. That much she got, but when it came down to not being able to see him through a phone screen as often as she pleased, she became a pouty mess.

Within the last month Dae has definitely become more clingy than you’d have wanted, but you knew that was just because she was having some big feelings that she didn’t understand yet. Both you and Yoongi prayed that this wouldn’t have a large impact on her and her development as she got older, her father being gone for such a chunk of time in her early years of life. You made it a point to talk about him every single day, play his videos, play voicemails he left you in preparation for this, listen to his music, and show her pictures of them together.

It wasn’t a worry she’d forget about him, it was a worry that she’d forget how he loved her.

The two of you had just watched a video of him talking to her before you left the house to come to the party, the clip leaving you in tears. He was in his office sitting in the leather chair at his desk, his hair messy over his forehead and his eyes tired. The weeks before he left were brutal for you both. He spoke to her with intention, repeating on and on how much he loved her, and how much he missed her, that he was proud of her and that she would see him very soon.

He tried his hardest to not shed a tear, but it happened anyway, and in true Yoongi fashion he laughed it off. After speaking to Dae he turned his words to you, knowing you’d be watching with her. He didn’t do this every time, he left other things just for you, so it was a complete surprise. As expected, your husband declaring his love for you, in front of your daughter, left you in tears.

But, the story of your life, right?

Smoothing your hands over your middle, smiling at a group of girls walking past you who had bowed their heads, you approached the bar, finding exactly who you were looking for. The boy dressed in all white towered over you, the view of his back from behind unbelievable. He stood next to Namjoon who was just as tall as him, but not nearly as wide. The maknae passed him a while ago.

Pushing between both of them, just below their shoulders, a smile pulled at your lips as they stepped away from you, then gasped once they realized it was you.

“Honey!” Namjoon cheered, slinging an arm around your back to give you a hug. Throwing both of your arms around his broad shoulders, you pulled him close and squeezed him, standing on your tiptoes.

“Hi,” you said quietly, pecking a quick kiss to his cheek. “Missed you guys,” you sighed, turning to Jungkook who waited patiently for his hug. “You’re all too busy now.” You barely had your arms around him before Jungkook was lifting you off the floor, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Kook!” you giggled. “Put me down, I’m fragile!”

“Fragile,” he laughed, following directions, making sure you were balanced in your black boots before he let go of you. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he smiled at you, one that was all too big.

“Me too,” you returned the smile and snatched his hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“How’s the baby?” Namjoon asked, leaning against the bar with an elbow. Whirling around, you shot him a wide eyed look. “Dae?” His smile relieved almost every nerve that sparked in your heart.

“Dae,” you breathed. “She’s amazing.” The boys smiled, always happy to hear you speak of your daughter. “She’s… doing her best right now. We both are. She misses him.”

Namjoon pursed his lips and gave you the sympathetic nod so many other people have already given you. “Understandable,” he said. “It’s tough.”

“It is,” you shrugged. “But, we knew it was coming, so I’m… somewhat alright. It’s just hard to try to explain it to a two year old.”

A bartender sped by the back of the bar to refill glasses with Golden etched on them, placing down new ones for those who had just shown up, you included. Champagne bubbled in the glass that you were definitely heading home with. Jungkook grabbed two, holding one out for you to take.

“We’re not sad today,” he grinned. Glancing at the glass, you gulped and looked up at him.

“I’m not gonna drink, Kook,” you said quietly. Namjoon, already downing half his glass, perked a brow.

Jungkook nodded and turned toward the bar to place the glass down, but then froze, facing you without doing so. “Wait, hang on,” he said. “Where’s she at?” His eyes narrowed.

“Sunny?” you questioned. “Somewhere around here, I think-”

“No,” he cut you off, grilling you with his gaze. “Dae.”

A nervous laugh escaped you. “Kook, she’s not here.”

“Liar, where is she?” He did a once over of the room, his hardened gaze falling upon you again.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “She’s at home, probably begging Branson to play that god awful song you made about ejaculating on someone's face.” Behind you Namjoon lost his mind, nearly spitting out his drink. You shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re not off the hook Mr. Smoke Sprite.”

Jungkook would have laughed if his jaw hadn’t fallen open in shock, a big ol’ smile behind it all. “She doesn’t like that song.” His whisper was laced with disappointment, eyebrows twisting into a knot in the center of his forehead.

Thinning out your lips, you nodded. “Loves it, Jungkook. She loves it.”

“Oh no,” he groaned, rolling his head back, taking a gulp of champagne. “Don’t let her listen to it, not my girl.”

“Now, whenever you feel like making a song like that ever again, you think about her,” you started to smile, knowing your words would make an impact. “You want someone to treat her like that when she’s all grown up?”

He scrunched his nose and pouted at you. “No,” he mumbled.

“Exactly,” you nodded once and took the champagne glass from him, taking a sip before stopping dead in your tracks. Processing your situation, Namjoon and Jungkook sandwiching you at the crowded bar, there really was no way for you to be sneaky about this. With the glass in your hand, you sideyed them both, a mouthful of champagne marinating on your tongue. Closing your eyes, you took a breath and accepted your fate, a stream of champagne falling from your lips back into the glass in your hands.

“I knew it,” Namjoon muttered. You could hear the smugness written all over his face. You gave him the quickest look without giving anything away, and turned to Jungkook whose face was screwed up, completely confused.

“Just drink it, Hon,” he laughed. “Dae’s home, you’re here to be you, you don’t have to worry about…” Voice trailing off, he paused and eyed you curiously. Then it all seemed to click at once. “Are you lying?” Testing the waters, he held in his jitters, but you could see it all building up beneath the surface. “You’re ly- Shit, no you wouldn’t do that… You’re… Honey, you swear?” 

Taking a long deep breath, you placed your glass on the bar and shrugged your shoulders. He exhaled heavily, a single laugh coming out with it. He held his arms out at his sides, putting his own glass down, trying to gauge how you were feeling by your body language. Namjoons eyes flickered between the two of you, allowing you your moment before he stepped in.

“It’s, like… brand new. Really brand new,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Sunny knows, but that’s it. I’m not trying to… get anyones hopes up.” Speaking carefully, like you were warning them, Namjoon was the only one to nod in respect for what you had said. Jungkook understood of course, but his heart always got the best of him first. “I found out three weeks ago, I’m barely two months in.”

“Holy shit,” Jungkook whispered, pulling you into his arms. He shared a look with Namjoon, one you thankfully couldn’t see, a slightly worried one. Laying your head on his chest, the chains he wore cold against your cheek, you closed your eyes and let his hands on your back soothe some of the anxiety you’d been feeling since you saw the two little lines in your bathroom back in October. “I’m so happy for you, Honey.”

“Thanks, Kookie,” you said, painting a smile on your lips. “I haven’t been able to say the words yet,” you admitted, pulling back from him. Hugging Namjoon who congratulated you quietly, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Thirty years old and I can’t say the words.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon said, embodying the word empathy.

Letting his calm, peaceful aura bleed into yours, you bobbed your head. “It is okay,” you repeated, not allowing you to gaslight yourself. Averting your gaze to the bar you shrugged your shoulders once more. “I just hope I have the courage to say them to him.” The boys were quiet, focused on you, listening intently. “It’s a shitty time for this to happen, I think, but not in the sense that… Well, you know what I mean?”

“Course,” Jungkook said, brows pointed.

“It’s just with Dae already having a hard time, Yoongi having a hard time, me, myself having a hard time,” you paused to collect your thoughts, squinting down at the wood. “What we just went through not even a year ago? I am just freaked the absolute fuck out that I’m going to go through it alone this time.”

“You can’t do that to yourself,” Namjoon spoke with ease. “Don’t add any more stress onto this. Timing may not be ideal, but it never was for you guys. If anything… this is right on point.”

“Shit, Joon.” The words tumbled from your lips in an exasperated burst. Throwing your arms back around him, you held him tight. All it took were two simple sentences to almost flip your mentality completely. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I was totally thinking the same thing, by the way,” Jungkook said, making you smile. Turning toward him, he had his arms open waiting for you to jump back into them. Falling right into the trap, you pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you guys,” you said, grabbing both of them by the arm, giving them a small shake. “Keep it a secret, yeah? No telling boyfriends.” You narrowed your eyes and pointed at them playfully. 

Namjoon lowered his head with a chuckle and raised his glass in promise. Jungkook rolled his eyes and took a large gulp from his glass. “What boyfriend?” 

“Oh, come on,” you sang, tilting your head to the side. Jungkook settled his gaze on the party, eyes scanning the room with, you now notice, anticipation. “Kookie, don't do that to yourself.”

After another swig of his drink he twisted around to face the bar and smirked. “Promise I’m not a masochist… Even though he’s already got a song.”

“Hon-naaay!” Jimin’s high pitched, full of energy, singsongy voice flooded the air. Jungkook shot you a look over his shoulder as you pouted your lips at the same time.

Shooting your best smile at a now blonde Jimin you opened your arms, ready for him to fall into them dramatically as he would, but he stopped short. His own smile faded on his lips, to something soft while he looked you over, and it was like you could see the gears turning in his head. He held a glass of champagne in a Golden glass in one hand and the other found sanctuary on his hip.

“Hi, pretty,” you said in a voice you would use while talking to Dae. Jimin didn’t crack, he was honed in on you. Dropping your arms, letting them fold over your chest, you tilted your head to the side in question, though you weren’t sure you wanted, or were ready, for him to respond. 

In touch with his femininity a thousand times more than the others, the way his eyes scanned over you flipped your stomach. Jimin, like a woman, moved through his day to day like he was in touch with the moon, being guided through life by the space being without even knowing so. He made it through his days subconsciously following the twenty-eight day cycle a woman's subconsciousness was wired to.

He figured you out with one look.

Taking you in his arms tight, his head laying on top of yours, he sucked in a breath and released it with his words. “Hi, pretty.” Leaning back a bit, your lips parted to say something, but Jimin took a finger to your jaw to shut it. Then, he tapped your closed lips once and shook his head gently. He didn’t need the words.

“Taehyung not attached to you?” Namjoon asked, sipping his glass with composure, his curious eyes flickering over to Jungkook a couple times.

Jimin pulled away from you and shrugged. “He was, he probably found something better.” 

You weren’t positive, but you’re certain Jungkook mumbled, “Impossible,” under his breath.

“Sunny came with me,” you spoke up quickly to muffle anything else that would come out of the boy's mouth whether or not he had intentions of anyone hearing him. “He might be with her.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Mmm,” he hummed, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, she was hanging around Mingyu last time I passed her.” The name spewed confidently from his mouth, a subtle look of shock something you all shared, even Jungkook.

“Tell her she won’t have any luck,” Jungkook grumbled, having not turned away from the bar once. He hasn’t looked at Jimin since he arrived over here.

Swatting your hand at his shoulder with disappointment, Jimin gave him a somber look, the empath in him you knew was hurting too. Namjoon watched the scene ensue peacefully, waiting patiently for his moment to step in, if needed. They haven’t been a proper group for months, but that didn’t mean those dynamics were erased.

“Sunny is dating somebody, Kookie,” you said. “You know that. She wouldn’t ever hurt him.”

“Jin,” Jungkook said, finally turning around. “We can say his name. Jin. They may hate talking about it, but we can. Besides, he’s been away for so long now, bet she misses him. Not surprised she’d go for the biggest guy in the room.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon chimed in, his glare one you never wanted to be on the receiving end of. The rest of the youngests second glass, that you’ve been around for, went down easy.

“I’m just saying,” he laughed to himself.

Both you and Jimin watched him in shock. Words like that, implying what he was implying, have never come out of Jungkook, nor has he ever thought them up before. The implication that Sunny would be untrue to Jin, that one’s partner being away for an extended period of time meant that everyone acquired, or wanted to act upon these thoughts.

“What does that say about me?” you asked, looking up at him, remembering the days of when he was a mere few inches taller than you.

“What are you talking about?” he shrugged sloppily. You could feel Jimin’s gaze watching you.

“I’ve spent more time away from Yoongi our entire relationship than Sunny has from Jin in the last year or so,” you said. “And I’m about to do it for another two-ish years.” Jungkook was silent. “In fact, until Jin comes back next summer, I’ll be without all of you. So, pick someone for me, Jungkook.” The boy didn’t move. “If we’re comparing sizes, who’ve you got?” A quick glance at Jimin. “Taemin?” A quick glance at Jungkook. “Jay?”

“From Enhypen?” Namjoon chimed in again. Cringing, you looked at him for a second.

“He’s a baby, nevermind,” you muttered.

“He’s also like, six feet tall,” Namjoon chuckled.

“Oh, I know,” you tapped Jungkook’s white jacket, “Your Seventeen boy can hook me up, it’s Jeonghan right? Always has longer hair? Think he’ll be into me?” Jimin held in a laugh, turning to keep it hidden. Jungkook sighed. “I’m married, I got one kid and another on the way, let’s see how well he plays daddy, huh?” 

“Okay, I get it,” Jungkook breathed.

“Jeonghan’s got that broodiness about him, right Joon?” Glancing over your shoulder, the eldest in the vicinity nodded without entertaining you with a smile. “He’ll fulfill the stereotype, it’s perfect! Dae might not even notice it’s-“

“Okay!” Jungkook turned up the volume, a couple party goers looking his way as they passed by. “I’m sorry! Jesus Christ, Honey.”

Pressing your lips together you smoothed a hand over his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, leaning in toward him. “I get you’re hurting,” you said just for him to hear. “But you keep bleeding onto everybody else, and that’s not fair. I love you, but saying stuff like that will only hurt others. Imagine if Jin heard that. He’s been in love almost as long as you, Kookie.”

The way he looked at you put a knife through your heart. “How do I fix it?”

“A lot has changed in the last year and a half. Really fast, too.” Wrapping your arm around his, you held him close. “We’re all adjusting in our own way, it’s a really weird place to be in. I mean… I have to go home with Jeonghan now.” He cracked a laugh, thankfully.

“You guys would pair up nicely.”

“Kookie, hush,” you laughed, shaking his arm. “You’re both about to go through a bigger change, together. Even if you can’t be… together, at least you can be together.” You squinted, hoping any of that made sense to the twenty-six year old.

He started to nod, easing some of the tension settling within your chest. “I get it.” He looked at Jimin briefly, who had taken a spot beside Namjoon, the two whispering about who knows what, and you wonder if it’s related to what you’re talking about now. “I’ll be with him most of the time too, until we get to Hobi, so…”

Your eyes widened as his did. “Hobi,” you both groaned together, falling into giggles shortly after.

“You’re really gonna need each other if you have to deal with him,” you said. “He’s a drill sergeant in rehearsals, good luck with him in the military!” Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head with a laugh. “I only wish you guys would get to see more of Yoongi,” you said after a breath.

Jungkook met your eyes, then his gaze traveled to the party behind you, a small smile pricking on his lips. “We’ll still get to see him, Honey.”

Toying with a zipper on his jacket you shrugged and took a deep breath. “I know, but I mean… I wish he got to be with you guys the whole time. He was worried about…” Looking up at him you paused, pressed your lips together with a smile, then shook your head. “Nevermind.”

Jungkook didn’t push on the matter, instead he bobbed his head in understanding and then ushered you to turn around in his arms. “Surprise.”

If your heart had the possibility to burst into flames, it would’ve. Swelling within your chest, your heart rate skyrocketing beyond belief, you didn’t even have the means to gasp in utter shock. Frozen where you stood, Jungkook's hands slipping off your shoulders, the three falling into quiet giggles, you couldn’t process any of it.

Dressed in all black, down to the thick knitted beanie on top of his head and the sneakers on his feet, Yoongi, with Taehyung's arm linked in his, had the tiniest smile on his lips as he came toward you.

“I come bearing gifts!” Taehyung cheered, giving Yoongi a small push closer to you.

Words escaped you, your mind unable to string any letters together to say something to him. Instead, you tipped your head backward and burst into tears.

A laugh slipped past his lips. He knew that was coming. Following your lead, he waited for you, and when you opened your arms he fell right in, scooping you off the floor, burying his face in your neck. 

“Hey! Careful, she’s frag-…” Jungkook’s voice tapered off quickly, his focus landing elsewhere, his lips pursed nonchalantly.

His words barely registered with either of you. There was very little anyone could say or do in this moment that would take away from the man you held in your arms.

Back on your feet you wasted little time, wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close into a kiss, one long and entirely overdue.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

Yoongi’s gaze ate away at your face, his eyes studying you completely. “I wanted a drink,” he shrugged, and you smacked his chest with your hands, a smile corrupting you. He smirked. “Came to see my girl,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Don’t tell Jungkook.”

“He knows,” the youngest said from behind you. Yoongi laughed, and your heart was squeezed between your lungs, the beautiful sound warming your skin.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, you couldn’t believe that he was standing here in front of you, holding you, kissing you, smiling at you. It’d been a month and twelve days since you last saw him, since he held your daughter, and that thought fueled the tears that fell.

A month and twelve days has happened before, unfortunately a couple more days longer than this, but it made that reunion all the more sweeter. Of course that was before Dae, before marriage, so it didn’t cut as deep, but it was still hard. Holding onto him now, knowing your daughter was snug at home in the house you built together, unsure if whether or not he was able to come see her, you felt the need to squeeze him tighter, like your grip around him would keep him stuck here forever, and they’d never be able to take him again. 

Wiping the tears off of your cheeks with his thumbs, he kissed the tip of your nose and tried to twist you in his arms so you could both face your friends, but you wouldn’t budge. Laying your head on his chest as he tried to move, you heard him huff a laugh toward you trying to occupy the same space as him.

Your subconscious was screaming at you. The inner workings of your natural biology, your primal instincts if you will, were firing off like crazy, keeping you latched onto him. You needed him. And not in the way one would assume.

You needed his attention. You needed his care. You needed his protection, his energy, his love, his support.

Most reunions looked something like this, you and Yoongi unable to take your hands off one another, but this one was different. You were clingy, nearly shutting off your brain entirely because he was in the room and you didn’t need to do any of the thinking. The party became a distant noise to you, something you weren’t even worried about anymore, same for your friends behind you.

You felt Yoongi looking down at you, and when you tipped your chin up to meet his knowing gaze, the way you bat your eyelashes had him whisking you away to someplace quiet, a different room vacant of all people. He found a couch in the dimly lit room, a sitting area formed in front of a smaller, empty bar. Sitting you beside him, he smiled as you tried to crawl into his lap.

“Hi,” he whispered in the quiet, brushing his fingers over your cheek. Your arms found their way around his neck again.

Your gaze danced about his face, taking in every inch, every little imperfection, memorizing more so than you already have. “Hi,” you whispered back. The two of you watched one another for a minute, the music from the main party room thumping against the walls, laughter and happy chatter ringing just below it. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said without missing a beat. “Dae’s not here, right?”

Gulping, you nodded. “She’s at home,” you mumbled. “Can you come see her?”

Yoongi flattened his lips. “I dunno.”

Your grip around him tightened. “S’okay,” you tried to smile. “She asks for you everyday.” Tears welled in his eyes, ones he blinked away. “When we’re not listening to 3D she asks for your songs.”

“3D,” Yoongi groaned, rolling his head back against your arms. “Still?”

“Still,” you deadpanned, and once he caught a look at you, you both broke into a laugh. “I gave him a talk, don’t worry.”

Yoongi sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing gets through his head now, Park scrambled it all up.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “They’ll be okay, though. I hope.”

Yoongi’s nod was solemn before he drug a finger beneath your jaw. “How ‘bout you? You okay?” The bad electricity sparkled in your veins, enough of a twinge to make you shift on his lap.

“I’m okay,” you said without an ounce of confidence. His smile was slick, his fingers dragging down the side of your neck now.

“Why you gonna lie?”

“I’m not,” your half shrug didn’t convince him.

Narrowing his eyes, his gaze somehow softened at the same time. “Honey,” he crooned, his voice like velvet. “Talk to me.”

“I’m…” You were hesitant, cutting yourself short right when the words were about to tumble out of you full force. He waited patiently. Swallowing the lump that lodged in your throat, hoping to ease the nausea that started to fester within you, you nodded, small, and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

His expression didn’t change, didn’t falter, didn’t exhibit any signs of any other emotion other than patience. He only managed to whisper, “Yes you are.”

Your brows plummeted. “Who opened their mouth?”

Yoongi massaged the back of your neck with his fingers, sighing. “No one, Honey, it’s just…” he glanced between you, gesturing to how close you were to him. “You only get like this when you’re carrying one of my kids.”

Blinking, you purse your lips. “Do not.”

He laughed, bobbing his head. “Do to, it’s happened twice before.”

The words turned your skin to ice, Yoongi taking note of the utter fear that washed over you. Sliding his hand over the back of your head, he laid you on his shoulder, pressing his cheek to your forehead, taking a long deep breath. For a few minutes you both relished in the quiet, admiring the party from afar, the touch of one another enough to clearly communicate what you were both feeling.

Nobody knew what had happened in detail aside from Sunny and the boys. Branson knew bits and pieces, he was around for that week, helping to take care of Dae and the house if nobody else was able to. Not one of them talked about it. Even if you were to bring it up somehow, they didn’t linger on the topic long. It was for you and Yoongi to discuss, to share, to have. He was your son, you were the only two to ever know him.

“You don’t wanna know what I’ve thought about already,” you said. Yoongi gave your head a gentle scratch.

“Probably the same things I’m thinking right now,” he whispered. Looking up at him, his face still radiated patience, a calmness that radiated to you, though you could see the worries spinning inside his head. Curious about it all, you know you might not need to hear it. The one thought that gutted you both… He wouldn’t be here this time. “Mother fucker,” he mumbled, shifting his focus to you.

“Let me hear it,” you said.

“No, it’s just…” He collected his thoughts for a second, a laugh escaping him. “How is it this possible that we’ve got such… exquisite timing?!” He started to make you laugh. “You’d think by thirty we’d have it figured out, right? What’s wrong with us, babe!” Giggles galore. “At twenty-seven, the proposal planned, did it happen? Nope! Global pandemic and major surgery. Twenty-eight, my third album almost done, your projects lined up waiting for you, did they happen? Nope! We had a baby instead. Twenty-nine… You somehow say yes to marrying me. I think, finally, we’ll plan the wedding of your dreams. Did it happen?”

“Yes,” you chimed in, watching him in awe. He shot you a small smile with a wink.

“Thanks for that,” he breathed. “But, then the hiatus came, and the lawyers for the restraining order, and Dae turned one, and you were pregnant again, and I knew the announcement was coming after the Busan show, and…”

“And then we got married,” you said, sitting up to hold his face between your hands, delicately dancing your thumbs over his cheeks. “Saturday, November fifth. The most perfect day that happened a year ago, tomorrow.” He smiled, his cheeks squishing in your grip. “The trees were yellow, and orange, and bright and beautiful. The breeze held off until we finally kissed, making sure our guests were warmed by the sun before Autumn made an appearance.”

“Dae pulled the bow out of her hair during our vows,” he said, and you both laughed. 

“She is her mothers daughter,” you raised your eyebrows with pride. “I warned Sunny, I really did.” His smile settled, eyes gleaming with a sappiness that tugged at your tears. “It was the most wonderful day, D. Everyone was there, even your little boy.” A sudden breath shot through you. “Then, yanno, Jin left, and we had a month or so to pull ourselves together before I was thrown to the wolves.”

“It wasn’t enough time,” he muttered, and you nodded.

“I agree,” you whispered. “But, we made it. And after Hobi left we went on tour, and fuck, D, talk about the most amazing three months.”

“That really was the best,” he grinned. “Having you both there with me, jeez.” A happy roll of his eyes made you smile back at him. 

“Dae had more fun than either of us,” you scoffed.

“She sure did,” Yoongi said. “Remember the show Hope and Jin came to?”

“Of course I do,” you said. “That was the last one.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, a longing look spreading to his eyes. Questioning him with a small sound, he smirked. “It’s just… that show, that night… I thought, this is it. Thirty years of my life and I’ve got everything I’ve always dreamed of, everything I’ve always wanted, everything I could possibly need. You, Dae, the boys, Army… You.”

The tears were falling now, you could feel them.

“After everything we’ve been through, all that life has thrown at us- no, catapulted at us,” you both shared a laugh, “Onstage, I couldn’t help but realize, and recognize… Holy shit, we made it.” He wiped your tears, kissing your cheek. “And, I don’t give a fuck, Honey, we’ll make it again. And again. And again, goddammit. Unbelievably bad, shitty, fucked up timing is who we are. Since the start. July sixteenth, twenty fifteen.”

“A New York curb,” you whispered.

Yoongi beamed. “A dangerous New York curb,” he snickered. “Making people fall in love and shit?” A laugh came out of you within a breath, only Yoongi able to make you laugh and cry at the same time.

“Namjoon said something earlier,” you sniffled, taking his hands within your own. “Like what you just said, how the timing isn’t ideal, but that’s who we are. That this is right on point.” 

Yoongi let your words sink in, let his leader's words sink in, comforting him the same way they did you. “He’s right. He’s always right.”

“Unfortunately,” you joked and he cackled. “The only thing that’s keeping me from going totally insane is knowing that by June Jin will be here. Regardless of what schedules he’ll be involved with, if any, he’ll be here. Accessible.”

“That makes me feel better, too,” he sighed, then licked his lips. “How… How far are you? Do you know? When did you find out?” The questions tumbled out of him at lightning speed, each answer you had for him getting lost between each one.

After a giggle, you said, “October eleventh, I found out. Dae was dancing around our room, she left me to do it all alone, the stinker. 3D is more important to her, I guess.” Yoongi scoffed. “I wasn’t feeling so good, thought it was just leftover nerves after you leaving, thought I was late for the same reasons, but when I checked I was really late, so I took the test just to be safe. There were no hopes up or anything, no nerves because I really didn’t think it’d be positive…”

Yoongi listened with intent. “Didn’t think it would be, or didn’t want it to be?” He asked you genuinely, no discomfort wrapped around the question at all.

“I kept thinking… if this is positive, then what the actual hell am I going to do?” He nodded, his hands holding you carefully. “We didn’t say what we’d do, because we didn’t think this would happen. D, we need to start putting together plans ‘cause at this point I’m starting to think you could sneeze on me and I’d get pregnant, and if timing isn’t our thing then we need to be prepared for it all.”

Swiping his thumb over your lips he smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?” Giving you the smallest kiss, he said, “We could plan out every last little detail, babe, and I can ensure you, somehow, someway, the universe would laugh in our faces. Loud.”

He was right. Even on the day of your wedding, the most planned out day of your life, things went askew. The birth of your daughter didn’t go to plan, that entire fiasco turned into a legitimate emergency. You could have every detail splayed out, even the fine writing between the lines, and life would find a way to toss the cue cards in the air, laughing as it did. 

“This is a blessing,” Yoongi said, his voice shifting to something soft. “And, entirely on time for us, as fucked as that may sound.”

“It does make sense, doesn’t it,” you agreed. Sitting here with him, reviewing your lives, this brand new little one seemed to fit right into the insanity. The tiniest spark of hope ignited inside of you, one that you were nervous to share with your husband, but you were certain that he could feel it too. 

You both wanted a second child, you wanted Dae to have a sibling, a sister or a brother. The two of you realized during your first pregnancy and throughout Dae’s first year of life that you wanted multiple, more than two. However, after the last year you were content with just one more. If there were anymore to follow, so be it, but this second one was a must.

Deep within both of you you knew that this child would be your third, and that would be something you held close to your heart for the rest of your lives, letting Dae and your future children know that they once had a brother who loved them too much that he had to find solace within the clouds, so he could watch over and protect his family.

Yoongi nodded, slowly, knowing exactly what was going through your mind. As a tear slipped down his cheek he threw his arms around you and rocked side to side, pressing a hundred kisses to your shoulder. His lips traveled up your neck, making you giggle, until they found your lips, kissing you slowly, drinking this moment up, the both of you wishing you could drown in it. 

“An August baby,” Yoongi whispered, pulling from you with a breath. You smiled.

“An August baby,” you repeated. “The end of summer’s gonna get real busy for us.” Yoongi’s smile grew, it grew so big he had to laugh.

“Oh my god,” he exhaled, his words barely audible. He kissed you, and then he kissed you again. “I love you so much.”

Letting your hand fall down to his left shoulder, you gave him the gentlest squeeze, and smiled. “I love you too, D.”

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[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 95, Part 2

The third time’s the charm when Anchovystrike goes to see Weevilsight in the medicine den.

[Image ID: Anchovystrike approaches Weevilsight and Elmsprout from the back, calling "Weevil? Are you busy?" Under Anchovystrike, it says + MATE: WEEVILSIGHT. Under Weevilsight, it says + MATE: ANCHOVYSTRIKE.]

Anchovystrike placed the freshly caught mouse on the fresh-kill pile, loaded with prey for the caretakers to soon turn into the sunhigh meal. The back of his jaw twinged as he let go. He hissed softly and kept his mouth shut tight. Pain rippled from his jaw in beat with his heart. He glanced toward the medicine den, where Currentsmoke helped Yarrowclaw groom the deep wound on the back of her leg; the LynxClan thieves from the moon before landed a lucky blow on Yarrowclaw's ankle, leaving a wound so deep that Anchovystrike at first feared the clerics would have to take his sister's foot off. But Yarrowclaw was not the reason Anchovystrike hesitated by the fresh-kill pile, unable to stop looking into the medicine den.

Anchovystrike gasped as his tongue glanced over his aching tooth. Sharp pain clawed at his face. He certainly couldn't help Ravenweaver and Frostpaw with their self-defense training that afternoon if his jaw was acting like this. He just had to stop acting like a kit and go in.

Anchovystrike slipped through the crowded camp, where Mitespark entertained the younger cats with a story and Lavendertwist's little group of musicians (including Splashtuft, Brightreed, and Drumtooth) practiced a song. He prayed to the Celestial of Avoiding Awkward Encounters that the molly he dreaded to talk to wasn't inside the medicine den (and that there was, in fact, a Celestial of Avoiding Awkward Encounters). Still, Anchovystrike knew as he passed his littermates that he wouldn't be so lucky.

Elmsprout and Weevilsight were cleaning out Downstar's nest. No one felt comfortable touching it until a few days after the vigil, when Oilstar pointed out that Downstar wouldn't appreciate the smell of her own death polluting the medicine den. As such, Elmsprout and Weevilsight deconstructed the moss, leather, and feathers that formed Downstar's death-nest. They placed the moss and feathers into one basket, likely to be thrown away, and threw the leather into another for the caretakers to wash. Neither noticed Anchovystrike step inside. Oh StarClan, was he going to have to call himself out?

"Weevil?" Anchovystrike gulped. "Are you busy?" Elmsprout looked up first as Weevilsight moved another piece of leather.

"Hello, Anchovystrike," Elmsprout hummed. "If you give us a few moments, I can get out of your fur."

"It's nothing serious!" Anchovystrike insisted as Weevilsight turned to him. In his eyes, Weevilsight's pelt glistened like Silverpelt itself. Where it made Wolfgaze seem powerful and far more confident than she actually was, it just made Weevilsight all the more beautiful. Anchovystrike almost forgot why he came into the den until another ripple of pain erupted from his tooth. He flinched, hissing, "I think I have a toothache."

"Did it just start?" Weevilsight asked, abandoning her task.

"It started to hurt yesterday," Anchovystrike explained through gritted teeth. "I thought it would go away overnight, but it didn't. It's on the bottom left, far in the back." Anchovystrike opened his mouth wide. Weevilsight peered into his glistening jaws.

"Have you been using chew sticks?" Weevilsight asked.

"When I remember," Anchovystrike chuckled awkwardly as Weevilsight's nose nearly entered his mouth.

"Well they haven't been getting to the back of your mouth," Weevilsight huffed. "This time of year, I would give you speckled alder bark, but we haven't been able to get any from SlugClan with the recent tension. The best way to fix this is salt water. You're going to want to head to the coast and get a lot of water in your mouth, but don't drink it. Just let it sit there for a while and then spit it out. If you do that for a while, it can get all the gunk I see back there."

"Thanks," Anchovystrike purred, "but do you have anything for the pain?"

"I have some cow parsnip root," Weevilsight explained, moving to the medicine stores. "What we can do for initial treatment is hold the root on the tooth until the current bout of pain goes away. It's a better option than white cedar gum, but you'll need to sit with the root for a bit. Do you have the time?"

"I'll take as much time as I need for this," Anchovystrike groaned. He found an empty nest near the front of the den's larger patient area and took a seat.

"I can take the baskets out, Weevilsight," Elmsprout said, slipping the basket of dirty moss over her neck. "I'm going to take these materials to the garden, and I'll come back for the leather."

"Thanks, Elmsprout," Weevilsight said politely as Elmsprout left the den. Anchovystrike might have noticed the coy look in Elmsprout's eyes were he not distracted by the pain in his mouth.

A few moments later, Weevilsight had a long, pale tan root in her mouth. She passed the root to Anchovystrike, who quickly adjusted it to sit on his stabbing tooth. The root prevented any chance of Anchovystrike saying something mouse-brained again. He settled down as Weevilsight collected a few more dirty leathers from around the den and put them in the basket.

"I saw you playing with Midnightkit during the vigil," Weevilsight said, startling Anchovystrike. "I heard he's interested in being a warrior. Do you think you might want to mentor him?" Anchovystrike nodded. The young black tom had an odd sort of constantly-unaware charm about him that seemed ripe with potential. Besides, someone needed to keep him from disturbing Wildclaw in her grief. "Good. I think you two will work well together. So long as you don't avoid him for a whole moon." Weevilsight glared at Anchovystrike. Oh StarClan, Anchovystrike was in for it now.

Weevilsight sat by Anchovystrike in a huff, saying, "Yes, I know you've been avoiding me. That's why your tooth is bad, you haven't been getting any chew sticks from us! I'm not a kit, Anchovy, I can tell you don't know what to say to me." Anchovystrike stared at the root protruding from his mouth. "Really, who do you take me for? You're my best friend. I'm not mad that you asked me to be your mate. A lot's happened lately." Anchovystrike wanted to melt through the ground. "Stars forbid I want something to stay the same while my whole life is collapsing."

"Sorry," Anchovystrike said through the root.

"Don't be sorry for asking," Weevilsight snapped. "Be sorry that you ignored me. Don't tell me I can't be your friend if I'm not your mate."

"No!" Anchovystrike gasped. He nearly choked on his cow parsnip root.

"Can you just…" Weevilsight sighed, sinking to Anchovystrike's level, "not ignore me anymore? This feel like a mouse-brained thing to argue about." Anchovystrike enthusiatically nodded. "Good. Now I need to go see Thundergale, I'll be back in a little bit and we can check your tooth." Weevilsight licked Anchovystrike's ear and stood with a big stretch. Just as Anchovystrike laid his head back down and Weevilsight neared the exit, she paused. The tortoiseshell cleric turned around and said, "When your tooth's better, we can go out of camp for a bit if you want. In a… mate-like way."

Anchovystrike held back his yowl of victory until Weevilsight left. The whole camp still heard him, though.

(Anchovystrike: 30, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Elmsprout: 62, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

(Weevilsight: 30, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

Gingerpaw enthusiastically declares that Stormjump is expecting Honeybuzz’s kits.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Sandhollow, and Yellowburst gather around Stormjump. Yellowburst says, "Yes! Thundergale owes me five patrols!" Under Stormjump, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT. Under Yellowburst, it says - CONDITION: BITE WOUND. In the foreground, Gingerpaw says to Estherfern, "See, Estherfern? I'm more than ready to graduate."]

(Gingerpaw: 11, male, cleric apprentice, charismatic, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Estherfern: 129, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 43, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Stormjump: 26, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Sandhollow: 26, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Yellowburst: 26, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)

Oilstar fights with Ospreystar at the Gathering. When she hears Ospreystar’s reasoning for raiding crabs, Oilstar begins to wonder if RippleClan needs to better leverage their access to the coast.

[Image ID: RippleClan socializes in the distance while Oilstar and Ospreystar argue on the Leader's Stone. Ospreystar says, "No Clan owned the ocean until RippleClan came along."]

(Oilstar: 99, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

When Thundergale wakes up, she cannot hear the late spring birdsong. Her hearing is completely gone.

[Image ID: Sandhollow, Wolverineheart, and Mitespark surround Thundergale. They speak, but all their text bubbles say is "??????" Under Thundergale, it says LEVEL UP! PARTIAL HEARING LOSS → DEAF.]

(Sandhollow: 26, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Thundergale: 27, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

(Wolverineheart: 27, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Mitespark: 37, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

Whiteflower becomes the Clan’s newest historian, although he seems more like a caretaker as he looks after the kits.

[Image ID: Shrewflame stands proudly behind Whiteflower, now in a long-furred sprite, as he talks with Midnightkit, Valleykit, Icekit, Pearkit, and Dovekit. Whiteflower says, "Whoever told you you have to outgrow games lied. Most of you may be apprentices next moon, but you can always play some mossball." Under Whiteflower, it says LEVEL UP! WHITEPAW → WHITEFLOWER, NERVOUS → FAITHFUL, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GREAT KITSITTER.]

(Shrewflame: 19, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Whiteflower: 12, male, historian, faithful, great kitsitter)

(Midnightkit: 4, male, kit, polite, always wandering)

(Valleykit: 4, male, kit, quiet, avid play-fighter)

(Icekit: 5, male, kit, unruly, oddly observant)

(Pearkit: 5, female, kit, quiet, moss-ball hunter)

(Dovekit: 5, male, kit, impulsive, active imagination)

It’s all Icekit can do to huddle in the darkness of the medicine den with yet another headache.

[Image ID: Icekit huddles to the side, with + PERMANENT CONDITION: PERSISTENT HEADACHES under him. Pearkit talks to Troutpool in the back. Troutpool says "Remember to be quiet for him, alright?"]

---

Icekit had a headache. Again. Pearkit didn't know a lot about the world, but she knew cats didn't have this many headaches. Puddlewhisper must have known that too, as she was deep in conversation with Troutpool while Pearkit waited outside the medicine den. Now Pearkit wasn't supposed to necessarily hear everything the pair were talking about, but it was her brother in there! She deserved to know what was wrong with him! Wherever Icekit went, Pearkit went too. And so she sat in the evening glow, ears turned to the medicine den, waiting to hear what her mother wouldn't tell her.

"I've been counting, Troutpool," Puddlewhisper huffed. "He's had to go to the medicine den almost twelve times in three moons! That isn't normal."

"Well, everyone gets headaches," Troutpool said. She hesitated as she spoke, however.

"Headaches don't make you throw up," Puddlewhisper hissed. "He gets sick every other time he has to go in here."

"I know," Troutpool sighed. "I'm not trying to dismiss you. We just don't have any answers for you. We don't know why he gets these headaches."

"I do. You remember what happened when we brought him home."

"But he was fine then. I checked him over myself."

"Maybe it's something that develops with age. I shouldn't have doubted my gut. She caused this, Troutpool." Who were they talking about?

"It's up to you if we tell them now or not. But they need to know soon if they're going to make their decision." Decision? Pearkit's fur prickled. They certainly weren't talking about apprenticeship decisions. Pearkit had the sickening suspicion she knew what they wanted her to choose.

"I just don't know what to do," Puddlewhisper sighed. "They're my kits now, Troutpool. Maybe even more-so than Nimblestep."

"I know, I know. We should let Icekit sleep, though. Sleep is the best medicine for a headache." Oh StarClan, they were coming out! Pearkit ran back to the nursery. She tumbled into a sloppy loaf in front of the den as Puddlewhisper and Troutpool stepped out. She pretended to only just notice them as they headed for her. She prayed she was convincing. She didn't need to get in trouble so close to her apprenticeship!

"Icekit is going to sleep in the medicine den tonight," Puddlewhisper explained, running her tail over Pearkit's back. "He'll be back with us tomorrow. Let's go to sleep, alright?"

"I actually want to check on Icekit," Pearkit stammered as Puddlewhisper entered the nursery. "Just for a little bit! He seemed really miserable."

"Your brother's sleeping," Troutpool explained. "You both need to rest."

"How can I rest if I don't see him?" Pearkit huffed. Puddlewhisper peeked back out of the den.

"You can go see him, Pearkit," Puddlewhisper sighed. "If his head hurts too much, though, leave."

"I will," Pearkit said politely, already on her paws.

"Remember to be quiet for him, alright?" Troutpool asked. She waved her tail toward the medicine den, giving Pearkit full permission to see her brother. Pearkit ran past Troutpool and into the dark den.

Yarrowclaw was inside, nibbling at the bandage around her leg, but she seemed preoccupied with her task. Icekit's nest was far in the back, in the darkest corner the clerics could manage. Icekit's head hid under the moss and leather of his nest, blocking out painful light. Pearkit crept around Yarrowclaw and toward her brother.

"Icekit?" Pearkit whispered. "Are you awake?" Icekit groaned and shuffled out of his hidey-hole. The fuzzy fur around his face, only just moving into an adult coat, was scuffled and messy.

"I never fell asleep," Icekit whined. "My head hurts too much."

"I'm sorry," Pearkit said. "Troutpool says you'll feel better soon." Icekit bristled. His blood-shot eyes glared at nothing.

"She was talking with Mom," Icekit growled. "They said things we weren't supposed to know."

"I heard a bit of it," Pearkit whispered. She joined Icekit in his nest. "What sort of decision are they talking about?"

"They want us to choose where we live," Icekit huffed. "We can stay here with Mom or go to SlugClan with… our real mom. And Quickkit." Pearkit felt cold. She remembered cowering just a few tail-lengths away as SlugClan stormed the camp, determined to steal the two kits into unknown territory with unknown kin. She and Icekit heard the mediators whisper to each other about "visitation" and "the rights of the mother", but Pearkit barely understood it.

"What do you think Quickkit is like?" Pearkit wondered softly.

"Sandhollow called her 'spunky', whatever that means," Icekit grumbled. "Nimblestep probably treats her well." Icekit groaned, squeezing his eyes tight. He stuck his face back into the nest.

"Slushtrail told me Nimblestep was at the Gathering," Pearkit whispered, curling around her brother. "She asks about us a lot. She's probably very nice."

"Mom didn't tell us everything about how she found us," Icekit growled, voice muffled in the moss.

"Yes she did," Pearkit huffed, only half-believing herself. "Mom brought us home when Nimblestep ran off with Quickkit.

"But she could have taken all three of us!" Icekit pulled his head back into the light, even as he grimaced and groaned. "I heard them talk about it. Nimblestep didn't even touch you! She grabbed me and Quickkit. And then she dropped me! I hit my head on a tree root! That's why I have these headaches! Nimblestep did this to me!" Pearkit's thoughts faltered. That could happen?

"She didn't mean it," Pearkit finally managed to say. "Everyone says she loves us."

"She wouldn't have tried to steal us if she actually loved us," Icekit whimpered as though even his own voice caused him pain.

"I don't know," Pearkit gulped, barely breathing. "Maybe that's what moms do for kits. I want to know who Nimblestep and Quickkit are some day. Maybe they can tell us why Nimblestep saved Quickkit and…"

And not them. Pearkit couldn't make herself say that. She could barely imagine it. Puddlewhisper would die for them, she showed that when SlugClan invaded. She taught them about the warrior code, and what it meant to care for family and Clan alike. Pearkit could see that love reflected in the other mothers of RippleClan; Wildclaw, Elmsprout, even Darkkick! So if Nimblestep dropped Icekit, didn't go back for him, didn't even touch Pearkit… could they really be her kits?

"We can talk to her all we want at Gatherings," Icekit huffed. "I'm staying in RippleClan. I'm not leaving Mom."

"Then I'm not leaving either," Pearkit huffed, throwing herself on top of Icekit. Icekit hid his face while Pearkit relaxed on top of her brother. "We're both RippleClan cats, and that's it."

The pair would fall asleep like that, only discovered when Puddlewhisper tried to call Pearkit back to the nursery. She let the littermates be.

(Pearkit: 5, female, kit, quiet, moss-ball hunter)

(Puddlewhisper: 61, trans female, codekeeper, thoughtful, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Troutpool: 56, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Icekit: 5, male, kit, unruly, oddly observant)

[thisblogisaboutabook]

The Fated Truth

Azriel x Reader

Truth-Teller’s origin story. A multi-pov oneshot.

A/N: this story came to me after listening to the songs seven, vigilante shit, it’s nice to have a friend, and my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

warnings: attempted sa, language, suggestive language, parental abuse, violence, main character death

The Angel

-Ladies always rise above -

Remove the dagger from his heart.

-Ladies know what people want-

Wipe the blood from the corner of your kohl lined eyes.

-Someone sweet-

Spit on the bastard.

-Someone kind-

Swipe at the next overgrown male.

-Someone fun-

Hit your mark, swing around, drive your dagger into the brute on your six.

“Well, shit.” you think to yourself as a group of ten overgrown bats rush toward you. Siphons glowing.

The irony isn’t lost on you that yet another thing they withheld from you would contribute in damning their very existence. A female with siphons was considered absurd and absolutely out of the question, it wasn’t your place - yet this incontrolable blast of raw killing power begged to differ.

One moment those pricks were running toward you and the next, they were ashes in the wind.

Looking at the dead females around you, pure rage boils within. Your insides could be cooked at this point for all you know. Not a single feeling but uncontrollable rage.

A gasp breaks the silence. One of the females is still alive. Running to her, her eyes filled with panic, breaths rapid and shallow. You lean down and whisper to her before unsheathing your dagger and holding it up. Her eyes widen in terror but not at you - behind you. You turn to look.

“Azri-“

The blast of power hit before you could finish saying it - your mate’s name - your final breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Journal

Nine year old Y/N

“I made a new friend! His name is Azriel. He’s like me! He’s two years older than me and can’t fly but he still has his wings. I wish I still had mine, we could learn to fly together. Azriel has burn scars too but his are on his hands instead of his back like mine.

He’s really quiet but it’s okay, I talk and he listens! He has shadow powers though. I don’t think I’m supposed to say this but they’re really cute! One of them followed me home from my chores today.

I have to go now. Dad is yelling. I think he’s mad again.”

11 year old Y/N

“Father hit me again last night. I got upset and my power hiccuped. I asked him for a siphon and he locked me in the cellar for asking. I have bruises that hurt really badly but I’m okay.

Azriel saw me this morning. I tried to hide the bruises but he notices everything. I cried and he listened to me. Sometimes I think he’s the only person who sees me.”

13 year old Y/N

“One of father’s friends came over two nights ago - they were drinking. I had to refill their mugs of ale and the friend grabbed me inappropriately. Father laughed. When he left the room his friend pulled me into his lap and his hand drifted below my waist. I was scared and my power flickered, throwing me backward and flipping the chair over with him in it.

The blast broke his arm and nose. I don’t feel bad.

I tried telling father what happened but he didn’t listen. He locked me in the cellar from that night until this morning.

One of Azriel’s shadows found me and picked the lock. Father either forgot he locked me away or didn’t care because he never came to check on me or give me food. I found a canteen of water on one of the shelves though.

Azriel retrieved me as soon as his shadow notified him. He took me back to Rhysand’s Mother’s cabin and she fed me. Azriel stayed by my side as I took a bath - there were even bubbles. I’ve never had a bath with bubbles before. Azriel saw my scars peaking over my towel after I climbed out of the bath and instinctively clenched his hands. I took them in my hands and kissed them. Our scars prove our strength. He tells me mine are beautiful but his are too. All of him is.

He’s my best friend.”

15 Year Old Y/N

“I spent the day with Azriel yesterday. Sometimes we sneak away and train. He teaches me self-defense maneuvers and even some Illyrian fighting techniques. My powers have been growing a lot lately too. I am still not allowed siphons though. It’s getting harder to contain but training with Azriel serves as an outlet.

I got into a fight with father again two nights ago. He threw a knife at me. I avoided it but if it hit me, it would have landed in my chest. He called me an “ungrateful whore just like my mother.” I was told that mother died in childbirth but sometimes I wonder if it’s not true.

When he locked me in the cellar this time, I let out a blast of power. It ripped a shelf off the wall and down with it came a dusty box I’d never seen before. I opened it to find a beautiful obsidian-hilted knife and a note that said:

For my beautiful babe. May the light of truth always find you, even in the darkest places. I will always love you. -Mother.

I can’t believe it was there all of this time. It broke my heart to know that she had been locked away in the cellar too. The only thing she was able to give me. She loved me. Those words meant so much. Someday I will be reunited with her in the realm beyond and she’ll share her truth with me.

Oh I almost forgot!! Azriel snuck into my room this evening and I showed him the knife. He held me while I cried tears of joy and sadness over this gift from my mother.

He’s going to train me in wielding it.”

16 Year old Y/N

Father was away on a training exercise last night so I went to a party at Rhysand’s cabin. It was fun but Morrigan was there. She’s so beautiful and I think Azriel likes her. He looks at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky.

He’s my best friend and I have loved him for a long time but sometimes, I feel an ache in my chest. Maybe I love him as more than a friend? I left the party early and trained with my hunting knife alone at our usual spot. He didn’t come looking for me.

This morning he stopped by and we practiced together. He seemed sad for a bit but I didn’t press. He tends to prefer more physical methods of expressing his feelings. He was still sullen afterward so I brought him back to my house for tea. We laid in bed together for hours. I know it’s frowned upon but it’s never gone past holding each other. He needs touch as much as I need his listening ear.

I think I’m going to ask him to spend the night.

17 year old Y/N

Yesterday was my 17th birthday. Father didn’t pay any mind to it as always. He says it’s “a reminder of what I did to my mother.” He drank himself into oblivion which left me free to leave the house. He probably never realized I left.

Sometimes I want to tell him that I know his secret - that there was more to her death than my birth but I know better. The following blow up would be catastrophic. At this point, my power has been growing so much that I think… I think I’m more of a danger to him than he is to me.

But… something big happened. Azriel took me flying. We looked at the stars and he flew me far north to see the Aurora. It was almost as beautiful as him. I may or may not have cried tears of joy.

Az playfully kissed my tears away but then something happened - what started as friendly kisses sparked a flame within me and I… I noticed a shift in his scent too. We locked eyes and he kissed my lips. Hard, fervently, like maybe he sees me as something more. We landed in a clearing under the Aurora and kissed for hours.

I love him. I love him wholeheartedly.

18 year old Y/N

Something happened last night! Az and I have spent a lot of nights together recently. Any time father is away, he comes over and we lay in bed kissing and talking for hours until his shadows inevitably lull me to sleep. But last night, I kissed his jaw and down his neck - he grabbed my wrist and growled!! Not a scary growl but a… possessive growl. He told me that if we started this, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So…. I kept kissing him. Lower. And Lower. And, well… the rumors about wingspan are true.

We had each other over and over all night, until Cassian and Rhys came knocking on my door looking for him.

18 Year old Y/N part two:

Father has hardly been around. He’s been visiting other camps. I’m thankful for the break from him and especially thankful for the time I’ve spent with Azriel. We’ve spent countless hours entangled with each other over the past few months. My power has been stirring a lot, it’s still growing. Training hasn’t been enough so this physical outlet between Azriel and I has been a lifeline. I can’t get enough of him. He told me he loved me - and I knew this time it was different. He truly loves me and not just as his friend. He knows that I love him too.

But things have also been trying… Morrigan has visited a few times recently and he’s still so enamored by her. Honestly, I get it. But it still hurts. Sometimes I want to say something about it but I don’t want to cause problems. There’s a rumor that she slept with Cassian a couple of years ago and things have been different between Azriel and Morrigan ever since. He broods more than ever when she’s around.

Maybe I need to fuck him senseless, until all he can think about is me.

Just kidding, but seriously.

19 Year Old Y/N

“I have a secret.

A really big, life altering secret.

Azriel is my mate. I don’t know if he knows but last night - things were really passionate, when we came together, that golden thread people talk about, it just… SNAPPED for me.

Things have been really bad with father lately and there have been more wing clippings happening. My heart hurts for the girls. I used to feel sad because I never had a chance to touch the skies (until Azriel learned to fly and carried me into them) - but to have been able to fly for so many years and lose the ability. I couldn’t imagine. Those males deserve to suffer.

Father made a comment recently saying that he gave me a ‘gift’ by cutting off and burning my wings as a child. It made me furious - my power slipped. It destroyed most of our living room furniture and half our kitchen table. I could scent the fear in him when it happened. I think if he wasn’t such a coward - he would have killed me. I have hardly seen him since.”

20 Year old Y/N

“Azriel is taking me to a formal party at another camp! I can’t wait. Rhysand’s mother even made me a dress for it. It’s the most beautiful clothing I’ve ever owned. She also added a hidden sheath for my knife.

I just finished getting ready - I feel like a shooting star. I’ve never felt so… so powerful and gorgeous. My eyes are lined with kohl and my hair is braided with silvery strands woven in.

Tonight is the night I’m telling Azriel. I’m nervous, so, so nervous, but he deserves to know that we’re mates.

Morrigan will be at the party too. I really hope I’m not making a mistake by telling him tonight. I know he still cares for her so I will wait until after the party and it’s just the two of us in the sky before telling him. Maybe he’ll take me to look at the Aurora again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Survivor

The infamous Shadowsinger made his way to her - approaching slowly, trembling, two palms up in the air as if to placate her.

He knelt down to the female who cried out in a blood curdling scream of pain and fear.

“P-pl-please don’t!! Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m here. You are safe.” The Shadowsinger choked out.

She didn’t understand. Why would he kill that female? She was only trying to help.

“Y-yo-you ki-killed h-her.” She cried out right before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Shadowsinger

Devastation. Pure devastation threatened to rip Azriel to shreds. What the hell happened in a matter of hours?

He’d barely seen Y/N at the dance. She’d arrived to the party with all eyes on her. She held her head high, wearing her scars proudly. He couldn’t help but admire how she let them shine tonight. He’d walked in with his hand on her back his scarred skin to her scarred skin. It wasn’t a flaw at all, but a lovely match. They were beautiful together.

Tonight was the night he would ask her to move in with him. He was now making a small salary - enough to buy a little cabin for the two of them. It was time for her to get the hell away from her horrid father. He planned to take her to view the aurora that she loved so much - and present her with a special gift - her very own siphons. She was the strongest Illyrian female he knew - really she was stronger than any Illyrian he knew aside from maybe him, Rhys, and Cassian. She’d struggled with her power and the misogynistic Illyrian bastards in Windhaven refused to allow her or any female such a privilege.

He’d worked out a plan with Rhys, who convinced the smith that crafted the siphons that he was going to try his hand at wearing siphons one more time - claiming he had a new method of siphoning his power through them that would prevent shattering. While they both knew it was bullshit and the siphons would never work for Rhys - they would then gift them to Y/N without raising suspicion.

Mor was at the dance tonight. He had gone over to visit with her and shared his plans for tonight with her. She squealed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug, requesting a celebratory dance. They’d gone out on the dance floor for a couple of songs and when he pulled away to steal a dance with Y/N she was gone.

He’d searched the party through when a couple of males burst through the door - yelling of a female going crazy and murdering local villagers.

Az immediately vacated the party to take down the assailant - sending another partygoer to alert Rhys and Cassian who were currently bedding a set of twins in one of the suites.

He was taken back when he landed at the site of the attack. The carnage was brutal with blood coating the snowy ground, littered in dead males and females. His heart nearly stopped when he realized, at the center of it all, there she was. Y/N holding her hunting knife over a severely injured female.

Stunned by the sight, Azriel prepared to send a wave of power out and knock the knife from her hand. Right as the power readied itself for Azriel to fire, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and snap. His body jolted - a golden thread between him and the blood splattered beauty before him - the surge caused his arm to jerk and a much more powerful blast emitted from his siphons. He missed his target. For the first time in his life, he missed it. Instead of the knife, the deadly blast of power hit her.

His mate. His best friend. His equal. His eternity - ripped away in a second.

Everything after that was a blur. His only memories of those moments played on a constant reel in his head flashing images of the injured girl screaming “you killed her!!!!”, collapsing on top of Y/N’s lifeless body, screaming to the mother or any other deity that may listen - begging for her chest to rise and fall again, and then four strong hands pulling him off of her before everything went black and his brothers voice calmed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days later Azriel woke up from whatever sedation Rhys had put him in. When he woke, Cassian was by his side. It was all of a minute before the memory came flooding back.

Azriel thrashed only to find he’d been restrained.

“Brother..” Cassian said firmly.

“Brother!” he yelled

Azriel’s wrists and ankles were on fire as he thrashed. He had to get to her, had to.

Finally Azriel cried out “Y/N!!! Y/N!!!!”

“My mate! Where is she!? WHERE IS SHE!?” he screamed and cried, thrashing against the restraints with all of his might.

Everything went dark again.

“Az…..” Rhys spoke softly into his mind

Azriel didn’t have the strength to scream or yell in this space of sedation. He could only whisper “where is she?”

Silence filled the void of his mind before Rhys spoke. “She’s gone, Az.”

Devastation flooded through him, filling him completely, making that one sided bond reverberate every ounce of emotion back to him.

Rhys waited patiently, sending soothing waves of darkness into his mind. Knowing Azriel well enough to wait until he was ready to send a thought back.

“Why, Rhys? Why did she do it?”

Again, that damned silence as Rhys paused.

“If I show you now, I’ll have to keep you under for longer, Az. You’re a danger to yourself right now and this… it’s heavy, brother.”

“Do it” he gritted.

Azriel’s mind became entranced in a vision. Before him a massacre. He was seeing through the eyes of a frightened female, eyes bleary from sobbing.

A large group of males had corralled several females into a circle, some as young as five or six. The males all carried sharp objects ranging from sickles and scythes to swords and axes.

A male stepped forward - Y/N’s father - who spoke:

“Females of Illyria have not served us well in many years. They forget that their purpose is to care for us, maintain our homes, and cater to our physical needs. Instead, they insult us by wasting time and energy on training - as if our protection is not enough? Young females smuggle herbs into our camps that delay their bleed so they can fly where they please, whoring around with whomever they please. These behaviors reflect negatively on all of Illyria, leaving us to appear weak to enemies.”

And then the bloodshed began. The males ran at the females, corralling them in closer and closer. Butchering wings and brutalizing any female who dared fight back. The screaming, gods awful screaming, pierced the air.

Male screams suddenly burst out - a blast of power knocking ten of them on their asses.

And there she was, in her resplendent glory.

“Hello boys.” She smirked.

Y/N’s father stepped forward. “My traitorous daughter, and dressed like a slut too. Shall we show them what happens to women who don’t obey.”

“Oh yes, ladies, my father took my wings when I was four. He burnt the stumps too. See these scars?” She turned around briefly with a wave to her back. “Someone I love helped me realize how beautiful they are, a stark reminder of what I can overcome.”

She paused, looking to the females as she addressed her father:

“So yes, father, perhaps this is the fate of disobedient females - but allow me the honor of showing YOU the fate of males who think they can steal a females power.”

-They say looks can kill and I might try-

Her piercing eyes again met her father as she threw a hand out, sending another blast of power - a death blow - turning him to ash in the wind.

Before any of the males could react, she sent another larger blast, creating an opening near the most vulnerable of the females.

“RUN! Those of you who can fight - you may stay. Those of you who are unable - there is no shame in leaving now! Seek shelter!”

The females nodded toward a teenage girl, signaling her to gather the youngest females and ran off with them. Any males that tried stopping them were turned to ash.

“Ladies, show them who we are!” Y/N cried.

-The ladies simply had enough-

They were outnumbered, so terribly outnumbered. Some females had died before Y/N arrived - bleeding out from the butchering of their wings but the few remaining females fought bravely. Because of their lack of training, the males easily overtook many of them but Y/N led them bravely, valiantly, taking them out as best as she could.

As the female numbers lessened Y/N cried out for the females to evacuate, to seek healers. The remainder of the females fled aside from two females (one of which this visions point of view was from) who appeared to have more training than the others.

Y/N looked to them giving a knowing look seemingly saying “give them hell.” They adjusted their stances into that of the most fearsome warriors, and took on the remaining males as more and more fled in.

Y/N’s power was like nothing they’d ever seen. She took down male after male.

Before she could react, two males approached from behind taking out the other female and knocking out the vision of the female whose mind Rhys had gleaned into.

As the female blacked out, the vision faded away. Silence once again filled the air for several minutes before Azriel said:

“But.. she was holding a knife over the female. I don’t understand.”

Rhys answered in a heartbreakingly soft tone

“I can show you, brother. But this will be hard to see. Are you sure?”

Azriel replied firmly, “show me.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing. But then the vision resumed as the female regained consciousness:

Her eyes were so blurry. She was hurting terribly but managed a gasp. Around her, all of the males were dead and the bodies of their fallen sisters painted the snow red. Emotion flooded through her, she couldn’t move. As her vision cleared further, she saw her. The female who fought so bravely for them.

Y/N saw her and ran over. The blood caking her braid causing panic. The trauma of this night was too much - the blood so triggering. Y/N sensed the fear and whispered “I am here. You are safe now. Look at my eyes, not around you, not at the blood on me, just my eyes.” The female tried but couldn’t look away from the blood in her hair. “I’m going to bring my knife out and cut the braid. Do not be afraid.” Y/N once again unsheathed her knife, lifting it, when loud wings flapped in. The injured female couldn’t get words out, her only signal to Y/N, a wide eyed look of panic.

Y/N turned around - breathed out “Azri-“ just as that fatal blow of power hit her.

“STOP!” Azriel cried out in his mind. It was too much.

Azriel’s body began convulsing as a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and panic flew through him. “I KILLED HER. I KILLED HER. MY MATE. MY MATE. MY MATE.”

Rhys had no choice but to send out another wave of sedation to his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next several weeks were spent in and out of sedation. Rhysand had found that Y/N’s father had been planning the attack for months, perhaps even longer. The camp was chosen for the first attack because of the party - a distraction to lessen the chances of interference from outsiders.

He planned to carry out more attacks throughout Illyria in coming months. Had it not been for Y/N, more would have happened. Her heroic actions prevented so many more losses than just the ones that were saved that night.

Azriel stayed bedridden for months - only leaving when Cassian and Rhys nagged him enough that it wasn’t worth the energy to refuse them. One day Rhys brought in a box, inside the box, Y/N’s knife and a journal. “She would have wanted you to have this.”

Azriel’s chest broke at the sight. Her mothers knife, the knife they’d spent hundreds of hours training with. He almost refused it but it felt like a piece of her. A reminder of her goodness, of the mate he lost.

That night he laid it under his pillow - an odd comfort as he read through the journal. The journal unveiling that she knew they were mates. His heart cracked further knowing that the reason she’d stepped out that night was likely to get some air after she saw him with Morrigan. “Stupid.” His inner thoughts cried out to him. How could he have been so blind?

He lay awake for half the night as he read through her journal - he sobbed for hours until his shadows finally lulled him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

“Azriel” a soft voice whispered.

“Azriel” the lovely voice whispered again.

He was dreaming.

He tried to whisper her name but couldn’t speak.

“I don’t have much time, I need you to listen.”

He again attempted to speak but no sound came. He nodded his head.

A flash of light illuminated his mind and there she was. Somehow even more beautiful than she’d been - if that were possible. Her form illuminated with an incandescent glow, face full of light - a light that only came from insurmountable joy and happiness. And behind her, behind her were stunning golden feathered wings. An angel, his angel, stood before him… with six glowing siphons.

“Azriel, please do not cry for me. I am at peace. This was always my destiny. The lovely truth of my life was that all of the pain led me to you, I found a love, a friendship, that so few experience. Every step led me to where I am now and this afterlife is beautiful. The truth of life is that fate is inevitable.”

She waved a hand and out stepped more winged females. The females who died in the attack.

“What happened was not an accident, it was fate. You could not have changed the outcome. When you sent your power out toward me and the bond snapped, my power shot through the bond into you, reflecting back to me. You only sent out a small blast, the fatal blow came from my refracted power.”

Azriel’s eyes widened at the revelation. His heart still completely shattered but the guilt slightly lessened.

“When you sealed my fate it trapped a piece of my soul in the knife. I am forever bound to Truth-Teller. When you carry truth-teller you carry a piece of my power, of me, with you. Though, I will be with you regardless, as a part of me will always rest…” she held a delicate hand to her heart, “right here.”

His mind raced. Truth-Teller. What she’d named her knife after the truth of her mother was unveiled with it.

“I must go now, Azriel.” She waved an arm again to her fellow angels. “I am the keeper of the Mother’s gate and this is my legion. This was always my destiny - this and to love you. I will keep the bastards out and someday, someday far from now, I will hold the gate open for you.

Until then, may the truth set you free my love.”

A beautiful woman resembling Y/N stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her mother. The angels all nodded to Azriel in confirmation.

“My precious mate, I will love you for eternity.” Y/N whispered as she shot toward the sky - right into the most vibrant aurora he’d ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

500 Years Later

Azriel still thought of her every damn day, Truth-Teller never leaving his side. His North Star, the angel guiding him through life. He never told his brothers - didn’t know how to explain how that broken mating bond glowed inside him whenever his intuition failed. She’d guided him in her own way all of these years.

Leading up to the war with Hybern the tug became stronger and stronger. A warning of the strife to come.

For the first time since the night Rhys brought him her journal and Truth-Teller, she reappeared to him.

“Azriel.” Her melodic voice whispered, a sweet song serenading his soul.

“Azriel, I don’t have much time.” that honeyed voice whispered.

In the same fashion as last time, he couldn’t speak. Managing only to nod.

“I have carefully pulled the strings of fate as much as I am capable. A war is coming with a fate that I am unable to divulge. The Mother has allowed me to share just this:

“The fawn who sees carries the truth. When the time comes, you will know.”

Azriel furrowed his brows with confusion.

Y/N smiled softly, outshining any star in the sky, more captivating than the spirits of Starfall. “The truth will set you free. Do not fear loving again.”

He fought and fought, trying to speak, thrashing against the walls of his mind he was able to mutter three words to her.

“I love you.”

She placed a hand on her heart.

“I know, my love.”

Spreading those magnificent wings, she shot from his mind, the void filling with the echoes of her song.

“Until eternity reunites our souls.”

[engie-ivy]

(I wrote a 'day-after-Sirius'-birthday' fic! Totally not just me being late for Sirius' birthday. Nope, not at all. This was planned. With a very Fluffy ending, because Sirius deserves happiness for his day-after-his-birthday!)

@wolfstarmicrofic 3rd: gather

862 words

Remus is doing his semester abroad, and Sirius goes to surprise him with a visit and a confession.

At Your Doorstep

Sirius tries to gather his courage. Not for the first time, he curses James Potter's name, while simultaneously thanking his lucky stars to have someone like James Potter in his life.

Yesterday was Sirius' birthday.

His birthday plans consisted of sitting at home playing sad songs on his guitar while wallowing in self-pity. James came to visit anyway. Sirius wouldn't have blamed him if he hadn't, as Sirius hasn't exactly been fun to be around lately.

Remus left two months ago to do his semester abroad. Of course, Sirius knew he was going to miss him, but god, he hadn't expected it to be this bad! He's been a shell of his normal self, acting cranky, short-tempered and withdrawn.

James did, however, manage to pique his interest with his birthday gift: plane tickets to go see Remus.

When Sirius immediately wanted to grab the tickets, James had quickly pulled them out of reach. "Uh-uh, if you want them, you must first accept the terms and conditions."

"And what are those?"

"You can only go if you promise that when you're there, you're going to tell Remus how you feel."

The prospect of seeing Remus again was too much for Sirius to resist, so he had accepted James' terms. He had promised, solemnly sworn even, something they do not take lightly, to confess his feelings for Remus.

Sirius got on a plane yesterday, flew all night, took a cab giving the driver Remus' address, and now here he is, standing on the doorstep of some student housing appartement getting ready to put it all out there for the person he can't deny anymore he's terribly in love with.

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The door is thrown open and a lanky guy with bouncing red curls appears.

Sirius realizes this must be Fabian, Remus' roommate. Despite never having spoken with Fabian, or even having seen Fabian before, Sirius does not like Fabian. Remus talks about his new roommate just a tad too much for Sirius’ liking. 'I was having dinner with Fabian yesterday… Fabian took me to this coffeeshop the other day… Fabian and I are going to watch this movie…'

Fabian looks Sirius up and down, and then a flirtatious smile appears on his face as he leans against the doorpost. "Why, hi there. How may I help you this evening?"

"I… uhm, I'm looking for Remus?"

"Oh." Fabian visibly deflates and he straightens. "I'm sorry, Remus is unavailable today, I'm afraid."

"Unavailable?" Sirius repeats.

"Yes, he made it clear he is not to be disturbed from his utmost important task of feeling sorry for himself," Fabian says. "Apparently, his guy back home had his birthday yesterday, and when Remus didn't hear from him, he spent the day convincing himself that his crush has forgotten all about him and must have been out partying with other boys all night." Fabian rolls his eyes. "I've tried to get him out of his room, but he has opted to wallow in his misery about his unrequited crush instead."

"His…crush?" Sirius manages to say, his brain still trying to catch up.

Fabian squints his eyes and looks at him more closely. "Wait… 'tall and broad-shouldered', 'Hair the colour of the night sky falling in soft waves over his shoulders', 'bright eyes with an ever-present sparkle'..." He gasps and clasps his hand over his mouth. "Oh my god, it's you! You're Sirius Black!"

Sirius nods dumbly.

"Oh, no, no, no." Fabian hides his face in his hands and groans. Then he looks at Sirius again, pleadingly. "Please, please tell me you're here to confess your undying love for Remus, so that he isn't gonna murder me for spilling the beans?"

"Uhm, yes?"

Fabian's mood changes instantly, and a relieved grin spreads over his face. "Excellent!" He exclaims, and before Sirius can say another word he turns around and shouts "Remus! There's someone here to see you!"

Sirius hears a door open and close, some shuffling, and a moment later, Remus appears in the hallway. He's wearing pyjama pants that are too big and his most worn-out jumper with both old and new food stains, he has chocolate smears around his mouth and his hair is sticking up in all directions.

He looks perfect.

"Fab, I told you, I don't want to see anyone today. I'm-" His eyes fall upon Sirius and he immediately goes quiet, his mouth falling open.

Sirius has spent his whole flight thinking about what to say, rehearsing the words in his head, but now that Remus is looking at him, and he's looking at Remus, he's overcome with just how much he missed him. Words suddenly don't seem necessary. He rushes towards Remus, and Remus snaps out of his daze just in time to take a step towards him, before Sirius gathers him in his arms.

"What are you… How are you… Is this real?" Remus stammers, clinging to Sirius' shoulders.

"I missed you," Sirius whispers into Remus' hair. "I missed you so much. I just had to see you."

Remus lifts his head and searches Sirius' eyes, and what he finds there is really all he needs to know.

[eggcompany]

Dumb Dog Part 1

It's not Derek's fault when he's hurt he wants Stiles. He can't help the warm loose headspace the younger man pulls him into. Stiles didn't know when he found Derek in his bed after school it would lead to this. He didn't even consider it possible. He never thought he'd end up being the werewolf's personal rut toy.

Or that one day he'd be fucking into the alpha, be held so close, listening to his desperate little sounds. Life's always been like that for them though, hasn't it

Derek nearly * died *. He deserved some proper pack cuddles. But Scott was busy with Allison and Stiles kept his window unlocked. It really wasn’t his fault when he crawled through the window and spent a few hours laying in the pile of dirty laundry before stripping himself out of his dirty clothes and climbing into the soft, good smelling bed. 

~~~

Stiles came home from school, humming the tune to some song or maybe it was two songs that sounded sort of the same but it didn’t matter. At least not when he opened his bedroom door and the curtains were drawn and there was something on his bed. 

“Oh my god what the fuck is that” Stiles said out loud as he switched on his light to see what it was. He was sort of scared that it was something horrible, something that he probably shouldn’t just blast in the face with the bright ceiling light. But he didn’t need to worry. It was only Derek. 

A growling, grumbling Derek. In his bed. Under his blankets. 

“Dude why are you in my room? Actually that doesn’t surprise me that much. Why are you in my bed?” Stiles asked but flicked the light back off and dropped his back pack by his desk. He toed off his shoes and sat down on his rolly chair, looking expectantly at the lump on his bed, only black spikes of hair showing.

“Hurt” Derek grumbled and Stiles rolled his eyes waving his hand even though Derek had his face buried in the comforter. 

“And? I know you’re hurt. I pulled an arrow out of your back. Yesterday.” Stiles said in a flat way. He knew Derek was hurt. He’d yanked a poison tipped arrow out of the wolf yesterday. There had been a trap laid and Derek had fallen in, the arrows were posted like spikes, easily stabbing the wolf in the side. It had created a massive wound, having rotted away most of the flesh that surrounded it. Gruesome, to say the least. Derek huffed, tired from being awake, frustrated at why Stiles so far away and why he was still talking .  

“Wolves pack up, we heal better together. Scott would be more effective but you’re more available.” Derek explained and Stiles nodded. He was second choice for weird wolf rituals. Great. 

“So why are you in my bed?” The younger man asked again, trying to get to an actual answer. Derek huffed and sat up, face pale and sweaty, dark circles carved around his eyes. Stiles gasped a little, he couldn’t help it. Derek looked like a ghost in the dim light. 

“Fuck, I need to be close to someone to heal faster. I have a massive hole in my back and being near someone is going to get it over with faster. You can sit on the bed or get in here with me, just help me.” Derek explained and started to get more breathless. He looked… desperate. Begging almost, like a wet dog looking through the window. Stile smirked and rolled his eyes. 

“You want me to cuddle with you?” He asked, joking. Mostly. That was until Derek nodded, huffing as he laid back down exhausted from it all already. Stile just stared at him, waiting for it to be a joke. He promptly ignored the feeling in his stomach. 

The younger man just cleared his throat and turned around to his desk, pulling out his books and his laptop. 

“Uh yeah. Okay. I’m going to finish typing my essay and stuff then. Dad’s on nights this week so I’m just going to have leftover lasagna for dinner. You can have some too, uh if you want some.” Stiles said, trying to sound very very normal. Even as his stomach did weird flips. 

It worked, Derek was quiet and still and Stiles actually got most of his essay finished. It was fine. It was okay. 

Well actually, it was okay until Derek started to whimper. He was asleep, deep asleep, but twitching and whimpering, mouth twisted up like he was hurting bad. He was twisting around to lay on his side instead of his belly, knees drawing up closer to his body, shoulders jerking. 

Stiles watched him from his desk for a minute before turning back around to his laptop. But he couldn’t help but worry there was something wrong so he stood at the foot of the bed and shoved the frame a bit. 

“Dude, wake up. Are you alright?” Stiles asked before Derek was wiggling the blanket away from his face, showing his snarling face. Not hurt. Nightmare. 

Stiles shook his ankle, trying to wake him out of it. He didn’t think about how weird it was that Derek didn’t have any leg hair. 

“Derek, Derekkkk, wake up! Dude you’re having a nightmare. Wake up, c'mon dude don’t freak out on me” Stiles tried to wake him, he spoke at a regular level, scared a yell would cause Derek to wolf out. 

Derek just curled up and sobbed, eyelashes getting teary, foot jerking out of Stiles' grasp. The human rushed to stand by his head, hands flittering around, unsure whether or not to actually touch the wolf or not. 

He ended up rubbing Derek’s shoulder and oh. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt. Stiles just didn’t want to hurt him since yeah he had a huge hole in his back. Which, once the blanket was shoved off Derek’s shoulders, was starting to show. It was more healed than the last time Stiles had seen it but it was still pretty bad, angry red rimmed with black ooze staining the gauze that covered the worst of it. 

“Derek, cmon wake up. Ugh you’re a big dog. Wake up a dog… ears?” Stiles talked to himself before pushing his hand into the thick dark hair that was damp with sweat. He stroked the top of Derek’s head, which only made him twitch more but when the human finally scrubbed behind Derek’s normal ears, the wolf sighed, relaxing. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and rubbed over the creases of Derek’s ears with the pads of his fingers. The wolf’s entire body relaxed, a grumble rolling from him which Stiles took as a positive. 

“Yeah, yeah, you big mutt.” Stiles said and kept scratching the unfairly soft hair behind Derek’s ears. It was nice actually, the way Derek relaxed and fell back to calm sleep. His face was so relaxed even with the dark circles under his eyes and the sick pale that was taking over his skin, he looked beautiful. Beautiful? Handsome. A good looking guy. Yeah. Not weird to think your friend is handsome. Handsome. 

But for some reason Stiles couldn’t peel his eyes away from the way Derek’s soft looking lips were parted and the slightest glint of white teeth showed between them. The way his eyelashes were like fans cast down over his perfect cheekbones. The way his big hands were laying on the bed in front of his bare chest. Oh his chest , stiles thought as he slowly peeled the blanket down further, just a few inches. Just to get a better look at the perfectly smooth skin of Derek’s chest. So soft looking, nipples perked up once the blanket exposed them to the cooler room air. 

Stiles was dizzy. And hard. This was Derek’s fault not his.

“Are you going to maul me if I lay next to you?” Stiles asked, hoping maybe Derek was awake or would say he could leave now or something. 

He was met with nothing, of course. Just a peaceful sleeping werewolf. 

“Fine, it’s fine, whatever.” Stiles finally decided and flipped the blankets, his blankets, up on the opposite side of Derek. This was his bed. He could take an afternoon nap in his bed if he wanted to. 

“Dude… pants off and all? This is my bed.” Stiles said exasperated and stripped out of his own shirts, toeing off his socks too. He kept his own pants on, needing some extra protection over his hardon. Just in case. 

Stiles shook out his arms and tried to relax. It was his bed. Afternoon nap. With an almost naked werewolf. Almost naked, very very hot buff guy with a bulge the size of Texas in his worn out grey briefs. Don’t look at his bulge, Stiles told himself and then looked again. Derek’s briefs were snug, holding onto his thick hips and cradling his bulge in a way that made Stiles feel like he was on fire. And maybe a bit self conscious. And a little impressed, if he was honest. 

“Not my fault. Not my fault. He was in my bed first. Not my fault.” Stiles told himself as he laid down, back to Derek, and covered them both back up under the blankets. He laid perfectly still, mind trying to record everything it could. 

Derek was… warm. Snuggly too especially when he threw his arm over Stiles chest and his leg over the human’s own. Stile’s refused to move but Derek pulled them together, chest to back, head to toe touching. Like he was trying to get rid of any air between their bodies. 

Derek was heavy. And big. And warm. And his dick was actually in the crease of Stiles' ass. The wolf’s arm was fuzzy and warm and his hand was huge and rough where it cradled the side of Stiles peck, his thigh was massive, and where his scruff was against Stiles neck made him feel a shivery kind of arousal. 

Stiles was… hard. Mostly. But also nervous, especially after a few minutes Derek made a whine and twitched again. Bucking. Hips twitching. Stiles gasped but Derek was squeezing him, arm tightening, thigh shifting higher to lineup so his bulge was rubbing right between Stiles ass, hips shoving. 

Stiles was shocked for a minute before the next thrust came and he realized what he was being used for. He was thankful for keeping his jeans on. 

“Fuck… Derek. Don’t do that.” Stiles said weakly as he clung Derek’s wrist where he was holding the human close, not letting Stiles get away. 

Derek just kept going, hips shoving and thrusting, huge hard cock pressing against Stiles' ass. The rhythm was steady. Long thrusts forward and then slow drags back. It was making Stiles breathless. The heat now radiating from the wolf, the drag of thin cotton over thick denim, the wet pants that were being blown over the sensitive back of his neck. 

“Dumb dog, stupid fucking…. Derek come on” Stiles begged as the wolf’s mouth opened, hot breaths turning into the graze of sharp pearly teeth and wet tongue.

Derek let out a growl, pulling Stiles closer, teeth pressing into Stiles' skin, breaths becoming whiny sounds. His hips were shoving harder against Stiles, like he was trying to shove through the clothes to actually fuck him. Like he was desperate for just a little more. 

Which was… Stiles barely ever kissed anyone. Let along had sex. With a guy. Who was a werewolf. With a huge cock. Huge cock and obviously very powerful hips. Stiles was paling at the idea but then Derek was whimpering. 

“Please…. Please…” Derek begged, stubble rough on Stiles ears. Stiles couldn’t help the twisty feeling getting tighter in his gut. It was such a desperate begging whimper. 

“Derek” Stiles finally responded and rolled around so he was facing Derek. The wolf’s hips kept rocking toward Stiles even as his eyes opened and found Stiles' own brown ones. 

“You’re awake.” Stiles whispered, he would be mad if Derek wasn’t grinding their crotches together. Derek just whined, eyes all big and full of need. 

“Let me. Let me play mate you. Please? It helps. I’ll make you cum too.” Derek asked and his shaky hands pulled at Stiles' jeans waistband. Stiles was staring at him in shock. What? His brain was on half speed but he didn’t just…

“What?” Stiles asked confused and Derek let out a whine, pushing his face to Stiles to just nuzzle at his lips and cheek. Stiles' eyes fluttered as the soft graze of Derek’s lips ghosted across his own as he rubbed their faces together. The wolf spoke into the soft space under Stiles' ear. 

“Play mating… won’t mate you. Just… rubbing. Skin to skin with you, I’m hurt, don’t know what I’m saying. Just let me please Stiles” Derek begged and pushed his forehead against Stiles, big eyes all full of puppy want. It wasn’t fair. 

Stiles swallowed and nodded, rolling back over so they were spooned together. 

“Fine but when you’re sober I’m blaming you for this. Don’t kiss me. Underwear stays on.” Stiles decided and unbuttoned his jeans, wiggling them under his butt. He felt Derek’s smile as he shoved his face into Stiles' soft half grown out hair. 

“Thank you, thank you, so nice, thank you” Derek said happily and fished his hard cock out of his briefs, spending no time shoving between Stiles' thighs, moaning at the tight soft relief on himself. Stiles was in awe as he looked down and could see the tip of Derek’s cock. 

Derek was in a hurry, head all blurry and off kilter. He quickly fucked into the precum slicked passage of Stiles' thighs, chasing the good feeling that was getting more and more overwhelming. Stiles bit one of his own hands, trying not to let any embarrassing noises out while his other hand held onto Derek’s forearms where it was holding across his chest again. 

Stiles was so close, even without touching himself. Derek was making short ‘ hah, hah, hah’ sounds followed by long whines. The entire bed moved with each of the wolf’s thrusts, the way he pulled his hips back until just his tip was trapped between Stiles' legs before slamming back forward. The feeling of such a big burning hot cock rubbing across the underside of his own cock and balls was enough to have Stiles' gasping. 

He was tensing his thighs, trying to keep from cumming when Derek yelled out. Short, higher pitch than  what Stiles would have expected, and matched with arms squeezing the air out of Stiles.  It only took Stiles being able to breathe again to realize the wetness between his legs. 

“Done?” Stiles asked, trying to act cool as he reached down to his own dick, giving the base a good squeeze. Derek hummed, nuzzling into the human’s hair and body slowly relaxing, like he was melting. Stiles felt relieved and started to stroke himself, short and quick, he was covered in precum already. He was nearly there, feeling himself toeing the line as a rough palm covered his hand. 

“Let me” Is all Derek said, sleepily but his hand was sure and heavy. Stiles took his own hand away to cover his mouth. Derek pumped him quickly, grip a little loose, but enough so Stiles was moaning out after a few strokes. After spilling across the bed, Stiles felt the need to get up, to say something to clear the air. But Derek just hummed and grabbed Stiles' hip, hand wet. 

He was fast asleep before Stiles could even get a word out. 

Stiles laid there, trying to get it through his mind that what they just did was kinda sex. And kinda amazing. And he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time Derek ended up rutting against him. 

Next Chapter ->

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

The Taming of Man: chapter Fifteen - Dragon Shifting!Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

So, I took a wee little break from writing this week, but I think I still managed to get this out close to the schedule. Sorry if I kept you waiting :/ anyway, enjoy my wifeys!

Words: 2,747

This is incredibly based on the song The Willow Maid by Erutan, I highly recommend giving it a listen for the best experience.

Warnings: Cursing, reader is She/Her and is AFAB, Talk of ovulation, sexual themes, Katsuki is down bad

A tree, big and strong. A Woman, made of golden light. A Man, made of fire. Water is babbling in the background. A heavy bang. People are yelling. The woman is sobbing. She crumples to the ground, her light is fading, her features slowly coming into focus...

You wake with a start, gasping for air as you sit straight up.

Morning light was filtering in through the window, dappling the stone floor with hot light. Everything is normal, not a thing out of place.

Katsuki's arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you to him moments prior, until your actions cause him to stir and allow the heavy limb to drop into your lap. "Whaizit..." he grumbles, rubbing his eyes as he sits up with you, his other hand immediately going to rub your arm and comfort you.

"Nothing..." you sigh, blinking slowly and twisting a little to face him. "Just...had a bad dream..."

"Yeah..." he nods, as if he already knew, his lips pressed together slightly as he looks you up and down. The hand on your arm slides to hold your fingers, his thumb tracing light circles on your palm. "lay back down," he orders groggily, laying down himself and expecting you to follow.

"I'm not tired...what time is it?" You slept horribly the night before, so to be able to sleep so well (besides the nightmare) tonight was a pleasant surprise.

"One," he answers, glancing to the clock on the wall. He was too drowsy to make fun of you for not noticing the clock by yourself.

"In the afternoon? Do you normally get up around this time?" you cocked your head to the side a little, looking down at him with confusion. You've always deemed him a morning person, especially since he woke up only an hour or two after you yesterday.

You'd be right too, but today was different. "I don't have classes today," he shrugged. That wasn't all, you could tell by the way he said it...but it wasn't worth pestering him about. "Just lay back down already," he commands, tugging on your waist with his muscled arm.

"Shouldn't we be up...I dunno, doing someth..." you look at him, and he glares up at you. This continues for a beat, before it clicks. He wants to cuddle. That's it, just cuddle.

You chuckle and lay back down, allowing him to shift the two of you as he pleases. You end with your back to him, one of his arms beneath your head, the other hand on your hip, and his face buried in your hair. You heard him take a deep breath in, before he sighed and got in a little closer, right next to your ear.

"What'd you put in your shampoo...before you came here," he asked, his hand idly rubbing up and down your side.

"roses and...Do you have Honning trees here?" His petting was making you sleepy again, even if you did already sleep for way too long, and his words so close to your ear sent a pleasant tingle up your spine.

"never heard of it," he grumbles, already sounding like his mood was souring. What he wanted was to get whatever soap you used made ASAP, because as much as he loved how he smelled on you, he loved your personal scent more.

"I think I saw one in Leben..." you mumbled, your face pressing into his arm. "Maybe we could go and look for it..."

You offered, yeah, but you were truly apprehensive about it. Did you really want to go back there? To a place so close to where terrible things happened to you? What if the portal reopened? What if your mother somehow found you again?

You sigh silently, closing your eyes. There goes your anxiety again. You don't remember it ever being so intense...well, back when dad died, maybe...

Katsuki brought you in even closer, somehow, his muscled arms enveloping you in warmth and comfort. "Nah...You should stay here for a while...relax..."

He didn't want you to leave the palace, he didn't really want you to leave his room, he wanted you to linger and ingrain your scent into everything he owned. He didn't know why this was so important to him now...actually, yes he did. It was a symptom of his mating period.

It was so early this year, he wasn't sure why. Maybe because he finally had a partner. Before, the only things he experienced were mood swings and some overbearing horniness...but now...

now he had you. Beautiful you. Lovely you. Sexy you.

To think of you as sexy was sort of new for him. He never really saw you as sexy before...not to say you weren't sexy before. He just thought of you more as a...honestly, as a pretty nuisance at first. He really didn't like feeling so vulnerable before.

But right before you came to the palace, he saw you as someone who knew how to handle him, who understood him, and who also happened to be gorgeous...he still thinks you're those things, definitely, but now that you're here in his home, he's looking at you differently. He finds himself more infatuated with your body than he was before.

He wants to make your heart pump and your breath catch in your throat. He wants to know if your thighs are as plush and squeezable as they look...if your neck was as sensitive as it seemed. If he trailed kisses down your stomach, would you quiver? If he fondled your chest, would those lashes flutter? Could he make you moan for him, praise him, writhe for him, if he really tried his best?

At this point, he couldn't tell if these feelings were due to instinct or proximity. Whatever it was, he had to deal with it...the last thing he wanted was to overwhelm you, and seeing as neither of you have been intimate with anyone, stuff like this'd probably stress you out.

He knew you were already feeling crappy, you've been a little distant. He'll catch you staring off into space, your lips pressed together and your brow furrowed in worry. He heard you mumble about "what ifs" during moments to yourself, like when you were in the library or when you got ready for bed.

He's been trying to comfort you, he made sure you ate, he took you on a walk in the garden, and he let you help feed Versengen his dinner. He just hates how little he can do for you...especially with the nightmares. Your little whimpers and pleads to stop are enough to make his heart break. It helped when he held you closer, and when he told you it'll be ok, but even still the nightmares didn't stop.

He wasn't sure if this was normal for you, but even if it was, it still upset him to see someone he loved so much in pain. A good boyfriend would help.

He sighed, turning his head a little and pressing his nose into your hair. You fell asleep while he was thinking. He guessed sleeping for over 14 hours was better than not sleeping at all...but he'd wake you up in an hour so that you don't feel like shit.

He was glad he ditched classes today to dote on you, you needed it. It's not like he'd miss anything, his instructor would simply teach him tomorrow. no big deal.

He gently separated himself from you, making sure not to wake you, and stretched. He woke up at 5, got a workout in, but when he returned to get ready you were sleeping there so sweetly, and he ended up laying with you for hours. He fell asleep again around 10, but now he was really ready to get his day started...even if it was just sitting in the room with you for another hour.

He rifled through his closet, searching for more of his nice clothes to impress you with. He bought more of his own clothes while he went to get some for you, although now he realized he really only had shirts in various shades of red. It's fine, the jewelry would make up for it.

He took a flame red shirt and a pair of black pants, along with boxers and his dragon-leather boots, and looked over to you. He could just change right here...but that felt weird, even with you asleep. He moved to the bathroom, getting dressed there instead. His usual shiny items were in there too, so once he was done all he had to do was put everything on.

A few gold rings, set with stones that matched your eyes, a couple gold bangles, carefully placed so as not to hide his brightening arm scales, and lastly, his necklace. It was his father's, and his mother's, and her father's, and so on until presumably the first Dragonborne king. It's said that his lover made it for him as a wedding gift, and it brings strength and love to those who wear it. The animal teeth were definitely ancient, and although well cared for, the stones were tarnishing.

He slipped it onto his neck, a sense of pride washing over him as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was Katsuki Bakugou, prince of the Dragonborne. He'd be the best damn king to ever rule Forrmidūl.

And you will be his queen.

He ran a hand through his hair to tease it a little, but when he did so, he felt something on his scalp. He rubbed at the spot, just behind his bangs on the right side of his head. it felt like...bone. He rubbed the other side of his head...the same thing.

Permenant Horns.

How? he knew it happened when you mated, but he very clearly hasn't yet...

He left the bathroom, paused to adore your sleeping form, and quickly got back to the task at hand. He huffed, finding the Lystens Buch and taking a seat on the floor, right in front of your face.

He read it like a novel last night, each chapter in order, but given the circumstances he'd need to refer to it like a textbook, going to chapters as necessary. He didn't find much about faeries, they were widely regarded as myth, and what he did find was so little it was practically worthless. No shit faerie women had breasts, he was very aware of that.

He found a few things on horn-growing, apparently it could also happen when his partner's body was ready to mate... were you already? It was so early for that, barely the beginning of spring. did this mean you were going to want to mate soon? Was he ready for that?

he also found a list of different symptoms he might have as a dragonborne male paired with an ovulating female during spring...it could help.

Faster heartbeat, sweats, possesivness, infatuation, mood swings, the craving to nest...

the list went on, and while some of it technically applied to him currently, they were things he already felt. He knew what it felt like to be in the mating stage, and he wasn't there yet. Horn growth was meant to happen later, when you settled for mating, not now.

Katsuki huffed, shutting the book and moving to toss it in his impatience. He then remembered you were sleeping, and begrudgingly set it down gently. Now he waits.

You were awoken by the feeling of Katsuki shaking you, his hand on your shoulder. "Huh," you say, startled and sitting up. You had another dream, but even now you've forgotten it.

"Wake up. You're going to feel shitty if you don't." Katsuki stared down at you, waiting for you to sit up. "Yeah, ok," you sighed, knowing he was right. You sat up, stretched a little, and moved to stand.

The second your feet hit the floor, Katsuki took you shoulders and asked, "are you ovulating?"

"What," you asked with a laugh, cocking your head a little. How many conversations about ovulation were you going to have here?

he just stared down at you, brows furrowed, waiting for an answer. "Uh...No? I shouldn't be yet... not until, like, beginning of next week?"

That was way too early. What kind of hormonal bull was this?

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I have fuckin' horns growing out of my damn skull, and it's all your fault," he accused, crossing his arms.

"Isn't that...normal?" You wanted to feel them, but refrained while he was still upset. Or, at least annoyed.

"No! Not now, It's too early." He leaned down a little, scowling.

"So? Is it really that bad?" You were being calmer than he anticipated, he forgot you're not intimidated by him.

"Yeah, of course it is!"

"Why?"

"Because....Because, uh..." why was this so bad again?

"Listen, we're not ready for kids yet. Like, at all. Your mom said that if you get too...aggressive, you can be separated." You focused on him and his reactions, hoping he wouldn't take this too hard.

"Well...I won't need to be separated. I'm an adult, I can control myself," he said sharply, glaring down at you.

"Then there's no problem."

"Right," he nodded stubbornly.

"Right," you repeated. Situation diffused. You walked away to start getting ready, leaving him there to realize he got gentle-parented into agreeing with you.

He sighed heavily, uncrossing his arms and looking down at his calloused hands. Could he control himself?

Later that evening, after a day of walking around the grounds with Katsuki, exploring the palace, and watching him get chewed out by his instructor, you found yourselves standing on his balcony, looking up at the stars. You finally got to enjoy them with him...even if they were just like the stars back home.

He was explaining some of the constellations to you, pointing them out one by one.

"That one's the crying lady," he said gruffly, pointing out the collection of stars.

"The crying lady," you ask with a laugh. It's name stood out among the other ones, it was so unusually serious. "I don't see it," you say after a moment of searching.

"It's right there," he scoffs, pointing again.

"Well I believe you, but I don't see the shape," you whine, still looking. He sighs, grabbing your shoulders and resituating you to be in front of him. He leans down a little, his head next to yours so he can see it from your perspective. He takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers but leaving your index finger out so he could make you point.

"There," he huffs, raising your hand with his and outlining the shape. "There's her head...and here's her hair, and her hands...and she's kneeling, see?" He got quieter the more focused he got, wanting to make sure you finally saw it.

You did see it, now. a bright star was at the top of her head, and the faint outline of her hair was barely visible. A woman, kneeling with her head in her hands, the twinkling north star being her teardrop.

"I see it," you whisper. Something about it resonated with you. It was about as intricate as any other constellation, but it tugged your heartstrings in a surprisingly palpable way. You wanted to cry now, out of...of ecstasy? Grief? perhaps it was just plain empathy.

"Does she have a story?"

Katsuki stood upright, shrugging. "They all do, that's the point," he teased. He seemed to soften a little once he noticed your expression, though. You seemed to be interested in a more serious way.

"But, uh...They say she's cryin' because she lost her husband. It's a really old story, so it changes a lot, but that's what most of 'em say." His hand slide down your arms, and his gaze is on nothing you.

"Wow, how old is it," you ask, finally looking away from the constellation and to your boyfriend.

"I dunno...It's been around a while, longer than the kingdom," he responds, his cheeks immediately flushing at the locking of your eyes.

"...y'know, we actually have a story like that," you say fondly, smiling at the similarities.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm...it's actually that song I always sing. The story of our kingdom," you nod.

He could tell you wanted to share it.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's longer than the song is," you say hesitantly.

"I don't care. Just tell me," he sighs.

You smile brightly, and lean on the bannister.

"Well, it starts in the Farbenreich forest..."

The lore is about to lore so hard, you don't even KNOW. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter, I always love to read and respond to comments (Even if it takes me a while)🥴

Taglist: @sky-angel101 @the-galaxy-fiend @chixkadee @ssplague @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @andysdrafts @daria-rona @tanjirofan63 @aizawaslut09 @tsukiiomii @me1297 @qardasngan

[lcvesjj]

Half Return - Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Inspired by the song "Half Return" by Adrianne Lenker

Summary : Many years after you left Ohio, you return to see your best friend Natasha..only to find out that she’s gone before you had the chance to talk to her…

Warnings : hurt/no comfort, heavy angst, Nat’s dead, no happy ending,

A/n : ngl this turned out longer than I thought it would 😭 I didn't even realise how much I wrote until I edited some mistakes. I might write a part 2 to this. NOT BETA READ!

masterlist

song fics masterlist

You could remember it like it was yesterday.

Playing in your yard with Natasha and Yelena. Back when Natasha still had blue hair and she was wearing her beloved red converse.

The same ones she always wore no matter the weather.

The same ones on which she wrote your name in a black sharpie on the side.

The same ones you bought her for her birthday shortly after she moved in next door.

You didn’t have any friends and you had no siblings. So when a new family moved in with two young daughters- one your age and the other one was younger, you were ecstatic at the fact that you had new neighbours, seeing the chance at finally having a best friend you begged your mother to help you bake some cookies to bring over to meet your new neighbours.

After helping to make your moms special shortbread cookies, you placed them onto a pretty plate and covered them before slipping on your blue converse shoes and heading out the door towards your new neighbours house. Taking a deep nervous breath you walked up the driveway and gently knocked on the door. Soon you heard footsteps and a young girl's voice calling “I’ll get it!” From inside of the house.

Then a little blonde girl opened the door looking up at you innocently with her big green eyes. “Hi.” The girl said unsurely looking at you, seeing your blue converse she gasped and exclaimed “I want shoes like that! They're so cool!”

In return you smiled and laughed “Yes they are. I’m Y/n. I’m your next door neighbour and I brought over some cookies to just say hi and introduce myself.” You said while holding out the plate of still warm shortbread cookies for her to take. “I’m Yelena.” She smiled back while looking at the cookies wide eyed, then there were footsteps running down the stairs and you could hear the other girl yelling “Yelena don’t talk to strangers!”

It was the red haired girl and she looked over at you with a frown while stepping next to Yelena and pushing her behind as if to shield her from you. Yelena pouted and tried to push past the red haired girl, protesting and saying that you only wanted to say hello and introduce yourself. You just stood there awkwardly holding the plate of cookies in your hand, you started to feel like maybe this was a bad idea…

Then came a young woman asking “Who are you talking to girls?” It was their mom. Before the red head could say anything Yelena piped up saying “Y/n! She’s our new nextdoor neighbour and she brought us cookies!” The young woman stood next to the two girls looking over at you with a gentle smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ma’am.” You stuttered out nervously while handing her the plate of cookies. “Oh please just call me Melina. It’s a pleasure to meet you too Y/n.” She nodded while glancing at the red head who was still glaring at you.

“Natasha, be nice.” Melina scolded the older girl. “I’m sorry for Natasha here. It’s just been a big change for us.” She said while gently patting Natasha’s shoulder. Natasha just huffed before storming upstairs. Frowning slightly you just nodded. “Um- well I better go home now. It’s getting dark but it was a pleasure to meet you and I hope you'll enjoy the cookies.” You stuttered out nervously before quickly turning around and walking back towards your house.

However while leaving you overheard Yelena whisper to her mom “I like her, she seems nice and her shoes are really cool.” After that you just bolted home and ran through the front door straight into your moms arms.

“How’d it go sweetheart?” She asked while pushing your hair out of your forehead. “I gave them the cookies.” You mumbles while hiding your face into her shirt, she could sense that something else was up but decided not to push the issue for now.

Meanwhile…at Yelena’s and Natasha’s house at dinner time

“Natasha, why were you so rude to our new neighbour? We might be here for some time so why not make some friends.” Yelena asked innocently while eating her favourite food made by Melina- mac & cheese. Nat just sighed in return “How do we know that she's not SHIELD and that she won't rat us out?”

Yelena just shrugged and said “So? It doesn't hurt to be nice. Besides, she has really cool shoes.” The redhead looked over at Melina for help, but she just sighed and shook her head. Huffing Natasha pushed her plate away and stormed upstairs to the room she shared with Yelena.

The next day Melina decided that the girls should take back the empty plate to Y/n’s house and offer to be friends. Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes, but after receiving a harsh glare from Melina. She just stood there with a small pout on her face.

~time skip~

You, Natasha & Yelena soon became best friends. It was mostly you and Nat since Yelena sometimes would rather hang out alone on the rusty swing set in their backyard.

One day it was Natasha's birthday, December 3rd. You decided to buy her something small since Yelena mentioned that Nat loved your shoes. So you thought it would be nice if you saved up all of your pocket money to buy her something.

It was a little hard to keep the secret from Natasha since she was always so good at telling when you're lying.

When the day you've been waiting for came you knocked on their door and Yelena opened it and immediately invited you inside. Melina greeted you with a warm hug and smile.

Soon you heard Natasha's footsteps running down the stairs towards you. Seeing you she immediately went to hug you but paused seeing the wrapped box you were holding. “What's that?” She asked curiously while stopping right in front of you. “It's a gift for you. Since I know it's your birthday today and I wanted to get you something small.” You said while handing her the wrapped box.

Her eyes widened and she hugged you tightly, thanking you over and over again. When Natasha opened the gift she gasped and let out a small excited squeal seeing the red converse shoes. The same shoes you had just in a different colour.

Many months later you and Natasha slowly stopped hanging out as much due to school and other responsibilities. One day returning from some after school activities you saw that Natasha and Yelena's house was covered in police tape and there were a ton of police cars and reporters on scene. You froze and immediately ran inside asking your mom what had happened and why were there so many police cars. Seeing you run inside so panicked your mom started to cry while she hugged you tightly. “Oh my baby-” She sobbed while hugging you tightly.

Soon you found out everything. Nat and her family were suspected to be spies for the government of another country. Heading that your heart broke into tiny pieces. You felt betrayed. Was this whole friendship fake? Did Natasha really like you or was it all a facade?

After a while you and your parents decided to move away to New York to start out fresh, you felt sad leaving Ohio but you knew it was for the best.

A few years later you saw Natasha on the TV news. She was now an avenger. You felt slightly bitter that after all this time she never checked up on you or anything. Many months and year passed before the blip happened. Your dad passed away shortly before the blip and 5 years later when you got back, you decided to try and find Natasha again.

Only to find out that she had died. Natasha had sacrificed herself to save the world was what the media said. You didn't believe it and you decided to see for yourself. So you bought a plane ticket to Ohio to try and find out if it was true.

Sadly it was and you found a gravestone with Natasha's full name, birthday and the date of when she had passed. Seeing all the flowers and teddy bears surrounding the gravestone you fell to your knees. You'd never get to tell her how you felt. She was gone.

You didn't realise it but you were followed by someone here. It's not until you heard footsteps on the gravel and your voice being called was when you realised you weren't alone. Turning around you froze- no it couldn't be.zz

The voice then called out again “Y/n/n?”

[del-stars]

yesterday i was going through the songs that belong with each chapter in preachers dog (i read it a week ago and it CHANGED MY LIFE) and a house in nebraska came on and it has never hit so hard it had me sobbing as i was trying to do my exam reviews 😭😭 i’m obsessed with how you incorporated all the little details of the songs throughout the story in such natural ways it made it feel like the songs were written about them instead of the reverse. then in family tree i was gasping the second i heard “these crosses all over my body remind me of who I used to be” my brain was like SIRIUS IT’S ABOUT SIRIUS and then the logical part of my brain was like well yes i’m assuming the fic is inspired by these songs but i was still so flabbergasted and sooo impressed with how everything matched so well. it’s my new favourite fic!!

PRONGSFOOT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA CHANGED MY LIFE!!!!

this is such a good representation of how my brain works like every time i listen to a song i think 'this has to be about sirius black.' i also LOVE that youre listening to the songs with the fic in mind, i write each chapter playing the song for it over and over and over so it's the Real Experience.

thank you so MUCH for reading my little fic, i love that you love it. here is a tiny snippet from the upcoming chapter because i dont have much written

They approach the bar, where there’s a man leaned over, with his back to them. He looks tall and broad in the shoulders, and his ass looks nice in his Levis. Sirius could manage with that. Might be a nice night, after all.  “Michael,” Isaiah greets, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder, “I want you to meet my friend, Siri.” Michael turns, and Sirius has to bite back a gasp.

[madeleineandwilliam-ff]

Chapter Ten

The morning after her reunion with Jonas, Madeleine awoke and wandered down the hall and into the kitchen for her morning coffee. Upon walking into the kitchen, she found Louise awake and happily humming about the room as she prepared their morning coffee. 

“Morning, Lussan.” Madeleine stated as she took a seat at the kitchen table. 

“Good morning, darling Leni!” Louise exclaimed in a sing-song voice. 

Madeleine narrowed her eyes at her best friend. Louise had never been a morning person and for her to be this cheerful before coffee was a first. There was only one reason why her attitude would have changed seemingly overnight. And my, she was certainly cheerful for the wee hours of the morning. 

She’d heard Louise come in late last night, around 1:30 am. She couldn’t imagine what she and Jonas had been up to since most of London’s attractions closed around 11 pm. Or she could and the mere thought gave her a gross feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“So....how did your outing with Jonas go last night?” Madeleine asked as Louise took a seat across from her at the table. 

A flush came to Louise’s cheeks as she looked up at Madeleine. “Well...it was good. Great, actually.”

“And what did you two do last night?” Madeleine asked.

“Oh this and that. Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, the London Dungeon. Dinner at some burger place in between...it was fun.” Louise replied, casually. 

“You got in pretty late.” Madeleine stated as her eyes met Louise’s.

Louise cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. “What exactly are you asking me, Leni?”

Madeleine shrugged. “You’re just very cheerful this morning and you were...I don’t know...flirting last night. I mean, one thing can lead to another. Jonas does have that reputation.”

Louise gasped. “Oh no...you’re not jealous, are you!?”

Madeleine had to refrain from laughing. “No, no. You know I have no feelings whatsoever for Jonas in that way. I just want you to be careful, that’s all.”

Louise frowned. “Careful? We’ve known Jonas for years! Emma wanted to set you two up. I highly doubt she’d want to set him up with a Princess of Sweden if he was a sleazeball.” 

Madeleine sighed. She felt the conversation was getting heated, more heated than she’d intended. “Look, Louise....yesterday when I ran into Jonas he was very suggestive with me, flirty if you will. And then I come home later, and he’s here with you. I just don’t want you to get hurt if he has an ulterior motive...ok?”

Louise rolled her eyes. “Oh, I see now. He only likes me and kissed me last night because of you. Because, of course, everyone wants Princess Madeleine over Lussan Gottlieb...as usual.”

Madeleine sighed. “Louise, don’t be ridiculous. You know that’s not what I mean, nor what I believe in the slightest. However, because you’re my best friend and roommate, and because of my position, you do know you have to be careful. Even with people we’ve known for years. You know I wish it were...”

Louise stood up from the table, shaking her head. “God, Madeleine....you’re happy with William and I think Jonas could be that same happiness for me. Just because you don’t like him, doesn’t mean that I can’t. I have to get to class...we’ll talk later.”

“Lussan! Hang on a second!” Madeleine hollered after her as she watched her disappear down the hall and into the bathroom with the door slamming behind her. 

Louise was just as stubborn as Madeleine was, they’d always clashed over things, big and small, even as kids. She figured this too would pass within the next couple of days as they’d both had time to think. So she went and got her coffee and returned to her room to get ready for her the last lectures of her classes at university before the holidays. 

It was later that day when Madeleine returned home to her flat in the late afternoon. It was Louise’s long day at university so she knew she’d have the place to herself for awhile. 

She decided it was time to call William. They didn’t have a chance to speak all day due to conflicting schedules with school, but hoped he’d be available to chat now. 

Throwing her heavy book bag down in the corner of her bedroom, Madeleine curled up on her bed and dialed his number on her phone. After three rings she was sure he wouldn’t answer, but on the fifth ring he answered. 

“Mads!”

“Well, hello to you too, my dear!” Madeleine exclaimed, excited to hear his voice.

“You’ll never believe it!” William exclaimed. 

Madeleine began to laugh. “My, what are you so excited about? Or are you going to make me guess?”

“Gah, Mads there’s no time to guess!” William paused. “I was able to take my final early and passed my Introduction to Modern Art class!”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so proud of you! Congratulations, Wills!” Madeleine exclaimed, smiling. 

“No, no...you’re not getting it. Today is the sixth and I’m on my way back to you, Mads. I’m coming home.” William said.

“Wait! This is the class that was keeping you in St Andrews until the 15th? You’re coming home? Right now!?”

William began to laugh. “Yes, I’ll be in London within the hour! I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner... I was trying to set up travel plans to get home as soon as possible and well, I’ll be home soon!”

“So you were just going to show up on my door and make me an emotional mess...right?” Madeleine replied.

“No, no. I was going to give you a trip down memory lane and appear on your fire escape, of course. You should know me better by now.”

Madeleine giggled. “You’re right, I should. So you know what this means....right?”

“That I have to now go to your front door and not my preferred way in?” William replied.

“No, no. William we have ten days together before I go home, not our original one. Ten days! What are we going to do with ourselves?” Madeleine exclaimed. 

She couldn’t believe this. She had missed William terribly over the last month and was counting down the days to that one day. But now with ten days...they’d have time. Time to spend their first major holiday together as a couple, to evolve their relationship further. 

“Well I have just a few ideas...” William replied, suggestively. 

Madeleine huffed. “You always do. Are you going to your dad’s first?”

“Well he would prefer it, but I was planning on your place first. That is if you can clear your schedule up?” William replied.

“I suppose I could make the time.” Madeleine replied, grinning from ear to ear. 

Madeleine and William chatted for a few moments longer before Madeleine excused herself from the phone conversation in order to tidy her flat, and herself, up for William’s visit. 

In the next forty-five minutes, Madeleine had managed to decently clean the flat up. She’d changed into a nice pink lace blouse and put some lip gloss on while she was at it. She expected Louise to be home soon as well, as her classes were due out within the next thirty minutes. She was excited for Louise and William to get to know each other over the next ten days. Even though Louise and Madeleine were currently having a quarrel about Jonas, she still wanted her best friend and boyfriend to get along. 

Madeleine was standing in the hall, observing herself for a final time in the hallway mirror as the doorbell rang. She flipped her blond curls and dashed down the hall to the door. He was here. He was finally here. 

Opening the door, Madeleine stopped in her tracks. For the person standing on the other side of the threshold was not William. It was indeed Jonas Bergstrom. What was he doing here? She did not need him interrupting her reunion with William. 

Madeleine frowned in confusion. “Jonas?”

Jonas’ eyes traveled over Madeleine, giving her a once over. “By the looks of it, you were expecting someone else. No?”

Madeleine rolled her eyes. “Are you here to see Louise?”

Jonas grinned. “We’re supposed to go out this afternoon, yes. Are you coming with us?”

Madeleine snickered. By the grin Jonas just sported, Madeleine knew exactly why he had asked Louise out for a second time during his trip. He figured he would make Madeleine jealous by going out with Louise. And with Madeleine currently gussied up like she was, it didn’t help matters. He probably thought it was for him. Ew. 

“I actually have plans. Look, Louise won’t be home for another forty or so minutes.” Madeleine paused. “Do you want to come back or...”

Jonas shrugged. “Well I’ve sent my cab away, do you mind if I come in? We could pick up where we left off yesterday at the coffee shop.”

Madeleine’s shoulders slumped. She was a nice person deep down, she had to let him in. She couldn’t take a chance that she was overthinking this whole Jonas situation, and that he truly liked Louise. Even though her gut feeling was that Jonas Bergstrom was truly up to no good. 

Sliding to the side, Madeleine reluctantly allowed him in. “You can wait in the living room, if you like.”

“Thank you, Madde.” Jonas said, walking in and making himself comfortable on the sofa. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Madeleine asked, standing in the doorway observing him as if he was going to suddenly confess his intentions with his charade now. 

“No, no thank you. Please, sit. Tell me what you’ve been up to.” Jonas replied, gesturing for her to take a seat next to him on the sofa. 

Madeleine took a seat, but in the armchair across from the sofa with a coffee table divining them. “University, mostly. There’s not time for much else.”

“I understand that. Although I’ll make time for Louise.” Jonas stated, smiling.

Madeleine narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. “Oh, is that so? What are your intentions with Louise?”

“What are you her father now?” Jonas asked followed by a chuckle. 

Madeleine’s frowned. “It’s not a joke, Jonas. I know your type.”

“Oh? So does that mean that I’m your type?” Jonas replied with a sly smile. 

Madeleine’s fists clenched and her face grew warm. He was trying to make her jealous by giving Louise attention. What a snake. Madeleine stood up out of her chair. “You most certainly are not my type, Jonas. And you better not be showing interest in Louise because you think it will get my attention. I don’t like you and this proves that I never will. Please leave.”

Jonas stood up and walked closer to her and placed himself just inches from her. Madeleine stepped back, but had nowhere to go as he backed her into the wall. Jonas put both of his arms against the wall on either side of Madeleine. She was trapped. Jonas put his face close to hers. She could feel his breath on her face and he got inches away from her lips and said, “I know you like me. Quit playing hard to get.”

Madeleine put her hand against Jonas’ chest and tried to push him away but was unsuccessful. “Move, Jonas. I don’t like you. I never will. Now step back.” 

Jonas’ body stiffened at Madeleine’s command. He didn’t like he wasn’t getting his way with her. Madeleine suddenly felt fear set in. He wasn’t moving and she wasn’t confident that she was strong enough to move him out of her way. Louise wasn’t going to be home anytime soon and William was probably twenty minutes away. She was alone. With Jonas. 

“Jonas. Move.” Madeleine stated firmly as she once again pushed at his chest with both hands. Jonas stumbled backward and Madeleine broke free from where he’d trapped her. 

Madeleine walked over to the door and opened it. “Leave now before I make Olle and Ludvig remove you, Jonas. They’re posted outside and I can have them up here in a minute.”

Jonas’ face was red and angry. He walked up to Madeleine and put his face in hers. “I won’t forget this, Princess. I hope the press doesn’t find out about your little English boyfriend.”

Madeleine’s fists balled up and she glared at Jonas. “Get out of my flat, Jonas! Now!”

Jonas stormed out the door and Madeleine slammed it behind him. She locked both deadbolts as her hands began to shake. The adrenaline was beginning to wear. She felt tears begin to stream down her face as she retreated to the sofa. 

Madeleine knew Jonas was a flirt, a playboy but she never expected this. The look in his eye was terrifying. What if he hadn’t moved? What if she wasn’t able to push him back and free herself? 

Madeleine heard her phone ring from her bedroom and walked down the hall to retrieve it. She hoped it was William. And she hoped he was telling her that he was almost there. She needed to be wrapped up into his safe embrace, feel his strong arms around her.

Madeleine picked up her phone, her hands still shaking. “Hello.”

“Hey, Mads. Open the door, I’m here.” William said. 

Madeleine didn’t reply, she hung up her phone and ran to the door. She opened the door and found William standing there in light blue jeans, a St. Andrew’s sweatshirt, and a blue baseball cap. He was grinning from ear to ear but as he searched her face he became concerned. 

“Are you okay?”

Madeleine shook her head as tears began to stream down her face again. William opened his arms and Madeleine embraced him. William wrapped his arms around her and gave a gentle squeeze. They stood in the doorway of her flat for awhile while William held Madeleine. He was warm, safe, and all hers. Her Wills. 

Author’s Note: Hi friends! Its been almost six years since this story has been updated! It’s good to be back and I hope you enjoy this chapter! I’ll have another one released in the coming days!