#and in turn ended up getting the family and stability she wanted as such

[cosmic-walkers]

okay im gonna get off of steve and tom wolf hall parallels but i can't get over the whole father parallel things.

the more i think about it, the more at least in the show the whole wolsey bastard situation probably pissed stephen off because he saw how dorthea was essentially treated the same way he was treated by his own father. wolsey probably reminded stephen of his own father, in a negative way. because he had to have known about it. he probably had such a high opinion of wolsey at first, and then saw how dorthea was hushed away like a nuisance, and again, that is what happened to stephen. it's like they were both punished for being born out of wedlock.

which is so funny because the contrast to thomas is that thomas also saw wolsey as his father, a father figure who saved him and whom he loved. one who would never hurt him, and actually gave him the chance to be well, him. they were both essentially 'sons' of wolsey, sons that he had brought up, both lowborn just like wolsey but they also had such different views. and stephen started to resent him, even if in secret. at least in the show - because historically wolsey and stephen were besties.

i know we don't really develop into stephen's mind, but we know his parental situation in the book is a sore spot for him and i *think* that context is left out of the show. but that would've been another awesome parallel between them.

now tho, if stephen and thomas were friends, and stephen saw how thomas treated his own bastard now that probably would've given thomas some points in his book--

[bi-writes]

Okay but MOB sitting on Simon's lap, cuddling as they watch some movie Simon picked out because it was his turn. At one point she gets up and he thinks she's just going to use the restroom, hands on her hips to help stabilize her. Only instead of leaving, she turns around and sits on her knees between his legs. She bats her eyes at him but otherwise just soaking in how pretty he is. He probably makes a joke, says he loves her and when he still doesn't move figures she just wants a moment and continues to watch the screen.

When she finally works herself up to it, she starts sliding her hands up and down his thighs and just the sensation and imagery alone has him hard and he can't bring himself to ask her to stop when it feels so nice. Eventually her hands wander up further and she begins to play with the button of his jeans. Still not stopping her, even as she unbuttons and zips them down to pull out his erection. When he finally looks down, she stops and stares innocently up at him.

As soon as his attention's somewhat back up on the screen, she repositions herself and licks a stripe up his dick to bring his head into her mouth to swirl around. He doesn't even last that long and she doesn't let him pull her off when he comes.

Or something like that...

mail-order bride (18+)

simon likes action movies. they're his favorite, by far. he likes to watch the over-the-top car races in the middle of metropolitan cities, he likes big, stupid explosions and when the protagonist has their enemy at the end of their gun and says something cheesy like "you're not going anywhere now."

he told you once that he likes the simplicity. the happy endings. the key recovered, a family saved, the epic conclusion of an explosive journey that always ends in the bad guy in handcuffs and the good guy on a beach sipping a mai tai, getting the girl, saving the world.

you think maybe he likes it because it dampens reality. you have seen the aftermath of an op gone wrong; in this way, simon can fantasize just a little. he can pretend that there is nothing wrong with the world for 90 minutes or so.

what's so wrong with that?

he's so pretty.

he ran errands for you today. came back from the store with a paper bag in his hands, setting it down on the counter and unpacking it. you were sat at the kitchen counter, the orange cat wrapped up completely in a burrito of a towel so you could cut her dagger-like claws without risk of retaliation. simon was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, but as he unpacked the bag, you had all but melted in your chair.

a refill of your favorite makeup remover (you were going to run out tonight, guaranteed). vitamins (ya look right sick, baby, drink y'r juice). your favorite brand of pads (just tell me which ones, i'll get it right, promise). sour sweets (cherry-flavored, of course, sour because he likes the face you make when you pop them into your mouth). when the last box hit the counter, you had dropped the cat, much to her relief.

condoms. fucking condoms.

no, he's not pretty. simon is so fucking hot.

he doesn't budge when you get up to put the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. when you come back in the room, simon is still staring at the television, eyes trained on the spy on screen hopping between rooftops as they dodge bullets. you bite your lip watching him, unable to stop thinking about simon, simon, simon.

he's wearing nice jeans. straight jeans, but even the extra give doesn't matter when your husband is made of pure muscle and fat. you can see his stomach through his shirt since it's tucked in, white fabric showing off that nice pudge that you love laying your head on, your palm, knowing how solid and strong he most certainly is. nghghhhh, and his arms--big, bulging, tattooed, a perfect canvas for colorful markers or glitter or maybe your tongue.

it's subconscious, really. the carpet is soft under your knees as you kneel at his feet, lowering yourself so you can blink up at him big and wide as he keeps his eyes on the movie. he does notice you, however; his big hand slides down his thigh, and your eyes flutter a little when he passes it over your head then down your face, a pretty little pet between his legs.

"not supposed to be on y'r knees f'me, baby," simon mutters, but you can't answer because his thumb slips into your mouth. you wrap your lips around it absentmindedly, running your tongue over the thick pad of it. "tha's my job."

you sit up on your knees, leaning over him, and he gives you his attention finally, a twitch of a smile as he bends his neck a little and kisses you warmly. you steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs, gripping the meat of them firm as you slip your tongue into his mouth and draw a low grunt from deep within his chest.

"always working for me, simon," you whisper between kisses. "always..."

fuck, the blood rushes to his cock almost immediately. he has such a soft spot for you. taking care of you, doing things for you, buying you what you need--it makes him so fucking hard thinking about fulfilling every need of yours. you deserve nothing but nice dreams, good meals, happy cats, a well-loved pussy, all the love his broken heart can give. he chubs up in his pants every time you ask him for something.

can you carry this for me, simon?

oh, i need some help with this, baby, just here...

can you get me more of this? i'm about to run out.

the zipper is stuck, simon...can you get me out of this?

ugh, you're his walking wet dream. and you're kneeling in between his legs, his sweet girl pouting up at him, and--oh, fuck--

your hands are soft under his shirt. you've untucked it just enough, your warm fingers sliding along the band of his jeans. he hisses a little, his body stiffening, and you smooth a thumb over his belt before kissing him again.

"you're so pretty, simon," you whisper, and he licks over your bottom lip in response, drawing a soft whine out of you. his thighs widen just a little when he hears the clink of his belt, feeling the waistband loosen as you draw it out from the loops and toss it onto the carpet behind you. "such a handsome man you are..."

"come off it," simon growls a little, and you giggle, freeing the button and slipping your hand down. his mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cup him with a hot hand, fingers sliding under his length to fondle his balls.

"mmm..." you follow his sputtering mouth, breathing him in. "actually, simon...i really, really wanna get on it..."

"wot a brat," simon murmurs, clicking his tongue. "can't be fuckin' patient--ahh!"

you pull him out of his jeans with a firm tug before sticking your tongue out and kneeling back down to lick a curious stripe up the underside of him. simon is pulsing, radiating heat and already leaking beads of stringy pre-cum, and as you suck the tip of him into your mouth, you realize just how thick your husband really is.

you've never seen him quite this naked, quite this up close. when he fucked your thighs, he had felt big, but his cock is truly making a space for itself in your mouth--

"ah!" you gasp as he fists your hair and pulls you off, leaning down to kiss you hard.

"baby--"

"i want it--" you whimper, using your hands, letting the spit from your mouth drip down his cock as your fingers spread it wide, pumping him softly. "simon, please! please! you always say...always say i can have whatever i want, please..."

when he lets your hair go, you dive. you suck him into your mouth, practically purring as you press him back into the couch and suck. he tastes like a man should, like a husband should, musk and a little sweat and just enough soap to have you a little light-headed. with the first bob of your head, simon shudders, a big hand cupping the back of your neck as he drops his chin to his chest to watch you. he uses his other hand to push your hair back, his mouth falling open a little as he watches your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fit more of him into your mouth.

your mouth squelches with every bob. spit gathers around the edges of your mouth, little globs dripping out as you slurp and flick your tongue over every vein and soft patch of skin. you're making a mess of him, all soft mouth and wiggly tongue and gentle moans that make him seize up.

it's not even a minute of your soft sucking, and simon is caught off guard by his own release. he wants to apologize, but you look so fucking pretty, coughing a little around his wet cock.

you don't stop then either.

some of it drips down around your hands, his own cum webbing between your fingers and getting onto the front of your shirt and staining his jeans, but you keep your mouth on him. you nuzzle the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, pull off just enough to suck so softly on the tip of him.

"baby, fuck--" simon chokes, watching you through lidded, hazy eyes. "please, fuck--"

"i want it," you whisper, smoothing a wet hand down his length. he's getting hard all over again, and he nearly cums a second time when you let your eyes find his and pepper kisses from the tip of him all the way to the base. "don't i get w-whatever i want, simon? c-can't i...can't i have more?"

simon chuckles a little. he uses his thumb to swipe a glob of cum off your chin, bringing it up to his own mouth to suck off with a snort.

"you want more, baby?" simon asks, and you sit back up on your knees, pressing your forehead to his as he eyes your lips. they're a tad swollen, kiss-bitten and wet. "wot more do ya want, hmm? wot is it my wife wants so much, huh?"

you smile, wide, those big eyes sparkling. you give him another slow stroke with your hand, and he hisses, gritting his teeth as he watches your smile get just that much bigger.

"i want you to stop playing games with me, simon," you say softly. "you'll never win. so just give me what i deserve."

"wot you deserve?"

"don't i deserve you, simon?" you ask, and when he fails to answer, you swipe your thumb over his cock, drawing a cracked groan out of him. "you won't make me beg, will you, simon?"

"no," simon pants, leaning further into you, pressing his face to yours. "never. my wife doesn't beg for anythin'."

"you promise, simon?"

"my wife gets woteva she fuckin' asks for. olways."

[hello-eden]

dead serious #2

 idea that league of Assassins has connections and deals with the ghost Zone/ infinite realms. Ellie gets destabilized and Danny needs help; he ends up going to frostbite and Clockwork. They tell him about the deals that a lot of the ghost Zone has with league of assassins. He panics because of the Assassins but they make it very clear that they can help. Danny is about 14 And Damien is turning 13.( I know Damien is supposed to be with his dad at this point but just go with it) 

Ellie ends up the de Aged and Danny uses an artificial womb thing that Talia uses for Damien. Danny and Damien become friends during this time due to Talia and Ras wanting Damian to have good connections with the infinite realms. 

There's an attack on the league that ends up with Damien getting very hurt in the lab that has Ellie, it affects something and Damien's DNA ends up helping Ellie grow. The DNA helps stabilize her but it also gives her another donor. Damian leaves to train with his father not long after the incident  but he does know there is a chance that she is technically now his kid though it is never confirmed while he is there.

I'm just imagining Damien knows weirdly niche things due to Danny and the bat family is wondering why he knows things like obscure memes or has opinions on fast food.

The bat family has to interact with the League of Assassins and Damien asks his mother how Danny and Ellie are and if the accident caused problems with development. Talia then reveals that his DNA did end up integrating with Ellie and that technically he is the father. He asks if she can get them in contact and he end up able to. When This entire thing happens All the family is fighting for their life and they're in a separate area so no one knows what this conversation is.

 They get into contact and end up meeting up when Damian is on a mission outside of Gotham. Damien leaves Gotham to meet up with them constantly and that pings on his family's radar. They follow him thinking he's taking down some sort of group without backup or he is contacting the league. What they find is not what they expect. 

They Find is Damien talking with Danny cuddling under a tree while Ellie plays with Cujo. They don't realize Ellie is with them at first until Danny calls her over for lunch and she calls Danny and Damian mom and dad. They then proceed to question when Damien became a teen dad.

[maximoffsgirl]

Peace in Chaos

summary: You can’t say no to the twins; Wanda, can’t say no to you. It’s a dynamic that often works in their favor—especially when they desperately want something. The twins know that, if all else fails, they can rely on you to soften Wanda’s resolve, even if they trick you along the way.

warnings: Established relationship, Wanda and Reader are married. Domestic Life. The twins are close to 7/8 years old. Wanda is referred as mama/mom, Y/N is referred as mommy. Otherwise, I think there's none, this is pure fluff

author's note: English isn't my first language :) and to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️

word count: 3.311

not proofread!

When Wanda first joined the Avengers, she spent much of her time locked away inside the room they designated as hers, finding solace in the company of old books she had never had the chance to read before. Among those books, she stumbled upon a collection of poetry and came across a single phrase, quoted by Emily Dickinson; a phrase which was still written at the beginning of the diary Clint had gifted her for Christmas when the Avengers Tower became her home: "The heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care."

At first, Wanda found the phrase peculiar. How could her heart, which had never known a single day of peace, possibly want anything? Yet, as time passed, she began to understand. It was precisely because her heart had endured so much chaos that it longed for something different.

Stability was a foreign concept to Wanda. Her life had always been beyond her control, and when her powers came into the picture, they only added to the turmoil. But the constant inconsistency made Wanda’s heart want one thing more than anything in the whole world. A family.

She yearned for a family like the one she once had. A family she could come home to at the end of the day, where she could sink into the couch with the weight of the week pressing down on her shoulders - an uncomfortable ache, yet in a place where she felt comfortable. An environment where a television program no one was really watching played softly in the background while someone shared the details of their day. Wanda’s heart craved for care and tenderness, something solid yet gentle—a sanctuary that felt soft, safe, and unshakably real.

After the life she had lived—always running, fighting, and losing—it felt almost unbelievable that Wanda now had everything she had ever wanted cradled in her arms. Hard to believe, I know. But with your head resting against her chest, your body nestled between her legs as you scrolled through your phone, Wanda was certain that she needed nothing more. She closed her eyes  briefly, letting herself savor the peace, the warmth, and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

The sounds from your phone mingled with the lively chatter drifting down from upstairs, where the twins were deeply immersed in a passionate debate about something. It was chaos. But it was her chaos. A chaos that she chose and was looking forward to every single day live in. 

“Hm? What are you doing?” Wanda asked, her arms tightening around you as you started to move. Her voice was soft but carried a hint of reluctance. She tilted her head a little to the side, wanting to know what you were planning. 

You turned to face her, a small smile on your lips. “We forgot to put the plates in the dishwasher,” you replied casually, as if that alone was enough reason to leave Wanda's embrace. To your wife, it definitely wasn't.

Wanda let out a low, drawn-out groan, clearly unenthusiastic about you leaving the comfort of her body pressed against yours. She held you a little tighter, silently protesting your attempt to get up.

“Don’t you need to finish your mission report?” you teased gently, raising an eyebrow at her reaction. Your words made her sigh in mild defeat. She had mentioned earlier that she needed to wrap up her mission report after dinner. It wasn’t a task she enjoyed—especially when it meant sacrificing time with you—but it was something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she hated it.

“I do,” she complained, her tone carrying a mix of annoyance and reluctance. Her thumb gently brushed against your cheek. It was obvious she didn’t want to move, but the mission report wasn’t going to complete itself.

Before either of you could say more, a sudden, loud noise from upstairs interrupted the moment. Both your heads turned toward the ceiling in unison. Wanda frowned, her brows knitting together as she stared at the source of the commotion.

“What are they doing up there?” she muttered, her voice tinged with both curiosity and a hint of irritation.

“Probably destroying your things,” you joke, smirking at her. Wanda didn’t share your amusement; instead, she shot you a stern look, her concern evident. That only made you chuckle softly.

“Relax, baby” you murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips, your way of soothing her. With a lazy stretch, you slipped out of her warm embrace, earning a soft groan of protest as you stood. “I’ll get the dishes,” you said with a playful shrug, heading toward the kitchen while Wanda remained on the couch. 

She reached out for you, calling your name with a playful pout on her lips, as if trying to coax you back into her arms. But all she got in response was a teasing kiss blown in the air, followed by a few more chuckles from you. "You're impossible," Wanda muttered, though the corners of her mouth twitched, hinting at a smile she couldn’t quite suppress

A few minutes later, Wanda mirrored your actions with a resigned sigh. With a stretch and a yawn, she slowly pushed herself off the couch, kissing your shoulder once she moved past the kitchen to her home office. She opened the door with another huff, the thought of that mission report weighed heavily on her, already draining her energy before she even began.

As peaceful as the silence was, it didn’t last longer than fifteen minutes—a brief reprieve, but in a house with twins, it felt like a blessing. The twins knew better than to disturb Wanda when her office door was closed, understanding the importance of letting her work in peace. However, today was different. They had something important to ask her, and they were certain that mama wouldn’t mind being interrupted if it was truly important.

Wanda, ever attuned to the sounds around her, heard the soft footsteps and hushed whispers before the three gentle knocks echoed on her office door. She glanced down at the mission report in front of her, then dropped her pen onto the pile of papers near the notebook, her attention fully shifting to the interruption. 

“Yes?” she called out, her voice loud enough to reach her sons, signaling they had permission to enter.

The door creaked open slightly, and two sets of curious eyes peeked through the gap. First, Tommy, with his usual impatience, then Billy, who always seemed a bit more cautious. Their wide eyes and raised eyebrows said it all—they had something to ask. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, her stern demeanor softening instantly. She gestured for them to come in, her smile softening as she watched them shuffle inside, their little hands fidgeting with each other in anticipation.

“Is everything alright?” Wanda asked, her voice filled with the kind of tenderness that only a mother could provide.

The twins, true to their age, began poking and nudging each other, whispering in hushed tones while they stood in front of their mother - who was looking at them with amusement as they continued to argue who would be the one to initiate the conversation. 

“Mom, we have something super important to ask. But… promise you’re going to listen first” Billy tried to negotiate, his little feet shuffled nervously as he spoke. Tommy, by his side, nodded his head in support, his wide-eyed expression practically daring Wanda to disagree.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched her boys’ antics. Leaning back in her chair, she murmured a soft, “Okay…” her tone amused yet curious, ready to hear what the twins were planning. 

“So.. we saw something on the internet..”

That wasn’t entirely true. Long before the twins were even born, you and Wanda had agreed, in a heartful parenting talk, that unrestricted internet access wouldn’t be part of your children’s childhood. That being established, the closest the twins got to the “internet” was their tablets - with a few games they begged to have since all their friends were active on and the little maximoffs were being left out- streaming shows, and, on some occasions like weekends, YouTube videos.

Still, Wanda stayed quiet, her expression neutral as she listened to Tommy’s words. Even if he couldn’t possibly get whatever their idea was from the ‘internet; more likely, he was just saying it as an excuse to shift the responsibility off himself and his brother. 

“And we wanted to try.. We wanted to have a night pool party”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, glancing between her sons with growing curiosity. She had a sneaking suspicion about where this was headed but decided to feign ignorance, opting to play along.

"A night pool party..." Wanda repeated slowly, dragging out the words with a hint of amusement as she looked at her sons. Her lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile. "And where would this happen, exactly?"

"Here! Tonight! We've already planned everything," Tommy blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement.

Billy immediately hissed at his brother, shooting him a sharp glare. That definitely wasn’t part of the carefully rehearsed convincing speech they had agreed on beforehand. 

Wanda frowned, her amusement fading. If it were any other season, the idea might not have bothered her as much. But her sons wanting to swim in the freezing water of the pool outside? That was a firm no. The idea would only serve so they’d catch a cold and be miserable for the rest of the week. Besides, late hours weren’t meant for pool parties—especially not in this weather and not with the age they had. 

There they stood in front of her: matching cozy pajamas, hair lazily brushed back, and fresh-faced from their recent bath. They looked absolutely adorable, and Wanda couldn’t bear the thought of letting their idea ruin that. Spring was just around the corner, and while her children were undeniably the cutest in the world, she had no interest in dealing with two sick little ones—especially when even the smallest sneeze turned them into impossibly needy bundles of chaos.

“No. It's not even hot.” she simply replied, looking back to the now black screen of her notebook. 

“But mom,” the twins protested in unison, their voices carrying the familiar tone of pleading.

Wanda, however, was unmoved. Her decision was final, and she wasn’t about to budge. Crossing her arms, she gave them a firm but gentle look that clearly said, not happening.

“No is no, boys. I’m not going to repeat myself. When it's hotter we can think about it”

The twins left her office with matching little huffs, their quiet complaints trailing behind them. They knew better than to argue further or try to reason with their mother—her decision was final, as always.

But the twins, as stubborn as any Maximoff to ever walk the Earth, weren’t ready to give up just yet. Instead, they exchanged a look, a silent agreement passing between them. They’d just have to come up with another strategy.

It was no secret that, between you and Wanda, you were the parent more likely to entertain the wild ideas your sons came up with. Camping in the backyard? Of course. Nearly a liter of milkshake, even if it was freezing outside? Without a doubt. If it sounded fun, you were usually on board.

You didn’t blame Wanda for seeing things differently. After everything she had endured in her life, control and structure brought her a sense of peace she had rarely known before. Ensuring that the household stayed balanced and comfortable wasn’t just her way of parenting—it was her way of feeling secure.

But that didn’t make her the “boring parent.” If you asked the twins, they’d insist that mama was just as fun as mommy. Sure, she was a little scarier when she got angry, but that only made her the perfect balance to your more carefree approach.

Although they knew better than anyone how to take advantage of your different personalities.

At times like this, when Billy and Tommy had their hearts set on something, they knew they could always count on you to try convincing Wanda to let them have their way.

Sometimes it didn’t work—after all, undermining Wanda’s authority wasn’t part of your parenting playbook, nor was it in hers. But there were moments when a little push for compromise didn’t hurt, especially for something harmless enough to reconsider.

That’s why you felt two little fingers poking each of your shoulders while you scrolled through your phone on the couch. Turning around, you were met with the two most adorable faces you’d ever seen.

“Hi, boys. Already tired of breaking the house upstairs?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

They responded with cheeky smiles, and without a word, Billy climbed up to sit beside you on the couch, Tommy quickly settling in next to his brother. Their mischievous grins told you they had something up their sleeves.

“Mommy…” Billy trailed off, his voice sweet and direct. “Can we have a swim party tonight?”

His question was much more straightforward than Tommy’s had been when they’d asked Wanda.

You frowned slightly at the idea. The weather wasn’t exactly cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm enough to make a pool party seem like the best choice. You thought about it for a moment. The pool was clean, they’d have fun, and it might tire them out enough for an easy bedtime.

“Hm. Why not?” you said with a shrug, giving in to their request. The twins smiled, happy to finally receive a ‘yes’ to their idea. 

“Can you convince mama then?” Tommy asked eagerly, his excitement practically radiating off him. Billy let out another huff, clearly annoyed by his brother's impatience.

You turned your body to face them, a sigh escaping your lips as you realized you'd fallen for one of their tricks, again

“Don’t turn this on me, boys,” you said, shaking your head. But when they hit you with those puppy-dog eyes, you knew you were in trouble. You sighed again, giving in.

“Okay, I guess I could try to convince her... but if she doesn’t budge, I won’t try again, alright?”

The twins nodded eagerly, their smiles growing wider once they got you to agree with their idea. You ruffled both of their messy hairs playfully before standing up, a smile tugging at your lips as you made your way toward Wanda’s office. The twins’ giggles echoed behind you, but you knew you had your work cut out for you if you were going to convince Wanda.

Just like your sons, you approached Wanda’s office quietly, giving a few light knocks before stepping inside. Wanda, who was about halfway through her report, looked up and smiled at the sight of you. Grateful for the excuse to take a break, she rolled her chair back slightly and patted her lap, inviting you to sit.

You settled sideways on her lap, and Wanda wasted no time wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you close, sighing with the familiar weight of your body upon hers

“How’s it going?” you asked, your fingers working gently at the tense muscles in her neck. Wanda let out a soft sigh, her smile a blend of contentment and fatigue.

“Annoying, as always,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. Her hand drifted to your thigh, her fingers lightly running over the fabric in soothing motions as she added with a small smile, “But I’m halfway through it”.

“You know... the twins mentioned something about a night swim tonight,” you said casually, your tone light but deliberate. “And, apparently, I’ve been tasked with convincing you,” you added playfully, though there was a touch of seriousness behind your words.

“Have you now?” Wanda replied, her voice mirroring your playful tone but laced with even more amusement. She arched an eyebrow knowingly, already piecing together where this conversation was heading.

“I know you already said no, but they’re so excited about it, Wands,” you said, trying to play the kids’ happiness card against her. Wanda rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She saw right through your game but decided to let you play it anyway.

“And just think about it,” you continued, your hands gently moving along her neck, down to her shoulders, and back up again in soothing motions. “We can turn on the pool LEDs, make it fun. They’ll tire themselves out, and bedtime will be so much easier.”

You laid out the positives, your tone soft but persuasive, waiting patiently for her response.

“Love.. I know. But it’s late and It’s not even hot” She tried to resonate with you, sighing with each argument, knowing she has already lost. 

“They’ll be alright, babe. Let them have this,” you said with a convincing smile.”

Wanda let out a heavy sigh, her expression unamused as she looked at you. “If they catch a cold, you will be the one taking care of them,” she said firmly, pointing a finger at you for emphasis.

But despite her words, you both knew the truth. If that scenario played out, Wanda would be right there, rolling her eyes but still doting on the sick twins, as she always did.

You stayed wrapped in her embrace for a while, both of you savoring the quiet presence of each other. Wanda adjusted you on her lap, shifting just enough to free both hands so she could continue working on her report. You rested your head against her shoulder, your warm breath brushing against her neck, which made her smile softly despite her focus on the task.

The content of the report didn’t matter to you now—you’d already heard all about the mission the day after she got home. So you stayed quiet, simply enjoying the comforting warmth of her body and the peaceful moment you were sharing.

After that,  you and Wanda made your way to the living room, stepping in quietly. The twins were curled up on the couch, watching something on Netflix, completely oblivious to your arrival. Wanda stepped forward, arms crossed, hands on her hips, and her head tilted in mock frustration.

“I can’t believe you both!” she exclaimed, her tone sharp and disapproving.

The twins froze, their eyes widening as they turned to face you both. Wanda’s intimidating stance and your almost-guilty expression made them shrink in their spots, unsure of what they’d done.

“What are you two doing? You should be getting ready for the swim party!” Wanda said, feigning exasperation but failing to hide the faint twitch of a smile.

The twins blinked at her, then at each other, before springing up from the couch in pure joy. “Oh my god, seriously?!” Tommy shouted.

“YESSS!” Billy cheered, both of them jumping around excitedly as they circled their mothers, their energy contagious.

Soon, the house transformed into its familiar brand of chaos. The twins, now dressed in their swimsuits, were already splashing around in the pool, the colorful glow of the LED lights—courtesy of Tony Stark—dancing across the water. Their laughter echoed through the backyard, only occasionally interrupted by shouts of, "It's so cold!" Wanda, unimpressed, responded with a dramatic eye roll, her arms folded across her chest.

Standing at the edge of the pool, Wanda kept her distance, her arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she watched the scene unfold. She made no effort to join the fun, choosing instead to watch with a raised eyebrow and an air of feigned detachment. Yet, the slight tug at the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

Somehow, despite her initial objections, Wanda found a sense of peace in the chaos surrounding her. The sound of Tommy and Billy's laughter brought a soft smile to her face, and she even chuckled at your playful teasing—directed at both her and the twins.

Two days later, the inevitable happened. The twins began sneezing, and you found yourself on the receiving end of a very pointed lecture from Wanda. But, as always, her frustration melted away with a sweet kiss, leaving her shaking her head in exasperated affection.

It was a different kind of chaos—one filled with sniffles, tissues, and extra cuddles—but it was hers. Wanda’s heart had finally found something. Had finally found peace in the beautiful mess of it all.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

masterlist

[cressidagrey]

The Witching Hour - Chapter 5 - Rhysand

Summary: 

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings: 

Mention of Amarantha, Mention of Murder, Mention of torture, Rhys Bashing

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

Rhysand's mood was far from pleasant. The events of the past week had left him on edge, his patience sorely tested, the tensions between Nesta and Cassian seemed to have escalated exponentially, and the atmosphere in his Court was becoming unbearable.

As he sat brooding in his office, his mate knocked on the doorframe before walking in. Feyre took one look at his stormy expression and winced.

"Let me guess," she said, bracing herself. "You're in a delightful mood today."

Rhysand's only response was a low growl, which was answer enough. Feyre sighed, settling herself into a chair across from his desk.

"There's something you are going to like even less," Feyre admitted.

Rhysand's eyes narrowed, his already bad mood worsening. "Wonderful," he grumbled, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Please, do tell, Feyre Darling.  I'm all ears."

Feyre looked uncomfortable, which only served to increase Rhysand's anxiety. Whatever it was, it must be bad if even Feyre was struggling to tell him.

"It's about Elain," she began, her voice hesitant.

"Elain?" Rhysand repeated, his confusion deepening. "What about her? What's wrong?"

"She..." Feyre's voice trails off, her expression troubled. "She's an oracle."

Rhysand's eyebrows shot up in shock, his eyes widening.

"An oracle?" he repeated, his voice coming out in a whisper. "Are you sure? Who made that particular call?"

Feyre swallowed hard, her expression guilty. "Cate," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhys froze.

"Feyre darling," he said very carefully, trying to keep his voice down. "When exactly did you come across Cate ?"

Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding his gaze.

"Well...this morning."

Rhys's eyes widened, a sense of bad, bad foreboding washing over him. "And what exactly were you doing this morning that led to you encountering the infamous Cate?"

"We had lunch?" Feyre admitted questioningly. "Or we would have if Mor and her hadn't clashed."

Rhys let out a strangled sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Of course, you did."

He took a moment to process the information, his mind racing through the implications. Cate, in the city...it was bound to cause havoc.

"And I assume Mor and she...had words?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"To put it mildly," Feyre said ruefully. "They got into quite a heated argument. It almost ended in a brawl."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Do I even want to know what they were arguing about?"

Feyre shrugged, her expression sheepish. "Cate's sex life and Azriel."

Rhysand suppressed the urge to bang his head against the desk. "Of course," he muttered under his breath.

He let out a deep, weary sigh, his mind already working to figure out how to damage control this situation. Cate's presence was a wild card, and her interactions with Mor were bound to cause more trouble than they were worth.

"What about Elain then?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm.

"Cate offered to teach her."

"Did she now," Rhys murmured, the wheels in his mind turning.

The idea of Cate teaching Elain was...disconcerting, to say the least. Cate was not exactly a bastion of stability and sanity. And yet, there was a part of him that was intrigued.

And also fucking furious because clearly, he was the last person in his family that knew anything about what was happening in his court.

Rhys's anger bubbled up inside him, mingling with his already frayed nerves. He had been completely blindsided by this information, left in the dark while Cate and Mor were engaging in their verbal duels and Feyre was having lunch with the bane of his existence .

It was utterly frustrating.

"Did Azriel get her for Elain?" He bit out. Azriel clearly wasn't listening to his orders when he was bringing Cate around for Elain. Thought Rhys wondered what the fuck Azriel had told Cate to get her to behave and not spill the beans of their century-long tryst to Elain.

Feyre looked at him curiously, clearly sensing his irritation.

"What do you mean?"

Rhys clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice level. "Cate doesn't just agree to help people on a whim," he said tersely. "Azriel must have done something to convince her."

Feyre's eyes widened in realisation, a hint of amusement flickering across her face.

"And it must have involved a lot of ...physical persuasion," Feyre said slyly, a wicked smile spreading across her lips.

Rhys could only scowl in response, his irritation growing by the second. The last thing he needed was Feyre making light of the situation.

"This isn't funny," he growled, leaning forward in his chair. "Azriel knows better than to bring Cate here without my knowledge."

Feyre's expression softened, her amusement giving way to understanding. "I know," she said soothingly, "But she isn't all that bad, you know. If you'd just give her a chance-"

"A chance?" Rhys repeated, his voice filled with barely suppressed frustration. "Feyre, she is a walking disaster ! She causes nothing but trouble, and now she's inserting herself into the lives of my Inner Circle! You know what happens to the people that surround Cate? They mysteriously disappear. Or worse!”

Feyre shot him an unimpressed look, her hands on her hips. "You're being overdramatic," she chided.

"Hecate the Undying," Rhys said lowly. " How do you think she earned that name, Feure?"

Feyre's expression faltered, the teasing look in her eyes replaced by a hint of unease. "!.... don't know," she admitted, her voice quieter now.

Rhys took a deep breath, reminding himself to remain calm. "Hecate is a witch,” he said slowly. “One of the few of that particular dying breed. She’s over a millennia old, Feyre. And she has the cunning and cruelty to match her age. She is not someone to be trifled with."

"So has Amren," Feyre pointed out harshly.

Rhysand's eyes blazed. "Amren is a different case entirely, and you know it," he said through gritted teeth. "She has been on our side for centuries, working to protect this court and everyone in it. Cate...Cate is a rogue element. No one knows where her loyalties lie. Not even Azriel, for all his obsession with her."

"And Azriel," Rhys continued, his voice lowering. "He thinks he can control her, that he knows the limits of her power and her intentions. But he's fooling himself. She is unpredictable, volatile, and dangerous. The last thing we need is for her to cause chaos in our court."

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, but Rhys cut her off.

"And don't try to tell me that she just wants to help Elain," he said, his voice firm. "Nothing she does is without purpose. There is always an angle, an agenda. And I don't trust her, not one bit."

Feyre was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"I understand your concern, I do," she said slowly. "But have you ever stopped to consider that Cate might not be the monster you have built her up to be in your mind? That maybe there's more to her than meets the eye?"

Rhys laughed bitterly, his anger still bubbling just under the surface. "More to her than meets the eye?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do you want me to believe, Feyre? That she's some sort of misunderstood soul, with a heart of gold under that cold, unfeeling exterior?"

"I'm not saying she's a saint," Feyre said evenly. "But maybe she's not the villain you're determined to make her out to be."

Rhys gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "And what would you have me do, Feyre?" he said tightly. "Just sit back and let her run wild in my court, unchecked and uncontrolled? Is that what you're suggesting?"

"No," Feyre said, "Of course not. But maybe instead of treating her like a threat, you could try seeing her as an ally. As someone who could potentially help us."

Rhys let out a guttural sound, his frustration mounting.

"You can't be serious. You want me to trust her, to let her into our inner circle? She hasn't given me one reason to trust her, Feyre. Not one."

"She helped Nesta with her nightmares."

Rhysand's eyebrow quirked in surprise. "Is that so?" he said slowly. "She helped Nesta with her nightmares, did she?"

His tone was sceptical, but there was a hint of intrigue in his expression.

"With a dreamcatcher spell," Feyre answered quietly.

"Is that why Cassian is so furious with Azriel?" Rhys asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was just getting better and better.

"Oh yes," Feyre said with a slight wince. "Cassian is quite...upset about it."

Rhys's eyes widened. "Upset" was an understatement. He knew Cassian well enough to know that he would be seething with rage at this news.

Rhys closed his eyes. Already Cate was making a mess.

The thought made Rhysand's headache worse. Cate had only been in Velaris for days, and already she was causing ripples of turmoil in his court. How much worse was this going to get?

He had to nip this problem in the bud before it spiralled out of control.

The worst thing was that throwing her out of Velaris was not actually something he could do. She had a carte Blanche to live in Velaris, something he could thank his Grandfather for... they had had an agreement of sorts, the exact nature lost to time. But even Rhys’ own father hadn’t trifled with that witch. 

He rose from his chair, his expression steely with determination. "I need to talk to Cate," he said gruffly. "Now."

Feyre's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Now?" she repeated, looking nervous. "Don't you think you should calm down a bit first? You look like you're going to rip her throat out."

Rhys shot her a withering glare, his patience wearing thin.

"That's exactly how I feel, Feyre," he ground out. "If I don't speak to her now, I can't guarantee I won't do anything I'll regret later."

Feyre held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, fine," she conceded, standing up. "But try not to be too harsh, alright? I'm not saying we should trust her blindly. But she's not a monster, Rhys."

He could argue that point

Rhys took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.  The thought of dealing with Cate again after all these centuries was not exactly appealing.

The problem was only that he knew...he knew that they would be evenly matched

And that thought was worrying. Cate was not someone he took lightly. He had seen firsthand what she was capable of, both in power and cunning. The idea of going up against her, even if it was just a simple conversation, was daunting, to say the least.

Yet, he knew it was necessary. He couldn't let Cate continue to run rampant in his court, stirring up trouble and disrupting the peace he had worked so hard to maintain. He would just have to be careful, be on guard at all times, and hope that his own wits would be enough to keep her in check.

With a determined nod to Feyre, he headed out of his office. It was time to confront the source of his current headache.

Rhysand stalked out of the house and into the streets of Velaris with a scowl on his face. It was late afternoon, and the sun starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestones.

He knew where to find Cate. She had a townhouse, where she always stayed at.

He made his way quickly through the city, his steps measured and purposeful. He could feel the eyes of his people on him, the weight of their curiosity and concern. They could sense that something was off, that their High Lord was not in his usual good mood.

Finally, he arrived at her townhouse. The building was impressive, situated in a prime location and beautifully maintained. It screamed opulence and power, much like its owner.

Rhys took a deep breath and walked up the steps, his mind racing. He knew he needed to be careful, to tread lightly. He couldn't afford to let his anger get the better of him. But the thought of confronting Cate was making his heart pound in his chest. He had to remind himself that he was the High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful ruler in Prythian. He could handle one stubborn and infuriating witch.

(Hopefully.)

He knocked firmly on the door, his knuckles rapping against the solid wood. There was no response for a moment, and he wondered if she was even home. Just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing Cate's slender form in the doorway.

"Ah, Rhysand," she said with a smirk, leaning against the doorframe. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Her tone was casual, almost flippant, but he could see the glittering eyes assessing him warily. She knew he wasn't here for a friendly visit.

"May I come in?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice even.

Cate stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter with a sweeping motion of her arm. "By all means," she drawled. "Make yourself at home."

Rhys walked into the foyer, his eyes flickering around the room, taking in the expensive furnishings and art pieces.

The townhouse was every bit as opulent as the outside, with high ceilings and wide windows that let in the fading sunlight.

"Can I offer you anything?" Cate asked behind him, closing the door with a click. "Tea, perhaps? Or maybe something stronger?"

He ignored her, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face her. "I'm not here for hospitality," he ground out. "I'm here to discuss you and your sudden appearance in my court."

Cate raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, so you're not here to see an old friend?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He clenched his jaw, her casual demeanour only serving to annoy him further. "We are not friends, Cate," he said through gritted teeth. "And I need to know why you have been meddling in my affairs."

Cate sauntered past him, walking over to a nearby armchair and gracefully sinking into it. "You wound me, Rhysand," she said, placing a hand over her heart. "I'm hurt that you think I would meddle."

He followed her, standing before her with his arms crossed. "Cut the crap, Cate," he said, his temper fraying. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been causing trouble since the moment you stepped foot in Velaris."

"Is it the Dreamcatcher spell or my offer of lessons for Elain?" Cate asked him.

Rhys scowled, the mere mention of the Dreamcatcher spell making his blood boil. "Both," he said through gritted teeth. "You have absolutely no business getting involved in my court's affairs."

Cate leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing on her lips once more. "Oh, but Rhysand, I just want to help. Is that so terrible?"

He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to grab her by the throat and strangle her. "I don't trust you, Cate," he growled. "I don't trust your intentions or your motives. And I certainly don't trust you offering your...services to my inner circle. Let's not even start with my spymaster," he ground out.

Cate chuckled, her voice dripping with amusement. "Ah, Azriel," she said, her eyes glinting. "Such a complex and intriguing male."

"You stay away from him," Rhys warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep your distance, and you keep your fingers out of our business."

Cate's smirk widened. "Oh, I was under the impression that Azriel was just as interested in me as I was in him," she said slyly. "Or was I misinformed?"

Rhys ground his teeth, his irritation and anger reaching their boiling point. He knew all too well the strange and complicated relationship between Cate and Azriel, and he hated how easily she seemed able to get under his skin.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, his voice growing louder. "You keep your distance from all of my court. That includes Azriel."

Cate's smile grew even more aggravating. "You have quite the possessive streak, don't you, Rhysand?" she said, her tone mocking. "Are you afraid I'll steal away your precious shadowsinger?"

"You won't lay a finger on him," he snarled, his patience completely frayed. "You stay away from him, and you stay away from my court. I don't want you meddling in my affairs, or causing any more trouble. Is that clear?"

Cate leaned forward in her chair, her eyes narrowing. "You think you can order me around, is that it?" she said, her voice cold. "You think I'll just bow down and submit to your commands?"

"Damn right I do," he shot back, stepping closer to her. "This is my court, my territory. And I will not tolerate someone like you causing chaos and throwing my people into disarray with your presence."

Cate's eyes flared with anger. "And what exactly do you mean by 'someone like me'?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You mean a witch? Or is it because I'm a woman?"

He clenched his jaw, the accusation hitting a nerve. "Don't play that card, Cate," he said through gritted teeth. "You know damn well that's not what I meant."

Cate stood up, her eyes blazing. "Oh, really?" she challenged, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "Because it sure sounds like you're implying that women, especially those with magic, are beneath you. Maybe even a threat to your precious little court. Is that why your tradition of wing clipping still lives on?" She asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

He flinched, his irritation replaced with a hint of guilt. She had hit the mark, and they both knew it. The ancient tradition of clipping wings was still practised in Illyria, a symbol of dominance and control over the female population.

"That's different," he said gruffly, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that settled in his stomach. "Change is slow. We can't just murder everybody like you are prone to be doing." 

Cate's eyes flashed with anger, her hands clenching into fists. "I don't just go around murdering people," she snapped. "I fight for what's right, and I don't shy away from getting my hands dirty if it means protecting those that cannot protect themselves."

Rhys sneered, his own anger flaring. "And who are you to decide what is right and what is wrong?" he said, his voice harsh. "You think you're some kind of moral authority, do you? That your way of doing things is the only way?"

"You're a daemati, I am a seer," she said icily. "You read minds. I read the future."

He let out a scoff, his annoyance growing by the second.

"And you think that gives you the right to do whatever you please, just because you can see into the future?" he said, his tone dripping with disbelief.

Cate's eyes narrowed to slits, her voice dropping to a dangerous level. "I use my abilities to help people. To protect them. To make sure that history doesn't repeat itself. And if that means making hard decisions, then so be it."

He let out a cold laugh. "Hard decisions," he said sarcastically. "Is that what you call it when you go around murdering people and meddling in other courts' affairs?"

Cate bristled at the accusation, her face contorting with anger. "I don't go around murdering people for the hell of it," she said, her voice rising. "Every life I've taken has been for a reason, a purpose. People who deserved it, who would have caused more suffering and pain if left unchecked."

Rhys shook his head, his annoyance and frustration mounting. "Oh, so you're some kind of judge and executioner now?" he sneered. "You get to decide who lives and who dies based on your own twisted sense of justice?"

"Yes, because apparently nobody else seems to have the guts to do what needs to be done." Cate retorted, her voice filled with conviction. "You have no idea what I've seen, Rhysand. I have a job to do, and it doesn't end until the world is a better place. So please, drop the holier-than-thou attitude and leave me alone."

"You didn't kill Amarantha," Rhys spat out. "That would have saved us some suffering."

Cate's eyes darkened at his words, anger flashing in her gaze. "Don't you think I wanted to, Rhysand?" she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't you think I've spent centuries reliving that moment in my mind, wondering if I could have stopped it from happening?"

He crossed his arms, his expression guarded. "Why didn't you then?" he challenged. "You could have ended it all right there, before all the suffering and the pain and the bloodshed."

Cate's shoulders slumped, the anger being replaced by a weariness that betrayed her centuries-long existence.

"It's...complicated, Rhysand. There are things at play that you don't understand, consequences that you could never fathom. I couldn't just kill Amarantha and expect everything to be perfectly fine afterwards."

He let out a scoff, his irritation mounting. "So, what, you just decided to let her rule and terrorize my court for 50 years instead? To put us through hell and back?"

Cate's eyes narrowed once more, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. "I had a duty to protect the people of Prythian," she said through clenched teeth. "All of Prythian. And sometimes, that meant making sacrifices for the greater good. Even if it meant letting evil exist for a little while longer."

He let out a derisive laugh, his anger bubbling to the surface. "The greater good? What about the good of my people? My court? My family, my friends, my people, all tortured and brutalized for fifty years because you decided to let Amarantha sit on the throne?"

Cate's face contorted with pain, his words hitting a raw nerve. "You think that was an easy decision for me to make, Rhysand?" she said, her voice cracking. "You think I enjoyed watching you and your people suffer, knowing I could have stopped it all in an instant?"

He sneered, his anger still searing. "Yet you didn't. You stood by and let it happen. You let us suffer for fifty years because you were too much of a coward to do what needed to be done."

Cate's hands balled into fists, her eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what it means to be responsible for fate, Rhysand," she said through clenched teeth. "No idea what it means to carry the weight of history on your shoulders. Don't you dare accuse me of cowardice when you don't have a single clue about the sacrifices I've made?"

He clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to lash out even further. "Fifty years, Cate. Fifty years. My people suffered unspeakable horrors for fifty years because you decided that it was for the greater good. How do you expect me to forgive that?"

She let out a bark of bitter laughter, her face twisting into a grimace. "Forgiveness?" she said, her voice thick with disdain. "You really think I'm looking for forgiveness, after everything that's happened? I'm not asking for any forgiveness, Rhysand. I know the mistakes I've made, and I have to live with them every damn day."

He let out a scoff, his anger now mixed with a hint of incredulity. "You expect me to just act like nothing's happened? To just let bygones be bygones and move on like you didn't stand idly by while my people suffered?"

"I don't expect anything from you, Rhysand," she said coldly, her eyes hardening. "I know things can never go back to the way they used to be, that there's no erasing what's been done. But that doesn't mean I'm not doing everything in my power to make things right, to prevent it from happening again. That's all I've ever tried to do."

He let out a dry laugh, his heart still thudding with anger.

"Oh? And what exactly are you doing to make things right, hm? Meddling in my court, offering lessons to my inner circle, causing chaos and trouble wherever you go?"

Cate's eyes flared, her temper rising once more. "I'm not causing chaos and trouble, Rhysand," she shot back. "I've been helping you and your court in ways you don't even realize. Maybe if you took the time to look past your own anger and pride, you'd see that."

He let out a derisive scoff, his irritation growing with every word. "Help? You call meddling in our affairs and offering your so-called 'services' help? I'd hate to see what your version of hindrance is like. I want you out of my court," he hissed.

Cate scoffed, glaring at him with equal measure of anger and frustration. “ As long as my blood rules this throne, you shall always have a place here, ” she quoted at him, hissing. “Your grandfather pledged that to me. Just let me know when exactly you want to make your family an oathbreaker.” 

He had known that she had…had permission to come and go from Velaris as she pleased, but he had not known, how pointed these words must have been. What his grandfather had pledged to her in…

“I’ll take that risk if you are gone for good,” he growled, his own anger bubbling to the surface. "One word from me, and you'll be gone from this court for good."

His magic thickened, night rising.

Cate braced herself, her own power crackling around her in response. "You think threatening me with your magic will make me cower and leave?" she challenged. "I've faced much worse than you, Rhysand."

His eyes narrowed, the darkness in the room growing thicker as his power surged. "You have no idea what I'm capable of," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "| won't hesitate to do what I have to to protect my court, even if it means using every ounce of my power to remove you from it. And do not touch my brother," he hissed.

Cate's eyes flared with anger, her own power flaring in response. "You think I would do anything to harm your brother?" she snapped. "Your arrogance is astounding. I'm not a monster, Rhysand. I wasn't the one who treated him like he wasn't even a person," she hissed at him.

He flinched, a brief flash of guilt passing over his face before he could mask it. "Don't you dare bring him into this," he said through clenched teeth, his anger flaring again.

"You started it," she ground back. "You treated him like he doesn't have feelings. You told him to go to a pleasure hall, Rhysand."

Rhys's jaw worked, his anger and defensiveness mixing with a hint of shame. "You don't understand," he said, his voice strained. "It was for his own good."

She snorted.

Rhys clenched his jaw, bristling at her reaction. "What is that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"It means that I find your excuses pathetic," she shot back, her eyes narrowed. "You claim to care about him, yet you treat him like he's less than nothing. You tell him to go to a pleasure hall, to lose himself in mindless pleasure instead of facing his own emotions. It's repulsive."

Rhys flinched again, her words hitting a nerve. "It's not that simple," he said, his voice low and defensive. "You don't know what he's been through, what he had to endure."

Cate scoffed, her eyes flashing with anger. "Oh, I don't?" she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I don't know what he's been through? I know him, Rhysand. Don't you dare tell me l don't understand." 

"You think you understand him just because you have shared his bed a few times?" he shot back, his own anger flaring again. "You think you know him better than I do, better than his family and his friends?" 

Her magic flared. He had been unprepared for the cold fury on her face.

Rhys took an involuntary step back, startled by the intensity of her magic and the anger etched on her face. He was so used to being in control, to being the one everyone feared, but for the first time, he felt a hint of trepidation.

"You come to my house and threaten me, insult me and my relationship, insult Azriel..."

Rhys opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Her words had caught him off guard, and for once, he was at a loss for words.

Her magic heaved, cracking.

Rhys watched her with a mix of awe and caution. He could feel the power in her, the cold, sharp edge of her magic that crackled through the air like lightning. He had never seen her so angry, so intense.

"You have no right to speak to me like that, no right to dictate who I sleep with or who I care about," she hissed, her voice dripping with anger. "Azriel is not your property, Rhysand, and I will not tolerate you treating him or me like we are lesser than you."

Rhys clenched his fists, his own anger and defensiveness flaring again. "You think I treat you as lesser?" he said, his voice tight. "I'm the High Lord of this court. You're a guest here. You don't get to come here and tell me what I can and cannot do."

Her magic exploded.

Rhys was caught off guard by the sudden explosion of her magic, the force of it knocking him back a step. He barely managed to keep his balance, his own magic reacting defensively in response, a shield forming around him instinctively.

He stared at her, his eyes widening with surprise and a hint of fear. He had seen the extent of her magic before, but never had he seen her lose control like this. Never had he seen her so unbridled and raw.

The air around her crackled with energy, charged with the cold, sharp power of her magic. It was a force to be reckoned with, a storm of anger and frustration. And yet... there was something else there too, something deeper, something more vulnerable.

He swallowed

"I have not survived for a thousand years so you'll tell me what to do in my own house," she said darkly.

Rhys's jaw worked, his own anger and defensiveness clashing with a hint of uncertainty. He had never seen her so intense, so powerful. He could feel the cold, sharp edge of her magic in the air, and it sent a chill down his spine.

And then her magic snapped. He wasn't quick enough.

Hadn't expected another surge, as she forced him back, back towards the door. "Out of my house, now," she hissed.

Rhys stumbled back, caught off guard by the sheer force of her magic. He tried to fight it, to push back against her power, but it was like trying to swim upstream against a fast-moving current. She was stronger than he had given her credit for, and he found himself being pushed towards the door.

He gritted his teeth, his own anger and frustration mounting once more. "You can't just throw me out of here," he said through clenched teeth, struggling against her magic. "This is my court, my territory. You have no right-“

"I have every right," she cut in, her eyes flashing with anger. "You came here, uninvited, threatening me and insulting me in my own home. I have the right to defend myself, and if that means kicking you out, so be it."

Rhys clenched his jaw, his own anger and sense of entitlement warring with the sheer force of her magic. He wanted to fight back, to show her that he was the more powerful one here, but he knew deep down that he was outnumbered. Her magic was far stronger than he had expected, and he knew that he couldn't overpower her in her own home.

Not when her wards closed around him like a vice

Rhys felt the wards close around him, constricting his movement, and cutting off his connection to his own magic.

He tried to struggle against them, but it was like trying to push through a solid wall. He was trapped, unable to use his powers or fight back against her.

The realization of his helplessness hit him like a ton of bricks. He was the High Lord, the most powerful fae in the Night Court, and yet here he was, being held captive by a woman he had underestimated and disrespected.

The thought made him furious, his heart thudding with anger and frustration. He couldn't believe he had let himself be put in this position, that he had been taken down by her so easily.

But there was something else, too. A hint of fear, a hint of uncertainty. The realization that he had misjudged her, that he had underestimated the extent of her power and her determination to stand up for herself.

He swallowed, his mind racing as he tried to find a way out, a way to break free from her wards and regain his power. But there was nothing he could do. He was trapped, completely at her mercy.

"Out," she repeated, her voice razor sharp.

Rhys listened.

[imaginesmai]

The orange peel theory - Azriel

I saw this post by @marvelsmylife and I thought I would give it a try! I've seen also lots of couples doing this on TikTok, so here's my take on how Azriel would do it. Hope you like it!

Plot: the spring court is beautiful, oranges are beautiful, but there's nothing more beautiful than your mate.

You loved the Spring court, you really did. Unlike Cassian, who couldn’t even get out of his room without sneezing the life out of his body, you spent your time there walking through the beautiful gardens. No matter how terrible Tamlin was, how much you despised the meetings between courts – you loved the Spring court.

All your friends and family were busy that morning, most of them in said meeting. Rhys and Feyre had been the first ones to arrive, Cassian and Azriel following close. You had woken up to an empty bed and cold sheets, your mate’s training not keeping up with your late nights reading. Still, Azriel had left you a short note and a beautiful flower.

You would have spent the morning with Nesta, but she was busy with Elain preparing the last details of her wedding with Lucien. Mor and Amren had chosen to stay in Velaris, and that left you alone in those beautiful gardens.

Time flew by each time you stopped to look at a flower or insect, as you let your body soak the warm sun through the trees. You wouldn’t have noticed the morning rolling away if it wasn’t for your stomach rumbling angrily at you. Deciding leaving the gardens was too much of an effort, you looked around for something to eat.

The meeting would end soon, but you would remain for two days more. There were enough matters to discuss that the high lords needed more than one meeting. As soon as Azriel was free, he would come looking for you – and you didn’t want to waste any time eating when you could explore the beautiful court.

So, when you spotted the orange tree, you made your decision.

It was big enough that you had to step on a bench to grab the closest orange. Once you did, you couldn’t resist grabbing some more. Big and colorful, your mouth watered just at the sight. You ended up on your tiptoes, barely keeping balance, gathering the oranges between your chest and arm.

One of them rolled out of your grasp, but before it fell, shadows gathered around it and brought it back to the group. You smiled instantly, stretching slightly to take the last orange. You felt your body gravitating forward as the tips of your fingers barely grazed it, and just before you could fall over, warm hands rounded your waist.

You were lifted the missing inch and stabilized at the same time, shadows keeping your legs upright. After taking the orange, you barely had time to look at it before you were lowered to the ground, back meeting his hard chest.

“Aren’t you a little shabby for a thief?” Azriel whispered against your ear, holding you close. “Risking your life for a bunch of oranges?”

“Oh, like you would have left me fall” you rolled your eyes, resisting the urge of squirming away when his lips brushed your cheek.

“I could have been away”

“Still”

You turned around, your arms full of oranges, and met his hazel eyes. Azriel could have been miles away, in a different country, that you were sure his shadows would have found a way of keeping you from hurt, just as they always did. You knew it, he knew it, and there was no real concern under his words, just playful banter.

Politics, territorial business and high lords were hard for him, and you could guess the outcome of the meeting in the darkness under his eyes. Still, when you looked at him, they shone a little brighter, his lips curling upwards.

His wings blocked the sun from behind, but some rays peeked through and made him look even more divine than he already was. Only a few hours away, and you already missed him.

His arms circled your waist and he lowered himself until he could kiss you softly, erasing the memories of the previous meeting. He tasted like home, like safety, and you were ready to drop your treats and wrap yourself around your mate.

Barely two seconds into the kiss, it was broken by the loud sound of your stomach reclaiming you back to your previous task. Azriel tore away with raised eyebrows, and burst into a loud laugh at your rosy cheeks.

“It’s past lunch time, don’t judge me” you looked down to your arms. “Want an orange?”

“I would love nothing more than a stolen orange”

You didn’t need words when you were with him, not as you sat on the bench you had climbed on and Azriel took the oranges from your grasp. His dark leathers were a rough contrast with your soft dress, the scars on his hands contrary to your careful touch. He didn’t flinch like he used to when you wrapped your fingers around his, only smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

There was no other place you would rather be but on that bench with him, the sun and shadows creating a beautiful landscape full of flowers and colors.

Azriel took the last orange from you and easily peeled its roughness away. His nails were chipped and broken, but he managed to get the whole thing off and hand it to you in small pieces. You gladly let him put the first one in your mouth, happy with not moving a muscle away from him.

“I can do that” you raised a brow as you bit on the juicy fruit.

“And I can do it for you” he bit on the next piece, eyes dropping to your mouth.

You tried grabbing the rest of the orange from him, but he easily brushed you away. It was common for him to do that type of stuff – peeling an orange for you so your hands wouldn’t get dirty, doing your hair in the morning when you were too tired, putting food on your plate before his own.

Those little things had built a comfortable relationship during your years together. You cleaned the blood off his leather when he came back from a mission and he brought you flowers each Sunday. He folded your clothes in a neat pile to you after your bath and you helped him tie his boots when he was sore from training.

The birds chirped around you as he kept peeling oranges, handing you some pieces and eating the rest of them. You watched as he carefully removed the white striped that you always complained about, checking each piece before giving it to you.

“How was the meeting?” you tried eventually, breaking the peaceful silence.

“It was” he shrugged, plucking the last part of the peel before dividing the orange. “Tamlin growled at everything and everyone. Kallias stepped out in the middle of it. Beron and Eris”

“What of Beron and Eris?”

“They were… them”

You knew without words that Beron and Eris had been the worst part of it. Maybe, if it wasn’t for them, Azriel would enjoy the politics of those meetings. He would stand in that room with his wings wide and head high. But they always managed to find something to bring him down, to make him feel less than them. And you would have gladly punched them into the knowing they wouldn’t even get close to the man Azriel was.

Azriel didn’t elaborate the answer for a while, both of you eating quietly. Once he had peeled the fourth orange and you had refused the last part, he started plucking the crumbs from under his nails.

You hoisted your legs up to his own, and made yourself comfortable on his lap. The reaction of having your body close was instant, his muscles going lax and his shoulders dropping.

“Rhys thinks Eris will stick to his part of, you know” Azriel talked softly, as if his shadows wouldn’t inform him of any presence within twenty feet. “But when he’s with his father, with that… smile and attitude, I wish he wouldn’t. I just wish it was different”

“I know” you agreed, pressing your stained lips to his cheeks. “It will be soon”

He turned to look at you and you smiled as brightly and convincingly as you could. Working with Eris was worse than any type of meeting. Having him coming to Velaris, where your home was, and letting him know where the most precious part of him lived was hard enough. But watching him play his enemy in a room full of threats and knowing he knew those things was on a different level.

It broke your heart each time he came back from those meetings, each time his vulnerability became apparent and you could do nothing about it.

Just smile, stay by his side, and stick to the promise of not letting anything happen to any of you.

You tried changing the subject for his sake and yours, anything to make him smile again like a few minutes before. Brushing the sticky stain on his cheek, you mentioned something Nesta had talked about before.

“There is a theory, you know” you started, trying to bite the smile off your lips so he would take you seriously. “About males, and oranges, and peeling them”

“Likely a theory of one of your books” he teased, and when you didn’t confirm neither deny it, he chuckled. “Or Nesta’s. I don’t know which one is worse”

“The theory says, that if your partner peels oranges for you without asking or saying, they love and care about you” you repeated what Nesta had told you a few days ago. “Getting their hands dirty and not minding about it because they love their partners more”

“More than an orange’s peel?” Azriel smiled widely now. “After almost fifty years of relationship, I hope you too love me more than that”

“You’re missing the point”

“It’s a stupid theory”

It was because he did way more than peel oranges for you. And you did way more than change the subject to stupid theories so he would take his mind off the worries. If Azriel had to peel a thousand oranges for you, he would do it. If he was allergic to them, he would still do it.

There was little Azriel wouldn’t do for you. The basics of protecting you, of giving you his love and affection, were already set at the begging of your relationship. But as he thought of the stupid orange peel, he wondered if there was something he wouldn’t do for you.

And he knew that there wasn’t.

“Let me guess” he tugged your legs closer and looked into your eyes with a deep frown of concentration. “Nesta told you about it, just as he has told you about the rest of stupid theories you have put to test. And she has also told Elain and Feyre, and you all have put it to test”

“You’re missing Mor” you smiled, knowing he would make the whole story perfectly.

“Rhys passed, for sure. Lucien too, though he would probably be a little wary and ask about it before doing it, because Elain doesn’t eat too many oranges” he guessed correctly, making you scoff a laugh. “And Cassian asked Nesta to peel his orange”

You burst into a laugh because, just like he had said, had happened.

As you tilted your head back, a ray of sun hit the side of your face and Azriel’s heart started beating a little faster. He would never not find you beautiful, but sometimes, it would hit him just how beautiful you were. How lucky he was, how perfect his mate was. The cauldron had made him wait, had made him suffer, and all of it was worthy from the moment he laid his eyes on you.

“I love you” he smiled, Eris and Beron long gone from his mind. “Even if you’re a shaggy thief”

“I love you too”

Azriel closed his eyes and let the sun bake his skin. Having you in his arms always felt good, no matter where you were. Spring court, Velaris, your home. He could be lying in a battlefield with you in his arms, safe and sound, and it would feel like heaven.

The meeting had been shitty, and the two days left in that court would be too. But if enduring it and peeling oranges for you would get him that kind of peace, he was ready for it to last forever.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

[zorosangell]

I love your stories!! Maybe a Zoro x princess!reader would be interesting? She ran away and became a pirate of the crew, but she is still very formal and polite while Zoro is... Zoro 😂😂

⛥ﾟ・。 knight

synopsis: as a princess, you constantly have a bounty on your head, which means you are almost always under attack whenever the crew docks on an island. so, after zoro saves you from being kidnapped again, you both have a heart to heart... which ends in a little confession.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, reader talks very proper, reader's a little dense, zoro's a little emotionally constipated

"Get the princess!" the leader of the thugs shouted, swords drawn as the huge gang chased after you.

Hastily, Zoro attempted to cut a nearby corner, teetering to the side a little bit before he stabilized and continued to sprint down the street.

"What the hell were you thinking, huh?!" he panted, brows furrowed at he glanced at you, who was thrown over his shoulder. "I leave you alone for two seconds! And somehow you find a way to grab the attention of every damn criminal in town!"

"I was thirsty!" you exclaimed, defensively. "I thought I was going into a bar!"

"It was obviously a bounty hunter's nest!" he fired back.

"How was I supposed to know that?!"

"It was called the Killshot! And had a sign hanging outside with a picture of a gun!"

"I thought it was just a colorful theme!"

Zoro groaned, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he cursed whatever god that allowed this to happen yet again.

One of these days, he was gonna pretend he didn't see anything.

You were a princess, plain and simple, heir to the throne of some far off kingdom in the New World.

Ever since you were a little girl, you'd longed for adventure, not wanting your world to be confined to the walls of your castle, or the borders of your kingdom.

So, you promised yourself that the moment you turned eighteen, you'd run away.

And that's exactly what you did.

Though, in hindsight, it was probably not the best decision, as you had absolutely no idea how the outside world worked.

Still, somehow by fate or by fortune, your clueless self had managed to make it all the way to Loguetown, where the crew saved you from a few assassins.

Thus, you became the Strawhat's resident princess and diplomat.

And Zoro's resident pain in the ass.

Whenever the crew docked on a new island, you always insisted on exploring it yourself, excited to see the new sights and sounds.

And, like clockwork, you always found some way to call unwanted attention to yourself, the swordsman always finding himself in close proximity.

He had half the mind to think you did it on purpose.

Brows furrowed, his feet picked up speed, muttering intelligible things to himself.

'Princess be damned... no woman's worth this much trouble...'

Out the corner of his eye, Zoro peeped an alley not too far away, quickly running to duck inside it.

Dropping you to your feet, his strong hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you into the shadows and covering your mouth as you let out a tiny yelp, eyes widening.

'Brute!'

You'd never been handled with such lack of care...

Back home, you were referred to as the Crowned Jewel of the Kingdom, known far and wide for your beauty and kindness.

Many often sang your praises, sending you buckets upon buckets of fan mail and writing songs about the prosperity your family had brought to the kingdom.

And the few that actually got to touch you did so with the utmost care, often reverently.

Meanwhile... this man talked to you as if you were an incompetent child, and tossed you around as if you were some sort of rag-doll.

Safe to say, it was quite the culture shock.

As the large group of men passed, Zoro tightened his grip on you, watching closely they examined the shops and stalls outside—some of them having split up to search quicker.

"Coulda sworn they were right here..." one of them grumbled under his breath, brows furrowed.

The dark-haired man paused, giving the space one more once over before turning to the others, sheathing his sword with an annoyed sigh.

"Looks like we lost 'em. Let's circle back to where we found 'em and see if that redhead knows anything."

Your eyes widened, knowing exactly who he was talking about.

"Nami!" you whimpered, forcing Zoro's calloused hand to press harder into your face to muffle the noise.

"Quiet," his deep, rough voice ordered, tone leaving no room for argument.

Suspicious, the man glanced in your direction, narrowing his eyes at the darkness as he looked directly at you—though he didn't know it.

Your heart stopped, your entire body freezing up as both you and Zoro stayed as still as statues, pressing firmer against the wall of the alley to avoid being revealed as he left.

And once he was completely one, you both let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders dropping as the tension finally oozed out your back.

"Are you stupid or something?" Zoro spat, curtly, brows furrowed. "You could've gotten us both caught!"

"I already expressed my apologies! It was not on purpose!" you countered, throwing your hands up in the air. "I simply wanted something to drink, but then those thugs just grabbed me! And did so without asking!"

Zoro let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he hung his head.

You couldn't be serious...

"They're bounty hunters, (y/n)... they're not gonna ask permission to kidnap you."

"I'm afraid I just learned that firsthand," you huffed, a small pout gracing your lips and you leaned against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. "And after I was so generous... I even offered to negotiate the terms over lunch."

With a raised brow, Zoro leaned against the wall with you, confused.

"Terms?"

"A closed contract between me and all affiliates of the Killshot gang that would have guaranteed my continued residency with the Strawhat crew in exchange for a sum total of five-hundred million berries, paid monthly or in advance, depending on their preference."

The swordsman nearly choked on the air he was taking in, floored by the number you said so casually.

"Five-hundred million?!"

You nodded, plainly, confused by his surprise.

"Money is no object for my family. Especially pertaining to my safety," you shrugged. "I extend that offer to my friends, as well. Back at the auction house on Sabaody, I would have happily bought Camie to save her... but Sir Raleigh had already beat me to the punch."

Slowly, a small smile crept onto the swordsman's face, the rigidness in his stance slowly morphing into one more relaxed.

'Well, I'll be damned...'

It was moments like these that he enjoyed, as he was actually offered a glimpse at your true self.

The woman that an entire kingdom absolutely adored.

Princess (y/n).

Sure, you were hard-headed at times, and completely clueless when it came to social interactions outside of high society.

But you had heart, and generosity that quite literally knew no bounds.

Just... maybe some self defense lessons were needed.

"I gotta teach you some hand to hand if you're gonna keep goin' on these little expeditions," he sighed, clearing his throat as he glanced down at the ground.

"Combat?" you scrunched your nose. "What is the point of that when I have you?"

The gears in his head came to a screeching halt, his head snapping over to you so fast, you'd think he'd have whiplash.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You are a swordsman, are you not?" you raised a brow.

"Yes..."

"And you follow me around, yes?"

"I don't follow you around!"

The man flushed, face burning at your plainness.

"You are always there when I am in trouble."

"Yeah... well... that's 'cause I have shit luck..."

"But you care about me, right?"

Zoro froze, throat clamming up.

He had never been presented with questions like these before, and they were forcing him to think.

To read into why exactly he was always there whenever you called for help.

You were always within arms reach of him, the two of you seeming to just naturally float around each other, even as you did your daily routines.

And although you were far from his responsibility, Zoro couldn't understand why he felt the need to worry so much.

He knew million times over that the crew was capable of protecting you, and that if anything were to happen, Luffy or Sanji could more than adequately swoop in to your rescue.

But for some reason, reminding himself of that fact didn't subdue the concern that spiked in his chest when you left his line of sight, or the faint pang of panic in his breath.

'Dammit...'

Too many questions.

"I... yes," he answered, awkwardly.

Instantly, a warm smile broke out on your face, melting the swordsman's heart into a puddle on the floor.

"Then, that makes you my sworn sword!" you beamed, cheekily.

"Your sworn... what?"

"My sworn sword. My knight. My champion," you elaborated. "You stand by my side throughout my travels and keep me under your protection."

"I do WHAT?!"

"Is your hearing all right? You seem to be having a hard time processing what I am saying..."

"No, no... it's... it's not that..."

An uncomfortable silence suddenly settled over you both, the swordsman practically praying that the gang would come back so he could run you both back to the ship and escape the atmosphere.

You, on the other hand, had been feeling quite the opposite, wanting things to be settled right here and now.

Zoro had been your "crush"—lovingly dubbed by Nami—for over two years, and was the only person in the world that was consistently there for you, always rushing to your rescue without fail.

Despite his prickly exterior, and his sharp words, you could tell he was a kind, loyal, and compassionate man.

He just needed a little push.

Just then, the sound of running footsteps began to draw nearer to the mouth of the alley, your eyes shooting wide at the sound.

"Someone is coming!" you whispered, quickly turning to him .

Eyes doe wide, and breath quickened, you settled on something you'd read in a book once, hoping it would conceal your faces.

What possessed you to do it, you had no idea.

Pulling the man in by his robe, you smashed your lips into his, his eye shooting as wide as a saucer.

Everything had gone from zero to a hundred so fast.

Left was up.

Down was right.

But, in that moment, everything felt oddly right.

So, for the first time in his life, he caved, allowing his eye to flutter shut and his body to ease into the kiss.

Sliding your hands up, one of them cupped his face, while the other threw your arm around his neck, keeping him in place as he snaked his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss was electric, and, while very uncoordinated and eager, felt like liquid fire was coursing through your veins, pushing you forward.

Smoothly, the two of you shifted, Zoro pushing you up against the wall and tilting his head in order to get a better angle, deepening the kiss even further.

His hands gripped you even tighter, suddenly fearful he would float away if you didn't keep him grounded.

With your touch burning his skin and your scent flooding his nostrils, he felt like he was higher than the clouds, like this was heaven on earth.

Your lips were so damn soft...

Hell, you were so damn soft...

You washed over him like a wave of calm, the rhythm of the kiss lulling his worry-filled mind until the only thing he could think about was why the hell he didn't do this sooner.

"Aw, jeez! This is what you guys were doing all this time?!" Luffy exclaimed from the mouth of the alley, completely ruining the moment.

'Thats why...'

The two of you quickly threw yourselves off each other, faces burning with embarrassment as you looked in opposite directions.

"At least do that inside. You're gonna catch somethin' out here..." he shrugged, turning to walk away.

Your eyes shot wide, and you snapped your head over to the boy.

"Wait, Luffy, what did you think we were—?" "Don't wanna talk about it!"

"You idiot, we weren't—!" "M'not listening!"

You turned to the swordsman, brow raised in confusion.

"What is he talking about?"

Zoro's eye widened, and it finally donned on him that you hadn't been taught about... the birds and the bees.

'Christ...'

"I'll tell you another time," he sighed, talking your hand and leading you toward the exit of the alley. "Let's go back to the ship."

"Yes, of course!" you playfully bellowed. "Lead the way, knight!"

"I'm not your knight!"

"Whatever you say... knight..."

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Wedding Jitters

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: it’s your wedding day, but you need your brothers to help you out

A/N: this turned into more of a one shot, but honestly it’s so adorable

“Alright, one big brother and one maid of honor as requested.” Dean’s voice had you looking to the doorway, where your two brothers were now standing.

“For the last time Dean, man of honor is a real thing,” Sam argued, glaring at his brother.

“Just be glad she didn’t make you the flower girl,” Dean teased with a laugh.

“Hey, idiots, you’ve got a bride freaking out over here,” you interrupted their quarrel.

“Hey hey, no freaking out allowed,” Dean insisted. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, in which case I’m still perfectly ready to assassinate the groom at any given moment.”

“No I did not change my mind!” You huffed. “I just—my hair looks dumb and the dress isn’t working and he’s gonna think I look ugly and-and then I’m gonna trip and—“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sam cut in, stepping further into the room and grabbing onto your hands to stabilize you. “None of that is going to happen.”

“Yeah,” Dean insisted. “You picked out that dress because you love it. Your hair looks perfect. If that man thinks you are anything other than the most beautiful woman on earth, I’ll shoot him myse—“

“Dean!” Sam interrupted, but Dean grinned when he saw your lips twitching.

“Yeah, uh huh, it was funny I know.”

“Stop it!” You covered your face with your hands so Dean wouldn’t see you grinning. “You guys are so stupid.”

“And hey,” Dean continued as if you hadn’t interrupted. “You know I won’t ever let you fall, right?”

“Right.” You took a deep breath. “Ok.”

“Ok.” Dean pulled you into his arms, and you felt Sam hug you from the other side. You relaxed in their embrace for a few seconds.

“Hey guys?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna wrinkle my dress.”

“Ok, ok,” Dean huffed, pulling away. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“Hey I think it’s almost time,” Sam said. He led the way to the back of the short line waiting to head down the aisle. You trailed just behind him, holding Dean’s arm in a vice grip.

“Hey sweetheart?” Dean whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You’re hurting my arm.”

You rolled your eyes and loosened your grip.

“I’m not gonna let you trip,” Dean promised again.

“I know.” You nodded. You faced forward, and Sam started making faces at you from his spot just in front of you. You giggled, and Sam grinned widely. As soon as the doors opened to start the ceremony, Dean poked your side and you struggled to get your face under control.

As soon as Sam stepped through the doors, heading down the aisle as your man of honor, the doors shut behind him so that you could have a “big entrance” after Sam got to the end. With the doors closed, it was just you and Dean.

“I’m so proud of you.” Dean’s right hand grabbed onto your hand that was resting on his left arm. “You deserve this. And I want you to know, while you’re out there starting your own family—me and Sammy are always gonna be here for you.”

“I know.” Your hand squeezed Dean’s. “Thanks for walking me down the aisle, Dean.”

Dean grinned. “Well someone’s gotta be up there with a gun in case you change your mind.”

You were just reaching over to smack your brother when the music changed and the doors opened wide. You quickly returned your hands where they were supposed to be, but you couldn’t hold back the tiniest giggle when you saw Dean smirking at you knowingly.

You quickly stifled the laugh, but you couldn’t keep the grin off your face when you saw the awestruck look of your fiancé.

Dean led you down the aisle, and once you reached the end you turned to look at him.

The tears in his eyes didn’t really surprise you—in fact, you already had a response prepared.

“Your eyes are sweating,” you whispered so only he could hear. That got a smile out of him as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering as long as he could. Then he let you go and went to stand by Sam. You were right behind him, reaching over to hand Sam your bouquet.

He wasn’t supposed to, but Sam pulled you into a hug.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into your ear.

“Right back at you.”

You stepped back, taking one last glance at your big brothers before turning to grab onto your fiancé’s outstretched hands…

Knowing that you never would’ve made it this far without them.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[kiss-theggoat]

Would you write for Thomas Hewitt ?

A/N: I just recently watched this version and hubba hubba I’m in love with Mr Thomas Hewitt. I’ve only seen this one twice, so if some characters are out of character, I apologize! I hope you like it as much as I do bc this boy deserves better!

Bluebonnets

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You and your friends stopped for gas in a rinky dink little town in Texas, but the Hewitt family thinks that you’d be perfect for their little Tommy.

TW: Violence and Gore, Death, Hoyt is a pervert, Cannibalism, Sort of Stockholm Syndrome, Ends with fluff

The sun beat down on your face as you laid your head back against the rough leather seat, deeply regretting the fact that you agreed to drive in a convertible through Texas in the middle of August. Your sweat broke through the barrier of sunblock, leaving your skin sticky and shiny, the humid wind doing absolutely nothing to cool you off.

“We’re almost outta gas!” Johnny yelled, his hand on Sue’s thigh. She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. “I thought we gassed up in Austin!”

He shrugged. “We did. Getting bad gas mileage I guess!”

She groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. You were relieved to finally get out of the car and into some sort of building, hopefully with air conditioning. You sat in the back, squished against the side of the car by Tyler and Ginny making out, taking up almost the entire seat. You felt a little bit fifth-wheel-y, but you knew your friends would’ve given you so much shit if you refused to come.

Johnny pointed to a sign up ahead, faded and cracked from the relentless Texas sun. In light pink, what used to be red, the sign said, ‘GAS AND BARBECUE NEXT EXIT’. Johnny laughed, squeezing Sue’s thigh with a sweaty palm. “Barbecue, babe! Let’s go!”

Sue sighed. “Fine.” She turned to everyone in the back, and you saw that she was just as sweaty as you, tanned skin shining in the sunlight. “Everyone okay with stopping here.”

For some reason, this got on your nerves. You didn’t know if it was the fact that you’d been in the car for six hours or the fact that you were baking like a casserole in 100 degree weather. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone in the car was giving eachother fuck-me eyes, like a sick joke you weren’t apart if. And, on top of that, the last thing you wanted after being in 86 percent humidity was fucking barbecue. “Where the hell else are we going to stop? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Sue gave you a look before you were interrupted by Ginny. “Here’s fine, babe!” She smiled at Sue, her lips red and swollen from being absolutely ravished by her scrawny boyfriend. You crossed your arms and laid your head back down, trying your best to meditate your way out of this road trip.

You guess it worked because before you knew it, you were pulling into the run-down gas station, car switching off with an alarming squeal. You hopped out of the car, not bothering to talk to any of your friends, and went inside. Your stomach turned. Instead of the blissful air conditioning you were yearning for, you were smacked in the face by the putrid smell of rotting meat. Flies buzzed around your face, and you swore it was hotter in here than it was outside.

Looking around, there was a convenience store area, a case to your left with meat inside, and a little old lady sitting behind the counter. You took a deep, stabilizing breath. You were pissed and over this trip, but you knew better than to take it out on some poor unsuspecting stranger. You put on a smile and walked towards her, pulling your shorts further down your thighs. The old lady looked up at you and then back down at her book, before doing a double take. She took her glasses off, then gave you a small smile.

“Hi sweetie. What can I do for you?”

She’s nice, you thought. You liked when old ladies called you cute names. You smiled brighter at her, feeling relieved that one person was making you feel actual joy on this trip. “Hi, ma’am. Is there a bathroom here.”

“Yes, hun, it’s outside, around the side of the station.” She said, handing you a key ring. You tried not to let your face scrunch in disgust, but you were pretty sure there was a real rabbit's foot on this thing. You grabbed the key from her, avoiding the furry foot, and told her, “Thank you so much. My friends are also going to use the restroom so I’ll have this back in a few minutes.” She nodded at you, going back to her book.

You pushed the door open, actually relieved to be outside. You welcomed the smell of dust that Texas had gotten you used to instead of the rancid steaks. As you walked towards the bathroom, Sue grabbed your arm, making you jump. “What the hell is up with you?” She asked, staring at you accusingly.

You sighed, feeling better after your pleasant exchange with the old woman. “I’m sorry for being snippy. I’m just tired and hot and…done being in the car.” You said quietly, shaking her off to go towards the dilapidated bathroom.

“You can have the front seat from now on, you can actually feel the AC a little bit sometimes.” She said, following you.

You put the key in the door and twisted it. “It’s okay. The sun goes down in like…an hour and a half? It should cool down.” The moment the door swung open, you were hit with that same raunchy smell. You put a hand over your nose and grimaced, “It smells like this inside too…” you sighed, slowly walking into the single stall bathroom.

You couldn’t have pissed faster. You quickly washed up and nearly sprinted from the bathroom back towards the car, holding your face the entire time. The cheap soap from your hands also smelled bad, but compared to the smell of the bathroom, it was like the world's most expensive perfume. “Uhm…does anyone else need to use the bathroom? I have to return the key.”

Everyone shook their heads, but Johnny spoke up. “We’ll go with you. We’ll get food and pay for the gas.”

You nodded and opened the door to the station for everyone, watching in amusement as all of their faces twisted with disgust just as yours did when you first smelled it. The old lady looked up again, and instead of her smile she wore a sneer as she watched Johnny walk up to her. “We need twenty dollars on pump one.” He said, not looking at her and pulling out his wallet.

“We don’t have gas.” She said quickly and coldly, holding her book up in front of him. “Haven’t for a couple weeks.”

Johnny scoffed in disbelief, tossing his hands down on the counter. “So you’re the only gas station for 100 miles and you don’t have any gas?”

She shrugged, not answering.

“Well, when are you gonna have gas?” Ginny asked, also putting her hands on the counter.

“Could be a week. Maybe more.”

Johnny looked down in the case, noticing the green meat and flies swarming. “So no gas and I’m guessing…” he tapped aggressively on the glass. “No barbecue?”

The old lady took her glasses off again, irritated. “We got food.” She pointed behind your group to shelves of food that looked like it was from the 1940’s.

Johnny laughed, head rolling back. “You’ve got to be kidding me, lady! You have to take that sign down if everything is a fucking lie!”

You stepped forward, putting an arm in front of Johnny’s torso and pushing him away from the counter slightly. “I’m sorry ma’am. We’ll find somewhere else to go, thank you for your help and letting us use the restroom.” You said, sliding the key back over the counter. You felt bad for her. Obviously this town wasn’t a money pit, and maybe she did have a popular place before, but it looks like everything’s gone out of business. Maybe she’s barely surviving, the last thing she needs is five twenty-something year olds harassing her for things she can’t control.

She gave you her attention, unlike your friends. She smiled at you, grabbing the key back from you. “Thank you, young lady. You’re very polite. Maybe you could teach your friends there some manners.” She said, pointing to Johnny and Ginny with her glasses. Johnny scoffed and started to yell something, but you quickly yanked on his shoulder to usher them out of the building. You nodded at the woman with a smile before leaving. You bumped into Johnny’s back hard, wondering why the hell he stopped in front of you like that.

You moved out from behind him to see a cop. “Great, the old hag called the cops!” Johnny groaned, only shutting up when Sue rubbed his bicep. You never liked Johnny.

“We ain’t get no call folks. Came here for some refreshments.” The cop said, pointing to his badge. “And I ain’t just any cop. Sheriff. Sheriff Hoyt.”

Johnny sighed, nodding. “Okay, Sheriff. Where’s the nearest gas station? This dump doesn’t have gas.”

“It ain’t nice to disrespect someone’s business, boy.” The sheriff scowled, spitting black tobacco onto the concrete. You could feel your heart rate rising, you knew that Johnny was going to get you in trouble somehow. You looked around, finally seeing the sheriff’s cruiser parked behind the convertible. As you peered inside, you noticed a man sitting in the passenger seat. You couldn’t see him too well, but he was large, blocking up pretty much the entire window.

“It’s hardly a business. Pretty sure there’s botflies inside, could kill someone.” Johnny started to walk away, but the Sheriff stepped in front of him to block his path. “What’s your fucking problem?”

The sheriff stared into Johnny’s eyes, scowling. You could sense the tension, and decided you’d be the peace keeper of the day. “Sir…sir, we’re sorry. We’re just almost out of gas and we’ve been traveling for a long time.” You said, stepping towards the Sheriff.

His eyes raked over you, making you feel sort of icky. You wished you were wearing a winter coat, despite the heat. He spit again, a gross squelch breaking the silence. “Finally someone with some manners.”

Johnny laughed, “What the fuck is up with old people and manners?! Jesus Christ, we just need gas!” He yelled, shoving the Sheriff’s shoulder. You gasped, grabbing Johnny’s arm but in the blink of an eye, a revolver was being pointed at Johnny’s face. Everyone froze, staring at the firearm.

“Now are you gonna show some respect, boy? I’m the Sheriff of this town and I’m not gonna tolerate a group of hoodlums messin’ things up.” He said, voice hushed, almost a whisper.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. We’re leaving. Let’s go.” You moved towards the car, but the Sheriff stopped you.

“Y’all think you can just stroll into a town, cause trouble, and go?” He laughed, cocking the gun with a haunting click. “Tommy!” He yelled, turning his head towards the car. The door slowly opened and you watched as a mammoth of a man stepped out, dress shirt and apron giving him an even larger silhouette. He wore a mask with messy brown hair, broad shoulders slouched. Your heart skipped a beat. Wrong situation to think this, but the man was quite handsome. You’d always liked bigger men.

“Please sir…we don’t want any trouble. We’d just like to be on our way, we’ll leave and never come back.” You pleaded, hands out in front of you. Gravel crunched beneath the huge man’s feet as he walked towards your group. The sheriff turned to him. “Whadya think Tommy?” He asked with a cruel cackle.

The ringing of a bell made you turn back towards the station, and you saw the old lady standing there. She held her reading glasses, and pointed at you with them. Your heart dropped. What did this mean? You turned back to the sheriff, and he looked just as confused as you did. She scoffed at his confusion. She wanted to tell him something, but didn’t want you and your friends to hear it. She waddled over slowly, but Johnny had other ideas. He spun quickly, hitting the sheriff’s arm, but unfortunately, it didn’t cause him to drop the gun. Tyler started to run, Ginny tried to help Johnny, and Sue grabbed your arm. “Let’s go! We need to run!” She yelled.

Your ears rang at the close range of the gunshot, you fell to your knees, scraping them, and covered your ears with your hands. You heard a scream, immediately recognizing it as Sue. You turned around to see Johnny, laying on the dirt with blood pooling around him, a perfect bullet wound in the center of his forehead. You felt nauseous, but you couldn’t move. Looking up, you saw the smoking revolver gripped tight in the sheriff's hand, now focused on Sue. She was hunched over Johnny’a body, sobbing and screaming, the tears making trails of clean skin as they wiped away the thin layer of dust.

Somewhere to your right, another scream. Ginny. You saw the large man, who the Sheriff called Tommy, holding her up in the air on his shoulder. She banged against his chest with knees and hit his back with her fists, thrashing and screaming. On his other arm, he held the limp body of Tyler, blood dripping from his head and beading in the dust, tucked beneath his armpit. This man carried two grown adults effortlessly, his strength scared the hell out of you. You didn’t even see if he had a weapon, but he managed to take them both down.

You sat in terror. You wanted to run, but with a revolver focused on your head, what were your options. The old lady appeared on your left, hand touching the Sheriff’s shoulder. She leaned in to whisper, but you heard her.

“Don’t touch her. Keep her for Tommy.”

Keep her for Tommy? What the fuck did that mean? You stared up at them in fear and watched as he groaned, pointing the gun at Sue instead. She didn’t even look phased, too focused on her boyfriend’s dead body. Tommy loaded the other two into the back of the car, and then made his way back towards you. Tears welled in your eyes as he approached, his shadow looming over you and finally blocking you from the sun. As he got closer, you saw the detail in his face and clothes. He had pretty eyes and his hair looked soft, but his bloody clothes and tight leather mask contrasted the softness of the rest of him.

He grabbed your arm in a surprisingly soft grip, the only thing disconcerting about his touch was the slickness from the blood that he left on your skin. He pulled you towards the car, and it was obvious he wanted you to follow. The old woman put a hand on his shoulder and affectionately patted his chest, he leaned down to her level. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and told him, “She’s perfect for you, Tommy.”

You finally realized what was going on. They were setting you up with him, like you and your friends were on some sort of sick dating game. You stumbled as you followed him to the cop car, his head was down and his shoulders were slumped as he opened the front passenger side and moved aside. You looked up at him. He wanted you to get in, but he didn’t put you in the back like you thought he would, and for that, you were grateful. The last thing you wanted to do was sit beside the bleeding, passed out bodies of two of your friends.

You took a seat in the scalding car, body swaying with the force that he shut the door. He stood in front of the door as if keeping watch, like a prison guard. You stared in horror as the sheriff finally had enough with Sue, giving her the same fate as Johnny. She laid on his chest, her blood mixing with his as the sheriff walked away from their bodies. You were grateful you were far away from them, both because you didn’t want to see your best friend die, and your ears were still ringing from the first gunshot.

The sheriff entered the car, flashing you a creepy smirk before you felt Tommy enter the backseat. You stared out the window, definitely in shock and confused. Just twenty minutes ago the worst of your problems was having to pee on a road trip and now you just watched all of your friends either die or be brutally attacked by someone who is supposed to protect the community. You had a feeling he wasn’t a real sheriff, given the nature of the recent events.

You laid your head against the door. You hadn’t noticed how tired you were, but you guessed experiencing something like that would be hard on your body. Feeling fairly confident that they wouldn’t kill you, you drifted off to sleep as he drove who knows where.

You only woke up to the sound of a door slamming and you realized that it was dark outside. You had no idea where you were or how long you’d been driving, but you felt disgusting. Cheeks stiff with tears, nose running, mouth dry and eyes burning. Your door opened and you were being yanked out by the sheriff, who was much rougher with you than Tommy was. You winced at how tight he was holding you as he dragged you towards a fairly large country style home.

The door was kicked open and you saw the same old woman from the station holding a pot of food. “Finally, Charlie. Tommy had to help cook.” She scoffed, setting the pot down at the large dining room table, where an old man already sat.

“Dammit, Luda Mae, I told you! It’s Sheriff Hoyt! You hear me!” He yelled, hitting the wall with his free hand, making you jump. You were putting the pieces together. There was Hoyt, or Charlie apparently, Tommy, Luda Mae, and then this old man. They lived together, probably related.

You looked around, saw the table full of food, dusty knickknacks, bones hanging from the ceiling. It all felt like a sick mix of home and hell. The rugs and the quilts on the plush couches looked knit, and the lamps give the room a comforting glow. If you weren’t here under these circumstances, you might find this house cozy.

Hoyt forced you to the table, plopping you down across from the old man already seated. He tied your wrists to the chair with leather straps that were bolted in. Obviously, this wasn’t their first time offense. Your fingertips began to cool with how tight the leather was cinched, and you whimpered at the pain. Luda Mae sat next to the old man, smiling at you.

“Oh dear. The moment I saw you, I knew that my Thomas would like you. We’re so happy to have you here.” She sounded genuinely happy, and you couldn’t help feeling sorry for this family. You heard Hoyt bang in something and yell Tommy’s name, then a loud sliding sound. Thomas walked into the dining room and took a seat next to you, across from Luda Mae. Hoyt took the head of the table, standing over the pot with a giant ladle.

“Well thanks to this pretty lady…” he said, winking at you, warning a scoff from Luda Mae, “and all of her friends… we’ll have dinner for the next couple a’ weeks!” He grabbed Thomas’ bowl and dropped in a ladle full, then the same with Luda Mae’s. As he served you, you noticed large chunks of game-y looking meat inside of your stew. Surely he didn’t mean….

You stared in horror at your food, lips sealed shut in fear that you may vomit. Your mouth watered with the insatiable urge to throw up everywhere, and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. You watched as everyone dug in, eating with a fervor that said they’d been starving for a month. They moaned in joy at the flavor of the food, occasionally complimenting Thomas or Luda Mae for the cooking. Only you and Thomas weren’t eating. He because he didn’t want to remove his mask in front of you, and you because you weren’t really on board with cannibalism.

“Don’t be ungrateful, boy. Eat your damn dinner!” Hoyt yelled, a cooked carrot flying from his mouth onto the table as he slammed his hand down. Thomas jumped and put his hands near his face, like he was expecting to be hit. Your heart ached for him. It was obvious he didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t evil like the rest of them, he was forced to do this. You watched him slowly unbuckle the leather strap of his mask and slide it off, revealing a scarred face, exposed nose cartilage and teeth, mangled jaw bones. You felt terrible watching him keep his face down, hair covering it. He was ashamed.

He picked up a spoon, but still didn’t eat. He just stirred the stew. Obviously you wouldn’t know this, but he didn’t want to eat in front of you, because eating was a little difficult for him. He was more prone to spilling food on himself or getting messy and spilling down his chin. Not exactly the way to impress your new date.

You swore that Hoyt was turning red with rage. “Dammit boy! Your momma made this dinner and you’re just gonna stare at it?!” He growled, slapping Thomas upside the head. Anger filled your chest as you watched Thomas cover his head, eyes clenched shut. What made you even angrier is that Luda Mae and the old man just sat there, eating like nothing was wrong.

“Don’t hit him.” You said. Your throat was hoarse, you haven't talked in a while.

“Fuck you say to me, girl?”

You looked Hoyt in the eyes. “I said…don’t hit him.”

He sneered and leaned over the table, knocking the spoon from his empty bowl. “Oh I see…Tommy needs his little girlfriend to defend him, huh? Listen here, you little bitch-“

“Hoyt, be kind to our guest.” Luda Mae said, eating the last of her potato. She looked over at you, and then at Thomas. She was happy that you stood up for him.

Hoyt laughed at her, shaking his head. “Pathetic.” He grumbled, throwing his bowl to the center of the table. “Neither of ya wanna eat dinner? Fine!” He walked over to Thomas and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back, and with the other hand, he grabbed his mask. He slammed his mask hard against Thomas’s face, making him wince. “Ya can just go back to your little fuckin’ basement then.”

He walked over to you, roughly unstrapping your wrists. Blood flowed back into the white spots, and you knew it’d bruise. “And take your bitch with ya.” He growled, shoving you over towards Thomas. Thomas had just finished securing his mask, and he gently grabbed your sore wrist. You followed him while looking behind your back, staring spitefully at Hoyt, who shamelessly watched your ass as you walked away.

Thomas slid a huge wooden door out of the way and led you down a staircase. The basement smelled rancid, like stale metal and rotting meat. As you walked in, you knew why. Weapons hung from the ceiling, a workbench in the center of the room. Blood coated the entire floor, and some dropped steadily from the table, giving you the sound like a very messed up metronome. A bed in the corner called your name despite the stained mattress. It had no pillows, no sheets, no blankets. You looked at Thomas.

“You…sleep here?” You asked meekly and watched as he gave you a very tiny nod, looking at the bed. He led you over to it, and held your shoulders, sitting you down. He let you sit there for a second and then he walked away, going to sit in a chair on the other side of the room next to his work table. He wanted you to sleep in his bed, but he wasn’t going to?

Your chest swelled with the kindness of this poor man. A pure soul forced into the mud by his corrupt family. You stood up and took a step towards him. “I don’t want to take your bed. It’s yours.”

He shook his head and walked back to you, grabbing your shoulders again to sit you down. You gave in because the feeling of this stained, thin mattress was like heaven, despite the fact that you could feel the springs digging into your back as you laid down. You stared at him for a moment as he began to rummage through items on his shelf. Your eyes began to close, eyelids feeling like they had ten pound weights attached.

He turned around, holding something small and dainty in his large and veiny hands. He sat at your feet, a gentle hand placed on your ankle. You glanced down at him as he held out a dried Bluebonnet to you. You smiled softly and took it from him, feeling its soft stem and looking at its pretty periwinkle petals. “Thank you…” you mumbled sleepily.

You thought, just before you fell asleep, that there were two things in this basement that didn’t belong. Everything in this house was drenched in blood and fear and grime, this basement was disgusting and horrifying. But, in all of the terror, you had this beautiful Bluebell, a reminder of the open, sweet smelling fields of Texas, and even more pure, you had Thomas.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve and Eddie go through the whole adoption process in 1996, despite how difficult it was to find somewhere willing to help them at all and despite their conflicted feelings on adoption.

The way they saw it though, providing a loving home for a child who needed one was better than the alternative. Eddie had enough experience with temporary foster homes to know stability was better than constant moving and questionable foster parents.

They get a foster placement almost immediately, a six year old girl named Amelia. She’s quiet, but not in a way that worries them. She’s very focused, and enjoys going to school more than any regular children’s hobbies. Neither of them know what to do with that other than keep encouraging it.

She stays for months, months turn into a year, and the agency finally gives them the go ahead to complete the adoption process.

But they don’t do anything without talking to Amelia.

She’s happy there, her therapist signs off on it immediately and explains that Amelia has shown more personality development and less signs of trauma with them than she had even living at home. Not to mention they actually brought her to appointments, unlike her previous guardians.

To celebrate, they throw a party with all their friends and family and tell Amelia she can invite anyone from school she wants. She invites everyone.

Turns out their daughter is a social butterfly and is friends with everyone.

At the party, Eddie pulls out his guitar, plays a bunch of popular kid-friendly songs after a very scathing look from Steve as a reminder to behave.

Amelia walks over to him after a few songs, on a sugar high like he’d never seen on her before, and asks to play the guitar.

He’s hesitant, but not because he’s still protective of his guitars, more because he doesn’t want her to embarrass herself in front of her friends. Kids are cruel, even and especially at seven, and the last thing he wants is this to be the thing that kids talk about for the next ten years.

She sits on the couch and holds it, arranging her fingers…correctly. Eddie watches.

Steve is watching from across the room.

She starts strumming, very quietly at first, not as confident as she’d been a moment ago. And then she starts really playing.

It’s one of the songs Eddie wrote. He played it for the last four months nonstop as he perfected it, and she’d apparently been watching.

Eddie’s jaw is on the floor and he quickly looks over to Steve, who has a similar look of surprise on his face.

He doesn’t interrupt her. She makes it through the entire song.

She looks up.

“When did you learn to play guitar?” Eddie asks.

“When I was watching you.”

“But have you played before tonight?”

Amelia shook her head, looking down. “Didn’t wanna touch it without asking.”

Eddie pulls the guitar from her hands and sets it aside, then pulls her into his lap and hugs her. Steve sits down on the couch next to them, hand on her back.

“You can always ask, sweetie. And if you’re this interested and this natural, we can buy you your own guitar if you want. I didn’t think you were interested in playing.”

“I wanna be like you,” Amelia admitted against his shoulder.

Eddie was done for. He looked at Steve, half-panicked, trying not to cry in front of these people, but Steve wasn’t faring any better.

“Then we can go get you a guitar tomorrow. You can get your own picks, too. They might even have purple ones.”

“Can I have red? Like yours?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

It only took them two days after that to realize she could play by ear, just like Eddie.

And then it only took another day after that to realize she had taught herself to read music too.

They spent hours and hours every week playing together while Steve cooked dinner or checked her homework or just watched them.

When Eddie’s band decided to record another album and go on tour when Amelia was 12, Eddie insisted that she get to be on it.

She ended up helping write one of their songs, played on the track on the album, and with a lot of work, convinced Steve to let them homeschool her for the entire 8 months they’d be on tour so she could perform on stage with her dad.

“Can’t believe she’s not even genetically yours. Are you sure you didn’t have an affair?” Steve asked the night before they were leaving for Europe.

“When would I have had an affair? I came back to the tour bus or hotel with you every single night,” Eddie kissed him softly. “She’s amazing, huh?”

“She is. What happens when she wants to be a full blown rockstar like her dad too?”

“Then we make sure she’s protected and has good people around her like I have. She could be a rockstar easily. She’s got the talent and the presence,” Eddie smiled. “And she’s got me to make sure no one takes advantage of her. But she’s only 12. We’ve got time to worry about that later.”

“You’re bringing her onstage every single night all over the world for the next eight months, baby. I think later is now.”

Eddie sighed. “She’s gonna blow them all away. I’m proud of her. Let’s focus on that for now.”

And she did blow everyone away. The fans and the media had nothing but good things to say, and Steve didn’t have to go into overprotective mom mode at all until she was 15 and signing a record deal of her own.

But between Eddie and him, the entire industry knew better than to fuck with her or them.

They made rules, of course. School still came first, she still had required family events to be at, she still had regular friends at home. She wasn’t allowed at any parties, not even the events for award ceremonies.

But she didn’t really need those rules. She had no interest in parties or abandoning her friends or family, and she was a straight A student who still had hopes of getting into Brown for Journalism like her Aunt Nancy. She had a passion for music and wanted to share it, but not at the cost of the rest of her life.

And Eddie and Steve did everything they could to make sure she got to have everything. That’s what they’d promised her from day one.

[cjlouwho]

(I made this little headcanon then had to write a fic for it. Here's 2k words of the 118 being obsessed with Tommy ft. Bobby being a dad, of course. Enjoy here or on ao3!)

The Problem

Buck has a problem.

He knows it shouldn't be a problem. Knows he should be grateful. He's never had anything like this before. Never felt so secure in his life. Work is good, home is good, friends are good, family's good, and his boyfriend... well, he's really good.

Buck is in love, like really and truly in love, for the first time ever. Yes, he's said it before, and maybe he meant it, but not like this. He's never had this much stability, and care, and comfort, and security. Buck doesn't just love Tommy, he feels loved by Tommy. Since the moment the words I love you slipped out of Tommy's mouth, there has never been a doubt in his mind that Tommy means it. And he knows that Tommy feels the same way about him too.

But none of that is the problem.

The problem is he's not the only one who loves Tommy.

All of his coworkers love Tommy.

A lot.

Apparently he is a very popular guy with the 118. Buck always knew Tommy was a cool guy, even when he first tried and failed to discredit the claim, but he didn't realize that every single one of his coworkers would also think Tommy was the coolest guy to ever walk the planet.

Okay, maybe they didn't actually think that, but it was obvious that they liked him and they wanted to be around him.

All. The. Time.

At first it was cute. Buck was thrilled that everyone liked the person he was dating. He was overjoyed that they always had something positive to say about Tommy, that they had him included in group chats, and invited him to hangout with the team after a shift.

Then it became... a lot to manage.

Chimney and Tommy had a long history, so it was to be expected that they would hang out on occasion. They both loved to watch classic movies and, while Buck didn't mind one every once in a while, he wasn't a huge fan of black and white so he let them have their time with that. He just didn't expect Chimney to add the Old Classics Movie Network to his cable subscription so there was always another movie being recorded that they needed to watch and analyze.

Tommy and Eddie were already friends, and Buck and Eddie were best friends, so it was easy for the three of them to hang out. Buck could get into wrestling, he liked karaoke trivia, and he was a big fan of learning Muay Thai. But that's where Eddie had a problem.

“Every time you come to Muay Thai,” Eddie whined, “you and Tommy end up going one round, get all horned up, and leave early.”

“All horned up?” Buck repeated with a glare. “What are we, fifteen?”

“You're banned from Muay Thai,” he declared, holding up a finger to silence Buck's incoming protests, “at least once a week.”

Then there was Hen, who Buck thought would care the least of them all.

He was wrong.

She became convinced that she was the reason he and Tommy ever got together, not Chimney.

“Chimney may have been the one to contact Tommy, but it was me who planted the seed in his head,” she'd say, “so I was actually the one who connected you two.”

It turns out Tommy and Karen also had a lot of similar interests, so one double date turned into regular double dates. Often, Karen was texting or calling Tommy to set up the next double date before Buck even knew a thing about it.

Hen also enjoyed Tommy's dry humor. They could battle back and forth for hours in sarcasm wars, and often enjoyed hating on the same things.

Even Ravi wedged his way into Tommy's life. He actually wanted flying lessons for other purposes than staring at Tommy for hours at a time while he rambled on about what each button did.

And Tommy was so kind, so insanely, annoyingly, kind that he always made time for everybody. Buck had no idea how he did it, but he did. He even always had time for Buck too, Buck just wanted more of it.

He knew it was selfish. He knew Tommy deserved to have all the friends and found family in the world, which is why he'd never say anything to him about it.

But, he could talk to Bobby. Ask Bobby to talk to the rest of the team, because he'd tried and they wouldn't listen to him. Or, maybe Bobby could just schedule him off a day where everyone else worked? Give Buck and Tommy a day where distractions weren't possible, because all of the distractions were busy at the station. Surely he could do something.

He should've known better.

The second he tapped on Bobby's office door, Bobby excitedly waved him in.

“It came in the mail today,” he declared, as if Buck was supposed to know what that meant.

“Wh- What came in the mail?” Buck asked cautiously as he sat down.

“The murder mystery game Tommy and I talked about last time you guys came over. I had no clue he was so into puzzles and mysteries. I already talked to Tommy, and you two are coming over for dinner tonight.”

“We are?” Buck asked. This was a lot of information to be thrown his way so quickly.

“Yes. Well, he actually said he'd ask you about it and then confirm, but you already said you didn't have plans earlier, so...”

He should've known that question was a trap. Bobby had asked what everyone's plans were while they were on the way to a call earlier in the day. Buck had answered that he and Tommy didn't have any, which was risky, but his mind went blank in the moment. His actual plans involved a lot of nudity, mind blowing sex, and hopefully some whipped cream, but he was trying to not be so blatant about his sex life anymore.

But now Bobby was looking at him with wide, excited eyes, and he did remember Tommy talking about that game, and Bobby's food was always so good, so it wasn't like he could say no.

“Yeah, of course it's fine.”

Which led them to now, having just enough time to shower and change before driving over to Bobby and Athena's place.

“I know we haven't had as much us time lately,” Tommy said as they reached the door. Of course he did. Of course he noticed everything. “So we'll stay for dinner, and do this game, and we'll go by nine.”

Buck tried to play it cool. “No rush.”

“Evan,” Tommy replied knowingly, dropping a kiss on his temple, “we'll go by nine.”

Who was Buck to argue? “Yeah... Yeah, okay.”

Dinner went smoothly, as if there was another option. Tommy was always great at keeping up conversation, and he and Bobby knew tons of people to reminisce about and catch up on. Tommy had a long history with Athena as well, and a lot of mutual respect between the two, so the conversation never stalled.

It wasn't like Buck was ever left out either. Bobby and Athena were his family; more of his parents than his actual parents. Bobby cared for him, loved him, watched over him in ways his father never did. Athena was a dose of reality when he needed it. She was stern, expected the best from him, and didn't whitewash anything. He felt more comfortable in their home than he ever did in the house he grew up in.

And Tommy always had a hand on his leg, or his back, including him in the conversation or bragging on whatever he did at work that week. When Buck talked, Tommy looked at him like nothing else existed in the world. He listened, hung on to every word.

He made Buck feel special.

Which is why Buck wanted to take him home, rip off all of his clothes, and adore every inch of his body.

He couldn't do that yet though, because it was only seven-thirty and they still had to play the murder mystery game.

It started innocently enough. It was a fun game with pictures, paperwork, some evidence, and background on all the suspects. Buck figured they'd read through the material, follow along, and they'd be led to the murderer in no time.

Then Bobby rolled out the cork board and began pinning suspect photographs and pictures from the “crime scene”.

Things devolved from there.

Athena gave up before nine. “I solve murders all day long, I don't want to do it all night too.”

Buck still held out hope they'd leave on time.

Another mistake.

“Hon, it's getting late,” Buck said a little after nine, gently patting Tommy's back. They were sitting beside one another at the dining room table. Buck had been half paying attention, half going through a Wikipedia rabbit hole that started with active US serial killers and had somehow ended up on the origins of duct tape. “Maybe we should let them get some rest.”

“Buck, we haven't solved the murder yet,” Bobby replied, lifting both of his hands to show all the paperwork. “Cassie's ex-boyfriend is a prime suspect, but I have no physical evidence to prove he did it.”

“I think we should look more into the circus clown,” Tommy replied, handing Bobby yet another piece of fictional paperwork. “I learned a long time ago that you never trust a clown.”

“We already cleared the clown. He had an alibi.”

“Did he though? His best friend, the balloon artist, was his alibi. The clown could've paid him off.”

That's when Buck decided he'd be better off slipping away and joining Athena in the living room.

“Would you like some leftover pie?” Athena asked, eyebrow raised knowingly, as she lifted up her own slice.

Buck nodded. “I got it.”

He returned a moment later, pie in hand, extra whipped cream. He sat down on the couch, across from where Athena was curled up on the loveseat.

“There's not much on right now,” Athena said, staring at the TV, “but these home improvement shows always find a way to reel me in.”

“As long as it's not a murder mystery, I'll enjoy it.”

Athena let out a laugh. “They're in it deep, aren't they?”

“I'm not sure an actual murder would take them away from that game.”

Athena shook her head, peering into the dining room. “Our boys are something else, aren't they?”

Buck smiled. He couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach. The night may not be going as planned, but there was something so sweet, so domestic, about it all.

Everything felt... right.

“Yeah,” he replied, “they're something.”

Two more shows started and ended, and Tommy and Bobby could still be heard in the other room, arguing about whether it was the clown or the ex.

“You know, I looked up that game a while ago,” Athena whispered into the darkness of the living room, the only light from flashes on the TV, “and it wasn't the clown or the ex.”

Buck sighed sleepily. “I think we'll be spending the night tonight,” he mumbled, his eyes slowly closing where he laid on the couch.

“Already made up the guest bedroom,” Athena replied, taking another sip of her drink. “New toothbrushes in the bathroom too.”

It'd be another two hours before Tommy would come and gently wake up Buck and lead him to the guest bedroom. They'd brush their teeth, and change into some of Bobby's pajama pants before snuggling in bed.

And then, before the sun rose, Tommy would be popping up from a dead sleep to exclaim, “It was the candlemaker!” before running out of the room, and apparently right into Bobby who- from the sounds of their mumbled laughter and high fives- had the same epiphany.

Yeah, Buck had a problem. And he hoped he had it for the rest of his life.

[the20thangel]

The Caged Queen

Summary: The war has ended. Rhaenyra is dead, and Aegon is left burnt. You from House Celtigar have married the King and ruled at his place because of his injuries. To try to bring stability to the realm, you invite the lords of the realm to pledge their loyalty to the crown. Forcing you to reunite with a lord from your past, tensions run, and feelings come back. (I have not proofread, so I apologize for any errors)

Benjicot X reader

Tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+

Word count: 3.5 K

Masterlist

Sitting in the council room, listening to the state of the realm, seeing how you can bring it into peace after the dreadful war. You sighed, listening to the lords discussing the possibility of marrying Prince Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son and your husband’s child, with his first wife, Heleana, Princess Jaehaera. The war ended, but the tensions were still high around the realm. With the current council holding surviving lords from both black and green sides, meetings usually ended with arguments rather than solutions. Since you had yet to provide a male heir to the king, you understood it was only plausible for the two to marry, but you did not want that for your stepdaughter. For you know, the sweet princess would never survive the hardships of court, just like her mother. You also could not help but think that Prince Aegon would be okay with marrying the daughter of the man who killed his mother. 

You were only a stand-in for your husband, who was too weak and almost always in pain to get out of his bed. Growing tired of the arguments, you cleared your throat. 

“My lords, I understand that the realm needs stability, but I don’t feel like marrying the young royals will achieve this. They have not healed from the horrors of the war. I will not force them into a marriage that could end in resentment. What would we do once they, in their anger, kill each other? Hmm? The realm will be left with no heirs left.”

You explained, twirling a ring on your right index finger; it was pretty garnet. Lord Corlys gave you a pointed look, stopping you from your nervous tick. Lord Peake condescendingly looked at you with pity.

“My Queen, no insult to you or the king, but since you have yet to become with child, King Aegon’s reign is frail; we need to make sure that the realm has heirs to prevent a war from brewing again.”  snidely explained Lord Peake, giving you a crooked grin, as eyes roamed down your body. 

Disgusted, you sneered at the lord, “Surely, you understand, my lord, that my husband is always in a great deal of pain, so tell me, my lord, how am I supposed to become with the child if laying with my husband will cause him immense pain? You want to ensure an heir for him; you should find a way for me to do my duty. I am responsible for Prince Aegon the Younger and Princess Jaehaera's well-being. My stepdaughter is still a child; I will not force her into an early marriage. So let us conclude this meeting by brainstorming a more realistic way to ensure lasting peace for the realm; surely our families and people deserve that much?” 

You stood up, prompting all the other lords to stand and bow their heads, letting you be the first to walk out of the council room. Walking to the king's rooms, you saw your husband peacefully sleeping on his bed. Turning to the maester, you asked about Aegon’s status. 

“The King is in great pain, but he seems to relax once given some sweet wine and poppy milk. Hopefully, letting him have adequate rest will bring back his strength.” 

 Thanking the maester, you turned to look at Aegon. You suppose you got lucky; you were his second wife after the tragic death of Heleana. Lord Larys, before Queen Rhaenyra executed him, convinced Aegon that he needed another Valyrian bride, and besides the Velayrons, House Celtigar was the only other house with Valyrian genes. So your father betrayed Rhaenyra, and you were soon married to Aegon. Although you pleaded for the Queen to help you escape from your fate, she was already ridden by grief and sent you away, claiming that you betrayed her like your father. Then Princess Baela attacked Aegon a week before your marriage, injuring him more than he was before.  So, although the seven witnessed the marriage, it remained unconsummated.  

Of course, the only people who knew that it was unconsummated were your ladies and Alicent Hightower, who would only glare at you should you be in the same vicinity as her. It did not help that you started prohibiting her from reaching your stepdaughter, but the poor girl confessed her grandmother frightened her. Sighing, you placed a kiss on his forehead before turning to leave the room. Walking to the children’s chambers, Aegon the Younger and Jaehaera played quietly. Smiling, you greeted them, allowing both children to embrace you. They were innocent in the war and lost people they cared about, and you needed to protect them from lords who wanted to place burden after burden on them. You spent the rest of the day with the children, trying to ignore the nagging feeling from that morning's meeting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, another council meeting was called. As you sat at the head of the table, you noticed that only a few lords seemed happy, and Lord Peake was not one of them. Turning to Lord Corlys, he cleared his throat. 

“My queen, after you left, I decided to follow through on your command and brainstormed a plan to bring stability to the realm, and I decided the course of action was to call all lords from the realm to come to Kingslanding and pledge their loyalty to the crown, ending the occasion with a ball. Therefore, the lords see how much we appreciate their oaths.” 

As you thought in the plan, you brought up the concern that the smallfolk would see this as a slap in their faces if the highborn indulges while they are struggling. Another lord countered by saying they would provide opportunities for the smallfolk to work for the lords coming to Red Keep to earn coins and hold minor feasts outside the walls. Nodding, you decided to allow the plan to run its course, taking the rest of the time to prepare preparations for the many houses and where they would stay in the castle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two moons passed, and finally, the lords were here to swear their oaths to the crown. Aegon was improving but still had too much pain to leave his room entirely. As you stood with Prince Aegon and Princess Jaehaera, each lord came up, bowing and swearing his loyalty to the crown and House Targaryen. The last house from the Riverlands came up to the royals, House Blackwood. Lord Benjicot came forth, staring at the Prince for a while before bowing. Your heart started beating fast, seeing the Raventree Hall lord for the first time since your marriage. Seeing him so close, your chest tightened, but propriety was a border between you both. Benjicot raised himself, allowing both your eyes to meet, gray on lilac. You closed your eyes, nodding to him. 

Benjicot stared at you. You were so close, but he knew better than to reach out for you. Seeing your face away from him greatly upset him; frowning, he bowed again before walking away, his fists curling. 

Soon, the festivities began, with lords and ladies dancing and laughing, enjoying themselves. You tiredly smiled, happy that the court seemed to enjoy themselves, but it took a toll on you. Hoping to use the children as an excuse to leave early when the herald's voice came out. 

“Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Aegon, Second of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” 

Everyone gasped as the Kingsguard practically carried Aegon to you, and everyone paled, including you, at seeing your husband. Seeing him wheeze in pain caused you to quickly go to his side, helping him stand beside you as the court became silent.  You scanned the room, seeing many of the court becoming uncomfortable at seeing your husband’s state, and you were saddened to see Prince Aegon shake in fear, walking farther away from you. Before walking to the young boy, you felt a coarse hand grasp yours. Turning, you saw Aegon pull at your hand. Walking towards him, he reached up to you, barely kissing the corner of your mouth. You froze, stiffening at his actions and feeling dread when you made eye contact with Benjicot, whose face darkened with anger, and walked out of the room. Your eyes followed the lord as Aegon addressed the crowd.

“I thank all of you here for coming to swear loyalty to me and my queen. Even though I have not made many appearances in court, I know I have left my rule in the best hands possible. My lovely wife has done an excellent job in ruling in my name, and I wish to come out today so that we may take the time to honor her.” He gasped again in pain as he pushed for you to stand closer to the crowd. 

The lords and ladies smiled, clapping for their queen; what Aegon was the truth, you had ensured that the realm slowly returned to the peaceful times of King Viserys. Shyly, you smiled at the crowd before turning back to your husband, urging him to return to his chambers, seeing him in pain. You may not fully love your husband, but you were not cruel to enjoy him in pain. He nodded and kissed your hand again before leaving with his guards. Sighing, you clapped your hands, asking for the bards to play joyful songs for dances. 

Turning to the prince and princess, you saw how pale they were from Aegon’s appearance; you comforted them and let one of your councilmen know that you were also retiring with the children, not noticing how a certain councilman, followed you out and then changed course towards the king’s chambers. You spent an hour with each child, reading them sweet Valryian tales until they relaxed enough to sleep. Smiling, you kissed each child goodnight before walking out and making your way to the Queen’s Chambers. As you were a few steps from your chamber, you felt an arm grab yours. You spun to punch your attacker, but your hand was quickly caught as you heard a slight chuckle. You relaxed, seeing that it was Benjicot. You nodded as you addressed him. 

“My lord, pardon my attack, but I would have thought you knew better than to sneak up on your queen?” you questioned, noticing your hand still in his, but you made no move to remove it. 

“Forgive me, my queen, but I couldn’t help but notice you walking alone. Should you not have guards or ladies with you, or does your king not care what happens to his wife?” Benjicot criticized. 

You lightly scoffed, “Usually, no one outside the royal family would be this far into Meagor’s holdfast.” 

Benjicot flushed; he was caught. Still, he shook his head, backing away slightly from you. 

“I apologize; I got lost while walking around the grounds. I was trying to find my way back to the ballroom when I heard footsteps,” he confessed, his eyes softening as he fully took your appearance. 

Nodding, you point him to the correct path, wishing him goodnight as you turn away. Pausing when he called your name. 

“Lord Blackwood, I am the Queen; you do not have permission to use my name freely,” you quietly hissed at him. Feeling your chest tighten again when you heard his husky voice speak your name. 

Benjicot smiled, walking towards you, his body nearing and pressing to yours. You both stared at each other, him taking a strand of your hair. 

“Does he treat you well?” he questioned, staring into your eyes. 

Your eyes softened, nodding, “Yes, as best as he can. I hardly see him, but he is kind whenever we see each other.” 

Ben nodded; feeling reckless, he reached to caress your cheek, but you moved your face away from his touch. 

“Don’t,” you stated, your eyes hardening at him. 

Ben frowned, “I’ve missed you…” 

You cruelly laughed at his words, smirking tauntly as his frown deepened. 

“You missed me? You left Ben… You don’t get to miss me when you abandoned me when I needed you the most… You lost the right to miss me.” you angrily stated, tears slowly falling down your cheeks. 

Ben shook his head, wiping tears away from your face. You sob out as you allow yourself to lean to his touch; no matter how much you can deny it, you miss him as well. 

“I did not mean to…I had to follow my duty, to fight for our queen-” 

You shushed him. Looking around, you brought him inside your chambers. 

“Do not speak about Queen Rhaneyra freely; you could be charged with treason,” you warned him. 

“I will never deny Queen Rhaenyra’s claim, you know this, at least you did before you married her murder and become a queen-” Ben didn’t finish his sentence as you slapped him. 

“Do you think I wanted this? I never wished to be queen. I never wanted to marry him. But what other choice did I have, Ben? I was alone; the queen pushed me away because of my father’s actions. You left me, YOU LEFT. Allowing my father to force me into a marriage I did not want. What was I supposed to do? Kill myself or try to survive and marry a man who was broken. Prince Aegon would have been killed with the queen if not for me. I fought for Prince Aegon while you all were fighting silly battles. I …” you sobbed, falling to the ground in heartbreak, finally allowing your walls to break down since you walked up the blasted steps of the Sept.  

Ben swallowed bitterly; he hated seeing you cry; kneeling, he gathered you to his arms as you continued to cry in grief. Hushing you, he kissed your crown, trying to comfort you. 

After a moment, you leaned back, your face close to his. 

Ben smiled sweetly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you…. When I heard you married him, I became resentful and filled with rage. The battlefield allowed me to release my anger.” 

You shook your head. Sadly, smiling as you felt a kiss on your cheek, “I don’t love him… I hoped you would have come to take me and the prince away from this golden cage. I cried at my wedding, trying to imagine that it was you who I was marrying infront of the weirwood tree, not him…but you never came. You left me, Ben.”

Ben closed his eyes in pain; he regretted not coming to take you away. 

“If I could go back, I would… I love you…I will never stop loving you,” he confessed, leaning in but stopping away from your lips. He would not dishonor you. 

You softened at him. He was still your sweet Ben. You were still his lady. As you expressed your thoughts, Benjicot grinned. Unable to stop himself, he finally kissed you. Allowing yourself to fall into his kiss, you placed your arms around his neck, leaning more into the kiss. You will stop denying yourself to him. You wanted him. 

As the kiss deepened, Benjicot dragged your body closer to him, causing you to grind his lap and groan at the sensation. Feeling like he was dishonoring you, he was about to stop when you grinded yourself harder to him, taking a loud groan from his lips to yours. Ben growled, knowing he should stop. You were married and the queen, but your sweet body cast a spell on him, with each movement of your hips, called out to his groin as it stiffened with each grind. Ben pressed your hips down harder to cause the fraction to strengthen; you grabbed his other hand and placed it upon your breast, moaning as he fonded your breast. 

Separating his lips from yours, he leaned to your ears, groaning your name from your movements, “We need to stop, my queen; if you don’t… I don’t think I will stop myself…I don..dishonor…fuck.” 

He could not finish his thoughts, leaning his head back from feeling your hips circling on his lap. Forgetting his argument, he kissed your neck, sucking and biting. You gasped in delight. 

“Your queens need you, my lord, I command you to love me…I command you to take me…take me, Ben.” you pleaded, grinning as he growled and picked you up, throwing you on your bed. 

Feeling giddy, you began to undress yourself as you saw him stalking you, undressing himself along the way. Calming on the bed, he pulled your body to him. Both groaned as he rubbed his stiff cock on your wet cunt. 

“So wet for me, I bet he could never get you this wet… you're wet for me and only me, my sweet girl,” he whispered to your ear, grinning as you moaned at his teasing. 

Kissing him, you wrapped your legs around him, sighing in delight as he rubbed himself on you. “I will never know; we never consummated the marriage..” you confessed. 

You needed him to know you were still a maiden. That you never entirely gave yourself to the king, that Ben would be the only one. Benjicot froze upon hearing the news; technically, your marriage was not valid… technically you were still his as he was still yours. Grinning wildly, he kissed you more fiercely, causing you to gasp and allowing him to sneak his tongue into your mouth. As you grabbed his shoulder, you felt the slight pain of him entering you. He fully sheathed himself inside of you, pausing to let you get used to his size and girth. 

Although it was slightly painful, you were happy; no other man would be inside you, for your body and soul were committed to Benjicot Blackwood. Nodding for him to move, Ben started slowly and deeply, causing you to moan, leaning your head back on your pillows, enjoying his sweet movements and kisses on your neck. As much you loved him being sweet, you needed more; you waited too long enough to have him. 

Pleaded for him to go faster, Ben grinned, switching his position to allow him to lift his hips faster as he began to pound into you, groaning as your walls began to clench around him. He felt at home; he belongs between your legs. Moaning, you began to drag your nails down his back, locking your legs around him. 

Sounds of skin slapping became louder with the grunts, groans, and moans coming from the queen and her lord. You whispered his name like a prayer, meeting his hips with each thrust, clenching hard as he pounded into you. You needed him; you will never tire of him. Soon, both movements began to grow sloppy, feeling your release coming fast. As Ben started to exit, you quickly grabbed his upper body with your arms as your legs tightened around his hips. 

“No, I will have it no other way but inside me; finish inside me; your queen commands it, Ben,” you commanded, moaning as he slammed hard twice before feeling his hot, creamy release inside of you. Coating your walls as your release milked him of every drop he gave. 

As you finally came down from your high, you breathed heavily; he was still inside of you. You ran your fingers through his hair, making him look up to you. Smiling, you brought his face to yours, kissing him sweetly. Benjicot grinned, moving up to caress your face when you both heard a commotion outside. Freezing, you both quickly jumped from the bed. You change into your shift fast before turning to help him redress. Hearing the Kingsguard yell, you promptly pushed him to hide as you turned scared, the guards flying into the room. 

“My Queen!” stated a guard as you reached for a cloak. 

“Commander, what is it?” your heart beat so fast. Did they hear you and Ben? 

The commander scanned, looking for danger; when he saw nothing, he turned to you. 

“My queen, I regret that the King has been poisoned. We are looking for the culprit.” 

You gasped; Aegon was dead. Quickly, you commanded the court to enter the throne room, asking the rest of the guards to bring the children to you. As they left, you breathed. He was gone; you would no longer be queen. Turning to Ben, he left his spot, taking your face into his hands. 

“You need to go to Ben before they find you and try to blame you…I’ll see you in the throne room. I will fight for Rhaenyra’s son to be king and bring my queen’s wishes to life.”  you asked of him. 

Nodding, he kissed you once more before he began to leave. Pausing, he turned to you with a slight grin.

“After this mess, will you marry me, my queen?” he asked, causing you to blush. 

You smiled as you breathed your answer, “I will gladly be your lady. After we crown our king, I will marry you infront of the Weirwood tree at Raventree Hall. Now go quickly.” 

Benjicot dazzled you with a broad smile, turning; he quickly left you, eagerly awaiting for the future.

[in1-nutshell]

IN1-NUTSHELL DROP TFONE OPHELIA AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

Introducing TFONE Ophelia!

Hope you enjoy!

TF1 Version of Ophelia

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Mention of injury, Angst, Cybertronian reader

TF1

It was rare for a sparkling to end up down in the mines.

Most who did ended up running away or getting crushed.

The ‘luckier’ ones were found by supervisors and taken away.

None of the miners ever saw them again.

But this one was special.

Not just because they were probably one of the smallest sparklings they had ever seen.

But because they had lifted up a full cart of energon over their helm and threw it.

The miners were vaguely aware that 1 percenters existed, but never actually seen one.

There was no telling what the supervisors would do.

For once, the miners agreed to keep the 1 percenter with them.

Maybe they would help out around when they got older and taller.

Strength was needed in the mines.

After a bit of babysitting, the sparkling finally found the bots she liked the most.

Two miners, D-16 and Orion Pax.

Well, more D-16, but Orion was always with him, so they were a package deal.

D does not know why the sparkling chose him, but he isn’t complaining.

She could fit in his servo easy, adorable optics and the cutest smile he had ever seen.

Orion was also her favorite.

Orion was the bot who actively played with her.

It was a little rough for D’s liking.

D-16 walking into the hall. D-16: “Orion I need—PAX WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” The sparkling was on top of one of the higher bunks with Orion at the bottom with his servos ready to catch the sparkling if she fell. Orion: “Relax D, she’s just a bit curious.” D-16: “That does not explain why she is so high! Move I’m getting her!” Orion grabs D’s shoulder. Orion: “Ophelia’s fine D, but you scaring her is going to make her fall.” D-16: “Ophelia?” Orion: “Yeah, I tried out some names while you were out. She seems to like that name. Isn’t that right Ophelia!” Ophelia’s helm turned to the two bots and immediately starts chirping at them both happily. D-16: “I was thinking on Maxima or Ironhold… but Ophelia does sound better.” Orion puffs his chassis a bit with pride as he goes to pick up the sparkling and giving her to D. D-16 smiles at her. D-16: “You miss me, Ophelia?” Ophelia: “D!” Both mech’s jump at the sound. Orion: “Did she just…” Ophelia: “D! D! D!” D-16 smiles even more, cuddling the sparkling closer to his chassis.

As the years passed by, Ophelia grew a bit before stopping shortly around their knee joints.

Safe to say it was official, Ophelia was a minibot.

As she grew older, she ended up persuading D, and Orion to let her help out with the mines.

She wanted to help.

Elita soon caught wind of this and immediately took the mini under her wing and squad.

Minibot or not, Ophelia was a 1 percenter and could help in big ways.

Ophelia ended up working with cargo placements and on the occasion helped with the entrance of tunnels collapsing.

Give the minibot a jetpack and a sturdy rock, she could stabilize the tunnel’s entrance for almost a whole minute before crashing down.

D hated whenever she had those jobs.

Even more when supervisors ordered it and not Elita.

Elita at least understood that Ophelia had limitations, the guards couldn’t care less.

Ophelia and D end up teaming up on Orion many times whenever he tries to bring up some sort of crazy idea.

In response, Orion brings the minibot with him.

D has near spark attacks when this happens.

D-16 is standing in front of Orion and Ophelia; his arms crossed and had a disappointed look on his face. D-16: “I told you both going after those slugs was more trouble than what it’s worth.” Ophelia: “But—” D-16 look makes her stop. The mech’s attention turns to Orion. D-16: “She could have gotten hurt Pax. She’s still a youngling and doesn’t know any better.” Orion: “I was watching her D. Do you think I’d let something bad happen to her?” D-16: “Its not that I don’t trust you—” Orion: “Then what is it?” D-16: “I’m just worried my daughter is going to pick up your bad influence of jumping off building and messing with protocol!” The words sink in for all three bots. Ophelia: “…Do… do you really see me like that D?” D-16 considers lying for a second but decides against it. D-16: “Yes… I understand if—OOF!” Ophelia, though barely reaching the bots knee joints, hugged his legs tightly. D-16 blinks before gently rubbing her helm with his servo. Orion: “Primus I wish I could take a picture. This is adorable.” D-16: “And you ruined the moment.”

From then on, D-16 makes it a rule that if Ophelia were to go with Orion, to let him know.

He knows roughly about half of the outings.

Orion just wants some quality time with his niece, trying to get her out of her shell.

Orion while he goes through the archives, always brings back data slugs or chips on Cybertron’s history for Ophelia.

Even picks up little Megatronus Prime or Micronus Prime decals.

The day of the race arrives.

Ophelia was told to go find some seats by D before the pair left.

She never makes it to the stands because she gets called to the cargo hold to help load some cargo.

Ophelia stops her work seeing the screen with her father and uncle in the race.

Her optics do not leave the screen.

Too bad she couldn’t see the rest of it before someone pushed her into a nearby trash shoot.

Screaming all the way down while trying to grab onto something.

She was stuck in the scrap until something pulled her out.

It was a yellow bot, not too older than her.

He was just as surprised as her seeing a bot down here.

Ophelia explained that she needed to get back to her family.

The bot, B-127, suggested waiting for a supervisor, but they rarely came down to sublevel 50.

Ophelia, feeling literally down in the dumps, figured talking to him wouldn’t be so bad.

After a couple of hours there is more crashing.

B-127 keeps Ophelia behind him as he goes to look.

It was Orion and D-16.

Ophelia spots them and runs over. Ophelia: “Dad! Orion!” Ophelia jumps straight into D’s arms hugging him. D-16: “Ophelia? What are you doing here?” Orion: “How did you get down here?” B-127: “She said some bot upstairs pushed her in. Hi! I’m Ophelia’s friend! I’m B-127!”

Alpha Trion’s message is found and the quest to the surface has been made.

Ophelia, as much as she was scared of the surface, put on a brave face and claimed she wanted to go.

D-16, surprisingly agrees, but it wasn’t like he was going to leave her by herself.

Ophelia clings between D and Orion’s back.

She is clinging for dear life during the entirety of the train scene.

Only let’s go and stands up like everyone else once they all reach the surface.

Then the mountain starts coming to the train.

B picks up Ophelia like a football and runs.

Everyone gets flung from the train.

B-127, D-16, Elita and Orion groan as they stand up and get ready to follow the map. D-16 suddenly looks around. D-16: “Wait! Where’s Ophelia!?” Ophelia: “Up here!” The group looks up to one of the taller rock formations. Ophelia is clinging on the edge to dear life. D-16: “Ophelia!” B-127: “How did you get up there?” Ophelia: “I grew a T-cog and turns out I’m a Seeker.” B-127: “Really?” Ophelia: “OBVIOUSLY NOT! SOMEONE GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!”

It takes a good couple of minutes to get her down.

Reveal of the Quintessons.

Grips D’s servo a bit too hard as Orion and B nearly get caught by the scanner.

Finding the Prime’s.

Ophelia consoles D as they both kneel in front of the fallen helm of Megatronus Prime.

Meeting Alpha Trion.

Witnessing what happened to the Primes and what Sentinel had been doing.

Ophelia stays by Alpha Trion’s side when D talks about off-lining Sentinel.

It got her a bit nervous.

Floored when she hears about Sentinel stealing their cogs and in return, they all get cogs.

Going downhill, everyone is trying out their transformations. D-16: “How do we use these things!” Ophelia tries using her cog. She feels something happening. Ophelia: “I think I got—” CLANK! Ophelia’s helm got tucked in. Ophelia: “I CAN’T SEE!” Orion in the same position: “ME NEITHER!”

Ophelia is still small (she got Micronus’s cog) but could feel the cog in her chassis.

Transforms into a small rover.

Feels something wrong with her father the way he talked slowly to Orion.

Reassures Orion that she would fix him.

The group gets kidnapped by the High Guard.

Fangirls with B seeing and naming each guard member she can see.

Screams when D starts fighting Starscream.

She ended up getting pushed and shoved everywhere until a pair of servos picked her up.

It was Soundwave.

He had perched her up on his shoulder so she could have a better view.

She didn’t know whether to be grateful or not seeing the canon now shoved at Starscream’s face.

She shared the same scared look that Orion had.

Arachnid and her army arrived.

Ophelia fair well, catching many bots off guard with her strength.

Even managing to save some of the High Guard’s members in the process.

But ultimately gets tased and captured with D and B.

Ophelia is placed with much heavier sets of cuffs than the energy binds the others had.

Internally screaming for D to get back down once he stands up.

Sentinel is about to slap him, until his optics land on her.

The Prime roughly grabs her by the back of the neck cables and drags her to the front of the room.

Ophelia tries to raise her helm, but a harsh punch sends it back down.

D yells and tries to get her.

He is restrained.

Ophelia’s audials are a bit muffled, but the distinct sound of a sword being retracted is clear.

The Prime enjoys brandishing his sword and letting it drag slowly to the shaking minibot.

D-16: “Leave her out of this Sentinel! She has nothing to do with this!” Sentinel raises his sword. Sentinel: “Oh but my Dear D-16. In my perfect world, there is no need for 1 percenters.” The false Prime then goes to strike. D-16: “NO!” The sword had stopped centimeters away from her face. The sword instead cuts her bindings. Ophelia tries to stand on her bad pede. D-16: “Wh-what?” Sentinel: “I’m letting her go.” The crowd looked at him in surprise. Ophelia finally manages to stand up straight. Sentinel: “Kidding!” With that Sentinel Prime kicked the minibot with full force out the balcony. It happened so fast no one heard the minibot scream. D-16: “OPHELIA!”

Ophelia falls out of the balcony and straight to the city below.

D yells in anguish as he sees Ophelia disappear from view and more when Sentinel brandishes him.

Thankfully, Ophelia had managed to stick a servo on the side of a nearby building, stopping her rough decent.

Her servos and pedes were dented but at least she was alive.

She tried to climb back up but nearly fell again as the building shook.

Did a train crash into it?

She tries climbing again but spots two other figures fall out.

It was D and Sentinel.

With enough bravery that would make Orion proud, she jumped on the false Prime’s back as the three of them began to tumble down.

Ophelia made sure to punch holes straight into his dense armor.

Suddenly she was flung backwards and into the sea of spectators.

She looked up and briefly made eye contact with D, who looked so relief before a murderous look overcame him.

He started for the Prime.

What could she do?

Ophelia tried to make her way to the stage when Orion had arrived to intervene.

She stared in horror as D-16 shot to Sentinel before Orion took the hit.

Ophelia couldn’t believe what was happening.

But thankfully D was there to catch him.

Everything was going to be okay.

…

Ophelia didn’t remember screaming, nor did she remember hitting several bots feet away as they tried to get her from going to close to the edge.

She followed Elita and B to try and stop him from doing any more harm after ripping Sentinel in half.

After naming himself Megatron.

The blast from Optimus’s ascension made her go back into the crowd with Elita and B.

Ophelia tried to run back to Megatron and Optimus, but the crowds were panicked and wild.

She was even lucky enough to remain in one piece.

The minibot witnessed Optimus banishing Megatron from Iacon.

She could see the slight tears coming from Megatron’s face.

To witness him call the High Guard to follow him.

No mentions of her name.

Not even an attempt to ask where she was.

A part of Ophelia wanted to go with him.

Of course she did, he was still her Dad.

She didn’t want to leave him alone.

… But somewhere deep in her spark told her to stop.

Not to take another step.

…Ophelia could only hope that listening to the feeling was the right thing…

Later that evening Ophelia was walking past her old recharging station. She carefully traced the Megatronus decal on D-16’s pod. Optimus: “Ophelia?” Ophelia jumped a bit, not used to Orion—no, Optimus’s voice. Ophelia: “Optimus.” The Prime stood next to her, both looking sadly at the decals. Ophelia couldn’t take it anymore and crumbled on the ground letting out a sob. Optimus knelt and scooped her into his arms. Ophelia knew she probably dented the new Prime’s frame a bit with her hug, but right now she didn’t care. Ophelia: “I want him back! I want him back! Orion please!” The minibot could feel the Prime’s tears on her helm and a gently shake. Maybe someday he would come back… Meanwhile Megatron had finished his little shrine in his habsuite. A shrine for Ophelia. His sparkling that was murdered by the Prime. Megatron whispers: “Sleep well Ophelia. We will meet again; I swear to you.”

[animeredhead101]

Dad Hood DP x DC Crossover

Completed

The Devil Wore a T-Shirt by DisillusionedDanny :

After a one-night stand, Danny finds himself pregnant with Red Hood's kid. Now he finds himself as a dad to a small child with an important decision to make. Does he tell Red Hood he has a child? Or does Danny raise the kid by himself? Word Count: 24,778 Completed

Nothing But The Dead And Dying (back in my little town) by Umei_no_Mai :

Dan has just been rescued and is feeling a bit shorter than usual. Jason Todd has just been petitioned like he's a feudal warlord, which has never happened before but he could maybe get used to. They can probably make this work so long as Batman doesn't stick his nose in. Yeah, like that'll happen. Word Count: 123,925 Completed

my boy, my son by DisillusionedDanny :

In desperate need of a vacation, Danny has Clockwork turn him into a five year old so that he can have the childhood he never got. Soon, five year old Danny finds himself running wild in Gotham only to be kidnapped by some weird teenager in a costume who decides that Danny is going to be his son. What's Danny to do but accept this new weird guy as his new dad and become a super cool crime fighting vigilante with his new adopted family who have no clue he's a two thousand year old ghost king? Word Count: 18,210

Dad Hood by JaxinKH :

After a wish gone wrong, Danny has reverted to a child and sent to Gotham. Jason doesn't know how the kid ended up in his appartement, but he is now stuck looking after him. How hard could it be?

Word Count: 18,236

On-going

It's Not Sugar by ConspiracyCrows :

Ellie is destabilized and nearly killed by Vlad while trying to make another, "better", clone of Danny. In order to stabilize her she was de-aged to about 7, and now has chronic issues balancing her ecto the same way a type one diabetic has issues balancing blood sugars. In fact that's the cover story the pair use when Danny enrolls Ellie at Gotham Academy. The one favor he will allow Vlad to do for them. While Vlad seems to have finally come to his senses about Ellie, Danny won't let him anywhere near her ever again. Which is why they moved to Gotham in the first place, Vlad won't step foot there. It also helps that Lady Gotham is more than happy to have the Realms' Ambassador to the Living in her streets. They settle into Crime Alley, and Danny may or may not have forgotten to introduce himself to the Haunt owner, assuming Gotham would handle the niceties as he gets Ellie settled, and handles the pressing issues of the negotiations between the city, the realms, and those denizens of both who want or need one thing or other. Word Count: 23,052 On-going

Imprint by Hashtag_DriveBy :

He screwed his eyes shut, held his breath, desperately wished that he was back in his safehouse, alone and blissfully unaware. But the weight in his hands remained, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the bean-shaped 'fuck you' the Lazarus Pit had kindly bestowed upon him, arms and legs folded up against his front beneath off-white muslin while tiny lips smacked softly.

What the fuck.

What the hell was Jason supposed to do now?

Word Count: 119,791 On-going

If you find a vigilante in the dumpster by lunamugetsu :

The plan was simple, Jazz and her now de aged brother would go lay low in Gotham, act as a mother-son duo. Wait as Danny heals up by absorbing the ambient ectoplasm leaking from the city and Vlad gives the green light that he has a safe place they could stay. Plus with the blessing from the Ghost of Gotham and knowing that even the GIW wouldn't dare to encroach on Batman's territory, it was a pretty safe plan. That was until a certain vigilante just keeps on finding himself in their dumpster. / / It was a normal night of patrol for Jason. Beating up a bunch of criminals. Shooting them with bullets (they're rubber bullets Bruce! Calm down!) Get stabbed by them. Pass out from blood loss in the place he was taking refuge in Wake up in an apartment, his wounds bandaged and all. And to a black haired blue eyed kid staring at him. "I found you in the garbage!" Word Count: 120,002 On-going

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away by FearlessHades :

After escaping from the GIW, Danny crash lands in Gotham. He's six years old, his entire life has burned behind him, and one of the Gotham vigilantes is running around with a stifled Core. What's a kid to do?

A Jason Adopts Danny fic featuring De-aged!Danny, family feels, and Jason's Grand Master Plan going completely off the rails.

Word Count: 53,233

The (Un)Living Weapon by Anonymous :

They had only planned on raiding the facility. They hadn't expected it to be barren. Apart from a kid, chained and muzzled. With eyes of Lazarus water. Jason didn't intend on getting a kid out of the whole ordeal, but unlike Bruce, he is ready to kill to keep him safe. Word Count: 47,483

Mending a Family by Katelover98 :

Sequel to Creating a Family.

I decided to write this after getting such a good response on that fic. However, I wrote this new fic here instead of updating it in case anyone liked the open ending and didn't want more to spoil the way I left it. There won't be an overarching plot but a bunch of one-shots that show how Jason went from no family to a family that would kill and die for him.

This fic won't have a set schedule so I'll update when inspiration hits. That means one week I might update daily and other times it might take a while. It'll depend

Fair warning, I don't know much about Roy Harper, but I've done a bit of research so when he shows up, hopefully, he'll be well-written.

Word Count: 45,852

Visitant Lights by Shynnohwen for Cielle_Noire, AcesAndSpades72, foldingfacets :

After a run in with Vlad that left the entire Fenton family turned into little children and a subsequential kidnapping by what they think are ninjas the Fenton family escape to Gotham to lay low and figure out how to reverse their ages as Sam and Tucker help where they can, growing sense of dread as months goes by and they are no closer to fixing this. Danny, frustrated at lack of progress and tiny body, runs into the Red Hood while stealing his wheel to replace the one he broke. This results in Jason and the Pit Madness co-parenting, Dick mistaken for a stripper, Tucker unknowingly becoming Oracle's archnemesis, Sam believing the local coffee addict is a serial killer, Damian taking on an apprentice, various members of the Rogue Gallery becoming self-appointed uncles and aunts, Amity Park becoming a hellhole full of supernaturally powerful people trying to survive, Damian trying to get a certain Fenton adopted into his family, and Joker developing severe and crippling phasmophobia. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now has a TV Tropes! https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/VisitantLights Word Count : 82,890

[wwaheoh]

“Growing Old Without Them…”, HSR x gnReader, Angst/Comfort

Dan Heng x gnReader, Jing Yuan (+Yanqing, familial) x gnReader

c/w: mentions of death, losing a partner, mentions of canon characters being dead

a/n: had this in my brain for a bit but never wrote it down. intend to do Svarog (+Clara, familial) and Huo Huo (+Hanya and Xueyi, all familial) another time.

Across the cosmos, on all those worlds that seemed so inadequate from the outside, were billions of different forms of life. Organic, mechanical, animalistic, sentient, artificial, plants. A majority of these were non-sentient, acting majorly on instinct rather than linear thoughts that more complex lifeforms held.

You found companionship in this infinite expanse of cosmos, things you’d hold deep within until your dying breath. Yet, your last moments among the living would be ages before theirs. Differences in species would pull you apart before either of you wished, unable to stop the ride to the end, no matter if you even wished to stall for longer. Not without compromising what made you human.

Dan Heng ///

You had joined the Astral Express early in your life, followed the tracks along March 7th, Himeko, Welt, the Trailblazer, and Dan Heng. It had been fun- if hectic and at times life-threatening. Run-ins with law enforcement, hijinks with people you’d met, defeating Aeons that sought to bring destruction to existence.

During these travels, you’d gotten plenty close with your fellow Trailblazers, but none as close as Dan Heng. Closed off and reserved at first, you slowly chipped at his walls with March 7th, and later the Trailblazer, learning of his past on the Xianzhou Luofu and making sure he knew he was always accepted by the family he protected. Once those thoughts of being turned on by his past had finally been cleared, things spiraled into another and the two of you ended up with each other. Spending time in the Data Banks, getting him out of said Data Banks to go on dates and spend time going outside. Basking in each other's presence and spending each minute with each other.

It was all so long ago…

Welt was the first of the crew to go. With the power from Nanook’s fall, the Astral Express had been able to open a rift into his World, dropping him off for him to finally return to his family. It was heartfelt, tears shed, and while they only got to briefly meet those he called family- while also seeing some familiar faces on unfamiliar people, the Astral Express had to return.

March 7th decided to settle down on a planet as she grew older, wanting stability after years of traveling. Of course she still sometimes went off on journeys with and without the Astral Express, meeting up every once in a while to catch up.

Himeko was the first to pass. Having traveled on the Astral Express since she was a teenager, she’d lived the Trailblazing life to the fullest. She passed her experience maintaining the Express to the Trailblazer, with their odd knack for upkeeping and fixing mechanical issues. It was a sad day for everyone, with many attendees from various factions all paying respects to the late Navigator.

The Trailblazer, being born through artificial means and being powered by the Stellaron buried beneath them, would live longer than the average human.

You however, were just an average human. Aging so much faster than your longer lived boyfriend. That day became apparent when you found gray hair among the many strands of hair.

A sense of dread loomed in Dan Heng’s heart, dampening each day he had. It made him ache, desperate to spend as much time as he could. He picked up a hobby similar to March’s, vlogging. Each day he’d record, you spending time with him, you making food, your outings together, anything, as much as he could. It was a bit iffy at times with how much he tried, having to pry the camera off his hands so he could continue living in the moment instead of the future.

It took an intervention between March, the Trailblazer, Jing Yuan, and you to get him to ease up a little.

One day, you realized that you felt as though your time was near. Himeko had the same thing, something along the lines of one of the Trailblaze’s blessings. Pom-Pom fretted over you more than usual, when you stumbled to get off the seat after chatting with him. They’d recommended you to take the day off tomorrow and spend time with Dan Heng.

They say animals can detect death coming for humans before humans even know what is going on.

-

Sitting on the grass, the two of you watched as the stars above twinkled, soft clouds overhead with a light breeze pushing them forward.

You loved Dan Heng, everything about him. And he, the same. Staying with you even as age came to you. As your skin sagged and hair grayed. Sometimes he’d even get mistaken as a grandson- funny but it did put a small damper on the mood when it was during one of your dates.

He laid beside you as you relaxed, reminiscing on the past and your experiences. All the fun, all the bad, the awkward, and the eccentric.

Slowly, you fell into a deep slumber…

Dan Heng weeped, for decades he’d stay up thinking about you, going through old video logs and recordings. Stelle and Jing Yuan helped him when he was at his lowest, when all he could do was cry and beg for you to return.

After decades of grief, he’d finally begin to move on. Keeping memories of you, through his clothing, oftentimes wearing accessories you’d bought for him, even if they were goofy and broke his stoic image. He’d tell stories to newcomers of the Astral Express, telling them all about his adventures and those he shared them with. One day, the two of you would be reunited. When it was his time to go, his next reincarnation would have their chance to experience life and all the wonders that came with it, like he did.

Jing Yuan + Yanqing (Parental) ///

Natives of the Xianzhou Luofu weren’t strangers to the passing of short-lived beings. Being a fleet with connections to many other planets and factions, natives would see the passings of those they’d befriended many a time. It was never easier, the pain of losing someone was difficult, but it could never prepare them for someone close dying so quickly.

You weren’t a Native to the Xianzhou, being born offworld before somehow making your way to the ships. It was a miracle you had gotten so close to the General, with some even ringing alarm bells at how someone so detached from the Xianzhou got so close to the very top of political power. It was, in truth, all lucky coincidence and fateful timing.

Over the time of knowing Jing Yuan, you’d gotten close, going from a stranger, to a confidant, to lovers. Time at your shared home, reading and resting. Sometimes sparring for fun- though he’d be heavily holding back. You still lost without landing a single hit. His laughs during were as anger-inducing as they were pleasing to listen to.

Sure it was a bit annoying having to deal with the political business that came with being the General’s wife. Dealing with news reporters, IPC trying to get to him through you, and overall mistrust due to you being a non-native. But it came with the territory, and as you laid with him, braiding his fluffy hair as he hummed a soft tune, you knew you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

During your time, you’d also come to know Jing Yuan’s retainer, and adopted son, Yanqing. A young man seemingly born to take the role of Lieutenant, training with passion and upholding his duties to the Luofu with all he had. He was one of the people who was suspicious of you at first, being as close to the General as he was, it wasn’t due to your status as a non-Native, but protectiveness of his father.

Slowly you built up a rapport with him, speaking to him of his sword collection, his duties, spending time with him not as a soldier but as Yanqing, the kid who aspired to live up to his father’s legacy, the kid who worked so hard, that he sometimes forgot that he was a kid. Someone that wasn’t expected to be the next General right out the womb.

Over the years, you became integral to their little family. Upkeeping the house, tending to the garden, having food ready for them- especially learning that Yanqing would skip meals sometimes just to continue practice. The three of you would go on outings around town, not too often, he was still the General after all, but enough that it didn’t feel like you were being held hostage by the population outside. When you both turned in for the night, Jing Yuan was basically a giant warm pillow for you to snuggle soft and warm, with strong arms that made you feel protected.

One day, you had been getting ready for the day with him, going through your normal morning routine. While fixing your hair, you noticed something, a small silver strand. It made you stop for a second, alerting Jing Yuan that something was up. He looked over, freezing as he saw it as well.

After that day, he came incredibly protective of you, not to say he wasn’t beforehand already- but now he treated you as though you could break by anything other than gentle handling. Hell, he even admonished Yanqing when a sparring session had come a bit too close to where you sat watching. It was a bit mortifying for the both of you, surrounded by your men, watching their higher-up be reprimanded by their father.

Over time you decided to take matters into your hands and sit down with Jing Yuan to discuss this, letting him know that you weren’t some piece of glass. It took a lot of convincing but he finally let up, if still keeping an eye out for you.

One day, you had a realization as your legs seemingly gave out and you fell to the ground. That which came for every mortal, was coming for you. With a heavy heart, you contacted Fu Xuan, who you knew would already know what was happening. She cleared Yanqing and Jing Yuan’s schedule for the following days.

-

The three of you sat in a restaurant, the one where Jing Yuan loved to take you whenever the two of you could go on dates. The three of you spoke of the future, of the time spent with each other. The fun, the joyous, the sad, the embarrassing. The three of you left, heading home.

You gave Yanqing a warm hug, telling him that you loved him, and that he would do great things, but to remember to live, instead of working all the time. He cried in your arms.

Jing Yuan was already preparing the bed, a soft smile as you made your way in and settled down. The two of you reminisced, settling into the night with his strong arms holding you. As always you felt protected, secure, and happy.

The three of you turned in for the night. The three of you fell into a deep slumber. Two of them woke up as the artificial star of theirs rose.

-

Was this how Dan Feng felt for Yingxing? How the High Elder of the Vidyahadra felt as the one they loved died in their arms- pried away from eachother by the coldness of genetics.

Jing Yuan and Yanqing grieved for a long time, spending time with their loved ones, and remembering your time with them. They’d always remember to keep the garden going, cook those meals you’d cook for them. Yanqing remembered what you wanted for him and strived to improve himself while not overworking himself.

They’d remember, always. If you could not live for as long as they could, then they’d have to live long and happy lives, so the you in their hearts could live as well.

[puppym3]

heartstrings and lullabies

-pt 1! pt 2!

soft!seungmin x afab!reader

summary: after losing your biological father, you and your mother frequently move, eventually landing in Seungmin's home. initially uncomfortable, you bond with Seungmin, in which you help him care for his baby brother, Yun. your relationship evolves from awkwardness to something else.

wc: 4.5

warnings! : mention of deceased parent, family struggles, a lil awkward, fluffy, very fluffy, seungmin is good with kids, pining!, flirting, slow burn

(upcoming warning: upcoming chapters will include smut.)

a/n: this is my first writing ever, so i didn't want to do the entire thing in one go! please give me feedback + suggestions! <3

---

Memories fill my mind as the car drives down a familiar winding road. The hum of the engine contrasts with the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I'm lost in my thoughts, reflecting on the past and the change it brings. I'm haunted by the death of my biological father at a young age. The loss was difficult for my mother, who struggled to deal with her grief. 

We moved from place to place, searching for stability and connection. With each new boyfriend, we were forced to leave behind the familiar. I wish for something more lasting, somewhere to call home. 

My mom knocks on a stranger's door, and I'm uncomfortable with the idea of yet another temporary home.

I scanned the house, uncomfortable knowing this stranger’s place would be my home for about a year. My mom knocked on the door as I awkwardly held my luggage. I heard shuffles behind the door, and a younger man opened it.

Was my mom going after younger guys now? He looked at my age, and it made me cringe internally.

Despite my internal cringe, I couldn’t deny his striking features; he had dark hair with some blonde stripes down the middle, a nice structured face, and puppy-like eyes. I had to admit that he was way more attractive than the men my mom had been dating previously.

He stood there with a puzzled look on his face, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Are you here for Mr. Kim?" he inquired, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Seungmin! It’s nice to meet you," my mom exclaimed with genuine warmth, disregarding his confusion as she enveloped him in a tight embrace. Seungmin's initial hesitation melted away as he reluctantly returned the hug, his posture betraying a mix of surprise and discomfort.

With an awkward smile, my mom gestured toward me. "This is my daughter," she introduced, her voice tinged with hope. "I hope you two will get along nicely."

I followed my mom into the house, a sense of apprehension gnawing at me as I shut the door behind me. Offering Seungmin a polite nod and a hesitant smile, I silently wished for this encounter to unfold smoothly. To my relief, he returned the gesture with a tentative nod of his own, his expression a blend of curiosity and reservation.

Before any awkward silence could settle in, a presence loomed behind Seungmin. I turned to see an older man emerging into view, his arrival signaling the end of our brief moment of introduction. The way that my mom's face lit up at the sight of him, I could tell that he was her actual boyfriend.

As my mom rushed over to greet her boyfriend, leaving Seungmin and me in a slightly awkward standoff, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. He seemed out of place, caught in the middle of this unexpected familial encounter.

Seungmin cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had descended upon us. "Um, would you like me to show you to your room?" He offered, his voice a tad uncertain.

I nodded, relieved to have a reason to escape the tension hanging in the air. Following him through the house, I couldn't help but notice the subtle hints of his personality reflected in the décor: a bookshelf filled with an eclectic mix of titles, a guitar resting in the corner, and photographs adorning the walls, capturing moments with the tiny family. Some pictures consisted of Seungmin, the father, and a baby nestled in his arms.

As Seungmin guided me through the corridors of the house, his footsteps echoing softly against the floorboards, I couldn't help but notice the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. His hesitant smile, though fleeting, hinted at his composed exterior.

As we reached my temporary room, the tranquility of the moment was shattered by the sudden wail of a baby from across the hallway. Seungmin's expression faltered, a flicker of concern passing over his features before he regained his composure.

"Make yourself comfortable," he murmured, his voice tinged with a note of resignation as he gestured toward the room. With a fleeting glance, he vanished into the corridor, leaving me alone with my thoughts amidst the backdrop of distant cries.

I found myself alone in the room, the distant sound of the baby's cries echoing in the air. Seungmin's departure left me with a flurry of unanswered questions, his enigmatic demeanor adding to the mystery surrounding him.

This was the first instance where one of my mom's partners had children from a previous relationship, adding a layer of complexity to our situation. It stirred a sense of unease within me, highlighting the reality that we didn't quite belong in this family dynamic. My mom's nature and habitual relationships made it seem like we were mere intruders in the lives of others.

Before I knew it, a week had passed, and I found myself confined in my room, surrounded by the empty room as I stared out the window and listened to my music. I could hear my mom’s voice in the distance, and she approached my room and knocked on the door, creaking it open slightly to speak to me.

"Sweetheart, Joon and I are heading out tonight. Can you and Seungmin take care of the baby for us?"

Caught in the room's stillness, I turned my gaze towards my mom, her silhouette framed against the soft glow of the hallway light. 

"I... I can," I mumbled in response, my voice barely audible even to my ears. The thought of caring for a baby, let alone alongside Seungmin, filled me with a sense of uncertainty. I had never been around children, and I had no intention of bonding with these strangers if I was going to have to forget their faces later on.

My mom offered me a reassuring smile: "Thank you, sweetheart. I promise it won't be for too long, and that boy looks tired of taking care of little Yun on his own," she said before retreating down the hallway.

-

As the evening descended into stillness, I found myself reluctantly making my way towards the source of the distant cries. Seungmin's presence greeted me as I entered the nursery.

"Hey," he said awkwardly with a practiced smile, his eyes reflecting exhaustion. "I'm sorry if he’s bothering you.”

I offered a tight-lipped smile in response, my gaze shifting towards the tiny bundle of blankets nestled in his arms. The baby, Yun, gurgled softly, his chubby cheeks flushed with warmth as he squirmed in Seungmin's embrace.

"It's okay," I replied softly, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "I've never really been around babies before."

Seungmin's smile faltered slightly, a flicker of understanding passing between us. "It takes some getting used to," he admitted, his voice gentle as he adjusted Yun in his arms. "But you'll get the hang of it."

I nodded in response, my eyes lingering on the baby's chubby face as his wide and tired eyes wandered around the room. Despite my reservations, there was a sense of tranquility that settled over me as I watched as Seungmin cradled the baby, his muscles slowly relaxing as he leaned back against the chair.

Seungmin's presence seemed to fill the room with an unexpected warmth; his calm demeanor seemed to be comforting to both me and the baby. As he cooed softly to the Yun, his babbles infused with tenderness, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. He seemed so at ease in this role, as if caring for Yun came naturally to him.

Lost in the rhythm of Seungmin's movements, I found myself drawn into the intimate moment unfolding before me. The baby's cries softened into gentle murmurs as Seungmin rocked him back and forth, a sense of peace settling over the room like a comforting blanket.

As the night wore on, palpable tension lingered in the air, punctuated only by the soft coos of the baby and the occasional rustle of movement. Seungmin and I found ourselves navigating the unfamiliar territory of caring for little Yun as two people; our interactions were tinged with a subtle awkwardness.

"Um, do you need any help with... uh, anything?" I ventured tentatively, my voice betraying a hint of uncertainty as I awkwardly hovered near Seungmin.

Seungmin glanced up from his task, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he shook his head. "I think we're okay for now," he replied, his voice gentle yet tinged with a note of hesitance. "But thanks for offering."

I nodded in response, finding myself out of the nursery and letting Seungmin put the baby to sleep.

-

It was past midnight when my eyes reluctantly opened, hearing the familiar sound of distant cries. I forced myself out of bed, rushing to the nursery to hush the baby before his cries woke anyone else up.

When I approached the crib, his eyes fluttered at me, and his critics settled as he reached his arms out to me. I nervously bent down to pick him up, copying the movements of Seungmin unknowingly, even taking in his little mannerisms. I placed him in the crook of my arm and rocked him slowly back and forth, his soft little body snuggling against my chest.

As I cradled Yun in my arms, a sense of trepidation mingled with a newfound sense of responsibility. Despite my initial reluctance, there was something undeniably comforting about the weight of the baby in my arms, his tiny breaths creating a soothing rhythm against my chest.

As I rocked Yun back and forth, his cries gradually subsided into gentle whimpers, his chubby fingers curling around the fabric of my shirt as he nestled closer to me. At that moment, I felt a surge of tenderness swell within me.

Seungmin emerged into the nursery, his tired expression softened by the sight of me cradling Yun in my arms. He watched me silently for a moment, his steps approaching me from behind. His hands softly brushed against my elbow, gently pulling it up. I turned my head to face him.

“So the baby's head is supported better.” His tired voice pierced my ears. I could feel the warmth of his body and the comforting scent of his shampoo, tempting my heavy eyes to close.

"Hey," Seungmin said softly, his voice infused with warmth as he stepped away from me. "It looks like you've got the hang of this now."

I offered a tentative smile in response, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the unexpected comment. "I guess so," I replied sheepishly, my voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the night.

Seungmin reached out to gently stroke Yun's cheek. "You're a natural," he remarked softly, his words echoing with sincerity.

Day after day slipped by, and I found myself in a familiar routine each night, cradling the baby while Seungmin shared snippets of advice. Gradually, I gained the confidence to handle tasks like cooking for him and changing his diapers.

I would find myself eagerly anticipating any chance to steal moments in the nursery, where I could hold Yun close, reveling in the sight of him peacefully asleep. Sometimes, Seungmin would join me, and together we'd find comfort in those quiet moments, simply watching the baby sleep.

No words were ever spoken in those moments, we both seemed to have a mutual understanding of the situation. 

As I placed Yun in his crib at night, I turned to Seungmin, who was standing at the doorway. This is usually the part where we give each other little nods of acknowledgment and part ways. But tonight I felt compelled to say something, just to learn something about him.

“Yun seems to really like you.”

Seungmin seemed startled for a moment, then his gaze softened at my words, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I like to think so," he replied softly, his voice tinged with a note of warmth.

There was a moment of silence between us, I felt a strange desire to peel back the layers of Seungmin's guarded demeanor and uncover the person beneath.

"Seungmin, can I ask you something?" I ventured tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to face me, his expression a blend of curiosity and reservation. "Yeah," he replied, his voice gentle yet guarded.

"Why do you still live here, just to care for Yun?" I said before I could stop myself, the question hanging in the air like an unspoken plea for understanding.

Seungmin seemed perplexed by my question, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "I suppose... I stay because I care," he said softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "For Yun and my dad. Despite the… challenges, I don’t want Yun to grow up feeling alone.”

"I think I understand," I spoke with the same tone, a sense of gratitude swelling within me. "Thank you, Seungmin."

Before I could grab my things, I could hear his voice from behind me, “But, why do you stay?” he asked, genuinely seeming to want to understand.

That question was one I had asked myself countless times as we moved from house to house, facing uncertainty at every turn. “At first, I wanted to leave,” I began, feeling the vulnerability begin to show in my voice, “but, I guess I missed the feeling of having a full family.”

The room fell quiet as I finished speaking. I could feel Seungmin's eyes on me, silently urging me to continue.

“Seeing you with Yun just struck that feeling in me," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve always wanted that connection.” My voice broke at that confession, I turned away to hide my face from Seungmin.

Seungmin's silence stretched on for a moment, filling the room with a weighty tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle, carrying a warmth that seemed to wrap around me like a comforting blanket.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his tone laced with empathy. "I didn't realize..." He trailed off as if searching for the right words.

I turned back to face him, meeting his gaze with uncertainty. "It's okay," I whispered, offering him a small, tentative smile. 

Seungmin nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "Still," he began, his voice tinged with sincerity, "I'm glad you decided to stay,” he hesitated, “Yun... he's lucky to have you."

His words stirred a torrent of emotions within me, threatening to overflow into tears that I struggled to contain. "Thank you, Seungmin," I whispered, my voice barely audible as it broke. 

Seungmin stepped closer, his hand finding its place on my shoulder, offering a comforting presence. He gently rubbed my back in soothing circles, his touch grounding me. It felt natural to wrap my arms around him, seeking solace in his embrace.

I sensed a slight hesitation before he reciprocated, his hands lingering on my sides. The warmth of his body against mine provided a sense of security I desperately needed. I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the tears blink from my eyes. 

"You're not alone," Seungmin murmured, his breath warm against my ear. His words, simple yet profound, resonated deeply within me. I took a shaky breath, allowing myself to lean into his support. 

As my tears gradually subsided, I pulled back slightly to look at him. His eyes, filled with genuine concern and care, met mine. I offered a small, grateful smile, feeling a bit more composed. "I'm really grateful for you… both," I said, my voice steadier now.

Seungmin's lips curved into a gentle smile as he squeezed my shoulders reassuringly. "Anytime," he replied, his tone carrying a light promise of support. 

Reluctantly pulling away from the comforting embrace, I took a step back, breaking the contact. "Goodnight then," I murmured, mustering a faint smile, I felt his gaze piercing my turned back.

"Goodnight," he replied, his unreadable face turning away from me.

With one last glance at Yun sleeping peacefully in his crib, I made my way out of the nursery.

-

As the days passed, the moments spent caring for Yun with Seungmin by my side became increasingly familiar, yet tinged with a newfound sense of closeness. Our interactions evolved from awkward exchanges to comfortable companionship, each shared a smile and lingering glance igniting a subtle spark between us.

I found myself drawn to Seungmin in ways I couldn't fully comprehend, his presence a constant source of reassurance. There was an undeniable magnetism in the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, in the gentle cadence of his voice as he spoke, in the warmth of his touch when our hands brushed accidentally.

We navigated the intricacies of caring for Yun together, our bond deepened, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and unspoken understanding. In the quiet moments stolen between cleaning and late-night feedings, I found peace in Seungmin's presence, a sense of belonging that transcended the confines of our temporary arrangement.

Yet, there simmered an undercurrent of unspoken desires and uncharted territories that I felt inside. I was shamefully drawn to him. 

It was in the stolen glances exchanged across the nursery, in the fleeting touches that lingered a moment too long, that the simmering tension between us came to the forefront. There was electricity in the air whenever our paths crossed.

I found myself drawn to the living room one evening, guided by the soft serenade of a guitar. There, beneath the warm glow of the lamps, Seungmin sat, his fingers dancing over the strings, weaving a delicate melody that seemed to hold the room in its thrall. Little Yun, perched on the couch, gazed up at him with wide, curious eyes.

As I approached, the atmosphere seemed to shift, the music casting a subtle spell that drew me closer to Seungmin. His gaze met mine, a gentle smile playing at his lips as he continued to play, his fingers moving with practiced grace.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle strumming.

"Hey," I murmured in response, settling onto the couch beside Yun, my attention fixed on Seungmin's mesmerizing performance.

As the final notes faded away, a comfortable silence settled over us, broken only by the sound of Seungmin setting aside the guitar.

"You play guitar?" I asked, breaking the quiet with a soft inquiry.

Seungmin's smile widened at my question. "A little," he admitted, his eyes glinting with a playful spark as he turned his attention back to Yun, who babbled in response.

Turning towards me, I reached out to ruffle Yun's hair, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "Any idea how much longer Mr. Kim and my mom will be?" I asked, keeping the tone of my voice light for Yun.

Seungmin glanced at me, his gaze holding a warmth that sent a subtle thrill through me. "They shouldn't be too much longer," he reassured, his voice carrying a soothing cadence.

"I wouldn't mind if they took their time," I confessed, the words slipping out before I could stop them, stirring something within me that I couldn't quite name.

Seungmin's curious teasing look brought a flush to my cheeks, his eyes holding mine in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. "Ah, so you're enjoying having Yun all to yourself," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of something more.

Chuckling nervously, I met his gaze, feeling a sense of anticipation building between us. "Well, spending time with Yun is always a delight," I replied, the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

Seungmin's smile held a hint of understanding, his gaze softening as he seemed to read the unspoken words between us. "I'm sure he feels the same way," he said softly, his words hinting at something different, igniting a spark of curiosity within me.

Seungmin leaned back onto the couch, his eyes lingering on Yun before shifting back to me. The baby cooed softly, waving a tiny hand in Seungmin's direction. It was hard to ignore the warmth and calm that radiated from him, even as the night crept in and the room grew darker.

"You know," Seungmin began, his voice low and thoughtful, "it's not often I get to just... play music and relax like this." His eyes flicked over to me, then back to the guitar resting against the side of the couch.

I felt a smile tug at my lips. "It's nice. I've missed having calm moments like these," recalling quieter times before my world became a constant whirlwind of changes.

Seungmin nodded, his gaze holding steady. "It's important to find those tiny moments. Even if they seem insignificant." He ran his hand through his hair, which tousled a bit as if he'd been running around with Yun most of the day. "This house can be a bit quiet," he added with a soft smile, "I'm grateful for it."

"Yeah," I replied, nodding. "I think I'd like to find something like that too." I glanced at Yun, who was now rubbing his eyes, clearly ready for bed. I leaned over and gently adjusted the baby's blanket. "Guess it's bedtime for this little guy."

Seungmin watched as I wrapped the blanket snugly around Yun, his expression softening as he watched me interact with the baby. "You’re a natural," he commented, echoing his earlier words, and it warmed my heart to hear them again.

I felt my cheeks flush at the compliment. "I’ve had a good teacher showing me the ropes," I replied, unable to resist the urge to tease him back.

Seungmin grinned, and the atmosphere lightened. "Just doing my job," he said, leaning in to carefully lift Yun from the couch. "But I'm glad it’s rubbing off." He turned to head down the hallway, toward the nursery, leaving me with a feeling of quiet contentment.

When Seungmin returned, the house had grown silent except for the distant ticking of a clock. He sat back down beside me, the couch sinking slightly under his weight. The space between us was close, yet comfortable. 

"So," he began, breaking the silence, "if you could choose, where would you go if you weren't always on the move?" His question caught me off guard, but the curiosity in his eyes made me feel at ease.

I considered it for a moment, then shrugged lightly. "Someplace calm, with people I care about," I replied. "I think I’d like to put down roots somewhere." It was a simple answer, but it felt true.

Seungmin nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds like a good plan." He leaned back and stretched his arms, a subtle yawn escaping his lips. "Maybe you'll find that place sooner than you think." He looked at me, his gaze steady and reassuring.

The silence stretched between us, comfortable but charged with a subtle energy. The soft ticking of a clock filled the room, punctuating each moment with a gentle rhythm. Seungmin sat close, his presence warm and calming, yet his eyes held a depth of emotion that made my heart race.

"It's good to have roots," Seungmin said, his voice low but clear. "It’s what keeps us grounded." He smiled softly, his gaze drifting to the guitar in the corner of the room. "Music helps, too. It gives me a way to express what I can't always say."

I nodded, feeling a connection with his words. The music, the soft murmurs of Yun, the quiet moments—it all felt like a gentle escape from the chaos that had defined my life for so long. Seungmin’s humility and quiet strength were grounding, and I could see why he was someone Yun could count on.

"You should play more often," I suggested, with a hint of playfulness in my voice. "It suits you."

Seungmin's cheeks flushed slightly, his puppy-like eyes glancing away shyly. "I don’t know about that," he replied with a modest chuckle. "I just mess around with it. I'm no pro."

"Well, you had Yun's full attention," I pointed out, grinning. "That's got to count for something."

Seungmin's shy smile grew, and he shrugged. "Maybe," he said, the light in his eyes brightening. "He’s a good audience, though. Very patient."

I laughed, enjoying the easiness of our exchange. It was nice to just talk without the weight of the world pressing down, to simply exist in the moment without worrying about what came next.

"Seungmin," I said, my voice a bit softer, "why are you so reserved?" I wasn’t sure where the question came from, but it felt right to ask. There was a gentleness about him, a quietness that I wanted to understand.

Seungmin seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze growing more introspective. "I guess... I’ve just always been like this," he said slowly, his tone contemplative. "I like to listen, to watch. It's how I understand things." He glanced at me, his eyes filled with a hint of vulnerability. "Sometimes it's easier to observe than to be the center of attention."

I nodded, appreciating his honesty. "I get that," I replied, meeting his gaze.

Seungmin's expression softened, and he offered a gentle nod. "Yeah. But I think it’s important to step out of the shadows sometimes, you know? To take risks, even if it’s scary."

Seungmin’s gaze lingered on me, and in that moment, it felt like the last words he spoke were meant to hit me in the heart the way it did.

As the night grew late, I found myself reluctant to leave Seungmin’s company.

Despite the late hour, I felt an unexpected calm in Seungmin's presence. The rhythm of his voice, the gentleness of his movements—everything about him seemed designed to soothe and steady. It was as if he knew exactly how to make someone feel at ease, even when the world around them was in turmoil.

"I should probably get some sleep," I said, more to break the tension than because I was actually tired. The truth was, I could have stayed here all night, just talking and listening to the quiet sounds of the house as it settled into slumber. But I was wary of overstepping, of misinterpreting the signals between us.

Seungmin nodded, a slight tilt of his head as he seemed to consider something. "Yeah, it's getting late," he agreed, though his eyes lingered on me a moment longer as if he wasn't ready to end the night either. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," I replied, my voice softer than I intended. I could feel his gaze on me as I stood to leave, and I offered him a shy smile before walking down the hallway to my room. The warmth of his presence seemed to follow me.

As I closed the door to my room, the faint sounds of my mom and Joon at the entrance of the house hit me in the head and reminded me of the circumstances I currently was in.

Turning to the small desk that sat beside my bed, which I mainly used to do my work, there laid a small piece of notebook paper on top 

[the room at the end of the hall is mine, if you want to take a break from the baby tmr night (ps. i offer drinks)]

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