#and i wanted to shake her so hard. because it's not about what she can do

[soft-beams]

vi x reader, parallel universe!vi x reader | character death (reader)

ekko paints a picture of you.

"I wanted to show you something," Ekko tells Vi before he's leading her and Powder to where he's made his masterpiece. He doesn't know how Vi will react; if she'll be overcome with joy or overwhelmed with immense sadness.

Maybe she'll get angry and storm off, too hurt by the painting to truly express how she feels. But Ekko feels like doing this is worth that risk because hopefully, in a way, it will provide Vi with some closure.

When they reach the mural, Ekko stops and watches Vi and Powder take the remaining steps forward. He takes in how Powder's face lights up before she's pursing her lips with a slight tremble. He can tell that she's trying not to cry, and Ekko wants to pull her into his embrace and tell her that it's okay to let it out.

Vi's harder to read.

She's staring up at the mural, expressionless, and Ekko worries that he may have crossed a line. Vi's silence is deafening; it shakes him to his core, and he almost steps forward to apologise when Vi asks:

"Is this...them?"

Ekko swallows and nods as he replies, "Yes." He walks up until he's by Vi's side. "I took some artistic liberation and...imagined what they would have looked like if they hadn't..." Ekko stops himself, finding the words still too hard to say.

Vi stares and stares until she's closing her eyes, letting out a trembling breath.

"They're even more beautiful than I imagined," she whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear. Powder hears it too because she's smiling, sniffling as she wipes at her eyes.

"Yeah, a real looker," she says. "They were cute when they were younger, so it's no surprise that Ekko made them a bombshell." She looks at Ekko, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Should I be worried? Did you hold a candle for our dear friend here?"

Ekko chuckles and shakes his head. He's never held feelings of that sort for you. Yes, he did think you were pretty when he was growing up, but it never escalated beyond that. Besides, everyone knew that it was Vi you were going to end up with. Because it was you and Vi and Vi and you, and it was so obvious, the love you held for each other.

Still is obvious back in his own universe, but...he wishes he could have seen you thrive here. Happy and alive with no reason to run or hide. To be at peace with the people you love and who love you.

"They were everything to me," Vi says after a moment of silence. "They were my world in a way that was different from you guys." She gives a rueful chuckle. "Barely grown up, and we were already talking about getting married. We knew we wanted to be each other's for the rest of our lives." She then sighs. "Then that damn explosion happened, and they protected me. Made sure I survived, and I still...still deal with the guilt."

The silence settles among them again, but it only lasts for a second as Vi breaks it.

"But I know they wanted me to be here for Powder," she continues softly. "And know they'd be cursing me to the ground if they knew my thoughts." Her lips curve into a gentle smile. "But at least, I can look at her now and see her a bit more vividly in my dreams." She looks at Ekko, smile still in place. "Thanks, Little Man."

Ekko nods, unable to speak due to the tightness in his throat. If only...if only he could tell Vi that there's a universe where you did survive. A universe that isn't as great as this, but you're together and manage to find happiness despite all the shit thrown at you.

If only he could tell Vi that's what you really look like. That's how you've grown and how you've transformed.

If only.

But at least he can take solace in the fact that he's graced Vi with some form of closure.

In the form of a picture of you.

[thatonegreyghost]

"You know the hero is traditionally supposed to marry the princess, right?"

Cecilia looks at the knight, easily twice her age and definitely twice as heavy, and tries not to choke in disgust. Lucan, the prince from Corinth, was supposed to come rescue her from the monster- this one was a werewolf, she thinks? She never saw it- but gods forbid Lucan do anything helpful. He's too busy "sparring" with his personal guard, probably.

"Is that a fact, Princess?" The knight gruffs sharply. "Well, that's not going to happen here. You're hardly much older than my daughter. I don't think anyone should want a wife of you."

"I should hope not." Cecilia mutters. "I have no interest in merely being someone's wife."

"As you shouldn't. You're too young." The knight agrees. "Come on, then. My camp is over this way. You can stay in the tent, and we'll head out in the morning."

"And where will you sleep?" Cecilia questions.

Lucan always sleeps in the tent with her. Not next to her, not usually, but always in the tent with her. He'll always complain that it's too cold outside, and he can't possibly be made to stay in the cold. Of course, that's likely because Lucan is a complete wuss.

"I'll sleep by the fire, Princess. It isn't a hardship."

Speaking of, Cecilia thinks, this camp is wonderful. A small tent, soup bubbling over a small fire, and what looks to be the coziest blanket in the kingdom. The knight begins to take off his armor, placing his sword near Cecilia's feet. An act of trust, and honor.

"Oh, you're a much better knight than Lucan."

The knight laughs, shaking his head.

"Lucan? Lucan of Corinth? No wonder you were stuck in that lair for so long. Lucan couldn't fight his way out of a potato sack- just like his mother."

Cecilia might agree, but on principle, she has to defend Lucan. Even if he is a bit of a wet sock.

"Excuse you, sir, how could you say such things?" Cecilia scoffs.

The knight laughs a hearty laugh, shaking his head. His armor clangs as he sets down his breastplate, then, as he stirs the soup, he laughs again.

"Lucan is my son. My former wife, Queen Castella of Corinth, is his mother. She won't give him any money until he marries, so I work to get him out of that castle. Once I've gotten enough to get him some armor, I'll start taking him on jobs. He's not much good at fighting, but he's got a charming smile and he can navigate royals much better than me."

"You're..." Cecilia takes a small step back. "You're Galyn of Corinth. The knight of Corinth. You saved the queen from a dragon!"

"She saved herself. No one would believe her, so she picked up the scrawniest knight she could get her hands on. I worked hard to be a good knight, but I was no dragon killer. Not back then." Sir Galyn laughs. "Imagine our surprise when she was promised to me. I told her I could leave, if she wanted. She told me to stay."

"So... what happened?" Cecilia asks as she sits by the fire. "Everyone says you disappeared. But Lucan always says that his father is his favorite person, and you don't seem dishonorable."

"Well, it's simple. Castella and I outgrew each other. I wanted to mend things. She... didn't think we could."

"So you left?"

Sir Galyn shakes his head, gruffing and groaning as he dishes out soup for the two of them. He glares at nothing in particular, tossing a blanket towards Cecilia with a quiet "don't catch cold, now." and nothing more.

Cecilia eats her soup, quietly wondering about this man in front of her. Lucan has consistently praised him for being the best man he knows. Lucan is also about as smart as a basket of cottage cheese. And does the great Galyn of Corinth really have to stoop so low as to take lowly rescuing jobs? Those are for young knights who would be better suited to palace life- one grand gesture they can coast on for the rest of their lives. Most princesses are lucky- they get a kind man, an honorable knight. But this...

"I didn't leave, Princess. She kicked me out." Sir Galyn reveals. "I couldn't stop fighting nobles for making lewd comments about young servant girls. I couldn't leave it that children were starving and freezing in the streets. She said I wasn't the man she married. I just never became the prince she wanted."

Cecilia eats her soup, not daring to look at Sir Galyn. She is more curious now, especially now that she knows this is Lucan's father.

"Why take Lucan with you? He is Corinth's only heir." Cecilia asks eventually.

"Well, see, Lucan has some specific preferences that Corinth won't tolerate." Sir Galyn mutters. "Were this my home country, it wouldn't be an issue, but his mother is starting to get nasty about it."

"So... You're paying to take him away?"

"It's as you said, Princess. He is Corinth's only heir. His mother will fight to keep him, even at the cost of his life."

Cecilia remembers, quite viscerally and suddenly, how she saw Lucan playing with a knife at a ball last year. He was drunk- most of them were, as the wine was quite strong and the weather was quite cold- but the ease with which he had settled that knife against his throat terrified her. He had spent two hours talking to her, during which time she confessed that she did not ever wish to marry, and would allow her younger brother to take the throne. She even detailed her plans to move to a convent.

A month later, he had begun courting her. At the time, she saw it as a betrayal of her trust. Now, she's not so sure.

"I hope you succeed." Cecilia blurts out. "Lucan can be a bit of an ass on occasion, but he deserves to be happy. Everyone does, I think."

"Aye, Princess, that we do." Sir Galyn says. "Sleep. I'll take you home in the morning."

The princess has been rescued, hooray! But to her dismay the hero isn't young and handsome, instead he's a middle aged divorcee who took the job to pay alimony and child support.

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[d33pd3sire-blog]

Grace and the Sickle

Emily Prentiss x reader, reader doesn’t know how to communicate her feelings. No use of y/n

Word count: 498

The ending probably feels a little cut off, I didn't know how to finish it/continue. Hope you guys enjoy it anyway.

"I like this. A quiet breakfast with you." Emily looked up. "On mornings like this, I sometimes pretend we're retired and living in our little apartment. Just us two. Oh, and Sergio of course."

You hummed into your tea, smiling up at her. "Sounds.. peaceful. Hopefully one day it'll happen." You say, half of you unable to comprehend how Emily could think such wonderful things about your relationship. Sometimes you find yourself wondering how Emily could love you as much as she does, never having experienced this kind of affection before.

Emily wrapped her hands around yours, noticing a change in your demeanour. 'Hey, you still with me?' She snaps you out of your thoughts.

'Oh, sorry, you were saying?' You blurt, Emily rubs her thumb over one of your knuckles as you come back down to earth.

'Where were you just now?' She gives you this half confused, half worried look. You shake your head and look at the half drunk cup of tea in front of you, kind of hoping she would drop it.

'Nowhere, really. I just..' You shrug your shoulders, contemplating whether you should keep up the front or be truthful. 'Never mind.'

Emily scoots her chair closer to you, moving her hands from yours to your arm and pulls at you slightly. 'You know you can tell me anything, right? I love you, I want to know what you're thinking.'

Part of you is still hesitant, wondering if Emily would still be saying those things if she knew the thoughts that plagued your mind on a regular basis. It wasn't Emilys problem to shoulder, it was yours. She was perfect to you, you didn't want to darken her mind because you couldn't accept her love fully.

Emily nudged your side. 'You know I love you, right?' You nod. 'So you know, i'm here for you. In any way you need?' You nod again.

You finally gather the courage, taking a deep breath you start. 'I just.. I don't get it sometimes.'

Emily scrunches her brows slightly, confused. 'Don't get what, baby?' She continues to rub up and down your arm to comfort you.

'You're so great, you know? You love me so much but I just.. I don't get how. People like me aren't supposed to have people like you. I think fate was being cruel to you.' Immediately Emily raised a hand to your cheek and caressed it, kissing the other side.

'People like you? You mean the kind, loving, beautiful and powerful woman I see before me. Those people?' You try not to, but her words force the corner of your mouth to crack into a smile.

'You're just saying that to make me feel better.' Your smile doesn't fade, Emilys love was hard to fight.

Emily shrugs. 'Maybe, but that doesn't make it any less true.' She smiles at you, showing off her dimples with ease. You could never look at them and think negatively. She truly did love you.

[potchi-fics]

note: g!p caitlyn.

      it’s been approximately two weeks since the war ended, leaving caitlyn and the others to recover from it. truth be told, she’s having a rough time; her wounds are far from healing anytime soon. that’s where you come in.

she’s seated on a chair in front of her fireplace, your mouth emitting lewd and wet noises. why? well because you are giving her the, frankly, the best blowjob she has ever had in her entire life. 

caitlyn’s body wants to move so badly but she can’t—not with you forbidding her, well, it’s just so that her stitches wouldn’t open. her sensitive cock slides out of your mouth, gasping once she feels your palm on her tip.

“darling,” broken gasps and moans pour out from her, “you’ve been at it for two hours. i need to rest. i can’t–”

you rest your head on her thigh, hand leaving her throbbing dick to caress her other leg, all while still slowly jerking her off, “you can’t anymore, really?” you flutter your eyelashes at her, thumb collecting her precum, “even if i say please…”

      she reaches out to touch your lips, her own thumb tracing your lower lip before putting it in which you gladly accept. she feels you twirl around her thumb before uttering the one word she so loves hearing from you.

“please,” you bite her, “commander?”

      you swear she’s like a sleeper agent when you call her that, it’s a switch inside of caitlyn. she stands up, hands shooting up to grasp your head before using one hand to guide her dick inside your awaiting mouth. the feeling of her dick sliding in your throat, all the way down to the base—she almost cums from it. 

caitlyn places her fingers under your jaw, using it as leverage as she fucks your face, her pelvic bone hitting your nose; your hands find themselves on her hips. her thrusts are sloppy, miscalculated, and rough. 

she should be taking it slow, given that she did get stabbed but she doesn’t feel it. how can she when all she feels is you gagging around her cock, the head of her cock hitting the back of your throat, or when you moan, vibrations sending shivers up her spine, or how the warmness of you seems to melt her sensitive dick?

“fuck, taking me so well, darling. this is what you wanted, right?” she growls lowly, the coil inside her tightening, “shit.”

      you could only look up at her, fingers gripping her pants. she has her eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, and jaw clenching so hard you swear you see every muscle move. her moves falter and you know she’s about to cum. you forcibly remove yourself from her, your hand grips her and you jerk her off, her tip resting on your tongue. 

she’s heaving for oxygen, she’s on the edge. you help her.

“cum for me, commander.”

      she cums with a groan, letting out strings of curses under her breath. her dick spurts in thick loads, continuous streams—her knees nearly buckle but she manages. after a few seconds, she stops cumming and falls back down to her seat, her softening dick lying on her thigh. she is a mess: cheeks flushed, her tip leaking cum, legs shaking, and her gaze in a daze: you ruined her.

and she could only take it like a good boy when she saw you swallow and crawl back to her, taking her tip back in your mouth in a leisurely time, ignoring her pleas and twitch of her cock.

you’ll take care of her.

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ ZAYNE | take a break

── ◜zayne x fem!reader — mini one shot 0.8k words ◜Zayne tries to get his girlfriend to take a break — author's note

There was a joke she constantly made and it was about how Zayne should stop working so much and take a break. It was ironic how things had changed now, she was the one who needed to take a break.

Zayne had his eyes fixed on his girlfriend who was pacing back and forth. He wasn't entirely sure if her hands were trembling because she was moving so fast but it wouldn't have surprised him. She had been drinking gallons of coffee all morning.

"Where are the papers? I'm sure I left them here." She grimaced and started walking to the kitchen. "I came to the kitchen later to make some coffee." She turned to walk back out of the kitchen and head to the small table where her laptop and hundreds of papers sat, but Zayne stood in front of her.

She bumped into her boyfriend's chest and looked up at him. She stepped aside to avoid him but Zayne blocked her path again. His cold hands wrapped around hers and brought them to his lips, feeling that she was indeed trembling.

"You need to rest, love." Zayne's lips pressed against the knuckles of one of her hands. She could see him trying to act too calm.

"I need to work." She shook her head and took a step back to try and get away from him, but Zayne's grip tightened, preventing her from retreating any further.

"Come here," Zayne's voice was soft, not wanting to stress her out any further. He guided her over to the couch, she was still too stunned to protest so she simply took a seat next to him. "You've been working too much."

"You can't blame me for that. You're a workaholic." She looked at him with a slight frown. It was true, maybe he wasn't the best example, but he had never entered an operating room without sleeping or with his hands shaking, or he would have been fired already.

"You need to rest. You can work later, I'll help you find the papers myself." Zayne leaned down to press his lips against his girlfriend's forehead, for some reason he had made her calmer.

She sighed and nodded. She wondered if Zayne was capable of tying her to the bed and forcing her to rest. She couldn't help but laugh at the thought.

Five minutes later she had her hands wrapped around a hot cup of tea 100% made by her boyfriend. His arms were around her in an attempt to make her feel comforted… or maybe he was just trying to keep me from running away and work again.

"I have a lot of things to do… my boss asked me for those papers and I…" Zayne's voice interrupted her.

"That's enough. You need to rest."

"But my job…"

Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His gaze was hard, it was what she called 'his doctor look', the same one he used when she went to her monthly checkups and Zayne talked to her about her results. "You can find another job if necessary."

He took the cup from her hands and set it on the small table in front of them. He would give her a job himself if necessary. He understood the feeling of wanting to do everything perfectly, but his girlfriend's boss was taking her to an extreme that he would not tolerate.

"Did you know that you can get seriously ill from stress and not getting enough rest?" She rolled her eyes. Was he saying this as a doctor or as a boyfriend?

"I'll be fine." She sighed. She didn't resist when Zayne wrapped his arms around her and forced her to lie on his chest, it was like a warm pillow that she loved to sleep on.

"Get some sleep," he murmured, the scent of her hair hitting his nose.

"What if my boss calls and gets mad?"

"I'll take care of that."

She felt the weeks of sleeplessness take their toll on her the second she lay down on his chest. Maybe it was the tea or maybe she just needed a break.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, she needed it so much and she would make sure to thank Zayne when she woke up for caring so much about her.

Zayne didn't mind staying in the same position for almost two hours while she was sleeping. He knew he could pick her up and carry her to the bedroom but he liked being able to have her close and be able to keep an eye on her.

He still didn't know what he would do when she woke up but he knew he wouldn't let her go back to that horrible job, no matter if he had to pay her bills himself.

[underscorezoo]

“Easy,” I murmur, “easy.” I show her what a deep breath looks like, trying to steady her growing panic. Her body shakes, her blue eyes wide, sweat glistens across her forehead. I rub my thumb against her knuckles, her hand gripping mine like life depends on it.

“It hurts,” she whimpers, eyes closing with a hard wince. My other hand closes around her jaw and I softly blow hair into her face to cool her down.

“I've got you, darling.”

She shakes her head in refusal, a cry bubbling up her throat, “oh. Oh.”

“Tension isn't helping our baby, please relax.” She gives me a look that makes me want to bury myself alive to recover from it. A hopeless scared gaze that makes me want to claw out my eyes on top of being five feet underground.

“Help me,” she whines, “get him out of me.”

I flash a look at the royal healers around me, their eyes mildly impatient. I give them a cold stern look that has them shifting into action to avoid my ire.

“I'm still convinced it's a little girl,” I smile, brushing her hair that's matted onto her forehead.

“There's nothing little about her then,” she groans and shifts away from me, her body locking up, “no, not again,” she cries and her fingernails dig into me. I have several of these wounds now but I can't even register it with the way I've been watching her so intently.

“Breathe,” I remind her quickly, “breath in and out. Relax your jaw.”

Her teeth are bared to the world, the entirety of her rigid, airless.

“Breathe,” I bark, my worry crawling up my mouth.

She does but the sound that leaves with it is enough to drive me over an edge. My hand leaves her face and falls onto the swell of her stomach, bare to the room, our child begging to escape it. A blanket covers her lower half and I'm tempted to tear it away to see if there is progress. A healer beats me to it, bending my wife’s knee up and opening her legs like a butterfly, blanket falling away.

“That's the sound we were waiting for, your majesty,” the midwife coos gently. “You’re ready to start pushing. It’ll all be over soon.”

Terror strikes me like a hard fist to the jaw and I sit there in stunned silence. My wife on the other hand starts a tantrum, limps a chaos as she tries to leave the bed. None of us expect this but with her so bloated, she barely makes it before I'm holding her still, pinning to the mattress. Her eyes are crazed and dazed with pain and anger.

“I am not pushing,” she hisses at me as if I was the one who suggested it.

“Are you saying that because you're afraid of the pain or because you don't think you can do it?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. I dare to let my hand travel down between her legs, my fingers breaching the now expanded opening. I almost groan, “darling,” my head slumps towards her with near relief, “you are so close.” I feel the spot of thin hair, the curvature of a baby’s head. Our child.

“Get your fingers out of me,” she groans, whimpering.

“First I've heard that one,” I smirk. She flashes me a warning look that I eat up.

She again seems to be primed with a retort when both hands furiously find the bottom sheet. Giving my hand, wrist, and arm a break from her piercing touch. A terrified little yelp breaks from her mouth and one leg loses grip on the bedding and kicks out.

“Oh please,” she heartbreakingly pleads. So unlike my vicious wife. “Make it stop.”

I instinctively brush my knuckles to her cheek, my other hand resting low on her stomach. “You need to push, darling,” I press on her skin, “and hard. You're going to be just fine if you do that.”

She says something incoherent, a blubbering mess of raw emotion, exhaustion, and pain. Still she does what we all hoped, pushed. Her face tight with determination, chin to her chest, the sound of an animal in full heat coming out of her. She's never looked so beautiful.

“That's it,” I encourage softly and twist, getting a cold cloth for her forehead and neck. She relaxes instantly, tears streaming down her face.

“I can't do this,” she says, voice breaking.

“Of course you can,” I say softly.

She shakes her head in defiance of my words. Head tipping back against the pile of pillows behind her. My wife shrieks, her body shaking violently. “No, please, no,” she begs.

“It comes, your majesty, push,” the healer beckons.

My focus waivers between how vulnerable and how strong my wife is in this moment that I too am breathless for a spell before I am smiling, staring down at the peek of dark hair.

“I see her, darling, push oh please push.” Our ‘please’ is so contrasting that I laugh. She follows my suggestion and cries out again, this time her hand finding my forearm and holding tight. She looks at me, a face full of unabashed fear and loathing, “you did this to me.”

I still can't wipe the joy from my face so my, “I know,” comes out manic.

She whimpers, tears cascading down her face and mingling with sweat. She swears colorfully. That head of dark hair moves forward and now holds her folds open and taut. She's screaming loud enough to break the windows and I'm there, holding her head against mine, getting closer and closer. “Shh, it's almost over, you're doing so well.”

“Small pushes now, blow out, stretch wide,” the healer mimics the breathing she wants to achieve but my wife just lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.

“Hurts,” she mumbles.

“You're amazing. I'm so impressed,” my lips brush into her sweaty hair.

“Don't say that like you're surprised,” she huffs at me.

I chuckle, leaning back to take in her burning blue eyes. “I'm not surprised.”

“Just a few more pushes,” the healer coaxs.

I watch the head pop out with a bit of liquid and a shrill cry from my partner, who now pants wildly, eyes lidded with weariness. “Pull it out,” she demands, narrowing her gaze to menacing.

“You'll push in a minute here,” the healer amends for her.

“Just take it out,” she begs and then groans deeply, eyes closing quickly, “ohhh nooo” I watch in fascination as the baby starts to rotate slowly.

“Hold on, dearie,” the healer tugs the cord up and over our child’s head eliminating a threat against its life already. “Open these legs wider for me, there you go. Push, push, push.”

Thankfully my wife follows her orders. Her face bright red, and voice raising as more and more of the child emerges. Unceremoniously the screaming is replaced by the baby who now flails around in her mother's arms. Her. Our daughter. My wife and I lock eyes, her face split with adorable shock as if she hadn't just gone through all the work to make this happen. I slump towards them both, my adrenaline wearing off and I'm realizing my own hand has left crescent moons into my flesh from concern. I relax my body and take a deep breath.

“Thank gods,” I murmured to no one in particular. I look up timidly to my wife who wipes our baby with a towel and scrunches her entire chin towards her neck to get a better look at the purple screeching face. Our daughter finally has a lapse in annoyance and her eyes open, stormy gray eyes forming a perfect mirror to gaze into. My wife drops back, a lifeless laugh forcing out of her, “all that only for her to look like you.” She sounds both bitter and proud.

I grin, “she will no doubt be a stunner like me then.”

She huffs loudly but matches my smile, content with such a notion.

“The next one will look like you.”

Her jaw drops open. “The next one?!”

[qrrieterisunnq]

Marino smut where he gets jealous easily please but not because she’s like smoking hot because of her personality so he tries not to let his teammates talk to her😂😩🥴

Jealousy, Form of Love - John Marino

MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: sex scenes, fluff — SUMMARY: John is jealous because of your warming personality, which leads to him fucking you hard after he finally introduces you to his teammates, and you are friendlier than you should be. — WORD COUNT: 2,12K

You are the definition of people saying, ‘I don’t care about looks, but personality is all that matters.’ It was not that you were ugly or something; you were gorgeous, but that was not what caught John’s eyes; it was your friendly and sunny personality.

You always need to help people even though they are mean to you and keep saying they can manage themselves.

Whenever you see a cat alone on the street, you immediately want to take her home. If it weren’t for John, you’d have an apartment full of stray cats.

That is exactly why John fell for you and doesn’t want you to get to know his teammates. They would fall in love with you the moment you'd have to speak, that’s just who you are. But when he finally gets the courage to introduce you to his teammates, he knows he’ll regret it the moment you talk to them.

“Are you babygirl!” John looks down at his watches, making sure they still have time. “The ride is about fifteen minutes, so you better move your beautiful ass over here before I come for you.”

“Just a second, J,” you yell back from the bedroom as you are finishing your outfit and some touch-ups on your makeup. And I’m done!” you say with a smile, taking your handbag from the bed and making your way into the living room, where John is leaning against the wall, his hand folded across his chest.

“Can we go now?” he asks with annoyance in his voice but the beautiful smile on his lips tells you he’s everything but annoyed.

“Yeah, baby! We can.” You giggle soothing your dress, so it looks perfect.

“You’re gorgeous, babes!” he smiles at you pulling you towards him by your waist for a quick kiss. “Now come on, or we’ll be late!”

“We won’t babe! We still have fifteen minutes. Don’t stress yourself.” You kiss his cheek on the way to the door where you put on your sneakers and open the door for him.

“Yeah, you’re right, now let's go!” he smacks your ass urging you to go first so he can lock the doors.

“So, this is the popular y/n? Am I right, Johnny?” Sean asks with a smirk as he watches his teammate reddening from jealousy. Sean takes your hand and kisses the top with his eyes glued to yours.

“Yeah, I guess that is me,” you giggle at Sean’s questing turning your head to the side to look at John, whose cheeks are red. “It’s nice to meet you, —” you stop yourself realizing you don’t know his name.

“Oh, I’m Sean! Nice to meet you too, Y/n.” You shake his hand and step back, feeling John’s rising chest on your back. You melt into his presence and find his hand to interlock your fingers with his.

“Nice to meet you, Sean,” You smile at him, playing with John’s fingers as you smile nervously. “So, you do this Christmas party every year?”

“Yeah, for the past few years, I’ve been on the team, every year. And this year it was my turn, so I hope you like it,” he chuckles looking around his apartment. “My girlfriend helped me, actually. I can introduce you to her.”

“Oh yeah sorry. I completely forgot that Johnny is on a new team.” you giggle and rest your head on John’s shoulder, feeling his lips on your temple.

“I'm going to get you something for a drink,” John whispers in your ear before taking off to the kitchen.

“So, what do you say?” Sean asks with a grin on his lips.

“Yeah sure, let’s get meet her.” you giggle following Sean inside the living room where most people are.

“Baby!” he sighs when he sees her in a group of other wags. She smiles at him, pecking his lips and whispering something to him. After a while, Sean looks back at you with an encouraging smile. “Baby, girls, this is y/n John’s girlfriend. You haven’t met yet, because she was out of the States.” he introduces you with a smile.

“Hi?” you wave your hand with a nervous smile.

“You are so beautiful! By the way, I am Sadie!” Sean's girlfriend pulls you in a hug, making you feel welcome.

“Girl, you are gorgeous,” You yell slightly, slapping a hand over your mouth afterward. “Like drop-dead gorgeous.” You sigh, laughing with the other girls as Sadie blushes at your words.

“Oh, Can I keep her?” A girl on your left says with a grin on her face. “Please? I already like her! Johnny!” she yells, making you all giggle. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, Beth.” She smiles, reaching out her ebony black hand to shake yours.

As you get to know the girls, John makes his way to you just a few minutes after Beth yells his name. He looks at you with a grin, but that changes as soon as he sees Beth’s face.

“What happened?” he immediately asks, handing you the drink he made for you. He looks you up and down for some injury but finds nothing.

“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you that I—” Beth points her finger at her. “—am keeping her.” And then at you with a grin on her lips.

“Beth, you know her for what?” he looks at you with jealousy written in the wrinkle on his forehead. “Five minutes and you want her? No way girl. I saw her first.” He shakes his head, curling his hand around your waist, and brings you to his chest as you giggle at his reaction.

Beth sends you a wink and grins at Johnny, saying, “Oh, come on, Johnny-boy. You can share a little, can’t you? She’s got enough sunshine in her for all of us.”

The girls erupt into laughter, and you find yourself chuckling along, feeling an unexpected warmth from this new group of friends. John, however, wasn’t quite ready to let his guard down.

“You’re not supposed to charm everyone within seconds, you know,” he whispers in your ear, his voice a mix of exasperation and pride.

You lean into him, a playful grin on your lips. “I can’t help it, babe. It’s who I am.”

Sean approaches with another drink in hand, giving John a knowing smirk. “Looks like Y/n’s already a hit. Don’t worry, mate. We’ll try not to steal her from you... yet.”

John rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew this would happen. He knew they’d adore you, just like he did. And while the jealous pangs prick at him every now and then, he can’t deny how proud he feels seeing you light up the room.

“And you never will.” You say, patting his hands that are lying on your stomach while his head is resting on top of yours.

“Eww, stop being so cheese.” Sean shakes his body in disgust earning a slap from his girlfriend. 

“Go away and take Johnny with him. We wanna have some girl-talk here with y/n.” She wiggles her brows at you, making you giggle.

As the evening wears on, John’s patience is tested further. Sadie introduces you to the other woman in the group. And not long after, you become the center of attention. Whether it is story sharing, complimenting their outfits, or laughing at their jokes, it looks like you have wrapped them around your finger.

From across the room, John keeps a watchful eye on you. He can see how effortlessly you charm everyone, and while he adores that about you, it doesn’t stop the jealousy from shimmering beneath the surface. His jaw tightens whenever some of the guys make you laugh a little too hard or linger too close.

When Sean’s hand brushes against yours as he passes you a drink, John decides he had enough. He strides over, wrapping an arm firmly around your waist and pulling you close to his side.

“Having fun?” he asks, his tone deceptively light but his eyes sharp as they flick to Sean.

You nod your head, obvious to the tension radiating from him. “Yeah, everyone is so nice! Sean was just telling me about—”

“Yeah, Sean’s great,” John cuts in, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “But I think you promised me a dance, didn’t you?”

You blink up at him in surprise but smile, nonetheless. “Oh, did I? Well, let’s fix that then.”

He leads you to the makeshift dance floor, his hands possessively settling on your hips as he pulls you flush against him. The warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze make your breath hitch.

“John are you okay?” you ask softly, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Just reminding everyone who you belong to,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, with John staying glued to your side, his presence a constant reminder to anyone who might forget that you were his. By the time you both say your goodbyes and step out into the crisp night air, his jealousy reaches a boiling point.

The walk home is quiet but charged with unspoken tension. You can feel it in the way his hand grips yours a little too tightly, in the way his jaw is set, and in the way, his eyes burn with something dark and possessive every time he looks at you.

John doesn’t waste any second the moment you step inside your apartment. He kicks the door shut and spins you around, pinning you against it with a force that takes your breath away.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls, his hands framing your face as his lips crash onto yours. The kiss is hard, demanding, and filled with all the jealousy and desire he’s been holding back all night.

“John,” you gasp when he pulls away, his lips moving to your neck. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Watching every man in that room look at you like they wanted you,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “Hearing them flirt with you, laugh with you… Do you know how hard it was not to lose it right there?”

“But you know I’m yours,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I do,” he says, his voice rough. “But tonight, I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

Before you can respond, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with purpose. The air is thick with anticipation, and as he lays you down on the bed, his eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice low and commanding. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping them possessively as he hovers over you. “And I’m going to show you just how much.”

The room is filled with the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the walls. John’s touch is both fervent and tender as he begins to explore every inch of you, his lips following the path of his hands. Each kiss, each caress is deliberate, as if he is trying to etch himself into your very soul.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes search yours, the raw vulnerability in them catching you off guard. “You’re everything to me. No one else gets to have this—gets to have you.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you reach up to cup his face, pulling him into a kiss that speaks of your own devotion. “I’m yours, John. Always.”

He smiles against your lips, a soft chuckle escaping as his hands roam lower, drawing a gasp from you. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go—not tonight, not ever.”

He gets rid of all your clothes laying on top of you with his cock laying directly on your pussy. He presses his lips to yours in a hungry kiss whiles his hand reaches between you, angling his cock on your entrance.

Still kissing you he pushes his cock deep inside you, drawing a long, loud moan from your lips.

He moves his hips in frequent motions, while he rolls them every now and then, getting more of the pleasure. You roll your eyes, when his cock touches the spongy spot deep inside you, bringing you quickly to your ends.

It takes you both only a few more minutes of John’s harsh thrusts and you both fall over your edges.

[lambilegs]

I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

[burrowkit]

I stare up at the indestructible being. Finding his summoning spell was relatively easy. Stupid easy, really, when you think about it. And yet, somehow it was surprising.

A being that lives for eons.

He looks around the space. A tiny living room in my tiny apartment. "Let me guess, you want riches beyond your imagination?" He drawls, looking dissatisfied with the request. "At least that's easy. Most demand murders and riches. A thousand tasks, to set me free."

I keep silent. I know he's looking at my falling apart couch, which is easily older than I am. Maybe even twice as old as me. It's a pullout couch, something that weighs a ton but is still functional.

I've drawn the star with my couch in the middle. Not that I wanted to sacrifice it, but it really was the only place it fit. I glance against the nearby wall. A twin bed.

Because all I can afford is this tiny, bachelor apartment.

The cupboard doors are falling off... if they're even there. The closet door sits in the closet, having equally fallen off.

Some of the windows are boarded up.

"Well...?" The being pushes, staring down at me.

I carefully examine him. The more time he spends here, the more time he shifts his appearance. His hair takes on a yellower blonde than its original platinum. As if all colour had once been leeched from it.

His eyes glow with the brightest blues, as if he once belonged to the skies, fell, and the only memory being of the sky in his eyes.

I reach for a strand of my hair that fell onto my cheek. My platinum blonde hair. I tuck it behind my ear.

It shocked the nurses on my birth that I was born with the same sky blue eyes. Eyes that almost appear unnatural.

My mom has dark hair with a few golden highlights. Her eyes are a deep brown, with a few sparks of red and gold in them. As if he were a treasure. Or at least, that's what my dad supposedly said about them.

"I want you to teach me," I inform him, shifting my weight between my feet, unsure how to explain this.

"Teach you? Teach you what?" The demon prods, as if he needed more direction.

Re-thinking the words, he probably did.

For a being that's visited this world frequently, even without a summoning spell, I was still surprised to find four copies of his summoning spell. One at the local archives. One at the pawn shop. One in my mom's belongings.

The last, on my father's gravestone.

"My mom, she died of cancer," I try to explain. I thought I had practised this speech. Nothing compares to what I actually expected of him.

"And you want her brought to life, hm? That'll cost you extra," he informs me.

No. As much as I'd like my mom back, I know she'd hate being dragged back to her mortal shell.

Still, how hard is it? How hard can it be?

"We need to talk," I inform the demon.

"So. Talk," he spits at me.

I can tell he's becoming furious with me.

You're my father.

I can't seem to get the words out. Instead, I head over to my small desk, on the opposite wall of my bed, scooping up the letter and returning to the edges of the circle. I hold it out to the demon, and he swipes it.

He stares at the paper, and for a moment, I'm unsure of what he'll say. What he'll do.

And maybe that's why I decided to trap him in a spell instead of allowing him to roam free. At least here, he won't be able to escape and avoid his parental obligations.

"Who's your mom?"

I freeze at his words, forcing myself to look into his eyes. His eyes, which are now the exact hue mine are. I flinch, nervous. I look towards the photo at the head of my bed, and he follows.

There, a single photo lies of my mother on my first day of school.

"My Angel," he whispers, looking back at me. "You must be Charlotte."

I nod my head, staring up at him. He shifts again, his height shortening. Closer to my own height. Maybe so he can look me in the eyes easier. "I go by Char," I offer out a hand.

He takes it tentatively, shaking my hand. "Josh."

"I know," I smile at him. "My mom told me all about you."

He nods, looking around the space, releasing my hand. "So, I'm guessing you want to learn about who you are, what abilities you may have inherited, how long you'll live, right?" He inquires, moving around the circle.

"Something like that," I mutter, grabbing a seat on the edge of my bed. "I'd also like to know what mom was."

His head snaps to look at me, looking a tad surprised. "She never told you?"

I shake my head. "She left me a box that told me how to contact you. Then, I confirmed it by finding more copies..." I trail off, nodding to the other papers on my desk. "You're ridiculously easy to call."

He snorts in response. "That's cause most humans covet the best of things."

Implying he's one of the better demons to summon. I have to wonder if it's because he behaves well, or because he works well with others.

On some bizarre instinct, I snap the circle, releasing him from the requirements of the spell. It was an additional step in my mom's copies. In fact, some of the other ones have other additions. I opted to trust the one on my father's grave and in my mother's notes.

He grabs my chair by my desk, pulling it over to the bed. He sighs, taking a seat. "I never did find out what your mother was. Not an angel, but she was my angel," he offers. I'm not entirely sure what he means, but I get the sense that he truly did love her. As much as a demon can, you know. "Which would make you half of her and half a demon," he continues to explain. "Your life will likely be long living. Assuming you can refrain from playing with those dark spells."

He pauses, watching me carefully.

Dark spells.

Yes, my mother's box contained a grimoire containing all sorts of spells. Any time I tried to look at the worst of them, the book would rearrange the papers, preventing me from looking.

I already know why.

My mother, in her attempt to help conceal my nature, used dark magic. It's what truly gave her her cancer.

There are some dark spells I could play with, ones that leave no mark. Ones that would play on my demonic nature. And yet... I have to question why anyone would ever play with the other spells. Even the pages seem to be marked with a general feeling of oil and grease.

"As for your powers..." he trails off again. He whips his hand down, and suddenly a book appears. "This would be a good starting guide."

I take the book tentatively, flipping through the first couple of pages. It provides yet another summoning spell for my father. One that, like my mother's, calls upon Josh directly. But this one has no summoning circle. In fact, it's awfully similar to using a cell phone and calling him.

I flip to another page, describing the beginning guide of my physiology. There's a section on my father's powers. And another section dedicated to the abilities his known offspring have.

Known offspring.

Which likely means I'm not the first, nor the last of his children.

When I look up, about to ask him another question, I know he's already gone.

In fact, on my kitchen counter, I notice a small pile of coins. My couch, which is still in essence, the same, has been fully repaired. My falling apart home is now repaired to its former glory.

I flip to the last page of the book. There, an inscription lies.

If I had known you were on your own earlier, I would have stopped by. No child of mine should ever want for anything. Call if you ever need help, although do try to keep it interesting. There's only so many times I can rip the intestines out of a human before that gets dull.

Oh, and to answer your likely unasked question... there is a spell within this book that'll point you to your siblings. Be warned, they are older. But they all have one human parent. I stripped your mother's spells of protection from you. This will allow you access to your full ability.

PS- Although you never lived in luxury, it was due to your mother choosing to invest all of the child support to your education and future. You should have access to it all soon. I have attached one of my favourite photos of you. I'm sorry it's just a copy, not the original. I still need it.

Love, Josh

I look just below the note, and discover a photo. One that was taken by a stranger.

It was on my birthday. Mom and I decided to travel to Peggy's Cove in Nova Scotia. I smile at the memory, at the kindness of a stranger willing to take a photo of us standing next to the lighthouse.

I flip the photo around, and discover a second one behind it. One of the stranger taking a selfie with the camera, and us.

My dad.

Even though his appearance is different, now that I know him, I know it's him.

My father.

I wonder if he's kept a close eye on my through my life? I wonder, setting the book carefully onto my bed and heading for the kitchen.

There, along with the money, is a photo album. I flip it open and discover photos of my mom and I.

Primarily, photos of us on vacation. And, each one is accompanies with a 'selfie' of a stranger. A different one each time, but even through the photo, I know it's him.

I smile, remembering we had to stop taking vacations when I was still so young.

Or, if we did, we'd take them in secret.

But, I find photos of him with my mother. Her business trips, supposedly.

Which implies that, although he couldn't physically check in on me, he still sought out my mom. And, she clearly kept him up to date.

A single tear drop touches the photo album. Then, with some protection magic, it sizzles and disappears, leaving the book in its flawless condition.

"I love it, dad." I give a sad smile, wondering if I'll ever be able to have a close relationship with him.

I head towards my bathroom, and there, I find a variety of objects. Soaps, shampoos, cleaning supplies.

The weirdest part? The cleaning supplies seem to be working themselves on my bathroom. The most expensive products I couldn't afford for the last few months. They're scrubbing at the mold I was sure I'd never get out.

"Thanks, dad," I smile sadly at it.

The products multiply, quickly opting to clean the rest of my apartment, now that their presence is known.

I laugh. If this is some sort of spell to keep my apartment in tip top shape, I could get used to it. Although...

I look over at the money.

It's enough that I could upgrade. Still, although this was one of the few apartments I could afford myself, I did partially choose it because of its location.

I pick up the album once more and curl up on my bed, closing my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I can make the best of my life.

I flip to the first page of the book.

Chapter 1. How to contact Josh in an emergency.

The demon collapsed onto your bed. A vacant stare in his eye as he uttered “this is the 10,000th time I’ve been summoned. can we make it easy? Please?”

[capquinn]

Curious on your take on what Quinn would do if one of the kids was born during the season? I know it’s their job but I felt so bad for Conor having to leave almost immediately after. Especially being captain that’s even bigger. But Quinn seems so family first that the thought of leaving his little one and his wife who can barely stand and get dressed without his help for almost everything is so heartbreaking for him.

Oh my god you're about to get me started, sweet nonny! Because whenever I write about dad!quinn my mind always wanders back to Conor and his wife when they had their baby boy. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for her to labour without him by her side because he had (he volunteered but still) to play a game and then for him to go on a 2 week roadie a couple of days after with a newborn baby back home would've been difficult for him to do.

I think Quinn would really struggle with the balance, especially in moments like those.

Funnily enough, Bug is actually born right at the very end of the regular season, which feels like a small stroke of luck in an otherwise hectic time. It’s still not ideal —he’s juggling the final push before playoffs with everything that comes with becoming a dad for the first time — but it’s miles better than if she’d arrived in the middle of the season or right at the start.

But if she had been... in a perfect world, where the team didn’t rely on him as much as they do, he’d get a few days — maybe even a week — just to be fully present, to focus entirely on the birth, on you, on Buggy. It's not perfect but at least this way, there’s a tiny bit of breathing room.

In a not so perfect world, he would’ve been absolutely torn because he’s so family orientated and deeply committed to his team, and he’d feel this immense pull in both directions, like no matter what he chooses, he’d feel like he's letting someone down. Even if you’d told him a hundred times over that you’re fine, that you understand the reality of his job, and that you’re surrounded by support — he’d still grapple with it. The mere thought of not being there for the moment his baby comes into the world, or even just leaving you to labour without him by your side, would weigh on him in a way he wouldn't be able to shake.

He’d never complain outright — Quinn isn’t ungrateful in the slightest. He knows exactly how fortunate he is to be living his dream, doing something he loves every single day. On ice or at home. To be a captain, to be a husband, to be a father — those aren’t just titles to him; they’re everything he’s ever wanted, the kind of responsibilities he’s dreamed about for as long as he can remember. But with the people closest to him, the ones who really know him, he’d let a little bit slip — just enough to vent when it feels like the pressure might crack him open. Because trying to be all of those things at once? It’s no small thing, and there’s no guidebook on how to juggle them all, especially when his job doesn’t come with the luxury of proper parental leave. There’s no real space carved out for new dads in his world, no way to hit pause on being captain so he can just be dad for a little while.

Even then, his venting would just be him quietly trying to work through his feelings because, yeah, he’d be frustrated — not with anyone in particular, but with the system, the situation, and the sacrifices it demands. It wouldn't be about wanting special treatment; it’s about the impossibility of trying to give everything to two worlds that don’t always align. And even in those quiet admissions, there’d be this unshakable understanding — he gets it. He really does. It’s just… hard.

I wrote a little something a while ago about how he'd balance being a first time dad and being captain here but focussed on the nice stuff if you'd like to read <3

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Chapter 6/?)

Dragonstone

36 ac

Rhaellas pov

We all stand in front of the funeral pyre where Grandsire lays dead. He passed in his sleep with a smile on his face, Father says it's because he's with Rhaenys again. 

It's a lovely thought, and probably true, but I know Aunt Visenya won't like it. She never did like how close Rhaenys and Grandsire were, but she accepted it. 

I try not to move much, I started my moonsblood just the night before and all I have to say is I'm glad I'm wearing black. 

I remember the first time I woke up with my moonsblood. It was a moon after Maegor's wife passed, I woke up in excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. When I lifted my covers to call for a maester I saw blood, so much blood from my core. I don't care how many lessons a girl has about their moonsblood, she will never be ready for that sight.

So here I stand as a Valyrian Septon chants as blood leaks from my core and feeling like a knife is twisting in my belly. 

I was a sobbing mess when I heard Grandsire passed, but none was as broken as Father or Aunt Visenya. For his Father has left him, he has no one to guide him besides courtiers. And Visenya has lost her final sibling, the only other person who understood what she felt when they conquered Westeros. They both lost someone dear, but I only lost a Grandsire who barely spoke to me if he didn't have to.

He always preferred Aegon and Viserys over me and Rhaena. From what Mother says he was trying to convince Father to marry another seeing as Mother had two pregnancies and failed to give him a son. Thank the gods Father ignored him. 

I breathe in the cold salty air that always has a darker edge that you can only find here. I've always loved the smell here, Mother and Aegon prefer the scent Driftmark brings with it's spices and overwhelming saltiness that seems to stick to your skin. 

Rhaena grips my arm as Vhagar moves forward to light the pyre. She was hit the hardest out of me and my siblings. She always wanted his attention, wanted to feel his love that he always gave Aegon and Visery. But no matter how hard she tried, he probably wouldn't be able to tell us apart. 

“Just a bit longer Rhaena, then you never have to feel his disappointment again.” I whisper to her as she glares at the pyre. 

With one look at her I saw the rage and fire in her violet eyes. I knew her sobs weren't because she lost Grandsire, it was because she would never be able to show him, he was wrong about our worth. To prove we are more than just broad mares that only need to be wed off. 

“We're more than he ever thought of us, we are the riders of Dreamfyre and Meraxes. We don't need him to be breathing to prove him wrong. Because there are more like him, and we'll show them, we'll show them why they bent their knees to Grandsire. Not because of him, but because of his sisters.” I swear and Rhaena nods as she stands straighter watching as Vhagar lights the late King's pyre turning him into worthless ash in the wind.

I watch as courtiers who never even spoke to my Grandsire sob and talk about how wonderful he was. I have to fight a scoff each time someone stops me saying how sorry they are and how he was a good man. 

You would think he didn't burn their homes to the ground if they didn't bend the knee. I think as I roll my eyes as a drunk lord I know never even saw my Grandsire talk about how amazing he was.

I finally find the person I was dying to speak to since the news had reached my ears. I waste no time making my way over to the balcony he is leaning against.

I already know what he is looking at before I even reach him. “He is now riderless, a dragon without a rider is a cruel joke.” I say as I watch Balerion sleep where we had just burned his rider. 

Maegor shakes his head with a sigh. “No, it is too soon.” 

This peaks my interest as I turn to look up at him. His jaw is set in a tense line, his eyes are set on the dragon and with one glance I can see the embers of an inferno burning within them. I know he may say it it is too soon, but I also know he doesn't care anymore. 

“And who made the rules on when you can claim a dragon? What is it he used to say, ‘you claim or you die? And a Targaryen without a dragon isn't a Targaryen at all’?” I say knowing the quote will hit close to home for him, for it always did for me until I claimed my Meraxes.

He only hums as he looks down at me. I fight the blush that threatens to rise to cheeks as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Tell me, what does it feel like when you claim a dragon?” 

I think about his question as he turns back to stare at the Black Dread. “It feels like your soul is complete. It feels like home, like the world could burn but as long as you have that beast you could make it.” 

He hums and looks down at me again before turning back to the dragon we both know he will claim in the coming days, if not tonight.

I take this as a sign that the conversation has ended, but I have one final thing to say. “I don’t know if he loved you, I hope he did but Grandsire never was good at showing you his affection. But I want to know, you don’t need him, you have proven yourself beyond what anyone could imagine already. And you much farther to go, you don’t need him, never did, and neither did I.” 

And with that I turn on my heals leaving him to his brooding and thoughts. If only we knew of the darkness on the horizons, maybe my brothers would still be here, maybe it would be Rhaena as Queen instead of me. But of course these are just maybes, and there is nothing we could have done. For how are you to defend yourself from a threat you didn’t know was coming?

Series Masterlist

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff @athzhowakar @thelastemzy @themoonlitquill

[igglemouse]

The symptoms are hitting hard this morning as you can see and it is very difficult to make it to the restroom when you have to walk as slowly as possible. I worry for a moment that I might not make it but don't worry I get there just in time.

But my morning is the usual, changing diapers and keeping her squeaky clean. Which isn't easy since it sometimes feels like she does whatever she can to avoid being clean. At least this morning she waited until six a.m. to cry for attention!

Pascal's morning is also the usual, for him at least. Beating up that poor treadmill again. This man is really dedicated to his fitness and it's so admirable that I'm happy to let him be in the mornings.

So I feel like the sooner I bring it up, the better. It makes little sense holding it back from him since he'll figure it out eventually. I expect he'll be happy just based on the last time we talked about children, so there isn't any pressure about it this time. I think I'll just bring it up over breakfast actually. Yeah, that is the plan!

So that's exactly what happens. We finish an apple salad and before Pascal can get up and likely go train or work out again I keep him at the table with a simple sentence. "Looks like Flora will be having a little brother or sister."

It takes him a few seconds to either parse what I mean OR come to grips with it. "You're pregnant?" I give my head a little nod and watch as a smile spreads across his face. "Wow!"

"Would it be biased if I hope it is a boy?" He says and I quickly shake my head.

"Nope! I'd be happy with a boy too, keep things even, I guess," and maybe would get him more involved? Although, I will say, he has stepped up a little. Not a lot but...a little is better than nothing.

While I'll soon be a mother of two I am also still very much a Simtube content creator and I must make sure that to keep the momentum going for my channel and so it's time to record a new video.

This one will teach anyone how to make quick and chewy blueberry bagels. A nice desert to go along with a main dish to be sure and I think easy enough for anyone to bake! I will admit that my baking skills are not the best buuuuuuuuuut I think I am proud of the end result!

Thankfully Flora slept right through the recording of my video but you know right after it I had to go and check on her and play with her and give her a little tummy time. I think she does pretty well although she definitely throws a tantrum in the middle of it.

But if you recall I had planned on inviting both Sara and Marjorie over to meet Flora and well...because of previous events I'd like to move past it is only Sara who comes.

She does arrive with a bit of a frown on her face and I'm sure I'll find out why she's in such a sour mood but first to invite her inside and more importantly, introduce her to Flora!

And so I have to go and pull Flora from her crib and bring her to Sara who lights up at the sight of her. Whatever frown she had on her face instantly melts away and she can't wait to hold her.

"Florencia is her full name," I say to Sara as she coos and snuggles Flora who is being very well behaved right now! "She seems to only be fussy with me!"

"Well of course because she knows you'll listen to every little demand she has!"

"Having the strong urge to have your own yet?" I joke but I can tell saying that hit the wrong nerve. "Sara, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine, I want to but...can we talk about it a little later?"

"Of course!"

It was then that Flora decided she had enough of introductions and started to cry.

"Ok ok Flora, we get it, we get it!," I say taking her back and letting Sara know she's free to hang around but I have to get her to sleep.

Sara was exploring the house a bit since its actually her first time here and in the end I find her seated right before my tempting blueberry bagels. I'm guessing she would have taken one but she looks like she has a lot on her mind right now. "This place is...really nice," she says, at least in a much better mood than when she arrived.

"Isn't it? Still very empty but we'll fill it day by day, I hope."

"It's a lot of space to fill but it's also not too much, if that makes sense?" She is right. It's not exactly a mansion but it's big enough to be impressive.

"So..." I start, curious about what has Sara all sour right now. "Is everything okay?"

"It's the guy, you know the one I'm dating?" she reveals but all I can do is nod my head because I actually do not know the guy she's dating. She has kept his identity as vague as possible, not on purpose, I think, but he remains a mystery to me all the same. "He's umm, well, let's just say his occupation isn't clean."

"Clean?" I urge, needing a bit more.

"He works for the cartel...I think."

"Oh," well, that's no good. You all know i have an extensive relationship with the cartel but Sara does not know that. All she knows is that I'm an immigrant. "Sara, who exactly are you-"

"Well, that's not the problem," she says, as if there could be something bigger than that. "He apparently has a bit of a promotion on the table and thinks he should take it."

"A promotion in that world usually means more simoleons and more of a chance of also getting killed," I tell her honestly. "Sara, who is this guy?"

"My boyfriend?" she says, which is obvious. I know that but how do I get more information out of her about him?

"Sara, I've known a few cartel guys from...well, they basically ran the town I came from. Maybe I know about him and can better prepare you for-?"

"Simón," she says and at that moment my heart drops.

There is only one Simón that I know and I do not think there could be another especially tied to the cartel. Maybe there is, it's not that uncommon of a name after all, but before I can ask for his last name she's moved on, perhaps sensing that I wasn't into the conversation so somehow she's talking about Flora again.

"She really is adorable isn't she? You know it was dangerous coming over here I might get the fever myself!"

"O-oh uh yeah, yeah," I say, regaining my balance. She's very possibly dating Simón, my Simón. "Oh umm, by the way, I'm pregnant again," I announce for whatever reason. Perhaps because I was not sure what else to say or do in the moment.

Well, that will certainly be awkward if she introduces me to him. I would tell her that I know him but I'm only 90% sure that she's talking about the same guy...maybe, hopefully, she is not.

Frida Varela - Next Episode 10.4

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

Hey! Not sure I will get the full 102, because I AM ALMOST DONE CHAPTER FIVE WOOHOO! but let's see:

---

Her eyes scan him.

“It did,” she affirms. “It happened to you.”

Eddie nods. “We-we figured it out. Uh, what I am. What you are.”

“Monsters,” Adriana says. 

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Have you killed anyone?” Adriana asks, voice tight, eyes teary. “Has it made you kill someone yet?”

Has it made him… Like Adriana hasn’t had a choice in it. Eddie doesn’t know whether to feel better or worse about that. He feels unsettled, to be sure. 

“Not like this,” Eddie admits, thinking of what he had to do overseas. He’d been made to kill then, hadn’t he? Did that make him a monster? He isn’t sure. Buck would say no, just to comfort him. 

“Adriana,” he says. “Come with me, okay? Let’s figure this out together. With Soph. You don’t have to be out here alone.”

“I belong alone,” Adriana whispers, mouth quivering a little.

Eddie’s heart twists, like she’s grabbed it with a cold fist. 

“No, Adriana. That’s not true.”

“It is,” she nods. “Why else would this be happening? And… And you don’t even know what I’ve done, Eddie.”

“I think I do,” Eddie says. “I think I do know.”

“How could you?” She demands. “That’s not possible.”

“The hikers?” Eddie asks quietly. 

Adriana’s face drops. “How…”

“They found them. In Sweden,” Eddie says. “You’re not safe here, Adri. Someone will find you eventually.”

Tears start to spill down her cheeks. She looks afraid. Eddie doesn’t want to scare her. But he knows he has to. They have to get out of here. She has to completely relocate. Never associate with Arizona again. 

“I get it, okay?” He says. “They attacked you. You were already anxious, right? They wouldn’t stop. So you protected yourself.”

Her eyes widen. 

“I know,” Eddie continues. “I know, and I don’t blame you, okay. But we should go. I’ll keep you safe, okay. I’m your brother.”

“You promise?” She asks, eyes big and terrified. 

“I promise,” he says. “We’re going to figure this out, both of us.”

“Okay,” she exhales. “Please, Eddie. Please, I need help.”

“It’s okay,” he says. He extends his arms towards her, taking a single step into what doesn’t even amount to an inch of water. “I’ve got you, okay?”

Adriana stumbles forward into her arms, throwing herself at him the way she did when she was a little kid, and she had a bad dream. He squeezes her tight, hand cupping the back of her skull. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay. We’re getting you out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” she blubbers into his shoulder. “I was awful to you. I ran away.”

“I just missed you,” he says. “And I worried. I’m so glad you’re alive. I don’t care what you did to stay that way.”

She exhales, shuddering. 

For a second, Eddie thinks they’re safe. He’s found her. He’s convinced her to come with him. They’re going to be just fine. They’ll deal with this together. 

And then there’s a large crash. Loud and earsplitting. It sound like a tree falling over. And that’s all Eddie assumes it is. Maybe that’s just because he hasn’t spent the past year and a half living on his own, fighting to survive. 

Adriana doesn’t take it at face value.

Her head snaps to the side, looking for the source of the noise. But instead of seeing a fallen tree, she sees Buck. And the look in her eyes upon viewing him is downright feral. 

“Oh my god,” she breathes. 

“No, Adri, that’s okay, it’s just-”

But she doesn’t wait. With a strength he does not expect her to possess, she spins them around, so it’s her facing the lake. 

“Adri, wait-”

“I won’t let them hurt you, too,” she says.

And before he can say anything else, she shoves him hard into the lake. And where he expects to hit a slimy floor, when he’s plunged into the water, it just keeps going. 

[alchemania]

Finally got enough energy to talk about Furina's SQ and while I loved her and the troupe, MC and Paimon were .... Not Great. I talked about this with friends but in Paimon's case especially, the way they interact with Furina feels like people who just don't understand trauma and depression and then engage with someone suffering from both in all the wrong ways.

Talking about how much of a downgrade her house is from the opera house, making fun of how she can't cook, pushing her to act when she's set a very clear boundary and then guilt tripping her after she's stuck to her guns, shaming her for not being able to fight well (Paimon literally talks about how second hand embarrassment is overwhelming and I'm just like ?????), telling her she's "not acting like herself" when she attempts to open up and be vulnerable....it's just really rough. That and the MC asking "is something wrong" when Furina gets sad over Poission ..like bro people died and she couldn't save them and she's tearing herself apart over it. Those people are never coming back and you know it and you have the gall to ask her is something wrong??? Of COURSE there is!!

It just feels especially odd because we literally get to see all of Furina's suffering and Paimon in particular is. SO mean? Like she was more understanding with Wanderer and Ei and THEY'VE tried to kill us multiple times!! I don't get it, and honestly I'm very proud of Furina for refusing to waver. Let her rest!! She's tired and depressed and she needs time to heal; and honestly fuck Paimon for trying to make her feel bad. Furina's worked harder than she EVER will.

[moe-broey]

Idk if I'm gonna be able to articulate this on the fly like first thing in the morning, but. I think my ENTIRE body of work is This: Examining how family ties, bonds or lack thereof, the good and bad AND ugly, seep into every facet of who we are and how we come to interact with others. How sometimes, a family tie (or again, a Lack of one), will sometimes bleed into how you act and treat specific people. Will bleed into how you CONNECT with those people (or, will be the very reason you fail to do so).

HOWEVER. HOWEVER. THERE IS A DELICATE LINE. A BALANCING ACT. You CANNOT just simply attribute fanon flavored ideas of found family to such characters. That's too simple, and sometimes, is a complete disservice to the specific character you're working with. I am once again bringing up Chilchuck. YES, him being a dad Absolutely seeps into how he treats his party. But if you call him the party's dad, you're Insane. Do you know ANYTHING ABOUT THAT MAN???? He would prefer you didn't. But I digress. He strikes a fascinating balance, between having The Qualities and ESPECIALLY expressing his care for his party in a Really Specific divorced (separated.) father of three fashion, but that does Not make him a "dad friend". He's a professional. He's on business. He's going home at the end of the day, and at the end of this adventure he's thinking of setting up a shop. I wanted to keep this more vague and broad but like. The Chilchuck example REALLY DOES perfectly articulate What I'm trying to get at, here. He's the perfect encapsulation of How his family shapes him, how that bleeds into his relationships with others, vs Who he is as a person.

How we were raised, our family ties, whether you adhere to it or you've fallen FAR from the tree -- you still fell from that stupid fucking tree. It's in your blood. Literally. It gave you shape, whether you liked it or not. And sometimes some things just set off weird domino effects, that also affect us irrevocably forever.

WHICH IS. TO SAY. I have no fucking idea what I'm talking about. I'm always trying to figure that out. Found family is/can be real, you're not strictly bound by blood if you don't wanna be. BUT. The bullshit I'm constantly on, is trying to figure out how to balance all that without slotting everyone into reductive roles. I'm gay and I seek to destroy the nuclear family. Not attempt to recreate nuclear family 2.0. You CAN reconstruct What Family Is/Means from the ground up, but you have to accept that things are going to get Weird. Because you're Queer. You are fundamentally incompatible with the status quo and normalcy, the solution is NOT assimilation and palatability, the solution is to just. Get weirder. And be fluent in canon. Okay. I love you