#and so my grandmother has decided that she is going to take him today to pick out a present

[c-130jsuperhercules]

if I don't get out of this fucking store within ten minutes I'm gonna start screaming

[caramelkoo]

my soul back home. [1]

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : frenemies to lovers, writer!jungkook, pilates instructor!oc.

summary : your best friend receives your wedding invitation and realizes he doesn't have much time left before he loses you once and for all.

warnings : slight angst, they fight over a packet of pasta, bickering, oc is a pilates girly yayyy, Jungkook is super protective of the oc, misogyny, body positivity, strong language, hate at first sight.

a/n : heyy my besties, i just wanted to show my gratitude to all of you who read my last work. im so so so grateful to each one of you. it's almost 2am for me and i just couldn't wait to share this. Enjoy and let me know how you like it. xoxo. 💕

༺♡༻

6 years ago

Jungkook's growling stomach diverts his attention from the five page essay he's been trying to work on but barely has written a word. Blaming it on his hunger, he gets and up and decides to make himself some white sauce pasta also known as his comfort food. His mom used to make him when he was a child back in the days just so he can get done with his homework without making her work for it.

When he got into a fight in seventh standard and came back home with a nasty cut under his lip, his mom made it again. It's been his go to ever since.

"Shit" as soon as he enters the kitchen though, he realizes that he ran out of pasta last week when his friends came over.

Picking up his car keys he drives up to his closest supermarket. The lady behind the counter smiling at him as per usual. She must be around 60 year old and every time Jungkook has stopped by to pick anything up, she has been super sweet to him. Not to mention how badly she wants him to meet her granddaughter. He wonders if her granddaughter knows about her grandmother trying to set her up with a stranger.

"How you doin' today, boy?"

"Hey miss Cathy, you having a good day?"

"So far so good" Jungkook walks further inside the store and searches for the pasta packet he came here for. When he spots it, he reaches for it unaware of the hand that goes for the very same packet.

The vanilla and caramel like scent hits him like a truck and when he looks beside him, he freezes. The girl which stares back at him has brown hair which matches the color of her striking eyes. There are freckles all over her nose and cheekbones making it look like a group of stars decided to make a home there on her face. Her glossy lips are parted in surprise, her almond shaped eyes wide. Why does he feel warm all of a sudden? Is the air conditioner off?

"hello?" her voice breaks him off his trance. The girl's eyes have gone narrower now.

"I need the packet." He hears her say again. As beautiful as she might be and as badly as he wanted to get on his knees and.. no !! not going there, he couldn't let her take the pasta. Not when it's about his essay. if he doesn't finish it soon his professor is going to have his head on a platter.

"Oh no no no no no no, I need this and I saw it first so I'm getting this"

"Okay first of all that doesn't make any sense. People can see it things from outside the store, does that mean they own it? plus can you not buy it from some other store?"

now he was getting irritated. she had the audacity to look so gorgeous and on top of that she was fighting over a pasta packet?

"It does. No matter how badly you need it, I need it more."

The girl takes a step forward, "Listen, I have no idea what do you need it for and not that I'm interested but I have to make my little sister her favorite pasta with extra cheese or she is not going to leave me and my boyfriend alone."

See, Jungkook is a simple guy. He likes something and he goes for it. If it was some other place, maybe his college or a restaurant, he would have approached the gal and asked for her number oh so politely but this right here? It's a war and he hates losing. No matter how cute the opponent is.

"I'm sure you can persuade her with a popsicle or two. you can find them at the counter right there" he points towards the counter. "Now let me have the pasta because I need to eat my weight in it so that I can finish my essay and be done with it, alright?"

She scoffs, "You're infuriating you know that?"

"Heard somebody call me that once but I believe they were looking for the word 'lovable'" he shrugs and snatches the packet before making his way to the counter silently hoping miss Cathy does not mention her granddaughter again.

The pretty girl yells behind him, "HEY!! WHAT ARE YOU? 5?"

He places the item on the counter and pays the amount before walking out of the store. God, he was starving. Much to his disappointment, someone calls him out.

"Boy, wait!!!" Fuck, it's Miss Cathy again.

He turns towards her forcing himself to smile, "Yes, ma'am?"

"You know my granddaughter-"

"Miss Cathy, I wish I could give you a minute but I'm actually in a hurry. You see, my brother is visiting with his two year old and it's been a long journey for him and he's starving and I need to-"

Jungkook tried his best to lie through his teeth, he really does until a voice interrupts him. That very same voice.

"Really now? And here I thought somebody was so hungry, they started twitching just by the thought of someone else having that packet of pasta" the pretty girl in yellow sundress folds her arm over chest. "Does she know her tits push up when she does that?" Jungkook thinks.

She continues, "Grans, I didn't know you let liars into your shop?"

Wait, WHAT?! Did she just call Miss Cathy "Grans"? Would you look at that? They weren't lying about the world being small. Who would have guess that the girl he's been trying to avoid is the same girl he can't ever avoid for the life of him.

Miss Cathy's loud wheeze echoes through the store, "Trust me y/n, he's a good fella. Jungkook, this is my granddaughter, y/n. The prettiest, my girl."

She looks so proud while introducing her and rightfully so, if she were his, he would also take pride in that. Minus the pasta fight, though. The thought scares the shit out of him and maybe that's why he runs. His feet move rapidly not stopping until he's facing his car in the parking lot.

How the hell did he even let that thought enter his mind? One minute he was sneering at her and now he wanted to make her his? He began imagining what would it be like to call her, his? Quickly starting the engine he drives himself to his apartment. Later that night, he takes a cold shower and fucks his hand while thinking about the same vanilla and caramel scent.

༺♡༻

present time

Jungkook has always loved being alone, his solitude has been something which he absolutely appreciated. Being the eldest son of his family he's been the one to pick up everyone's pieces but when it came to him, nobody served that purpose so he ran. Ran away from his home, from the chaos, the noise and most importantly the responsibilities. That's not to say that he's a quitter but when you have a father sitting on your chest all the time and making it extremely hard for you to live your life, you might as well be called one. He chose his peace and he does not regret anything about it.

Unfortunately though, he left something very precious back home and as much as it hurt him to do so, he knew he couldn't not escape.

The room is quiet enough that he can hear his heart beating straight out of his chest and his breathing turning ragged. When he came back from his early morning run he did not expect to find a wedding invitation in the mail box. he wasn't even planning on checking the damn mailbox if it wasn't for the small part of him wanting to do so.

The man had the whole day planned and now he was standing in the middle of the hall feeling like somebody dropped a huge rock on his chest and said "deal with it" with a piece of paper in his hand he can't wait to burn or tear into pieces. He needs to sit down.

He unlocks his phone and finds your number at the very top of his dial list. You guys were talking last night only about your studio being renovated and it confuses him to the core as to why you didn't mention anything about your wedding.

"Hey, what's up?" your voice greets him, cheery as always.

"You're getting married?" the words seem bitter on his tongue.

"Oh my god, finally. You got the invitation" a dagger through his stomach would hurt less right now. He runs his fingers through his hair, messing them up and continues.

"Were you ever going to tell me about it?"

"No because I wanted it to be a surprise. I asked Taehyung and Cynthia to do the same as well. Aren't you glad you happened to check your mailbox, huh?"

Jungkook blinks, once and then again. He was having a hard time comprehending all of this. Hadn't he checked the mailbox, would you have gotten married and never told him about it? He was going to throw up. When he replies his voice is brittle.

"Listen, can i call you again? I need to run some errands"

"Sure, but don't-" he hangs up and runs to the bathroom before emptying his stomach.

༺♡༻

5 years ago

Sweat drips down from your forehead, your chest moves up and down from how fast your breathing has gone. A moan slips out as you spread your legs a bit wider.

"Just one more aaaaand perfect. Now release" the Pilates instructor's voice reaches to your wet ears. You place yourself down on the mat.

"Fuck, she'll kill me one of these days" Your routine has already been fucked up because of your college exams and after finally being fed up of sticking your nose in the books, you had decided to get on with Pilates. You fell in love with it a year ago.

After working your body in the gym and realizing that high intensity workouts are no good for you, you gave low intensity workouts a chance and boom! The clouds parted and now you're almost in the best shape of your life.

You have never loved your body as much as you do now and if your 13 year old self could look at you, she'd give you a pat on the back. She wouldn't believe that people no longer make fun of her for not having thigh gap or slender arms. Indeed, it took several lunges, roll ups, spine twists, ab burners to get there.

It's not like you have the most anime like body, no. But you have finally stopped beating yourself up over it, accepting the fact that people's negative opinions are just a reflection of their own insecurities.

Your phone pings with a notification and you pick it up. It's the guy you've recently began talking to on hinge. Your boyfriend, now ex, broke up few months ago because he suddenly thought sleeping with his manager would be something you'd look past. Clearly, he was wrong and now he can choke on a thorny dick for all you care.

When your best friend, Cynthia had suggested to join a dating app just for the plot, you did it. Besides, what more could go wrong? An hour of swiping left and two cups of coffee later, you came across a guy with pictures of a guitar, a black cat and a chess board. In your defense, his cat was cute.

The texts reads, "Are you free on the upcoming Saturday? My buddy said there's a new coffee shop and they sell the best hazelnut frappe in existence."

You think before replying. According to the stats, it's the ninth day since you have started talking. Isn't it too soon to be going on a date? Although, there is a small part of you who wants to say "fuck it" and go. Before your thoughts go spiraling you go with the latter.

"Sure. Hazelnut frappe is my favorite" locking your phone you prepare to take a long hot bath. After all, you've earned it.

༺♡༻

Turns out the nerdy guys possessing a hobby of playing chess are not worth it. At least this one isn't. You wonder if you killed a bunch of kittens in your past life because seriously? When you said yes to the date two days ago, the thing you expected the least was your date constantly talking about how many hours he spends in the gym, which protein shake he drinks, even mansplaining about the NHL team he's been obsessed with. Guess you should have seen it coming from the way he couldn't even wait till ten days to ask you on a date.

Honestly, whenever you go on dates you can't help but expect the other person to be on their worst behavior. For example, you can expect the guy to dress badly, smell badly, show up late or conventionally not show up at all. This guy right here is outright insane and has failed to stay in his lane. You were getting agitated at this point.

"And then BOOM!! he shoots the most legendary shot of his life. This is what happens at NHL, you-" he stops when you stand up from your place.

"Excuse me, I'll just be back in a second" you place the napkin on the table as you grab your purse hoping the washroom has a secret exit or something.

But before you could even take a step forward, his voice stops you.

"Oh I know where this is going, You'll excuse yourself politely and then run away like some coward huh? Typical escape plan for you girls?" His voice sounds so nasty and when you turn towards him he's scowling at you like YOU'RE the one who was being a twat the whole time.

you mumble, "What do you mean?"

He stands up and walks towards you. You really try to ignore people staring at you but you're only human. The sudden rush of emotions have caused your mouth to go dry. It's hard to process what's happening.

"What I mean is that you're probably gonna go in there, call your best friend and ask her to help you escape because you can't stand another second with me" he raises his right eyebrow up.

"Sir, please you're causing trouble for everyone. I suggest you to please sit down"

This is beyond embarrassing. If you were planning to give this guy another chance earlier, there's no way in hell you're going to do that now. Over your dead body. So you do the only thing that makes perfect sense. Your hands fly and you hit his cheek with so much force, you swear you hear his jaw pop.

There are several gasps around you. If you're going to get booed on, you might as well make the most out of it.

His face turns sideways before he stands up straight. He raises his hand to hit you back but suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand grabs his forearm and yanks it away. You instantly know who it is. It's the same arm you wanted to twist a year back at the grocery store.

"Get your filthy fucking hands away from her"

After an year of trying to forget about him, he's here yet again and he's saving you from this asshole. You couldn't decide if you should be thrilled about him coming at your rescue or worried about him being back.

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven a Benjicot (davos) Blackwood x Targaryen Oc Fanfiction

Davos (Not Bloody Ben, but the fandom likes him) Blackwood has a hold of me! So I decided to FanCast the actor Kerian Burton as Benjicot in the fanfiction of Benjicot Blackwood/ OC Targaryen. I hope you all enjoy. (Can also be found on A03 under the same title.)

Disclaimer: I am rusty on my writing, so please, I ask for kindness when reading; remember, this is written in good fun, and because I am keeping hope, Kerian is brought back as an actual Benjicot!

Keep up with the story: masterlist

“House Blackwood and House Bracken have engaged each other, which is being called the first battle of the war, the Battle of Burning Mill.”

Stated Maester Gerardys as everyone in the throne room sat in tense silence, looking at their Queen. Queen Rhaenyra looked back at her council, knowing how at state this battle had come. The realm is officially at war, on one side, the Blacks and the other Greens. House Blackwood had declared for her, while Bracken for her usurper of a brother. On the other side of the war table stood Prince Jacaerys with his younger sister, Princess Aemma, while Jacaerys was born with brown hair and eyes. Aemma was graced with Velayron's white hair, although not as coily but with looser curls like her mother’s, with violet eyes and a slight tan to her skin. Her face was uncanny to her namesake, so much that her kingly grandsire wept when he first held her. She was the proof that her mother and father, Laenor Velayron, could produce heirs to the realm and dissuade any rumors from the greens… that was until her beloved brother Luke was born.

 Aemma knew what this meant; if House Blackwood and Bracken had engaged, each declaring to be fighting for either faction, there was no turning back; war was here. Aemma snapped out of her thoughts to her mother, asking about the casualties. 

“Both sides have suffered significant losses, my Queen. Samwell and Davos Blackwood, as well as Amos Bracken, have all fallen,” Gerardys explained, his voice carrying the weight of the news as he rummaged through his notes. 

“Benjicot Blackwood, Davos’s Twin Brother, is now Lord of Raventree Hall, and he has reaffirmed his father’s and brother's claim of declaring as you Queen Rhaenyra, the true ruler of the seven kingdoms.” 

“House Blackwood has excellent numbers for soldiers; this will benefit our cause, your Grace. Once Prince Daemon takes Harrenhall and has House Blackwood stationed there, the rest of the Riverlands will soon follow to showcase our true power to the greens.” 

Aemma’s grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, stated as she entered the throne room. Rhaenys paused at Aemma to grace her with a smile and a quick hug before sitting beside her mother. Aemma noticed the lack of greeting towards her brother, remembering that she was their grandmother’s favorite among her mother's children. Most likely, it was due to looking the closest to Ser Laenor. 

Nevertheless, Jace did not seem to notice, “We should thank them, Mother, to show them how much we appreciate their support,” exclaimed Jace before continuing. “I will go to Raventree hall personally, and -” 

“No! No, Jace, I need you here as my heir,” rebuffed Rhaenyra. Aemma’s heart pulled, knowing ever since Luke, their mother has been grieving and fearing that more of her children will be taken from her. That is why she had made the difficult decision to send Joffery, Aegon, and Viserys to the Vale. Ensure the youngest are safe from the horrors this war is to bring. 

“We will send a raven thanking Lord Benjicot for his pledge. Now, is there anything else that we need to discuss today?” 

The lords all scanned each other before shaking their heads no. With that, each stood and left the hall individually, leaving only Jacaerys, Aemma, Rhaenys, and Rhaeynra in the room. 

“Rhaeynra, what Jace said is true; we should show appreciation to House Blackwood, especially after they lost so much for our case,” argued Rhaenys while Rhaeynra looked down and played with her rings, showing off her nervousness. 

“We will, as I stated, a raven will be sent to them and-” 

Aemma moved forward to her mother, “ Muna, as much as that is a good idea, I feel a simple raven will not be enough. If Jace cannot go, then let me.” 

Rhaeynra stood up from her seat and took Aemma's face into her hands while shaking her head. 

“ Absolutely not; I will not be sending you, my pearl, where Aemond or worse, Aegon can capture you… my heart will not be able to take it.” Whispered Rhaeynra, tears welling up in her eyes. 

Aemma closed her eyes and exhaled. She understood her mother’s worry, but she had the blood of the dragon and is the rider of Sliverwing, Good Queen Alyssane’s previous mount.  She was raised by the Rouge Prince and the Queen who Never Was. She knew how to fight; how could her mother expect to find more allies if she hindered her decisions due to her fears? 

“Muna, I am the princess of blood. We need to bring in our allies. It's true that Jace is your heir and needs to be by your side. So let me be the protector of our family and invoke the creed of Belon the Brave. If our allies, especially House Blackwood, see that someone is personally sent to thank them for their support, they will never have thought of betrayal in their minds.” Soothed Aemma as she took her mother's hands into her own—Violet staring at Violet. 

Aemma could see her mother wavering, for Rhaeynra knew her daughter’s words speak truth. Her daughter had a natural charm inherited from her father, but behind those sweet words and charming smiles hid the cunning nature her daughter had learned from Daemon. Aemma was indeed both Leanor and Daemon’s daughter. 

Rhaeynra sighed before nodding, “Very well, Aemma, you will go to Raventree Hall with my message, food, and medical supplies to help replenish House Blackwood… Please be safe.” 

Princess Aemma bowed to her mother and left to ready herself and Silverwing for the Journey. 

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

Upon reaching RavenTree Hall, Aemma wanted to weep; as she walked around, so many bodies littered the hall to be prepared for burial. Aemma stopped at a lanky young man with brown hair, his face covered with blood, wearing proudly the red and black colors similar to her own house. Looking at him made Aemma want to cry; he reminded her so much of Lucerys, her sweet brother taken from them by her kin-slaying uncle. 

“ Davos Blackwood, my princess.” 

Broke Aemma’s staring, as she flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring, which could be seen as rude, especially her being a guest. Aemma turned to its owner's husky yet shy voice and breathed sharply as she stared at the young man before her. Who looked almost exactly like the young man she was just staring at. 

The young man was looking down at the body for a second before raising his sight to Aemma and bowing to her before speaking again.

“That is Davos Blackwood… he... he was my twin brother.” Aemma realized now that Benjicot Blackwood was speaking quietly with great sadness as she could again relate, her wound of losing a dear brother being opened again. 

Aemma could only give a small smile in hopes of soothing the ache as she greeted the newly appointed lord of Raventree Hall. 

“Lord Benjicot, my mother and I thank you for receiving me into your home, especially in this trying time; I wish to express sorrow for the loss of your father and twin brother.” 

She could see more and more people stopping to stare at her and Benjicot, wanting to hear their conversation. Benjicot himself returned a shy smile to the princess. 

“Thank you, my princess-”

“Aemma.” Stated the princess before continuing, “ You may call me Aemma, but I fear I will grow tired of hearing ‘my princess’ so much.” 

Benjicot stared at Princess Aemma for a second before changing his smile to more of a smirk. 

“Very, Aemma. Thank you for your condolences. I ask you to call me Benji or Ben. It seems only fair.” 

Aemma returned her smile, feeling more confident than before, and returned to staring across the hall. Benji followed her sight, seeing his twin in the masses and understanding that the princess truly understood his pain. For she also had lost a father and brother. With a newfound ease, he asked the princess to join him for a tour of his hall, not wanting to be stared at by his people and not wanting to stay too close to his brother, for it hurt too much to look at him still. Asking for an arm to be hooked around his, he began his tour around the hall. As they walked out of the hall, Benjicot was greeted with a Dragon’s Shrill and a laugh that sounded as sweet as wind chimes. Turning, he saw Princess Aemma unhook her arm from him and gracefully sprint to her dragon, Sliverwing. Weary of the dragon, he soon followed the princess and came close enough to hear her speaking High Valyrian. 

“Lykiri, issa dōna hāedar,” Aemma whispered as she petted her dragon, knowing Benji was staring at her. 

What she didn’t see was the awestricken face Benjicot had. He had always heard Valyrians were considered higher to men and closer to gods. He never really believed it until now. The Princess, still in her riding leathers and loosely braided pale white hair, seemed like a beautiful warrior angel. She was known as the Pearl of the Realm for a reason. When Aemma turned to him, Benjicot could not help but feel his cheeks blush as those violet bejeweled eyes stared at him. 

“Have you ever come into close contact with a dragon before?” Asked Aemma, although she already knew the answer. 

Benjicot shook his head no, “ Never, my princes- um, Aemma.” He quickly caught himself as Aemma graced him with another laugh. 

“Would you like to? Come meet my Silverwing.” Aemma took hold of his hand and pulled him closer to her until her body flushed to his as she raised their intertwined hands to Sliverwing’s snout. 

The She-dragon huffed at the unfamiliar scent near her princess before calming to the soothing voice. 

“Shh, Sliverwing, Lykiri, sweet one, we mustn’t scare away our host.” Whispered the princess; she guided Benjico’s hand to rub her snout. At the same time, she was using her other hand to soothe the dragon to be calm. 

In awe of touching a dragon, Benji asked, “What does that mean… lykiri? 

Aemma giggled at his accent while saying the High Valyrian word and turned to him, unbeknownst how close her face was to his: " It means to be calm or calm down. I must say how impressed I am with your bravery in being so close to a dragon, my lord.”  

Benjicot, in turn, winked at the princess before teasingly replied, “Only because I have the Realm’s Pearl guiding me, and I thought we agreed to skip our titles, my princess.” 

Aemma blushed at the teasing and realized how close they were to each other; just a slight lean, and they could kiss. Benjicot had a certain attractive charm; he had a boyish charm to his face, but a devilish smirk and his lanky build helped him appear taller. Aemma's musing was quickly cut short with a slight cough, and Aemma’s face flushed bright red as she and Benji quickly separated each other to see a Queensguard sternly looking at the pair. 

Aemma, embarrassed, quickly schooled herself before returning to business, much to the brief disappointment of Benjicot. Alas, he knew better. She was the crown princess; he was just a lord, not even lord paramount. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the food and medical supplies she and her dragon brought to his land and people. If his house continued to support Queen, which they would, they would need the support to replenish themselves after the battle with those lousy Brackens. Then, much to Aemma’s disappointment, Benjicot was called away to finish establishing himself as the new lord. Stating they would see each other at the feast later this evening. The Princess sighed but allowed her dragon to fly off while she was guided to her chambers to prepare for the feast. 

As she was walking, Her guard cleared his throat. “ Forgive me, my princess, as it may seem too forward of me, but your mother asked for you to come here to give a note of gratitude and supplies and return with loyal allies, not allies and a marriage proposal.” 

Aemma gasped in shock, “ Ser Lorent, that was hardly any grounds for a marriage proposal; my mother and I haven’t even had that discussion yet.” 

Then, a bit childishly, she slammed the door on her knight's face as she entered the quaint chamber. Sitting down on a chair in front of a mirror, Aemma began to unravel her braid and change her hairstyle to a more Valyrain-looking war braid. Her mind returned to Ser Lorent’s comment as she unraveled her hair. She indeed some took liberties from the Blackwood lord without thinking much of any consequences. Especially since she was of age to be married, which discussion has not come up because Lucerys' death took precedence. However, she knew she would have to marry sooner rather than later, mainly because of the war. She did not want to be used as a bargaining chip for allies, and she knew her mother would never force her. But the princess was not naive to think she had the liberty to marry for love. She previously thought of giving her hand to Cregan Stark as gratitude for being the first to support her mother. However, the cold was a little too much for her, and she couldn’t connect with the wolf of Winterfell, unlike Benjicot Blackwood, who had made her laugh more than twice about meeting him. Being married to him didn’t seem too bad, and she could still wear her Targaryen house colors. 

Quickly shaking her head from thoughts, she heard a knock on the door. Ser Lorent was right; she wasn’t here to make marriage proposals. As she opened the door, she was greeted by the lord of blackwood, who gave her a dazzling smirk and asked to escort her to the feast hall. That smirk caused her to flush; remembering her previous thoughts, Aemma tried to school her features before returning her smirk just like her kepa Daemon taught, but she knew she had failed when Benjicot chuckled. Instead of taking insult, she reveled, knowing that she had brought a laugh out of him. As they entered the hall, she could see many staring at her with awe, with a few looks of lust from the young men. She expected this, being given the name the Realm’s Pearl; she knew she was beautiful, but instead of letting it turn her vain, she always tried to make others see that not only did she have Valyrian beauty, but she was also a dragon rider warrior like those of Old Valyria. 

As the feast went on, Princess Aemma did her best to use her quick-witted charm to appease the people in the feast hall, although, like her kepa Daemon, after a while, she grew tired and wanted to breathe fresh air. After confirming with her knight, she quickly stepped out to catch the cool breeze when she heard whispers. Curiosity taking the best of her, she quietly walked closer, ensuring she would not be seen. There, she heard Benjicot's voice arguing with an older man and woman. 

“I understand my position, but it is hardly weak; I am the lord of House Blackwood, and if need be, my Aunt Alysanne is my heir. I do not need to marry so soon, especially if we are to join the queen to war!” Snared the new lord at the older gentleman. 

The older man sighed in annoyance, “ Yes, since we still follow the Old gods, there is nothing wrong with having Alysanne as your heir, but your position is not secured, my lord. Should you and your lady aunt perish, we risk losing our house to those craven Brackens. Being married will ensure your future wife carries your heir to secure the future of our house.” 

This only grew Benjicot more agitated, and replied angrily, “ I will not be a bargaining chip just to secure my house’s future, and I will not marry just to have my future wife feel like a broodmare.”  

Alysanne sighed, looking at both hotheaded men, and tried to intervene, “You and the princess seem to grow close. Why don’t you discuss with her any potential ladies she may have as her or her mother’s ladies-in-waiting? Therefore, you open up the discussion of marriage without feeling too drastic or rushed. While I remain as your heir?” 

Both men did not entirely agree with that plan, but it was better than anything they could try to agree with. Reluctantly agreeing, the three blackwoods moved back to enter the feast hall without noticing the princess. 

Aemma slowly returned to her seat; the newly appointed lord also had the same problem she would soon have, understanding their duty but not wanting to be a bargaining chip. The princess returned to her seat and took turns speaking with a few people before Princess Aemma decided it was time to read her mother’s letter as the feast continued. With two sharp taps of Ser Lorent’s sword on the table, the hall quieted as the princess addressed the people. She felt faint; she had never had to speak in front of so many people before, especially those who just lost family. With a quick scan of the room, she saw Alysanne Blackwood give a short, simple smile; then, her violet eyes locked on a certain dark-eyed lord, gracing her with his charming smirk, and gave a nod of encouragement. 

Exhaling, she opened her mother’s letter and began to read, “My good people of Raventree Hall, I thank you for welcoming my daughter, Crown Princess Aemma, into your home. As my heart grieves for the loss of Burning Mill, I want to express my gratitude for your honor and loyalty to me as your queen. My mind is at ease knowing I have such loyal subjects, and with your help, I know we can take back my birthright from the green false king. To show my gratitude, I have sent my daughter on her dragon to bring supplies and food to help replenish House Blackwood. With her dragon, she will lead and guard the able soldiers to Harrenhall, where Prince Daemon, the Knights of the Vale, and the men of the North will eagerly await you. You all have my utmost respect and gratitude, your Queen, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, protector of the realm.” 

As Aemma finished her mother’s letter, she started hearing applause and cheers for her mother, which swelled her heart to see people genuinely supporting her. Looking back at Benji, she could see him smiling and nodding in approval, which only made her think back to the conversation she overheard. After a moment, she raised her hand to still the cheers, and people quieted down, wanting to hear what the princess had to say next. 

“I thank those here today for coming out and supporting my queen. My heart is filled with the warm welcome I have received here at Raventree Hall. To know such fierce and loyal people are willing to fight for my mother, your queen, fills my heart with gratitude-” 

Someone in the back stood up and cheered, “To Queen Rhaenyra and Her Crown Princess, The Realm’s Pearl Aemma Velayron!”  

Prompting more to stand and cheer, the princess let the people cheer and then, after a while, again asked for quiet. 

“I thank you all for your cheers. To show my gratitude for everything, I propose, should your Lord Blackwood accept, my hand for marriage to create a strong and secure alliance between Houses Targaryen, Velaryon, and House Blackwood.” 

Gasps were heard all over the room, and a sharp clank from her knight's sword fell to the ground, but all of that did not matter because the princess only wanted to hear and see one reaction. That of Benjicot Blackwood, who stood up to meet his princess gaze as his smirk fell off his face and slowly replaced with a genuine heartwarming smile, his eyes lighting up like they haven’t all night. He slowly walked to Princess Aemma, taking her soft, sunkissed hands to his, staring at her doe-like violet eyes, and kissing her hands. 

“It would be my honor to be your husband, my dear princess,” he whispered as her smile grew, knowing she had made the right decision. 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, little bit of homophobia (It's Soldier Boy). Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I said I was gonna be more angsty with this chapter, but I got distracted, the sun was in my eyes, and my hand slipped…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The next morning Mike’s screeching begins all over again, but today he starts with "My Girl" by the Temptations.

He's getting warmer.

You think with a smile, singing along to the song under your breath as you prop yourself up on your pillows with a content sigh. The smell of gardenia wafted over your bed in a gentle wave as your curtains opened, allowing the sunlight to drift over your bed. The beautiful white flowers bloomed from the plant sitting on your bedside table, each petal frosted with mist from the mister hanging on the wall behind it.

Gardenias reminded you of home. They were your grandmother's favorite. There were several large bushes gracing the front yard of her home that rose almost as high as the second story. Whenever you were back home you would make sure that they burst into bloom so she could fill her home with the sweet smelling flowers. It helped you relax and sleep at night, though sometimes it didn't do much to keep the nightmares away.

You hadn't had a good night sleep in a while, but after Ben and you had been up late putting together the bookshelf that stood proudly in the left corner of your bedroom, you were exhausted. Now it was filled with your worn brightly colored paperbacks and covered with a healthy amount of pothos vines as was everything else in your home, but you loved it.

When the delivery men had arrived late yesterday evening and they had been more than willing to carry the couch up the three flights of stairs, but Ben had told them to leave and said "I'm not some kind of pussy that waits for her fucking husband to come home because she needs him to change a lightbulb."

And so they left, leaving Ben and you with the box your unassembled bookshelf came in and a giant three piece couch.

Mike's mother had set up a folding chair with her best friend Mary Ann outside on the sidewalk, drinking glasses of wine and giggling like schoolgirls each time Ben and you came back down to haul another piece of the couch back up into the apartment. He tried to make you sit upstairs and wait for him to bring it in, but you had cussed him out and held up the only finger that mattered.

Putting together the bookshelf hadn't been that much better. Ben had almost broken two of the tiny wooden pegs that secured the back panel all the while cursing under his breath when you tried to show him the instructions.

And being in the presence of the instructions seemed to trigger Ben. It immediately turned the two of you into the couple in the car that bicker over a map before they get murdered in a horror movie.

The shouting got so loud that Mike raced over hopeful that Ben had broken your heart and that he would there to pick up the pieces, while Mike's mother followed in quick pursuit hoping to console Ben.

But when Ben had answered the door sweaty and shirtless- because you'd ripped his shirt on accident when he tried to walk away from you muttering something about "women and their fucking instructions" and you'd grabbed him while shouting "say it to my face you geriatric asshat!"- Mike thought that he had interrupted something else and retreated back to his apartment in shame while his mother stood in the hallway waving a hand in front of her face to calm down.

As annoying as Ben was, you loved the bookshelf. It was perfect for your bedroom and looked a little whimsical, which was how most of your apartment looked with the mismatched vintage furniture, all the plants, and the crocheted blankets. What you couldn't figure out was why he bought it for you.

You had relented on his purchase of the couch, because it did make sense, he was spending the most time on it, but his purchase of the bookshelf confused you. He'd been in your bedroom all of five minutes a few days ago and had only looked at the pile of vine covered books once.

So why did it bother him so much that I had a pile of books on the floor of my bedroom? Why did he have to buy it for me? Why did he care enough to?

No one had ever done that before for you. Your high school boyfriend, Newton, had seen the same pile of books in your bedroom back home every time he came over and never did anything about it, but Ben had only seen it for a moment and remembered.

I don’t understand why he’s acting so nice. You stretch your hands up over your head and begin to get out of bed. Probably because he thinks if he’s nice I’ll sleep with him.

The thought was becoming familiar, but you weren't sure what other reason it could be for. The two of you had nothing in common. He was always angry, sexually forward, annoying, not to mention he was from another century and he didn't understand anything about the present time.

I mean sometimes it's kinda cute how clueless he is about stuff like that. He always gets that adorable frown and- Nope, nope, nope not thinking about that right now.

Bean purrs in agreement with your thought at the end of your bed, stretching his front legs and arching his back. His charcoal fur looks almost silver in the light from the sun that streams through the open window leaving behind the imprint of the brilliant square on your comforter.

Bean had enjoyed watching the two of you put together the bookshelves, well, he enjoyed playing in the box that the bookshelf came in. He ran in and out, back and forth through the openings on both sides of the  box, using it like a tunnel all the while Ben complained over the small screws and even smaller pegs that never seemed to fit where they needed to.

Personally you just think Ben was jealous that you knew how to read the instructions and he didn't.

And last night you understood just how bad Ben was at receiving directions. He had ignored you when you tried to help him, which had lead to the yelling match that Mike walked in on.  

But you still didn’t understand why he cared so much about the pile of books in your bedroom. They'd been sitting there since you moved in, because you hadn't found a proper place for them, not to mention the pile just kept growing.

At least he didn't look too closely at the titles. The last thing I want Ben to know is how many romance novels I read.

You grab a bundle of your clothes and open your bedroom door, while Mike continues to sing "My Girl." You creep down the hallway, intent on taking a shower, but your curiosity gets the better of you, so instead of going to the bathroom, you peek into the living room.

Ben is sitting on the new charcoal couch that you crammed into the room, reading a newspaper and you have no idea where he got it.

Maybe he already left sometime this morning?  Guess he can be quiet when he wants to be.

Bean prances down the hallway behind you and jumps onto the back of the couch, kneading his paws in the soft pillows, before dropping down next to Ben. Ben smiles at the cat and folds the newspaper closed so he can scratch him under the chin.

"Hey buddy." You hear him mutter. "Y/n up yet?"

Bean only purrs and rubs himself further into Ben's hand.

"Don't know how anyone can sleep with that jack-off next door." Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn't raise them from the cat that has begun to crawl into his lap. "Why does she hate me so much?" He whispers to Bean with a sigh.

His question made you freeze where you were standing in the hallway. It was so open, so honest, so completely unlike Ben. It was the last thing you were expecting him to ask your cat, well, honestly you didn't think that he would talk to the cat at all. You suddenly wondered what other things he said about you when you weren't around.

And why does he care so much if I hate him? I mean I don't, he just gets on my nerves constantly, and knows how to press all my buttons.

You liked to think that you were an easy-going person, but Ben drove you crazy. You'd never met anyone who could do that to you before, never allowed yourself to get angry, not even when Poppy Mansfield who put chocolate pudding on your seat at lunchtime when you were in fourth grade and made everyone think you'd pooped your pants. You'd only shrugged and walked to the bathroom, it was Annie who lost it. Annie had grabbed a handful of pudding and smeared it on Poppy's face and earned her the nickname "Poopy Poppy" until she transferred to another school at the end of the year.

But not with Ben, he crawled under your skin and stayed there whenever he teased you . Usually you let insults and teases roll off your back like water off a duck, but not with Ben. He knew what to say to make you lose your temper. You didn't know how he did that.

Not all the time though.

The trip to IKEA had been kind of fun, well, fun until Ben had insulted your boss and when the two of you watched a movie together it was fun.

In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you were starting to like him. You wish you didn't. It just made everything harder. You remember what he said at the plant shop, tried to burn it into your heart, that he didn't care about feelings or emotions and you did. You wanted to be with someone who cared about that, someone who understood everything about you, and loved you. You wanted love so bad your heart ached sometimes, and yes maybe you read way too many romance novels, but you wanted something like that to happen to you. You wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that the world faded away, someone kind and sweet, who remembered little things like how much you liked gardenias or how much you loved pineapple iced tea from the place just around the corner and someone who would be okay with sitting on the couch or in bed, with you laying back in their arms while you read your newest book or tried to crochet.

Ben didn't care about any of that, probably what he would call "pussy shit." He just wanted sex, plain and simple, nothing more, nothing less.

And you didn't want just sex.

You didn't want to start something with Ben, develop strong feelings for him, and then only have him push you away as soon as he got what he wanted. You couldn't handle having your heart broken again. Newton had been enough and after him you told yourself you were going to try harder, were going to find someone who saw your self-worth. Of course that had been a few years ago and each year kinda felt like another nail in the coffin when you went on countless dates with people who never seemed to want the same things you did.

Plus, you were sure that Ben was only interested in you because you kept saying no and that made you "exciting" or whatever. So that just meant you were going to have to keep trying to find someone else.

You take a step back into the hallway, creeping further away as silent as possible. You didn't want him to catch you spying on him and you didn't want him to know that you had heard him ask Bean that. You force your door closed, before putting your clothes in the bathroom and shuffling down the hallway, purposely being as loud as you can so Ben can hear you over Mike's inhuman screech.

“Good morning.” You say as you enter the living room, as if it’s the first time.

“Morning Petals.” Ben looks over the back of the couch. He smirks as his eyes trace over your body. “Don’t you look delicious this morning.”

Your shorts were a little shorter than what you usually wore, hitting the middle of your thigh, and the oversized shirt you wore hung over them giving the illusion that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

He is so confusing sometimes. Maybe he really just doesn't know how to talk to a woman in this century. Did that really work for him before? Does that work with all his dates?

“Thanks.” You say dryly.

Ben’s smirk twitches and something passes through his eyes that looks a little bit like regret, but it’s gone as soon as you see it.

You turn towards the kitchen. You didn’t know what you were looking for, truthfully you were just making conversation because you felt bad about what Ben asked Bean. You didn't know why that hurt you so much for him to think that you hated him, maybe it had something to do with everything that he'd been through. You wave a hand, perking up the plants in the box over the sink and the raspberry and blackberry vines covering the refrigerator to distract yourself.

“Um-“ You begin, but Ben interrupts you.

“There’s coffee in the microwave!” Ben suddenly blurts.

“What?”

Why is it in the microwave? Shouldn't it be in the coffee maker?

You sniff the air for the tell-tale smell of coffee, but smell nothing. A glance in the direction of the coffee maker reveals that the pot is still sparkling clean from when you washed it out last night.

Is he really lying about coffee? It's like he wants me to hate him.

“Um I mean-“ Ben clears his throat. “I got you coffee.”

“You got me coffee?” You parrot, surprised. “When?” You turn to look at him. He's watching you from over the back of the couch and he almost looks a little awkward, like he's not sure where to go from here as if he's not sure what to do when he does something nice for someone.

“I went to get a newspaper and I walked past a coffee shop.” He shrugs as if suddenly uninterested turning back around to face the jasmine covered wall, picking his newspaper up and opening it.

But you have a suspicion that he wasn't actually reading it, that he was just using it as a prop so he didn't have to look at you anymore.

“Oh. Thanks." You open up the microwave and withdrawal the still warm coffee mug taking a sip.

How in the fuck did he know how I like my coffee? You think to yourself, about to do a spit take you were so shocked, because the coffee was perfect. "How did you know-"

"I read the label on the one plant boy bought you the other day." Ben doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Is it… okay?" He asks it tentatively and a little awkward.

"Yeah. It's perfect actually. Thank you." You say it almost robotically. You couldn't believe that he remembered something like that about you. That he actually thought about you when he went to get a newspaper this morning.

He grunts a "You're welcome."

You take another sip and place it back in the microwave. Preparing to go back to take a shower.

"Do you…" Ben clears his throat again. "Do you work today?" He says it hesitantly.

"No. I usually have Friday's off because Annie and I make plans, but this week she cancelled because Hughie got tickets to some concert a few hours away and they're making it a day trip or whatever." You tried not to sound disappointed, but Friday's were usually you and Annie's day. You would plan random trips to shops in NYC, go to brunch, find ridiculous tourist attractions, try new restaurants, or you would go spend the day in Central Park reading. But Friday nights were wine, greasy pizza, sushi, Chinese food, snacks, and movie nights, had been since your parents died. It had been a family tradition before, Friday night films, but when they died Annie took it upon herself to continue it with you because your brother hadn't been willing to. Of course, when you were kids there wasn't wine, there also weren't movies with Glen Powell or Pedro Pascal, but as you grew so did the films and the conversations and the men, but your friendship blossomed with it.

"Oh." Ben leans his head back over the back of the couch, the smirk back in full force. "Well I've got a few ideas for what we could do today. Sounds like you're a little disappointed there Petals. I'm sure I could cheer you up."

You roll your eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Great, I need one too." Ben jumps to his feet, leaving the newspaper on the couch as he turns to follow you.

"Ben." You sigh his name in frustration.

This is exactly what I'm talking about, he does something really nice and then he follows it up immediately by trying to sleep with me. Is that what this is to him? Do something chivalrous to make me like him and then finally let him fuck me?

It made you angry that he believed it would work.

"What? It'll save water and I just want to make you feel better Petals." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "You sounded so sad when you said that Annie ditched you-"

"She didn't ditch me!" You snap. "She just had plans with Hughie that's all. And I can't believe you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You think that doing something like buying me coffee will get me to sleep with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're trying to act all chivalrous and nice just so that you can get me to finally sleep with you. But I'm not going to fall for it Gramps! I am not going to sleep with you just because you do one nice thing for me or try to pretend to care about me." You turn and stomp down the hallway, leaving Ben absolutely speechless in the living room.

When you get in the bathroom you blast your ABBA Gold Album from your Bluetooth speaker to drown out Mike's singing and to drown out your insane internal monologue. And when the music doesn't work, you start to sing the lyrics to the familiar songs letting the melodies soothe you.

You’d liked ABBA since you were a kid. Your mom would listen to it when she was cooking in the large kitchen in your childhood home and when your father got home from work at the end of the day he’d creep up behind her and pull her away from the stove for an impromptu dance.

Your childhood was filled with so much love from two people that were absolutely head over heels. And it made you want that too. It’s why you wouldn’t give in to Ben, because the memories of your parents and the love they shared still warmed your heart years after you’d last seen them.

You dry your hair with a towel, continuing to sing as you dress in your jeans and t-shirt, hoping that you could just escape the apartment by going to Central Park and read on your favorite bench to avoid seeing Ben. You were maybe a little embarrassed that you had yelled at him again. You never intended to.

Maybe I can just creep past him.

You think to yourself as you open the door of the bathroom, but as you step into the hallway you trip over something big on the ground and begin to pitch forward with a started screech. The thing you tripped on catches you so that you fall directly into Ben's lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You realize that it was Ben you tripped on, who had decided to lounge with his back against one of the walls of the hallway, his legs bent at the knee, directly outside of the small bathroom.

As you fall into his lap, your hands land on his shoulders grabbing tightly in fear and surprise, while his hands catch your hips, pushing up the shirt you had just changed into enough that his hands are resting on a sliver of skin that peeks between your shirt and your favorite pair of jeans.

You weren't expecting it to feel so damn good for his skin to touch yours, to feel the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your hips. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, heart thrumming in your veins as you lock eyes with him, adrenaline from the fall still rushing through your veins. He looks as surprised as you do. His face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his body warm and hard beneath yours, and it's making you have flashbacks of the other night when he kissed you in front of Mike, when Ben crushed you against him and kissed you with so much passion that you couldn't equate it to anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life.

You weren't about to admit that aloud, that the kiss you shared with Ben was the best one you'd ever had. And you weren't going to admit that if he kissed that good, you were betting that he would be the best you ever had at other things too. Newton hadn't exactly been a Casanova, and you'd hoped that Newton would have gotten at least a little better at some things the more you two were intimate, he hadn't. You'd also hoped that Newton would have been more concerned about you the closer the two of you were, but each time you were a little disappointed and he was, well, happy.

No. Not thinking about sex right now, not when I'm sitting on top of Ben for fucks sake.

That was a little detail that you were trying very hard to ignore, but it was difficult, not when you could feel everything that made Ben-ahem- Ben, beginning to get interested in your position on top of him.

Ben's eyes are dark, focused on your face, an emotion swimming behind them that makes something snag under your ribs and try to yank you forward, to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth for just a millisecond, moving his face an inch forward, just enough that you can feel the warmth of his lips, but they still do not touch.

"Ben what are you doing on the ground?" You say leaning back to lengthen the distance between your faces, but you can't force your voice into more than a hoarse whisper.

"Dropped my keys." He lies.

"Ben?"

Ben hesitates for a moment. "You've got a pretty voice, wanted to hear better." He admits under his breath, looking as if you caught him with a baseball bat outside your broken kitchen window.

What?

You could feel yourself flushing to the roots of your hair. You'd forgotten that he could hear you in the shower and forgotten that his hearing was so good that he’d be able to pick up what was Mike and what was you. “I’m sorry if it was too loud-“

“No. It was nice.” The end of his mouth twitches in half smile, eyes twinkling impishly. “I’d never tell a woman she was being too loud. I like that doll."

You roll your eyes at him, but his comment doesn’t annoy you this time. You wondered if that was because you were getting used to him and the way he was.

You wanted to kiss him so badly that your lips were aching. He always looked so good and right now was not an exception. Some of his dark hair had fallen forward over his forehead and your fingers itched to push it back, to drag your fingertips over his skin and feel the dips and grooves of his handsome face. The smell of his shampoo was everywhere, spicy and familiar in the best way.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper. Your hands hands have fallen from his shoulders to rest against the front of his shirt. You don’t really remember when you did that, just that now you can feel the warmth of his chest and the subtle beating of his heart in the palms of your hands. “I think I am kind of upset that Annie cancelled on me today.”

“It’s okay, I'm used to it." Ben's hands are still on you waist, firmly keeping you on top of him. “You always seem to yell at me.”

"Shut up I do not yell at you that much." You laugh, pushing back on his chest playfully.

Ben smiles, but then you watch it drop.

“Look I didn’t get you coffee because I thought it would make you let me fuck you. I got it because you always say you need it to deal with me.” The way he says it breaks something, because he sounds almost sad and you’d never heard him sound that way before. “And I figured that I would see you today and that you’d need it.” He drops his gaze to where your hands are placed on his chest. He’s watching them curiously, like he can’t quite understand it.

Honestly you couldn’t understand what was going on either. Ben was holding you gently, almost reverently on his lap. It was odd. You’d never seen him be this way with anyone.

“Ben-“ You sigh. “I need coffee to deal with everyone, not just you. You’re not special.” You joke to get him to smile again, but he doesn’t instead he continues to look at your hands.

“Hey.” You whisper and this time your hand drifts softly to Ben’s cheek holding his gaze on you. His eyes widen slightly with your bold touch. “Ben I don’t hate you. I just-“

 There’s a loud frantic knocking at the front door that startles you off of Ben and on to the ground beside him.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Ben asks as he stands up and holds out his hand to help you.

“Um- no actually.” You reply taking it.

The frantic knocking starts again.

“Do you think it’s Mike checking to see if we broke up again?” Ben snorts.

“I think it might be his mom hoping you answer the door shirtless. Almost gave that poor woman a heart attack.” You start to walk through the living room.

“I remember you having a similar reaction a few days ago Petals.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Though I will say if you ever decided to walk around the apartment shirtless I’d be perfectly okay with that.”

“I did not. And I’m sure you would.” You roll your eyes. “But I doubt you’d be okay with letting me answer the door like that since you seem to be so jealous. Are all the men from your generation so possessive of women they can’t have? Or is it just you?”  You tease, remembering how he reacted yesterday afternoon at IKEA in front of Jake.

You doubted that he was jealous. Ben didn’t have anything to be jealous about. He seemed to be plenty happy with the women he found on tinder and you thought it was ridiculous that he needed to have you too.

You glance back over your shoulder to look at Ben seeing if he’s preparing another insult. He’s gone stick straight, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes dark, frown deepening.

Shit I was just kidding but-

You turn back to look at the door but can’t fight the tight feeling that rose in your chest when he looked at you like that.

Get a grip.

You interrupt the next bout of frantic knocking by opening the door.

A man in a rumpled navy suit stands out side the door, a bright blue quilted baby bag covered in elephants hangs from his left shoulder, a little girl holds on to his left hand, while a little boy screams shrilly and hangs from his right arm.

“Mr. Wilson- hi-“ You stutter, surprised. “Are you alright? Here-“ You reach to take his almost one year old son, Josh, from his arms. Josh continues to wail loudly, shaking his head back and forth.

“Can you please watch the kids?!” He says eyes frantically looking around the apartment behind you and focusing on Ben.

Mr. Wilson was another one of your neighbors, but he and his wife lived on the fifth floor. You’d met the Wilson’s by accident when Martha, the five year old holding on to his left hand wearing a bright pink tutu, decided to ride the elevator down to the lobby all by herself and met you while you were moving all your stuff into your apartment. She’d declared you her best friend as soon as she saw the colorful assortment of flowering plants you were lugging through the lobby of your apartment building in a cardboard box. You’d babysit for the Wilson’s sometimes when they needed a few quiet moments alone and on date nights. Not to mention they had a ton of money and paid almost five times per hour the amount you made in an hour working at “Please Don’t Die.”

Josh wails, his face turning bright red, so loud that Ben flinches behind you. You remember what he said about the supe that blew out his eardrums and can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Your own hearing was only a little better than other people's, but not enough to be as bothered as Ben.

“Hey little guy, its okay.” You coo gently bouncing Josh on your hip to make him stop crying. He sniffles and wraps his arms around your neck, gurgling quietly as he catches his breath.

“Y/n!” Martha shouts putting your right leg in a choke hold.

“Hi Marty.” You smile down at her, adjusting your weight so you don’t drop Josh. You look up at her father. “Mr. Wilson, I'm just not sure that now is the right time."

You think about Ben standing behind you and how horrified he looked when the children descended upon you, as if they were ticking time bombs. You weren't sure if you wanted Ben around kids, or if he had ever been around children before. He wasn't the best influence, not to mention you didn't think that he would be able to filter what he said or what he did around the,

“My wife she just-“ He swallows brown eyes wide. “She just went into labor."

"Oh. OH. Well-"

They had been expecting their third child for a while now, something that had resulted from you taking care of Josh and Martha more and more, and Mr. Wilson's promotion at work. You had learned before Mr. Wilson by accident when you reached down to pick up Josh's binky that was on the ground and your ear brushed against Mrs. Wilson's almost completely flat stomach and you heard the heartbeat.

“Please! I’ll pay you triple the hourly rate and her mother will be here tonight to take over for you.” The man looks close to getting on his knees and begging you. "You won't have them for long-"

Have a heart she’s going in to labor. What else is this poor man going to do? Drag the kids there with him? A part of you whispers. But then they'd be stuck here with Ben all day long. Well, maybe he will leave.

“Okay.” You relent with a sigh.

“Thank you!” Mr. Wilson exclaims shoving the bag into your free arm and then disappears from the doorway without saying goodbye to his children, but you were going to cut him some slack. You understood that when a woman went into labor most men didn't understand what to do with that information.

Shit. You grit your teeth to avoid saying it aloud when taking the bag throws you off balance. With one kid still hanging from your leg and the other one hanging from your neck, it was difficult to maneuver with the bag too.

Ben’s hand appears in your line of vision and he takes the bag, practically with one pinky.

“Show off.” You mutter, but turn your attention to the little girl hanging from your leg.

“I want a flower crown!” Martha crows.

“Okay sweetie just give me one second.” You take another step with her holding on to your leg.

“Now!”

“Martha.” Your voice turns stern as you look down at her and she pouts. "Please let me get Josh situated first."

“Fine.” She pouts and lets go of your leg.

The relief you feel is quickly overshadowed by Ben standing there, holding the diaper bag out from his body like it’ll bite him. Honestly you wished you had your phone ready to take a photo of Ben holding the bag, and then use it as blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben asks looking down at the two children confused.

“Shh language!” You snap, eyes widening as you look down at Martha and Josh. Josh has begun to pull your hair from the ponytail at the back of your neck.

"What language?"

You give Ben a death stare wincing when Josh yanks the hair tie out. Martha has let go of your leg and is looking up at Ben with the same fascination that you'd seen her look at Prince Charming from Cinderella.

Guess it works on girls of all ages.

You think about telling her that Ben might be charming from a distance, but he isn't anything like a prince. Honestly, you were more worried that Ben was going to act like a total dick and crush this little girl's heart.

"Hi." She waves her hand at him. "I'm Marty."

Ben stares down at her, as if he's deciding whether or not to say his name aloud. "Ben." His eyes flick back to yours. "What are you doing?"

"We have had the money conversation many times, but I guess you must be getting forgetful in your old age, so we can have it again." You smirk. "Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths or have a trust fund. I don’t have money, therefore, I babysit to get some extra cash sometimes. Hence the children.” You wave your free hand commanding the vines to open up the pantry and grab Josh's high chair out to set up for you. "I told you that I work several jobs."

"What do you mean several? You said that you worked for Butcher and plant guy." Ben huffs, still holding the bag.

"You know his name is Jake. And we live in America if you can't remember. You know? America home of the free, home of the brave single woman trying to make ends meet and pay for her crappy apartment by working fifty million jobs?" You begin to buckle Josh in to the high-chair. "But thanks for showing me how to fix the plumbing under the sink. Definitely going to add that to my job application.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"I mean it’s really what I do when I’m not working for Butcher. I works at the plant shop, I babysit, sometimes I’m a dog walker, oh and there’s this senior living facility a few blocks over that I run errands for when the people living there need me."

"You run errands for senior citizens? What kind of fucking person does that?"

"LANGUAGE! And this freaking person does that thank you. It's not all that bad. Plus I thought you were going to act like them when I first met you, but you are more h-a-n-d-s-y." You spell it out because you don't want the kids to say it. "Oh and I'm also a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Sometimes." You shrug. "But now that you've met the kids, it's time for you to go."

“What?”

"I don't want him to go." Martha stomps her little foot enclosed in a bright pink sparkly flat.

You ignore her and reach for the table part of the high chair, strapping Josh in. He's wearing an adorable pair of overalls and a teddy bear t-shirt underneath. Despite his early hissy fit in his father's arms, Josh is smiling happily at you, his wild curly black hair sticking up in different directions. “I’m not going to let you be around a kid. You're barely on your best behavior around me."

“What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Smoke a doobie, roll a doobie, make horrible life choices, drink, curse-“ You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“You really don’t see me in a positive light.” He smirks at you. It's hard for him to pull off when he's still holding the bright blue bag covered in elephants. It was quilted, probably a knock off Vera Bradley, which only made you wish for your phone even more.

“No I do not.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, just go watch TV in my room. But if you start going through my underwear drawer I swear I will cut off your D-I-C-K.” You spell the word and narrow your eyes, letting them flash bright green to emphasize your point.

Martha is still staring up at Ben, upset at the idea that he's going to go anywhere. "Wait y/n! Please let him stay, he can help me braid Betty's hair!" Betty was Martha's favorite doll, one that you were sure was in the sparkly backpack that hung across her back. Another photo opportunity you did not want to miss.

“I don’t want to go in there.” Ben states.

“Well that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Usually you’re all for going in my room.” You huff, before turning to look down at Martha. "Alright, you want jasmine like last time? Or do you want some Lavender too?"

"Strawberries!" Martha exclaims.

"Strawberries!" Josh echoes, mashing his meaty fist on the tray not quite comprehending.

"Alright, but you remember. Our little secret right?"

Martha and Josh's parents didn't know you were a supe, they figured that you really liked plants and that Martha's occasional flower crowns came from you manually making them, not from you waving your hand and watching the stems weave together. You weren't sure how the Wilson's would react to finding out that you were a supe. They were more straight laced than you.

Probably also wouldn't like Ben hanging around if they knew who he really was. Actually I'm surprised that Mr. Wilson didn't ask more questions about Ben when he saw him.

Martha nods eagerly.

"Secret?" Ben asks.

"The Wilson's don't know I'm a supe." You murmur so only Ben can hear plucking a strawberry from the plant on your kitchen table. Secretly it was your favorite plant and it was much older than all the others in your apartment, encased in a hand-painted pot.

It was the first plant that you ever grew, sprouted from the chopped strawberries on your high chair tray when you were nine months old. Your parents had potted it inside the house and since then it had never wilted, and it never would. It meant everything to you, weird as that may be, strawberries were like a good luck charm and the plant that sat on your threadbare circular kitchen table was the symbol of your origin story.

"What do they think all the plants are?"

"They just think I like plants." Your eyes are glowing bright green allowing the strawberry in your hands begin to grow a stem and leaves, the stems weaving together to form a circle, sprouting small white flowers that ripen into red fruit, delicately intertwining to create the crown that Martha wants.

She squeals happily when you put it on her head and dances past Ben into the living room on tip-toe.

"You want one too Gramps?" You smirk at Ben.

"Tempting, but no."

"Alright." You look back at Josh, who has begun to chew on his chubby fist. "Are you hungry? I think you're hungry." You turn to look at Ben who is watching Martha do a mock impression of a ballerina with a horrified expression. "Ben can I see the bag?"

His head snaps in your direction. “Why?”

“Because it’s a magical bag with baby food in it.”

He holds it out and you snatch  it away.

“Geez. Calm down Petals.” Ben leans against the counter behind you watching you  methodically take out the jars. “Now what?”

“Well Sherlock, I’m going to feed the baby.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know!” Martha screams jumping up with her hand in the air. “Oh please!”

You bite back the urge to laugh. “Yes Marty?” You act as if you're calling on her in class.

“He can help me make friendship bracelets!”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. “Like hell I’m gonna-“

*Twenty Minutes Later*

“Please tie another knot for me.”

“No.” Ben grunts

"You're funny." Martha laughs and hands Ben the elastic string so she can start another friendship bracelet.

She was wearing the one that she had spent the last twenty minutes on, a string of bright pink, light pink,  hot pink beads, and white pearly stars broken up by the name Marty. Ben had sat there the whole time next to her, pouting while occasionally throwing angry looks at you like it was your fault.

It's not.

You couldn’t understand why he stayed. You figured that he would leave to go on a date or try to escape as soon as Martha mentioned the words "friendship bracelet," but he hadn’t. He sat there at the kitchen table with Martha, whose little legs hung over the front of her chair, her face tight with concentration as she made friendship bracelets.

You’d taken two photos and you were very excited. But you’d been more focused on feeding Josh. He was still eating bits of strawberry and watermelon, but you would give him the occasional bite of teether.

Ben had looked like he was going to throw up when you broke off a piece for yourself.

It wasn't that bad. Kinda like eating a piece of flavored cardboard.

"You really like the watermelon huh?" You ask Josh taking another piece from the plastic container and cutting it up so it's small enough for him to eat.

"Waa waa." Josh mumbles picking up another piece. The red sticky juice was running down his little arms and each time you tried to wipe him off he would scream "No!"

You figured that he had learned that from Martha.

You hold out the circular Tupper-ware of watermelon out to Ben, who takes a piece, still frowning at you the whole time.

He's got to lighten up.

“Benny pick a color for me!” Martha says shuffling her fingers through the organized little boxes of her friendship bracelet kit, the beads rustling loudly against the plastic sides.

"It's Ben."

"Benny!" She whines. "Pick a color."

Ben sighs heavily as if she’d asked him to stab himself. He was probably considering that to get out of this hell. “Green.”

“Light green or dark green?”

“I don’t give a-“

“Ben.” You growl under your breath staring at him.

He sighs again sinking lower in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dark green.”

When Martha finishes the bracelet it has light green, dark green, and black beads with brilliant pearly white stars and the name Ben spelled out on the strand. She hands it to him. “This is for you. Now we’re best friends forever.” Her face turns serious. “Guard it with your life.”

Ben holds the bracelet between his thumb and index finger, frowning down at it. For a second you hope that he’s not going to throw it away in front of Martha. You noticed that she was trying to impress him the best she could and even you had to admit that her bracelet making skills were unmatched. You were also a little jealous. She didn’t make one for you.

But then Ben does something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do, but puts it on. “Thanks.” He grunts and Martha’s smile is so wide you’re sure it would blind anyone in a ten mile radius.

You’re surprised, so surprised that you drop the watermelon you had been holding on the ground.

What in the actual fuck is happening? He’s being so nice to her.

“Y/n, pick a color!” Martha shouts handing Ben another piece of elastic to tie a knot in.

“Um- light green.” You say, but you can't look away from Ben.

Am I hallucinating?

You were so shocked at his behavior. Yes he was still being a little bit of a dick, but he hadn't done anything that bad in the time that the children had been here, just occasionally curse.

The bracelet that Martha makes you looks a bit like Ben’s, except you have light green, dark green, purple, and black beads with white pearly stars broken up by your name.

"Thank you Marty." You smile at her and roll it on your wrist.

"Y/n?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She stands from the chair and hops from foot to foot. "I don't want to go by myself, the hallway is scary!"

"Oh okay." As soon as you get up Josh begins to wail, face turning bright red as he does, pounding his little fists against the tray of the high chair, sending pieces of strawberry and watermelon flying everywhere.

Oh shit.

"Hey it's okay Joshie." You unclip him from the high chair and pull him into your arms, bouncing him to make him stop crying.

"Y/nnnnnnnnnn!" Martha whines, continuing to hop from foot to foot. "I really have to go."

"Well I- um." Your eyes dart to where Ben is still sitting at the kitchen table, cringing slightly when Josh gives another particularly loud wail.

Am I really about to do this?

"Ben can you take him for just a second."

"What?" Ben's eyes widen.

"Please? I have to take Marty to the bathroom."

"She can't go by herself? Suck it up or whatever?"

"It's dark Benny!" Martha cries, peering around him down the hallway. "I don't want to go by myself."

"But-" Ben begins to say.

"Please Ben." You plead.

He curses under his breath. "Fine." He stands up and takes Josh from your arms, holding him away from his body in the air with both hands like Josh is a live grenade, which only makes him scream louder.

Martha grabs your hand and begins to drag you down the hallway, while Ben grimaces at the wriggling child in his arms. "Try holding him against your chest." You say to him as Martha continues to pull you towards your small bathroom.

I am definetly getting a night light for this hallway. Then again, she doesn't even like it when the lights are on. She said that the yellow glow looked "creepy." But I don't think I should leave Josh alone with Ben. What if he drops him or kills him or- shit why did I do this.

As soon as Martha is finished and has washed her hands you return to the kitchen prepared for the worst, but then you see Ben. His back is to you, but he's gently bouncing Josh in his arms who giggles happily over Ben's shoulder at you.

"See you just need to man up." You hear Ben say. "The ladies don't like a man who cries kid, take it from me."

You smile to yourself. And if you thought that Ben was gorgeous before, Ben standing with a baby making a baby smile, makes something primal at the back of your mind begin to stir and unfortunately makes every plant in your general vicinity burst into bloom. The smell of gardenia, hibiscus, honeysuckle, and lavender hitting you in a strong wave as they do. You weren't sure what instinct it was, all you knew was that the image of Ben and the baby would be very  difficult to wipe from your mind.

"Did you miss me Benny?" Martha shouts coming up behind him, her strawberry crown still perched over her dark braids.

"Um." Ben turns around to look at where you're standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish, like he didn't want you to catch him with a kid.

That's understandable. Hughie told me how he reacted to seeing a diaper commercial. The guy just doesn't seem to be the most gentle or really loving. And yet look at how he is with Josh.

"Of course he did Marty." You smile rubbing her back. "Right?"

"Sure." Ben sighs, but then he lifts his gaze back up to you. "You shouldn't call her that." Ben grunts.

"Why not?"

"You keep calling her a man's name and everyone is gonna think she's a boy."

You kick Ben hard in the shin.

"Ow. What the fu-" Ben snaps, eyes blazing.

"Marty, why don’t you pick out a movie you want to watch, anything you want." You smile sweetly at her, ignoring Ben's angry glare.

"Anything I want?" She exclaims, eyes bright.

"Anything you want."

She squeals happily and runs to the couch, disrupting Bean who had been watching with contempt from the cushions that line the back. He didn't like the kids as much as Ben did. Bean leaps off the couch and vanishes down the hallway before Martha can catch him.

"I call her that because she asked  me to Ben. Don’t say things like that to a five-year old. In fact don't stuff like that at all. It's 2024 not 1920."

"What does that mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." You frown at him.

"Fine." Ben huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why are you still here? I thought that you were going to go on a date or whatever it is you do when you're not being forced to work for Butcher?" You say taking Josh from Ben, who fights you as you rub a wipe against his sticky cheeks.

"I didn't want you to be outnumbered Petals." Ben smirks.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it, you really wanted a friendship bracelet."

Ben leans closer to whisper in your ear. "As soon as she leaves, this is going in the trash."

But for some reason you don’t believe him, but at the same time you didn't care, because you had photo evidence on your phone of Soldier Boy  making friendship bracelets.

The opening song of Frozen begins to play from the tv behind you and you smile mischievously at Ben.

Now he's in for it.

"You're gonna wish you left Gramps." You snort.

"What do you mean-" Ben starts to say.

And then Martha begins to sing.

After a stunning  and masterful performance of the Frozen movie done by Martha that included singing, dancing, and screaming the dialogue back at the tv, followed by Frozen 2, both Josh and Martha have fallen asleep just as the Aristocats began to play, leaving you and Ben to sit in the blessed silence of your apartment with the movie playing quietly in the background.

You were all sitting on the couch, Josh was sleeping on top of you, his little head buried in your left shoulder, while Martha curled up beside you, covered in one of your crochet blankets. Ben was sitting on the other side of Martha, leaning back and avoiding any contact with her feet that occasionally twitched while she slept, scrolling on his phone.

As much as Ben had hated the performance, you think that he might have actually liked Frozen. He'd noted that Elsa was hot, which Martha didn't quite understand and stated "No silly she's cold."

But then Ben followed up the observation by saying "You know, I knew this supe that looked exactly like her, who did this thing with her tong-" and you'd clamped your hand over his mouth and hissed "the kids are too young for that. Frankly I am too." Ben had only smirked at you and for the first time since you'd seen him do that, you smiled.

You didn't think that Ben had been paying attention, given that he had been scrolling on his phone through the entire movie, but he was. Because when Hans betrayed Anna Ben muttered "what a dick" under his breath.

Butcher had called during Frozen 2 and Ben had taken it in the hallway, filling you in quietly when he got back. Tomorrow Butcher wanted the two of you to infiltrate the party and see if the supe showed up to steal any of the cars.

It sounded like a solid plan, but it also meant that you were going to be on a mission alone with Ben, wearing God knows what. The last time Frenchie had stolen a dress for you wear on a mission, you'd practically had a heart attack when you first put it on and then made Annie go instead. You hoped that this time Frenchie got you something a little more, you. But you doubted it.

Plus the whole idea is to not be you genius.

“You’re really good with them.” Ben murmurs from his seat on the other side of the couch interrupting your chain of thought.

“You sound surprised.” You whisper back gently rubbing Josh's back with your hand. “And here I thought you were going to make a misogynistic comment about me having to be good with kids because I’m a woman.”

“I thought about it.” He shrugs shooting you an easy grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less Gramps.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying Ben try to act normal around the children. You liked watching him be all uncomfortable and awkward, especially because he prided himself on being a "big strong man." It was the same look he got in his eyes whenever Mike's mother cornered him.

“So have you been around kids before?” He asks.

“No. I never had any younger siblings, just my older brother. Were you ever around kids?”

You barely knew anything about Ben or his life before becoming Soldier Boy, just all the propaganda that Vought fabricated about his early life. He had called you guarded but he definitely seemed to keep everything closer to his chest. Sometimes you found yourself wishing that he would tell you more. You wanted to know more about him, but another part of you told you that it was a bad idea. You were getting too close to Ben, developing feelings for him, and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.

“Not people I knew. Vought used to send me on tours around America, talking to assemblies at schools.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you-“ Ben pauses considering. “Like kids?”

“I mean I like that I get paid to watch them but-“ You look down at the children quietly sleeping between the two of you. “I like these two. I think it kinda depends on the kid.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the tv. Thomas O'Malley has started his song, sauntering along to the tune.

Is it wrong that I think Ben has Thomas O'Malley vibes? Or Kovu from Lion King 2 vibes?

You thought about texting Annie that exact question, but you didn't want to tell her how you spent your day babysitting with Ben. You knew that it would only bring on another onslaught of photoshopped baby pictures and potential baby names.

“Do you want kids?”

“Huh?” You glance over at Ben who is watching you curiously. He was doing that thing again where he acted completely different than how he acted around the team, had been doing it all day long.

“Um-“ You contemplate. “I’m not sure. I’m kinda young or well in my head I am. I think I’d want to wait a little bit.”

“But you do?” He presses.

Why does he want to know that so badly?

“I kinda see myself as a mom.”

Ben’s eyes are studying you. “I think you’d be a good mom.”

The compliment makes you inhale in surprise. Ben had been acting weird all day long, being nice to Martha, wearing the bracelet she made him, sitting with her to watch a movie and listening to her recount the lore behind it. He was being uncharacteristically patient and kind. For another moment you see the possibility of Ben being more than just an angry, horny, jerk, and you try hard not to give in.

“Do you want kids?” You whisper back.

Ben’s expression darkens and he turns back towards the tv, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a good two minutes, the silence awkwardly growing between the two of you. “I did.”

“With Countess right?”

He looks at you surprised.

“Hughie told me.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the bi-“ He stops and looks down at the kids who are still sleeping silently. “You’re not her, Petals. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that, but still. What she did was shitty.” You whisper the curse word. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

It was the first time you’d said that to Ben. The first time the two of you would have a conversation about his life before you met him, the life that he seemed to want to forget. You couldn't blame him for that. In fact, the two of you had barely talked before these past few days other than the occasional tease or Ben’s attempt to get you into bed with him. And it was actually kind of nice, learning more about him.

Josh gurgles quietly and you adjust him in your arms, gently rocking him for a moment. Martha stirs but then leans further against your right arm cuddling up against it.

Ben watches you for a minute with the same expression he has when he seems to be unable to understand you and then the mask slips for just a moment, enough for you to see something genuine in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmurs.

"You’re welcome." You reply with a small smile as you turn back to watch the movie, aware of Ben's gaze on you.  "Then again I should be thanking you. I couldn't have made it through today without that coffee."

Ben chuckles and leans back against the couch cushions. "You're welcome Petals."

Mr. Wilson's mother in-law shows up to take the kids just as the movie finishes. Ben and you stand there for a moment in the aftermath taking a breath and when you smile at him, Ben actually smiles back.

But before you can ask Ben if he wants to order a pizza or something, he states that he has a date and not to wait up for him as he shrugs into his leather jacket.

And when he goes you try not to notice how quiet the apartment is and how empty it seems without him in it.

A/N: Alright the angst will begin to come NEXT chapter, probably, I promise... I just couldn't get this silly little idea out of my head and I thought why not?

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist or if I missed you on the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

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@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

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@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

[runningfrom2am]

the death of a doctor // LTPF

summary: with the snow heir on the way, your first son, your father wants to meet with you for the first time in years. your husband is not going to let that happen.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. use of poison with intent to kill, murder. also this takes place ten years after they returned to the capitol!

series masterlist // playlist

Your father is led through the extensive halls of the Presidential Mansion and out to the back gardens, into the rose garden where he is set to meet with you. Finally.

He's not met with you, and he should have anticipated that. His daughter, pregnant with her first child- a little boy, who should one day be heir to the President's fortune, born into a life of success and indulgences beyond imagination. Instead, he only sees his son-in-law.

"Please, take a seat." Coriolanus offers to him, a welcoming smile on his face as he gestures to the small tea table in the middle of the space. It was a fake smile, of course. Your father has seen it on the television or at events hundreds of times, but Coriolanus Snow would always try to be a good host- regardless of how much he loathed the guest in question.

"Thank you." Your father matches his polite grin, nodding to him before taking a seat. His eyes scan the greenhouse, taking in the abundance of roses and the patches of raspberry bushes that line the walls.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Coryo says proudly, carefully plucking one of the white roses from its stem to place in the centre of the tea table. "My wife takes good care of this garden, it's in honour of my Grandmother. They both love roses." He explains, not giving your father any chance to answer.

"It's lovely." He nods in agreement, watching as his son-in-law places the blooming flower in a vase on the table, sitting down himself and looking at your father expectantly. "Where is she?" Your father decides to get right to the point- no use dancing around it anymore.

"She's out." Coriolanus answers. "She's with Tigris. They're picking out colours for the nursery today."

"I was told I would be able to speak to her."

"I am capable of passing on a message."

Your father sighs, looking down and shaking his head. "Coriolanus, I appreciate everything you have done for my daughter over the years, I do, but that girl needs her family. Her parents. Especially right now. We just want to be able to support her during such an exciting and scary time."

"She has a family." Coryo defends quickly. He had never thought the situation to be scary, before. It was all excitement and parties and baby clothes and being together and enjoying the moments in which she carried his child. Suddenly, he's seeing it differently. His mother. His sister who was never even given a name. You were not free from that fate. He clears his throat. "And I assure you, she is well taken care of here. We have the best medical care the country offers available at the snap of my fingers." He says it more to remind himself.

"No, she doesn't." Your father argues, a smug smile tugging on his lips. She doesn't have him. The most renowned and desired doctor in the Capitol, in the country.

"She does." Coryo insists. "I know what you are implying, and I promise you are mistaken."

"I just want to make things right, Coriolanus." Your father adds. "I want to apologize so my wife can be there for the birth of her grandchild, so I can take good care of my daughter and ensure she is safe."

"She is safe."

Your father clocks the tenseness in your husbands jaw very quickly. "I know about your mother." His tone drops to make space for a fake form of empathy. "I knew her. She was an amazing woman and a wonderful mother. It's such a shame, what happened..." He ticks his head. "So easily preventable."

"Then where were you?" Coriolanus allows himself to lean into something more personal with the bitter question.

"I wasn't called. I wish I had been." Your father answers honestly. "Both of us know your family was in no position to pay for a doctor at the time, even with your father away working himself to death in Twelve."

Coryo chews on the inside of his cheek, looking down at the untouched drinks in between them.

"Maybe things would have ended differently for all of us."

"You speak as if you are some kind of angel." Coryo scoffs. "You still would have gone home from saving my mother and sister and beat your own daughter for being up past her bedtime, but you didn't come because my mother's life was worth nothing to you if you weren't going to be paid to save it." He picks up the teacup in front of him, taking a sip before removing it from his lips and looking down at the liquid. "My apologies, this one is yours. I asked for milk in mine." He says casually, carefully switching the cups. He can see it in your father's eyes he wants to fight with him on this.

"The war made it impossible to do any unpaid work, and like I said, I wasn't made aware of your mother's state. Besides, Y/N is my child, and you know nothing of what goes into being a parent. It is hard. You'll have moments of poor judgement and do things you will regret. You will make mistakes. That is all it was to me." Your father explains. "But I know better now. All I want is to help her."

"You don't want to help her." Coryo shakes his head. "I am telling you she has all the help she needs, and you are not needed. Your wife and son will be allowed in the mansion during the birth. It is my wife's choice when and if they will be allowed to see the child." He knew you would allow it, you occasionally had lunch with your mother and your brother found himself at the mansion quite often to use their library. They were welcome, he was not.

Your father takes a sip of his tea while he processes the information. "Is that her decision, or yours?"

"Like I said, I can pass on a message to her." Your husband replies, ignoring his question and popping one of the raspberries from the plate into his mouth and sitting back, hands placed patiently on his lap while he ignores the pain starting to bloom in his chest.

"Tell her..." Your father sighs. "That we love her, and we miss her dearly. And if she needs anything or feels unsafe, she can always come home."

"Unsafe?" Coryo asks, tilting his head with a slight, humourless laugh. "I know you don't care for me, sir, but I am the last person on this planet who would do anything to harm her. It seems you're not understanding that."

"I just want her to survive." Your father spits. "If you love her the way you say you do, don't you want her to be the one to successfully produce your heir? You would hate to have to find someone else, I know you would. Especially if the love of your life died in the same way as your mother, this time taking your child with her."

Coriolanus stands up abruptly, anger coursing through his veins alongside the poison as the chair slides back behind him. "You've never believed in her. Ever. Even now you assume that at the most natural struggle she will die. This is not about my doctors, it is about your ego and how little you respect your own child because of how you raised her. She has more fight in her than any woman I have ever met. You don't even know the extent of it."

"It's because I know her, Coriolanus. I..." Your father's voice trails off and he looks down at his shaking hands. He knows what Coriolanus has done, but there's nothing he can do to save himself now.

"You don't know her. You never have." Coryo argues. "You have never once reached out except to try and leach off of her success and my name. You couldn't care less if she lives or dies- you just want to be the one to deliver a royal baby. If you knew her, you would know that the last thing in the world she wants is to ever see you again."

He watches as your father's face goes ashen, the sentience behind his eyes disappearing. It brings a smile to his face. "You are a monster." He adds, and it's the last thing your father hears before he dies right there in your garden.

Coriolanus smiles in satisfaction, raising his hand and snapping for his security and his nurse to enter. Quickly, she reaches for his arm as he already rolled up his sleeve and she can inject the antidote.

"Dispose of him." He urges the security team, quickly pulling his red coat sleeve back over the injection site in his arm. "My wife will be home soon, this would be distressing for her. I need her as calm and comfortable as possible."

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Obsidian Salt II

Part 2 of my Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys fic

Content Warnings: Dark!Rhys, mental manipulation, brief mentions of sacrifices/blood

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

“Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

His clawed hand still grips my throat, tight enough to make stars start dancing across my vision. All attempts at pulling him off, pushing him away, fail miserably. 

“You’re shaking, Witchling,” he coos, his breath warm on my neck as he brushes his lips over the shell of my ear, laughing in dark amusement to my plight. “What’s the matter?”

I bash my fists against his solid, and very bare, chest uselessly. “Let go!”

Rhysand, Prince of Hel, hums, as if thinking, then suddenly drops me in a rush, my limp body falling onto the cracked stone floor without the support of his weight. Dried anise and rosemary crushes under my palms--another failed attempt at warding off evil. Our books are clearly outdated. 

My coughing must attract attention, because the door leading down into our decrypt little basement swings open, the old wood hitting the door with a horrendous crack. I glance at the demon I’d accidentally summoned in a panic, if he gets out, I’ve doomed my entire coven!

But the violet eyed demon merely grins wickedly as he dissolves into shadow and smoke, taking my grandmother’s tome, and the spell that would rid me of him, with him into the dark recesses of the basement. I can still feel him there, his icy power chilling the room, but he has no solid shape.

“What are you doing down here?” My grandmother, the leader of our coven, sounds worn and tired and she has used that weathered lilt to worm her way into many enemy’s houses, just to smite them with a snap of her fingers. She may look old and feeble, but it is all a ruse to get people to let their guard down, and once that happens, she can pluck whatever she wants from their open hands.

I’d idolized her as a child. I wanted so badly to prove to her and my mother that I could be just as good a witch as them, but I have nothing to show for it but the scattering of obsidian salt and a Prince of Hel I just let into our home.

I scramble to my feet, mind spinning as I try to figure out how I will explain all this. Though, that becomes useless a moment later when the evidence of my transgressions disappears, as if they never existed. All the dried herbs, the salt in the summoning circle, even my chalk runes are gone. It is just me and a couple of candles in the basement by the time my grandmother makes it down the stairs.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, child,” she snarls, her gnarled cane stomping angrily against the final step. 

She can’t see or smell what I have done. Does that free me or doom me? And how the Hel did it disappear like that? It certainly wasn’t me, which means Rhysand, for some reason, is hiding the evidence.  

“I was…” my throat burns, I run a hand over it absently, hoping the darkness hides the claw shaped indents in my skin. There will surely be bruises too. “Practicing! For the Solstice!” The lie isn’t as smooth as I’d like, but it will be better than the truth.

My grandmother’s worn head swivels to look around the empty basement, her wrinkled mouth pinched in a permanent frown that looks extra deep today. “What have you decided to show us?” There is nothing but disappointment in her tone, even though there is nothing here for her to be disappointed in. 

“It’s a surprise,” I say.

Her cane is made from the first tree ever planted in this town, scared with runes and blessings and imbued with enough magic to power the city’s mage lights for a year; she uses it to smack me in the shoulder, her strength still startling even though I know there’s more to her than the slight hunchback. 

“Do not disappoint me as you always do,” she hisses. 

Shame floods me. I am always the disappointment. Always the let down. My sisters are natural talents. My aunts born with such intense magic they have to go on annual retreats to expel it. My mother hunts men for sport. And I am the girl who was so desperate to be something, she went to a book of dark magic for help.

I hang my head. “Grandmother, I have a confession.” I should just get it over with. There is no point in delaying the inevitable. I don’t possess enough magic to send a demon back to its realm. I will need her help. Better to break the bargain I’d made than wait for it to blow up in my face. 

She sighs like this conversation just might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. “What now?”

“I-” I try to tell her, really I do, but when I open my mouth, no words come out. It feels as if something’s lodged itself in my throat.

Shit, maybe Rhysand damaged my vocal chords!

“I-” I try again the words catch as before. It is not as if I am choking, there is nothing redistricting my airway, I’m not struggling to breathe, but no matter how hard I try to admit my sins, the words stick.

She smacks me with the cane again. “Stop messing around!”

“I’m not, I-” A dark, sensual laugh slithers its way into my head, as if he’d done it in my ear.

She throws up her hands and turns away. “I better not see any of this nonsense at the Solstice. Or you’ll be the sacrifice to the Goddess.”

“Come now, Darling, did you really think I’d let you tell her about our little bargain?” Even mentally his voice is a deep purr that makes a shiver run down my spine. He is thoroughly embedded in my head, I can feel the dark shadow of him sitting like a cat curled up in the back of my skull. Every time I try to mention him, his icy power flows through me.

My grandmother slams the basement door shut behind her, and only then does Rhysand materialize from the corner of the room, leisurely stretching out his great wings as if awakening from a nap. Whatever magic he used to hide the room falls away, leaving the salt and herbs visible once more.

“What did you do to me?” I snarl.

He chuckles as he tucks his wings back behind his lythe body. “We had a bargain, any interference with that bargain will leave you in a similar state of discomfort. If not worse.”

I rub a hand over my throat. “You’re a bastard!”

He saunters closer, footsteps silent on the worn stones. I find myself shrinking back against the wall as he approaches again. 

“You summoned me, Darling, this is the bed you get to lie in.”

“You tricked me,” I snarl.

He’s close enough now that I can smell the jasmine and citrus scent of him, mingled with a faint hint of smoke. Close enough that I can read the runes etched into his bronze skin, the markings ancient and sharp. If he was anyone else, anything else, I would be tempted to reach out and touch, trace the swirling shapes over his defined chest and shoulders.

“Tricked you?” He frowns as he braces his hand on the wall above my head, effectively caging me in against the rough stone. “You summoned me, Witchling, and in case you missed that delightful little threat from the crone, I am your only salvation from a Solstice sacrifice.”

“What kind of demon could be my salvation?” I retort.

He uses the hand not bracing himself against the wall to take my chin between two of his claws, tilting my head up to look at him. I have never felt smaller than I do at this moment. 

“You have no idea what I could give you, if you only asked,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes drift to my lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own as he watches the way my breath hitches in my throat when he speaks. “I could show you power you have only dreamed of; offer cities on their knees to you. There is nothing I can’t give you.”

I can see it, as clearly as if it was happening in front of my eyes: Power, glittering and dark pouring from my fingertips, consuming everything in its path; droves of fragile, powerless humans bowing at my feet, their arms laden with gifts and tribute. I didn’t think I wanted things like that. Power was the pursuit of my grandmother, never an option for me. But the feeling of it, even in a vision is enough to make my head spin. Could I really feel like that? 

“You desire power, Witchling, that’s why you summoned me, isn’t it?” He whispers, claws drifting down my throat in a sensual caress.

I nod, too scared to speak, too ashamed to admit that he is right, to admit that I am gullible and weak willed enough to even entertain the possibilities spinning through my head.

“Aren’t you tired of being forgotten? Cast aside? Belittled?”

His hand drifts lower, following the stuttering pulse of my heartbeat down my chest. I should shy away from his touch, but my body shivers under his ministrations instead. I can’t look away from him, from the pretty images he spins round and round in my head like it’s his own personal movie screen. 

“Aren’t you tired of being good and quiet and ignored?” 

He’s so close now if I tilt my head up I’ll brush my lips against his. My own gaze flicks to those full, sensual lips. Perhaps power is not the only thing I want, and I cannot, for the life of me, remember why I don’t want him. It’s like everything has been emptied out of my head except for him.

“Yes,” I whisper. My voice doesn’t sound like mine, like I’m entranced somehow but I don’t know how to break the spell, how to tell if this is me or if it’s him.

“Just a taste is all it takes, Darling,” he closes the gap just enough to brush his lips over mine. It isn’t cold or unyielding like last time, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my suddenly flushed skin. 

My body chases after him like it’s starved, hand reaching up to tangle in the long strands of his dark hair. He lets me pull him back, lets me slot my lips over his. When he kisses me back there is no longer ice in it, only an all consuming warmth that floods my system like water breaking through a damn. 

He kisses like a desperate male; all tongue and teeth, fangs scraping against my lower lip as he takes and takes from me. And I let him. Damn me! I let him push me back against the wall, let his hands slide down my body until he can lift me up and wrap my legs around his trim waist. He tastes like smoke and jasmine and endless possibilities. When his lips are on mine I feel infinite. Under his grip I should feel helpless and frail as I always do, but like this, I think I might just be able to be anything.

A bit of shadow slips from his lips when he finally pulls away, the smoky haze drifting along our shared breath as he puts his lips to my throat. He’s everywhere, in my head and under my skin, everywhere but where I think I need him the most.

His fangs scrape against my throat as I tilt my head back against the wall, letting him have free reign to do with my body as he pleases. “Doesn’t this feel better?” He purrs, the vibrations of his voice against my flushed skin making a shiver race down my spine. 

“Yes,” I gasp when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the coppery scent of blood in the air telling me he’s marked me as his before the pain registers. 

Rhys laves over the wound with his tongue. “Never again will you feel small, or powerless,” he says lowly. “Your coven will bow to you. They will regret ever doubting you.”

I rock my hips into his, desperate for some sort of friction. “You-you could really do that?” Words are hard against the images still spinning around inside my head, competing with the feel of his warm body between my legs and his teeth still nipping at my shoulder.

“You need only to say two little words, and all of it is yours, Witchling,” he purrs, lips making their way back up my throat. 

When he kisses me again, there’s the coppery tang of my own blood on his tongue. “Tell me your mine and it will be done.”

My head is starting to feel fuzzy, the room spinning as the images in my head all start to blur together. The stars in his eyes start to twirl around his irises, for a second the movement takes all the color out of his irises, until there is nothing but black emptiness. I blink away the strange vision.

“I-” Upon my hesitation, his lips are back on mine again, his hands exploring my body, slipping beneath my shirt to trace patterns in my skin. I think his claws might scratch marks into my sensitive flesh but my head is too empty to pay it any mind. What’s a little blood?

“Say it,” he presses, voice a husky whisper that makes heat flare in my core. I want to know what other things he might whisper in my ear with that tone. “Say your mine. Let me give you everything you deserve.”

I do deserve more than this. For too long I have been forgotten and ignored or belittled for being a waste of space. I’m tired of it! For once, I want to make people fear what I am capable of. I want people to regret casting me aside when they see me.

“I’m yours, Rhysand,” I say.

Something hot, like a brand inks its way across my spine. So intense and blistering that I scream. He swallows that sound with another kiss, tongue swiping behind my teeth as my body writhes against the blinding pain. 

“It’s ok,” he coos, “just my sigil, so everyone knows who you belong to. It won’t hurt much longer.”

Another kiss is all it takes for me to forget entirely why there are tears streaming down my cheeks. My head feels so incredibly emtpy. 

He runs his tongue over my cheek, licking away the tear streaks that feel so foreign on my flushed skin. “See, that’s better, isn’t it, Witchling?”

I nod even though I can’t remember what he’s referring to. Of course I feel good, he’s here, holding me, whispering sweet things in my ear while his hands roam over my skin. 

He grins, fangs glinting in the candlelight. “We will have everything we deserve, Darling, and more when we’re done with them.”

“Them?” Were we talking about someone? I don’t remember.

The stars really do wink out of his eyes, the violet rapidly disappearing until there is nothing but unending darkness. His wings flare out behind him, apex talons sharpening until the form points. Shadows seep from his shoulders in rolling waves, until their darkness fills the room. “The witches of course. We have unfinished business with them.”

I think, maybe, there is something wrong with the way he looks, some old instinct in me trying to warn me to run. But I reach out a hand and brush it curiously over the ridge of his wing, feeling the leathery membrane shutter beneath my touch. 

“What do you need me to do?” I ask.

He lowers me onto the floor and places a big, worn tome in my hands. I feel a flash of recognition in the back of my mind, but before I can place it, the memory is ripped away by a tendril of shadow. “Let’s start with burning a few books, hm? Then we have some Solstice sacrifices to make.”

------

Tag List: @girl-math-aint-mathing / @hjgdhghoe / @gloomy-hag / @barb00235

[teyamsgrl]

fruit picking ✧ neteyam

THIS FUCKING GIF IS LEGIT MAKING ME CRY RN 😭 LOOK AT HIS SMILE I CANT DO THIS

anywho, here is my first fluffy fic! i normally stick to smut but figured i should throw some fluff (and a lil angst) into the mix so here we are! plus i love neteyam and the thought of him as a perfect mate 🫠

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, pregnant!reader, agedup!neteyam, l-bombs, a little angst, fainting mentions, worried teyam, happy ending dw - yawne: beloved

being three quarters of the way through your pregnancy was crazy to you and neteyam, wondering where the time had went. your stomach had quite the swell and neither of you could wait to meet your little one. despite being very pregnant, you didn't let it hold you back from doing what you loved. you had only taken a pause on your tsahik practices just recently, much to your dismay but mo'at insisted that you take a break from your duties and cherish the last bit of your first pregnancy. you still traveled through the village, picking fruit and even hunting.

today was just like any other day, out for a stroll while neteyam was doing his own duties throughout the day. you came across some fruits, deciding they would be a perfect snack for neteyam's arrival home later on. you pick a few, putting them into a woven basket that kiri had made you. you hummed as you continued on, suddenly feeling a sharp pain shoot through your head. "ah.." you wince at the sensation, placing your free hand upon your forehead. you move to lean against a nearby tree, pain becoming worse by the second. you search your surroundings, noticing that your vision has now become blurry. your eyes begin fluttering, and next thing you know you are seeing black.

"grandmother!" kiri announced as she barged into the tsahik tent, holding you up with the help of lo'ak. "what happened here?" mo'at questions, helping kiri lie your currently unconscious body down onto a woven mat. "go get neteyam" she gestures to lo'ak, urging him out the door. "i just found her in the forest, slumped down against a tree like this, i don't know how long she was like this before i got to her" kiri rambles as she grabs your hand, praying to eywa as her other hand rests atop your baby bump. mo'at collects items before she gets to work on you. neteyam bursts into the tent with lo'ak on his tail, breathing coming to halt when he spots you on the floor, his grandmother moving around you as kiri still remains at your side. "my brother, come" kiri motions for neteyam to take a seat beside her, "kiri, what happened?" he questions frantically, intently watching mo'at's actions. "i don't know, she passed out i guess? i was just walking and saw her like this, looked like she was picking some fruit.." she gestures to the basket that lo'ak had placed near the doorway. "fuck..." he mumbles and pulls on his braids, feeling angry and anxious all at once. "she will be okay, and so will the baby. grandmother is an amazing tsahik.." she hugs him from the side, his eyes filling with tears and dropping onto his crossed legs. "she has to be okay, they both have to be" he whispers, leaning more into his sister's touch. mo'at says one final sentence before leaning back on her knees, hand pressed against your forehead.

as if on cue, you take a sudden sharp breath and shoot up slightly, eyes flickering open. "stay down, my child, relax" mo'at says as she lays you back down onto your back. "yawne!" neteyam exclaims, moving to come into your view. "you're okay, i'm so glad you're okay" he exhales, placing his forehead on yours, some tears dripping onto your cheeks from his own. "i'm here, ma'teyam, don't cry" you move one hand up slowly to wipe away his tears, stroking his cheek after. he smiles softly and pulls away to kiss your forehead, looking to his grandmother, "grandmother, is the baby alright?" your breath hitches as you await an answer, that being your next question as well. "yes, healthy and well, as are you, y/n. your great health allowed your baby to be protected in this moment" she smiles and begins to clean up her items, kiri gives your hand a squeeze before getting up to help her. "both okay..." neteyam whispers, kissing your forehead again. "i don't even really know what happened" you sigh, bringing a hand to rub over your bump, "all of a sudden i got this pain, then everything was blurry... now i'm here" neteyam places his hand on top of yours, nodding as he listens to you. "i'm sure it was scary, luckily kiri stumbled across you" you smile and grab kiri's hand just as she goes to collect the last of mo'at's items, "thank you, kiri. you literally saved my life," you nod down to your stomach "and theirs". she smiles back, "you do not need to thank me, i would do anything for you and the baby". you allow her to grab the items, looking back to neteyam.

"can you help me sit up? i'm feeling a bit more steady" he holds one arm out for you to hold while the other helps you up from your back. you get a better look around the room, spotting your basket of fruit by the doorway. "my fruit!" you giggle, spotting lo'ak against the wall beside it. "lo'ak, did you save my fruit?" he nods and chuckles a bit, "i did, kiri was a bit ahead of me and found you first, then she called for me and demanded i bring the fruit as well", "well thank you, i'm going to enjoy that later after all this" you giggle a bit more and look to neteyam as he shakes his head. "what?! it was mainly for you, by the way" you smile and kiss his cheek. he laughs quietly, "are we okay to head home?", "yes, but be careful for the next few days, stay close to home and rested" you nod and stand up slowly with neteyam right beside you, "thank you, mo'at. you are not only my mate's grandmother and my teacher, but a wonderful tsahik. thank you" she places her hand on your cheek, smiling softly before gesturing you two to head out.

once you arrive home, neteyam hugs you as tightly as he can with your bump in the middle, hands rubbing along your back. "scared me back there, yawne" you nod and hug around his neck, toying with his braids. "i know, i was scared too, when i fainted... had no clue what was going on. and i worried about the baby... first thing i thought of when it all went black, same with when i woke up" you sniffle a bit and nuzzle into his neck. "well you're both healthy and both here, which is what matters most" he whispers as he continues rubbing your back, pure love and relief surrounding your bodies. you nod into his neck, relaxing instantaneously under his touch. "i love you, ma'teyam, thank you for being the best mate and best soon to be dad" you move out of his neck to stare into his eyes, sparkling with adoration, "i love you too, so much.. you're the best mate, honestly, and i know you'll be the best mother" he leans in, lips interlocking with yours in a devoted kiss.

[holylulusworld]

Big girls don't cry (2)

Summary: You are no stranger to heartbreak.

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, strong reader, mentions of former heartbreak, arguments, heartbreak, almost violence

Big girls don’t cry masterlist

<< Part 1

Steve’s whole world just exploded. His life lies in shambles because of one stupid mistake.

After he lied to his friends to make them shut up, he lost you. And now, the chairman of his company is yelling at him. But Steve doesn’t care.

He can only think of you, the only woman he ever truly loved. You didn’t answer his calls and sent the roses he ordered for you right back.

“I told you that I don’t want to use my girlfriend to get closer to Harlan Thrombey,” Steve yells back. “You pressured me into meeting her grandmother to charm her. Now my girlfriend hates me, and Harlan Thrombey will never agree to sell his company to you.”

“Mr. Rogers, must I remind you that your position and fate are in my hands?” Alexander Pierce sneers at Steve. He cannot employ someone weak who puts feelings first. “Do still want your job, or is some pussy more important to you? Did that chubby bitch cloud your mind—”

Alexander Pierce doesn’t know what hit him when he ends up on the ground. His nose was broken, and more so his pride.

“Fuck this job,” Steve looks down at Alexander, the man he used to admire. “I can’t do this job anymore. And I won’t. I hate my job, and I hate what you made me do. So many jobs…no not only jobs but lives ruined because of your greed. I’m out of this!”

Steve storms out of the office, cursing himself for ever wanting to follow in Pierce’s footsteps. He’s not the same man he was six months ago. No. You’ve changed his whole life for the better.

“I need to get her back,” he decides there and then to not give up until you are back in his arms.

“Babydoll, I know you are in there!” Steve rams his fist into your door. “Please, I fucked up big time. But I love you, Y/N. Please…I need you.”

“Eat shit,” you yell from inside your penthouse. He can rot in hell for what he did to you. “Get away from my door or I swear you will taste my baseball bat today.”

“I won’t go. If I must, I’ll camp outside your home. It’s cozy out here,” Steve tries to sound confident. “I got food, and sweets, and a soft blanket.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you open the door size Steve up. He looks like he hasn’t slept for days. His hair is a mess, and the suit he’s wearing has seen better days. “Get away from me and my home. There is nothing left to say.”

“I didn’t go out with you to get in your grandma’s good graces. I swear, until my boss brought it up, I didn’t know she was friends with Harlan Thrombey. I refused to use my relationship to get the deal.”

“You know, out of all the shitty guys I met in my life, you are the worst. At least the others had the guts to tell me that they only used me. They never spoke about love,” you huff when Steve dares to take one step toward you. 

“I love you, please,” he tries but you shove him away. “Y/N, it was stupid of me to say those things to get Bucky to leave. I swear on my mom’s grave, it’s not true. You mean the world to me.”

“If you don’t want me to break your dick with my baseball bat, you get out of my sight Rogers,” you point at his crotch. “It’s a nice dick, and it’d be a shame if he gets damaged because of the asshole carrying him between his legs.”

Steve would laugh about the way you talk about his cock. Sadly, you are dead serious about hurting him. “Please give me five minutes, baby doll.”

“The fuck no,” you shake your head. “I’ve got no time to waste on a man using me to make even more money. Where everyone has a heart, you’ve got a cold and rotten lump in your chest.”

“I quit my job.” Steve reaches out for you. “I never wanted to hurt you or use you. I swear this is all a misunderstanding. Bucky was nagging, and I wanted him to stop making fun of me for being in love.”

“You mean for being in love with the fat girl,” you snap at Steve. “I heard all of this before. You’re nice, and your face is pretty for a fat girl. If only you’d lose some weight we could be more than friends.”

“Whoa, baby! Where is this coming from?” Steve raises his hands in surrender. “Bucky is not that kind of guy, neither am I. I love you for yourself. Your size never mattered to me…or it does because damn, do you know how I love burying my face between your tits? You are perfect the way you are.”

How you wish Steve’s words were true. You know better than trusting a man with your heart. “No, I’m not. Not to you and the likes of you.” You shrug. “It’s fine. Not everyone can handle a woman like me. The difference is, you pretend to like, no love me, for a deal.”

“No-“ he sniffs. “Can we not talk, doll? Did you even listen? I quit my job and hit my boss for you.”

“Sure,” you sneer. “I want you to leave and never come back. If I see your face around here ever again, you will regret your birth.”

You slam the door in his face, locking it. No man breaks your heart and gets away with it. If he won’t leave you alone, you’ll make sure that he regrets messing with you…

>> Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Sixteen - The first move has been made, and the Stark boys take what is theirs. Ch 17

My darling Lord Robb,

First, I must thank you for my gifts, they are quite lovely and as you requested, I wore them on my nameday this night past. Many paid me compliments, even Tommen which I must admit was quite humorous. Oh, my love, I long for the day when we are united, I grow tired of waiting. I know it is harsh, but today I was forced to spend three hours listening to Tommen describe his blossoming sword skills. I know he is a child, but the desire within me to tell him that he is nothing compared to my true husband, the Young Wolf, was quite strong.

Y/N reminds me that I must be patient, but I think that is hypocritical considering she has been in such a foul mood since Jon has decided he must act proper as to not get them in trouble. She believes I do not know of their affections, of their dalliance, which I find both insulting and amusing. Only a blind man would be unable to see what is between them, and even a blind man would be able to hear in their voices the affections they have for one another, even now as Jon pretends he is nothing more than a guard.

I am hoping they shall resolve this little spat before you come to save me from this lion’s den. I would like there to be no conflicts within our family, so rest assured I will do all I can to assist either y/n or Jon so that our ascension to power is a peaceful one—at least within our own houses. There will be nothing to distract us upon meeting.

I anxiously await your next letter and the day when we may finally cease writing and speak face to face.

-          Yours in earnest, Margaery

Robb presses his lips to her signature before folding the letter and slipping it into his pocket, earning a snort from Theon.

“Will you be this unbearable when you finally get your hands on the girl, or can I expect a reprieve from these disgusting displays of undying affection?” Theon asks, pressing his hand to his forehead pantomiming a swooning figure.

It looks ridiculous as Theon is fully cloaked, his armor hidden by the black fabric, his voice low as they wait for the signal.

They had been lying in wait ever since word had gotten out that the royal family was soon to pass by on their return trip to King’s Landing. The snail’s pace they had taken down to Riverrun to meet with Stannis then here to Highgarden had nearly driven him mad with boredom, but they could not risk alerting the Lannisters further than they already had. Now a mere week after Margaery’s nameday they have set the trap along the Roseroad.

Robb can hardly contain his excitement, soon he will be able to see her, speak with her, take her hands in his own. She will be angry, yes, that she will no longer be queen, that he had deceived her, but she would be queen of his heart. When he thought about such a line, the back of his head still stung from where Sansa had smacked him for it. It will be no replacement for Queen of the Seven Kingdoms , she said, but Robb hoped Margaery would forgive his deception.

It was not even truly a deception born of his own mind; it had been her grandmother's. The North did not want the Iron Throne, would not fight to put one of their own upon it, and his father was far too honorable a man to go against Stannis. There was no other suitable option. Stannis himself was married, had only a daughter, Margaery could not climb any higher, and she would not be safe if she remained married. Not with the truth of Tommen’s birth spreading farther and farther each day.

“You want me to scare her a bit, make you seem more the hero? Might ease her anger.” Theon offers an easy smile spreading across his face.

“Is that what you did to win over my sister?” Robb drawls, scanning the dimly lit road, they should hear the wheelhouses any moment now.

Theon chuckles quietly. “It was I who carried her through the streets of King’s Landing, who kept her safe from the ruffians and murders among the crowd that day.”

“Funny, Sansa said you held onto her sleeve and my father’s tunic as you ran, that you swore you would never visit a brothel again if you survived to the edge of the city.”

Theon scoffs but shifts in his crouched stance. “I have not visited a brothel since then, this is true, but I did not hold onto your father.”

“Just Sansa then?”

“Fuck you Stark.” Theon snarls, but there’s no bite to his words, only the playful ribbing that Robb has grown accustomed to since they were children.

“Will you two shut up?” Dacey Mormont hisses, her eyes like will o’wisps shining in the dark.

Then he feels it, the slight tremor in the ground, Grey Wind's ears perking up. The rush of adrenaline as the carts and wheelhouses begin to appear flanked by guards, guards who are either on their side or far too tired to expect an ambush on a road as well guarded as the Roseroad.

Robb counts the wheelhouses and carts as they pass, he will know hers on sight, Lady Olenna Tyrell had sent him a letter describing it down to the spokes on its wheels. She would not have any other man kidnap her granddaughter. Finally, finally, he spots it, gold trimmed, a rose embossed on each door, the curtains, a red crushed velvet pulled closed, and a freshly repaired third spoke on the second wheel.

Glass shatters up ahead, flames leaping into the air, horses rearing up, and it is time.

Jon guides his horse away from your wheelhouse, towards Robb and Theon. This has been the plan, it has always been the plan, though he had not known it until his father appeared.

“Brother.” Robb says, leaning forward to clasp Jon in a one-arm hug. He is smiling, joyful as if the sky was not filled with smoke, and the road alight with flames, as if the sounds of battle did not rage around them.

“I thought you were told?” Jon asks, confusion adding to the heavy stone of guilt in his stomach.

“I was, nothing has changed, we were raised together, you are my brother as Theon is.” Robb shrugs, nodding towards the Ironborn who had gone to fetch you and Margaery.

Jon squeezes his brother tightly. “Thank you.”

Robb pulls back with a smile. “Do not thank me, not until the anger of our wives dies down.”

Wives. Robb has no fear, he calls Margaery his wife, caring not that she is married to another, but Jon does not share that courage. He cannot shake off the lingering aches of being labeled a bastard all his life so easily. There is still fear someone better will steal you away, that you will resent him for the stigma that followed him for so long.

“Fucking hells.” Theon curses loudly, stumbling back as you and Margaery bust out of the wheelhouse, pushing past him, a blade clutched in Margaery’s hand.

“What a woman.” Robb whistles lowly, kicking his horse into a gallop after you both.

Jon follows, tugging the hood of his cloak further down.

Robb sweeps Maragery from her feet, but your hand is still in hers, and you cry out her name, as she cries out yours. Raw fear and desperation are clear in your eyes, and you dig your heels into the ground, pulling Margaery from Robb’s grasp, the two of you tumbling to the dirt.

You quickly help her up, just in time for Robb to round his horse and ride towards you both. Jon grabs you as he passes by, his arm an iron band around your waist keeping you locked against his chest.

You struggle against him, screaming when Robb sweeps Margaery onto his horse. “The Queen, save the Queen!”

Your cries draw the attention of some Lannister guards who are fighting against men Jon remembers from Winterfell, arrows fly and take advantage of their distraction, the Lannister men crumbling to the ground.

You scream again, terrified, and it guts him to realize you are screaming his name, begging him to save you.

Why has he not spoken? Why has he let you believe he was a stranger? It is the adrenaline, the rush of battle that has paralyzed his tongue, dried out his mouth and he finally forces it to work, unsticking it from the roof of his mouth. “Y/N, y/n, it is me, my starlight, you are safe.”

You twist in his hold, terrified eyes meeting his. “Thank the gods, Jon, we must turn back, we must rescue Margaery.”

“She is well, all is well, I promise.” Jon says, kicking his horse into a gallop.

Robb cannot say if he is upset or overjoyed at Margaery’s reaction to the news. It had been a few hours now, the moonlit fading, the sun soon to rise. First, she was frightened, then apologetic when she saw the cut she had given Theon with her dagger, then she was smiling, and it is a smile he would gladly give his life for. But now, now she is angry, her words calm, her voice even, and soft, but he can see it in her eyes.

“You deceived me, My Lord, you said I would be queen.” She says, fixing him with a look that he knows he will see much more of in their shared years to come. “Now you tell me Stannis’ dour wife will sit in my place instead. That you have organized a kidnapping to lure the remaining Lannisters here, that way Stannis and your father will have no trouble taking King’s Landing.”

“My Lady, it was your grandmother’s idea, Stannis would not hesitate to lock you away or marry you off to an old, fat bannerman of his if you had attempted to keep your position as queen. He might have even ordered you killed if an agreement had not struck for your safety.” He explains, taking her hands in his and pressing them to his lips, they are as soft as he imagined.

Margaery cannot hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips, not from him, even though her eyes still flash dangerously. “So, you thought to make that choice for me? What if I wished to marry an old, fat lord?”

He chuckles, and presses her hand to his chest, allowing her to feel not only his steady heartbeat but the hardened muscle. Y/N had written to him of Margaery’s likes and dislikes, what caught her eye, what displeased her. “If you truly want that, I am sure there is a Frey somewhere you could marry.”

He slides her hand down slowly, taking a step closer, his voice low. “But I have waited a very long time to finally set my eyes upon you, to feel your hand in mine, and if I am to send you to a Frey, at least allow me the honor of hearing my name fall from your lips.”

Her eyes flicker to his, then to his lips, then back again, a smirk curling on her own as her lashes flutter. “Like this, Robb? ”

She says his name so sweetly he nearly groans, but he stands firm, “not quite.”

Margaery pouts up at him, then tangles her fingers in the laces of his tunic and pulls him forward, going up on her toes, her lips parted so invitingly. “Do not be mean to me, Robb, I am to be your wife.”

Old gods take him, he is not Jon, he does not possess the strength his cousin does. He cups her cheek and kisses her, crushing her to him, walking her backwards until she falls onto his bed, him hovering above her, refusing to relinquish her lips.

Margaery sighs beneath him, carding her fingers through his hair. “Was that better?”

“Much better.” He laughs breathily, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips.

“I am queen Robb; I wish to still be queen.” She says softly, looking up at him with those doe eyes, she is so beautiful, a goddess of spring.

Robb caresses her cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “I wished to keep you as queen, but it would not be safe. I offer you myself instead, and the whole of the North, I shall remake it to your desires.”

She ponders his words, and for a moment cold fear strikes through him.

“I guess that will be enough. I shall draw up plans quickly, and present them to you for your input, you know the capabilities of your people far better than I do.” She says, giving him that radiant smile, her hair splayed out, her lips kiss swollen, her eyes lowered demurely.

“Do not look at me like that, I know you are much too spirited to play such a meek part.” He says, flipping them over and running his hand through her hair, the silky tresses falling through his fingers like water.

Margaery plants her hands on his chest, smiling coyly. “You do not wish me to play your good little wife?”

He chuckles. “You may pretend with all others, but not with me. I have seen you Margaery, the core of you, we have spent too long writing each other for me not to know who you truly are.” He sits up, brushing the hair from her neck, his fingers trailing down the pure, unblemished skin. “And I quite like you without the mask, will you allow me to see more?”

Her breath catches in her throat, and he takes that as a yes.

Jon sees you bite your lip and glance at him, the sounds from within Robb and Margaery’s tent are soft, but not soft enough to spare you both the embarrassment. “Do you think they know we are here?”

He knows his ears are bright red, he can feel them burning, and he shakes his head. “I doubt it, Robb is bold, but…not that bold.”

“Perhaps we should come back at a later time?” You suggest shuffling your feet in the dirt.

The sounds grow louder, and Jon takes your arm, walking briskly away. “I think that would be best.”

You both wait until you are far enough from the tent and dissolve into peals of laughter, doubling over.

“I cannot believe—oh I must tease her for that later.” You get out through your laughter, the moonlight giving you an ethereal glow.

Jon wipes tears of mirth from his eyes. “I knew he was eager to meet her, but I thought his honor would hold till her marriage was annulled, at the very least.”

You look at him, laughter dying down, a smile on your beautiful face. “I guess I cannot blame them, I do not know what I would do if we were separated for such a long time.”

Jon reaches for your hand, caressing the soft skin, admiring the silver ring gracing your hand. His father had brought it from Starfell, it was his mother’s, a starburst amethyst that shined when the light hit it. “I do not think I would bed you where anyone could hear, even if we had spent years apart.”

You give him a mischievous smile, taking a step closer, your free hand on his chest, your lips mere inches from his. “Even if I asked?”

He presses your hand in his to his lips instead of responding, and you giggle.

“Let us pray we shall never be parted then.” You say, rising up on your toes to press your lips to his in a quick kiss.

His cheeks burn, and he ducks his head. “Y/N, someone could see.”

“We are to be married remember, and we are among your cousin’s men, I am sure they will not begrudge us one small kiss.” You tease, ghosting your lips over his as you speak, your fingers sliding between the laces of his tunic.

“You are a temptress, a vile, vile temptress.” Jon groans softly, his eyes fluttering shut as you begin to draw circles on his chest with your nails. He bridges the gap between you two, even the scent of smoke that lingers on your clothing can smother the smell of your jasmine perfume. He nearly groans again when you part your lips for him so readily, desperate to further intertwine yourself with him.

A familiar sharp cough breaks the two of you apart, and Jon swears beneath his breath. “Theon.”

“Jon.” Theon smirks.

“Lord Greyjoy.” You say, brushing the hair back from your face in an attempt to look put together.

“Lady Lannister.” Theon nods his head towards you, still smirking. “We have been called to gather. Tyrion Lannister has sent his response.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain

[lou-struck]

Little Surprises

Katsuki Bakugo x reader 

~ It's funny how making just a little change in your daily routine can change everything...

Wc: 2.4k

Warnings: Injury, mentions of violence, mention of death cliffhangers, angst.

"Tell me" "No" "Tell me!" "No. Stop askin'!" "Okay…" 

You look down at your text chain with Katsuki with a grin. The special trip he planned for you is a week away, and despite your best efforts, you still haven't figured out where he is taking you. Your Boyfriend is stubborn and unwilling to give you even a sliver of information. Clearly, you just have to push harder.

Chewing the inside of your lip you try to worm your way into the mind of Katsuki Bakugo. You twist your features into his signature scowl and try to think. When your caffeine-fueled brain reaches its first idea, you send him another text.

"The beach?" "Goddammit!!! I told you that I'm not telling you anything, so stop trying to guess. Don't you have work to do or something?" "You're deflecting! We are going to the beach, aren't we?" "Absolutely not, you dumbass. Get back to work."

You read his last message with a snort and shoot him a quick "I love you." before setting your phone face down on your desk. Looking around the office, you try and see if there is anything new to do to entertain you, but today is just a rather uneventful day; aside from a meeting with a prospective client and a few unanswered emails, there is nothing really to do.

"Hey," Mae, your favorite coworker, says, poking up from behind your cubicle. "Did you see our afternoon meeting got canceled? Apparently, the client's car got trapped behind one of Shoto's ice walls when he was chasing down a villain, and it won't be dethawed until the afternoon."

"Lucky us," you laugh, now clearing the last remaining item on your schedule today. "Do you think we will get sent home early today?"

She looks at you hopefully through her large wire-rimmed glasses. "They should. If there is nothing to do, it would be wasteful to have us here. Besides," she sends you a teasing look. "I'm sure you would love a bit more time to get ready for your Mystery Trip with your big shot pro hero boyfriend. Do you know where he is taking you yet?"

You let out a deep sigh and slap your hands against your wooden desktop. "Not a clue, and it's killing me. I keep trying to get little bits and pieces out of him, but he won't budge. I tried to ask some of his friends, but he knows that they would slip up, so no one is able to help me figure it out." 

"Oh my, isn't that a pickle?" your sweet little coworker giggles, adjusting the cat-shaped buttons on her cardigan. "Whatever it is he has planned, I'm sure you will love it. That young man certainly cares a lot about you."

"I know, I'm just not great with surprises." You smile gratefully at your older friend just as the door to the break room opens, and a putrid smell wafts under your nose. It takes everything in you to not gag at the smell of your coworker microwaving their leftover fish stew for the third day in a row."

"Dammit, Greg," the little lady huffs as the man steps out of the room with his probably poisonous lunch in hand, the paper bowl it's in sloshes as he passes by your desk. Her hand already reaching under her desk for her emergency can of air freshener to kill the lingering scent.

But instead of avoiding you, the man chooses to stop right in front of your workstation. 

"Shouldn't you be doing something productive, Y/n?" he sneers, looking at your blackened screen. "Especially since you chose to take off Friday and leave us to pick up your slack while you are on your little vacation," he says the last word bitterly as if the only reason you decided to take time off was to spite him.

Usually, you would make some kind of masterfully passive-aggressive retort back to his rudeness, but the smell of his lunch is practically lethal at this point, and you feel your life force draining. Thankfully Mae, your friend, honorary grandmother figure, and now protector, butts in. "Oh, don't worry about him, dear," she laughs, "He is just jealous that you are dating a Pro, and Pinky hasn't opened any of their digital fan mail or whatever it is you young folks call it." 

You stare at her in awe as Greg stomps away with his smelly soup and stinkier attitude. Now that you can breathe again, words come easier. "Thank you for that; that soup smelled so bad I couldn't think clearly. Those leftovers can't possibly still be good, can they?"

"Absolutely not; they are clearly rancid by now. But I think that his quirk makes him a human garbage disposal. Not everyone can create bombs like your Dynamite ca~ "She pauses mid-sentence and stares at the window behind you in confusion. 

"What is it?" you ask, spinning around in your chair, but your usual view looks no different than usual. Just buildings and the occasional pigeon flapping past 

"Wait, really? "You turn and look at your friend in disbelief, you were just talking about him. There is no way he just passed by. 

She put her little hands up innocently, "If you don't believe me turn on the tv, I'm sure some reporter is already on the scene watching Dynamite kick some villain ass."

You quickly snatch the remote for the office television and press down on the bright red power button. Sure enough, when the screen comes to life, you see a live report from just down the block from your office. He's moving far too quickly for the cameras to get a clear view of him, but you can tell from the sporadic explosions that shake the camera lenses that it's Katsuki.

Your stomach twists as your nerves take hold of you. Although he is one of the strongest heroes in the world, watching him fight live has you clenching your metaphorical pearls as you fear the worst. 

Your nails dig into the soft flesh of your palm as you watch the screen. It only takes him a few minutes to apprehend the villains he was up against, but to you, it felt like hours.

"It looks like he got them all, "Mae says, noting your worried expression. "You should go down there and say hi to him. I'm sure it would make you feel better."

"I guess they're not too far away?" You say glancing at the clock, it's not lunchtime yet, but it's close enough to step away. Even if it wasn't your lunch break, you know that your manager would be fine with you going. "I guess I could take an early lunch and just wander over there."

Isn't it wonderful to not be working in a toxic workplace?

"Well, dear, you might as well just call it a day." Mae laughs. "There is nothing else to do anyways."

"Are you sure that will be alright?" you ask as she nods encouragingly. Although on paper, she is your coworker, you know that she has been working at your office long enough that she is practically upper management herself. If Miss Mae tells you to clock out, you clock out. "Alright then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."  

"Have fun with loverboy," they call after you. You don't have to see their face to know that they are giving you a teasing smirk.

~

Even if you didn't know where he was fighting earlier, the large crowd of people crowding the crime scene would've tipped you off. Reporters press against the caution tape, flashing their cameras at the cluster of unconscious villains being fitted into quirk-canceling handcuffs. Nosy civilians gossip with one another as they try to figure out everything they can about the altercation.

You weave your way through the crowd of onlookers and adoring superfans with practiced efficiency. It isn't long till you find yourself at the edge of a caution tape with a perfect view of everything.

Surprisingly, the fight didn't cause much damage to the street; the villains seemed to litter the ground more than the usual rubble of a fight. And standing in the middle of the chaos is Katsuki. The blond man scowls at his defeated enemies, ignoring the trembling hand of the red-lipped reporter trying to interview him. He's always hated having to deal with the press, so he simply chooses not to. 

His crimson gaze spots you in the crowd, and he sends you a satisfied smirk; you recognize that look; it's the one he uses when he knows he has impressed you. He turns away from the reporter and strides toward you, his dark boots blending into the asphalt and crushing shards of broken glass. 

The man next to you seems to buzz with excitement as he turns to his friend. "Dynamite coming over here," he whispers. "It looks like we can finally get that picture with him."

"Screw the camera; I want to try and get a piece of his spiky hair." his friend murmurs back, "I can add it to my shrine next to that tissue I won at that auction."

You cringe hearing their conversation and discreetly step away from the obsessive fanboys. As Katsuki's partner, you understand why so many people are obsessed with him. But they should be well aware that Katsuki won't hesitate to blast them into next week if they get anywhere close to his personal bubble, and that's not something you want on your conscience. 

He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and stops a few meters shy of the tape, "Well, don't just stand there, y/n, get over here."

The eyes of the crowd are immediately fixated on you as you slip under the tape, but you are too focused on him to care about their curious murmurings. He carefully places his hand on the small of your back to lead you away from prying eyes. The intimate gesture sends electricity up your spine as your knees wobble slightly. 

The two of you walk past the troves of law enforcement officers who nod respectfully at Katsuki while loading up the incapacitated criminals into their transportation vehicles. 

"It looks like you had your hands full today," you comment, comparing the villain's various bumps and bruises to Katsuki's unmarred skin. "I'm glad that you are okay."

"It was nothing; I just wish one of these idiots would give me a challenge every once in a while." He scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest childishly.

It's infuriating how he can pout in a situation like this.

He just put his life on the line, and he's disappointed that they didn't try hard enough…

God…You could just kiss him.

When he takes note of your clenched jaw, he smirks, closing the distance between the two of you. "What's the matter, babe? You don't like it when I kick ass?"

You roll your eyes and lightly press your hand against his sturdy chest. "I like it when your patrols are boring, and you are safe. I mean it Katsuki, I don't want to lose you on a random Thursday to some kind of wannabe bank robber or whatever it is these guys did to end up splayed out on the pavement."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," he laughs confidently, but you notice a slight tremble on his lip. He knows more than anyone that he isn't invincible. His body is littered with scars, some of which have blossomed from near-fatal injuries. His tone softens as he gently takes your hand. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"You better not," you chuckle, trying your best to brighten the mood. 

"Is that a threat?" he asks amusedly. 

"Maybe it is." you tease grabbing his hand and pressing a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers. Katsuki has always been a sucker for PDA. He may be as tough as nails, but all it takes is a quick peck from your lips to turn the tips of his ears pink. 

"Ahhh, what did I ever do to end up dating such a damn troublemaker?" 

"You asked." you giggle, taking advantage of his rare, flustered state and pressing your lips to his. Cockily, you think you have the upper hand, but he soon proves you wrong. 

He deepens the kiss greedily; the subtle taste of burnt sugar on his lips sends you into a haze. Your knees go weak, and his arms have to slip around you to keep you steady. You feel his smirk against your lips as he notices the effect he has on you. 

Even as he pulls away you feel that you could bound over skyscrapers if he so much as asked you to. His gaze is full of adoration until he gets waved over by a sidekick. "Ah shit, these extras really know how to ruin the mood." He huffs, glancing back at that darn pesky active crime scene. "I gotta finish up here real quick, and then I'll meet you at home."

"Will you bring dinner?"

"Is that all you're thinking about?" he laughs, turning and walking away as if he isn't already planning out which one of your favorite meals he will cook for you later this evening.

He really is such a softie…

He only makes it a few steps when, all of a sudden, a panic shout arises from somewhere behind you. "THE CUFFS MALFUNCTIONED. EVERYBODY DOWN."

Your eyes go wide as you turn towards the chaos. One of the sidekicks from earlier is on his knees; the left cuff of his quirk-canceling handcuff has come loose, freeing one of his wrists. His gaze is dark as he raises a shaking hand in your direction. He must have an emitter-type quirk. "You're with Dynamite, huh? That jerk needs to be taught a lesson. I'm sorry that it has to be through you, though.

Before anyone can react, he shakily emits a Violet beam of light in your direction. You should try and dodge it or something, but at that moment, all you do is freeze.

Is this it?

Is this how you die?

You're so scared you cannot recall what your last words were.

A warm hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you roughly to the ground. The impact stuns you as you stare up at Katsuki. His gaze never leaves yours, even as the beam hits him square in the chest.

A blood-curdling scream echoes through the streets as his empty hero costume hits the floor.

End of part 1...

Tagging: @sleepyyshroom, @anjodedesgostoeerros, @isaacdaknight

[dashofmonsters]

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 5

merman x female reader

It's been a couple weeks now since you and Tao had started your fake dating situationship thing. He walks you to and from work as often as he can and invites you to his home more and more.

You end up hanging out with him most days and are rarely at your grandmother's except to sleep or get ready for work. On the days you don't have work and don't want to go to the beach, Tao has let you hang out at his rental. It was odd at first but you quickly got comfortable with it.

Today though, you couldn't get out of the house. The weather has gotten worse and it's been raining for two days straight. Yesterday you saw him while he was out grocery shopping, he looked a bit upset then. Over and over he kept asking if you'd be okay but you'd told him you'll be fine.

Now, you're not so sure.

It's only been two days but your grandmother hasn't shut up.

"Your looks will only last so long. You should consider doing something that will keep him on his toes. Maybe try to freshen up your wardrobe," your grandmother rants from her recliner.

"He's not interested in stuff like that. I mean he dresses like uncle Rob when he's out mowing the lawn for fucks sake. Merfolk don't care about that stuff," you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your phone.

You hear your grandmother scoff.

She wasn't quite onboard with you "dating" Tao after she found out he was a merman. She kept complaining that it would be difficult to have a normal life together and what would your kids look like. It's been never ending with her on that front but now she's back to you.

"I'm just saying, what if he does get bored with you? You'll at least be ready for someone else," she states.

"Just shut up! You don't know jack shit! No wonder you're fucking alone! Do you hear yourself," you snap at her. You feel like you should feel bad for what you just said but you don't.

Your grandmother rises from her recliner and stomps towards you with a foul glare.

"I took you in you ungrateful little bitch. Day in and day out I let you come and go as you please and this is what I get? I took pity on you because of that piss poor excuse of a daughter of mine... But I can see the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," she seethes, spitting on your face.

Thunder roars outside and shakes the house. A flash of lightning and the power is off. You can still make out the miserable shape of your grandmother in front of you. You can still hear her breathing impatiently, undeterred by the darkness.

"You're right, the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. My mom's a fuck up who lost her husband just like you did," you spit back to her.

Your cheek stings suddenly and you realize your grandmother has slapped you. Again and again, three... four times she hits you before you grab her wrist and shove her away.

"Fuck this," you holler, stomping away from you grandmother and down the hall.

You can hear her yelling at you, cursing you and your mother. But you ignore her as you pull the door open. The rain is coming down in sheets and although it's noon, the sky is almost dark as night.

Slamming the door behind you, you take a few careful steps down the stairs and bolt across the empty street. The walk to the beach is slow but you don't care. You just want to be there, you want to feel the wind as it whips off the waves.

The rain stops for a little bit, slowing to a sprinkle as you step onto the drenched sand. Your shoes get stuck a few times till you decide to just take them off. Little by little you make your way to the life guard tower. The rain picks up again as you climb up and curl into a ball against the back wall.

Your stomach drops and you hold yourself as you start to cry. You hate feeling like this, you hate that every time you fight with your grandmother you let her get into your head.

You feel nauseous and tired, drained from yelling and running in the rain. You just wanted a fresh start away from your hometown. You wanted a better life, an easier life, but everything has been getting difficult lately.

The heaviness of the rain lulls you to sleep as you curl up with a damp beach towel you found in the tower. You're shivering cold, but you're to tired and eventually you drift to sleep.

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

Tao:

I haven't been able to shake this horrible feeling since I woke up this morning. I dragged myself out of my tank earlier than usual and showered off. The hot water helped me clear my head as it has been every morning.

I cannot stop thinking about my dear friend and more often then not I fall asleep with her on my mind. Sweet dreams usually follow and I wake up angry at myself for thinking of her too much.

Today is different though, the shower helped long enough for me to dry off and make it to the kitchen before I started thinking of her again.

I've let her into my home so often so she can avoid her grandmother and little by little she's left bits of herself here. A jacket that I have hung next to my own by the door. A couple of her books that I've skimmed through but found it too licentious to finish. And her crown from the night we shared with the pixies.

I have placed her crown in my nest room for a reason I cannot understand. I have fallen asleep with it in my hands almost everyday. Three days ago I had thought I lost it and nearly ruined my home looking for it. I was ashamed of myself when I found it in one of its usual spots in the room.

I felt horrible that I let my thoughts of her consume me so, but today it's worse. So much worse. I feel dreadful and not because of my thoughts of her. Something deep inside of me is uneasy and restless.

My kitchen is in a state of chaos after I make breakfast, an unusual sight for me since I clean as I go. I eat quickly and quietly but I am unable to finish eating. I feel sick and I almost double over when I start on the dishes.

Bile bubbles up in the back of my throat and my chest feels heavy. That horrible feeling explodes and suddenly I find myself racing to the door.

The rain is coming down hard and I can hardly see anything in front of me but I make my way down the wooden steps. I freeze in my tracts once I get to the bottom.

Something feels off, wrong and twisted.

I allow myself a moment and another as I realize my instincts are coming alive. I sniff the air again and again until I smell it.

It's faint but it's undeniably her scent.

The rain would have washed it away already unless she has left the safety of her home.

I start running then, running for dear life towards the beach. The horrid feeling I had was for her all along, for the safety of my only friend and shoal mate. I had ignored it for too long, I just hope that I'm not too late.

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

You startle awake from the loud thunder clapping. The rain had gotten worse as you slept. The clouds have darkened and the wind has grown stronger. The tower groans as the wind assaults it every few minutes.

Groggy and cold and wet, you try to find another beach towel to wrap up in but you find none. You try to consider your options but your mind is so tired and you're becoming a bit anxious with the storm getting worse.

You decide then to make an attempt to get to Tao's home. You'd be safe there and far away from your grandmother.

Step by careful step you make it down the tower and your heart stops at the view in front of you. The waves are hitting the beach harder and fast. The tide is high and you're a bit too close to the water than you're comfortable with.

You look around and decide that if you can get to the houses on the other side of the beach you can worm your way through that neighborhood to his house.

Slowly and ever so cautiously you step forward. You have to balance yourself as the wind is constantly threatening to knock you down. You're teetering closer and closer to the waves as you walk towards the houses. You keep trying to walk away from them but somehow manage to find your feet right back in the water.

You're halfway there when you hear something behind you but by the time you turn around it's too late. You're knocked out almost instantly and you fall hard and fast. The waves lap at your body, slowly pulling you into the ocean.

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

Tao:

I race up and down the beach trying to find her, my body fighting to transform under the heavy rains. I sniff the air again and again but the scent has drifted. No, it's drifting...

My heart stops as I look out into the dangerous dark waters.

I sniff again, hoping I'm wrong but I'm not.

I sprint towards the waves and jump as high and as far as I can into the ocean. I dive in and within second I smell her... I smell her blood.

I force the transformation and swim as fast as I can towards her scent. This storm will have no doubt invited several unwanted predators to this area and if they have smelled her blood...

Something heavy rams into my side and I reel back as I see a bull shark charging towards me. I harden my fist using what magic I have and punch the creature on the snout before electrocuting it. The shark shakes its massive body and tries to attack again.

I haven't the time for this.

Not wanting to kill an innocent creature, I use my magic to disrupt the currents and have the shark swept up in them.

Quickly I swim away and try to follow the scent again. It's getting further and further away but stronger. She's loosing blood and fast.

I push myself more than I ever had before and swim until I feel like my lungs might give out. The scent of her blood becomes so strong I can practically taste it.

Grinding my teeth, I move faster until I see her limp body bobbing in and out of the water. I quickly surface and see her loosely hanging onto a plastic trash bin. I quickly pull her into my arms and look around us.

I can hardly see the beach from here... She was pulled so far from land.

Gathering my strength I swim hard towards the shore. I have to be careful and keep her head above the water, it's not easy. I would give her gills like I did the night we danced with the pixies but she's not awake for it. I have to shift her ever so often as the waves threaten to pull us under and I have to use an immense amount of magic to keep the currents steady.

I almost panic when she slides out of my arms and I have to quickly swim back for her. I pray to the goddesses for the first time in a long time that I make it back to the shore with her alive.

By the time we reach land the sky is truly dark. The wind has died down and the tide has lowered. I pull her and myself up, breathing heavily as I lay us down. I look at her and I feel a mix of pain and relief. She's breathing but she's hurt.

Blood trickles down her head and there's a gash on her leg where her pants have been torn. I work fast to bring myself back to my human form. It hurts like hell forcing it and I grit my teeth. I am motionless for a few minutes after my tail has split into legs. It burns worse than ever after swimming so hard.

I shake as I force myself to stand and carefully scoop my friend into my arms. My muscles ache but the gnawing heavy dread I had felt has subsided a great deal. Holding her close to me I begin the long walk back home.

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

It's warm and quiet when you finally wake up. You're sitting on a bench covered in towels with a space heater next to you. You tilt your head back, a searing pain making you wince.

You gasp, a wheezing noise leaving your mouth. You hear someone running towards you and you feel their warm hands on your face.

"Thank the goddesses, you're finally awake," Tao says.

You can only tell it's him by his voice, your vision is still blurry and your head hurts so bad.

"Why the hell were you at the beach," you hear him yell.

You try to open your mouth but it's dry and tastes like salt. Your head lulls to the side and your blurry vision becomes slightly clearer. Tao is kneeling before you, his hands move from your face to your shoulders. He grips you and you wince, everything hurting.

"You were over a mile away from the beach when I found you! You could have been killed! For... Fucks sake you were covered in blood when I found you! Were you drinking that vile human alcohol again? Why would you go out and do something like that," Tao shakes you, still yelling and unable to control himself.

You limply raise your hand a plop it weakly over his arm. You mouth a few words begging him to stop as you begin to cry. Your voice is hoarse and your throat sore but you manage a few dry words.

"I'm sorry... please Tao... Please stop... You're hurting me," you cough and are nearly out of breath from just speaking.

Tao stops shaking you and loosens his grip on you. His hands fall to the bench before snaking around you and pulling you closer to him. He rests his head on your lap and you feel him shivering.

"I thought I had lost you... I couldn't find you and when I did... You were so far away and unconscious. You were just floating there while bleeding out. Why were you there... Why," Tao holds you closer, his nails digging into your skin.

You cough as you try to speak but it's no use. You keep coughing and coughing so hard it hurts. Tao quickly scoops you up and brings you to the kitchen where he gently sets you on the counter. He brings you a large glass of water that you chug down. You're still coughing but it doesn't hurt as bad as it did before.

Tao takes your cup and refills it and as he hands it to you, you start crying again.

This day keeps getting worse and worse and you just want it to end. First the fight with your grandmother, then you get knocked out and dragged into the ocean, and now Tao is mad at you.

A part of you wishes that you stayed lost at sea. That you might have finally found some peace and everyone would probably be better off without you. That thought consumes you till you start weeping in earnest.

"Fuck," you hear Tao curse and then you hear something break.

You begin to shake even as Tao wraps his arms around you. He holds you, not too tight but close enough that you can hear his heart beat.

"I'm sorry, please stop crying. I just-," Tao tenses up and you hear his voice crack. "You're all I have, please be more careful... please."

You hear what he's saying but you're too tired, too hurt to really register any of it. He keeps talking, his voice calming down but the words are lost on you. The pain you feel on your head is dulling but draining. You keep going in and out and Tao keeps talking.

There's a loss of heat for a moment, your eyelids too heavy to peel open to see what's going on. You feel yourself being lifted and walked somewhere. Something warm and soft is wrapped around you before you're set down on something even more soft. You limply nestle into it before allowing sleep to claim you.

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

Tao:

I pace in my kitchen for what feels like hours. I am feeling too many things at once and I cannot sort them properly. My friend is safe and fast asleep in my nest room. Her injuries were not deep but there were many. I cleaned and bandaged what I could without having to strip her but I fear I might have missed a few cuts and wounds because of that.

Her words play over and over in my head, when I asked her what she was doing at the beach. In my rage I yelled at her, again. In my desperation I accused her of being drunk even though I realized too late I didn't smell any alcohol on her breath. I have made a terrible mistake.

She might resent me now, might even fear me. She's already afraid of sharks and my mer half is similar to that creature. She was terrified the first time she touched my tail. What if she's still terrified of me but doesn't say anything?

Rage swells in my heart for what I have done, for hurting her and making her cry. I look down at my hand, my knuckles are torn after punching the wall and the skin on my fingers are slightly cut.

I am not good enough for her... I've hurt her...

That anger quickly dies down and is replaced with a gnawing sorrow. I slide to the floor and grip at my hair while grinding my teeth. Three, no four of my front teeth pop out from how hard I bite down. I spit them out and wince as I feel the back row shift forward.

This pain must be my punishment for what I have done. I must beg for forgiveness when she wakes up. I cannot bare the thought of her being afraid of me, it hurts too much.

I sit and center myself as I shed the front row of my teeth and spit them out little by little. I am covered in blood and I feel horrible. A new back row will grow in a day or two causing more well deserved pain. It will serve as a reminder of what I've done. For now though, I am tired and my shoal mate needs me to watch over her.

She ran to the beach for a reason. I was too enraged to hear her out and too impatient to let her heal before speaking.

I clean myself up and quickly change into something warm before heading to my nest room.

My friend is sleeping soundly but with tears sliding down her cheeks. I carefully place a hand over her forehead, she is cold. I have wrapped her in a large towel since she is dirty and too tired to change into anything.

I pause and try to think what she would even wear. My clothes are large and one of my shirts would fit her like a short dress. I imagine it for a moment and inhale sharply. It would be the only thing I own that would fit her and it would cover just above the knees. I slap myself for thinking of her like that.

She is my friend, she is my shoal mate, you are not good enough for someone like her.

I chant that over and over again but the more I do the more it feels like a lie.

What if I could be more than just a friend to her, what if I am good enough for her, what if she could be my-

I stop that last thought. It would be too good to be true if she could be more than just a friend, but to be my mate or my fated mate? I would pray to the goddesses everyday for the good fortune of allowing me to meet her.

But that is not the case, no matter how much I wish it.

I carefully step around her and lay by her side, gently pulling her into my arms. Hearing her breathe settles me and I feel myself purring. I chuckle remembering how I reacted to her talking about that. I know talking about purring is embarrassing but I never questioned why until after that day.

She has made me question myself, question my upbringing, and my kin more often than not to the point that I'm not sure who I really am. I've allowed myself to be defined by what I am and where I'm from that I don't know who I am. She mentioned once that she hates being judged by her work and family and I'm starting to understand that.

I hope that tomorrow I can make amends with her so that we can talk and learn each other more

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

You ache everywhere when you wake up. Your head in pounding and your stomach makes an angry growl. The lights are dim when you open your eyes. You're surrounded by plush pillows and blankets that smell freshly laundered. You suddenly realize that you're in Tao's nest room.

You try to sit up but every fiber of your being is screaming in agony. You groan in pain and wince when you touch your head. Everything starts to slowly come back and the last thing you remember is Tao wrapping you up and carefully laying you down.

A cough forces its way out until you're having a fit. Your throat is on fire, dry and sore. You hear heavy foot fall and suddenly you see Tao. He helps you sit up and brings a cup to your lips. You slowly drink, some of the water not making it into your mouth.

Tao holds you as you catch your breath, the dryness in your throat has subsided but it's still sore. You loll your head till you're looking up at him and whimper a quiet apology. You feel Tao's grip on you tighten before he carefully lays you back down.

"No, it is I who should be sorry. You are injured and exhausted and I had yelled at you, again. I made a horrible accusation and expressed my anger about what had happened when you're already vulnerable and cannot speak. I am ashamed of myself," Tao admits, his voice despondently.

You limply pat his hand, "As long as you're not mad at me or hate me we're good."

Tao takes your hand in his and lightly squeezes it, "I will never hate my friend but I am upset that you put yourself in danger. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," you say then cough. "I was running on pure emotions and spite. I-" you cough again and again into another fit. Tao helps you drink once more and tells you that you can talk once you're better.

But you ignore him, needing to get this all off your chest.

"I got into another fight with my grandmother. She was being a class A bitch about some shit and then she brought you into the conversation and I lost it," you explain, clearing your throat afterwards.

"So you ran to the beach in the middle of a storm," Tao asks dryly.

"Like I said, wasn't thinking. I just wanted to get way from her and my feet just took me there. I stayed up in the guard tower where I passed out, emotionally exhausted and when I came to, I decided to make my way to your place," you say, pausing to let Tao help you drink some more water.

"I don't know what happened but the next thing I knew I was bashed in the back of the head! I came to a few times when I was being dragged further from land... I remember getting scrapped up and screaming from the pain. I probably passed out again afterwards. Then you found me. You saved me," you can't help the tears that start coming on then.

As you cry you start to remember being helplessly dragged miles away from shore. Too sore to move and terrified that you might drown or become fish food. You screamed so much your throat became raw. You remember your leg being torn by a rock and being whipped against a buoy so hard your back bruised immediately. Everything hurts and feels sharp and dull all at once. Worst of all, you're starving and your tummy is not being quiet about it.

"What is that sound," Tao asks.

"My stomach... I haven't eaten anything since the day before my grandmother and I fought. So it's protesting and-"

Tao quickly sets you back down and scrambles out of the room. You hear chaos unfold from the kitchen and before you know it he's back with an armful of snacks.

"Please eat these while I go cook you something warm," is all he says before rushing off again.

He's deposited the snacks in front of you, all of them being your usual favorites that you munched on when you hung out here. You always brought them over and never really stored any here. You don't want to think too much into it aside from him practicing to be a good mate to someone else. You'd get your hopes up for no reason otherwise.

You happily tear into a bag of chips and chow down. Three bags of chips later Tao returns with a large bowl of soup. It smells so good your mouth starts watering.

Tao helps you sit up and piles a few pillows behind you. You reach for the bowl only for Tao to move the tray with it on his lap.

"You're shaking too much, I'll feed you," Tao states.

You glare at him for a moment and then at yourself, "Fuck."

"Eat and then I'll take you to the bathroom so you can bathe yourself and clean whatever wounds you can or I couldn't get to," he says, scooping some soup up and bringing it to your lips.

You take a bite, trying not to be awkward in this situation, "What wounds? And I don't even have a change of clothes what would I even wear?"

Tao makes you take a few more bites while he mulls over your question. He's clearly uncomfortable about something an it shows as plain as day.

"Tao, let's not be weird about this. We're both adults buddy," you say after finishing another amazing bite of soup.

"I didn't get to the wounds on your back or thighs since... since touching or getting to either spot would have been highly inappropriate," he answers, looking away from you though.

"Ok, I appreciate the chivalry but what if I had a really really bad injury on either spot of I don't know some weird fish venom you would have had to strip me and I would have been alright with that. I trust you dude and not once have you creeped me out," you tell him.

He finally looks back at you and the whites of his eyes slowly turn black. "I do not feel worthy of such trust my friend, not after what I did."

"Well guess what, you have my trust regardless of loosing your shit and rightfully so! You were scared, I get it. You don't have to keep beating yourself up over it," you reach out and lightly pat his arm.

"Are you certain? I hurt you and yel-"

"I said it's fine, jeeze! Water under the bridge. Forgive and forget. Less sadness, more soup," you pat his arm again and make a face.

Tao chuckles and shakes his head, "How is it that you're torn up and still as talkative as ever."

"My mouth doesn't have an off switch man, I could ta-"

Tao shoves a spoonful of soup into your mouth.

"I do believe I just found the off switch for that mouth of yours," he grins.

You swallow hard and as mad as you feign to be you can't help but to laugh, "Ya got me, feed me good food and I shut right up."

With that Tao feeds you another bite but it's a bit much and some of the broth slides down your chin. Before you have a chance to clean it off, Tao wipes it off with his thumb before cleaning it off with his tongue. Your brain blanks out for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat up.

"I uh think I'm getting full... Don't want to eat too much in one sitting," you try to play it cool but your voice cracks and you want to crawl under a rock and bang your head against a wall.

"Understood, I can save the rest for when you're hungry again. I'll put this up and draw a bath for you," he nods before standing up.

Your stomach sinks when you remember that you have nothing to wear after you get out of the bath.

"Oh uh yeah hey Tao buddy, um I don't have a change of clothes so...," you start, making a few nervous and fiddly gestures with your hands.

Tao stops in his tracks and visibly tenses up, "Right, I uh... I put one of my larger shirts for you to wear in there. Unfortunately that's the only thing I own that would fit you so..."

There's an awkward silence between the both of you that is blessedly broken by a loud roll of thunder that shakes the windows.

"That's fine," you finally squeak.

"Alright," Tao nods.

"Ok then," you pat your knees.

You scream internally and beg the universe to help you not make this day any weirder and wilder than it's already starting out to be.

[bonefall]

I'm still wading through some brain fog so I'm not writing as much as I want to, currently. But I have just been absently sketching Willowpelt because she's been on my mind

I had initially been working with the "hyena" face in mind, but I've been playing around with the "villainous role" idea for Ferncloud's Parting. I mentioned it to my partner who pointed out that big, strong profiles like that are overused for "vengeful" characters.

Besides, I really love drawing that face shape anyway, so I figured I'd move away from it since it's going to be on a LOT of RiverClan cats in particular (they have longer muzzles than other Clans because they hunt in water).

I'm leaning towards "bat" now... maybe I'll retool it so it's more deer-like. Deer are totally underused as inspiration for harsh characters...

Anyway ready for some WIP material? Plus a recap of Ferncloud's Parting for all who need a refresher

(oh wow it got long. The power of girlies <3)

FERNCLOUD'S PARTING... Refresher!!

Replaces Graystripe's Vow completely, taking place just after the Impostor has been deposed and is imprisoned. Ferncloud is now the main POV, accompanied on her journey by her childhood best friend Cloudtail and the Impostor's surviving lackey, Bumblestripe.

The goal of this SE is to explore Ferncloud's relationship to her younger brother, Ashfur.

(BB canon: Ferncloud and Elderberry are the older kits of Brindleface. Ashkit was a singlet born shortly before his mother's death, raised by Fern, Elder, and their grandmother One-eye. Fireheart botched the Queen's Rights while claiming Cloudkit, but for all intents and purposes was socially his Mi... which he was not good at being. Cloudtail was Ashfur's mentor and Ferncloud's childhood friend.)

Ferncloud is asking herself the question; "What could I have done to prevent this?"

A lot of secondary questions revolve around this... Does this make her responsible for what Ashfur has done? Did she teach him anything that contributed to who he is today? Does that make her responsible?

Cloudtail is in a similar situation, as Ashfur's mentor and someone who only ever wanted to help his friend. Could HE have prevented this? He wants to find out.

Graystripe, oldest cat in ThunderClan, accompanies the little group as far as the mountain... and decides to stay there, with his golden boy, Stormfur.

Bumblestripe had come along with them all, for... a lot of complicated reasons. But the most relevant is that he had been one of the Impostor's most loyal, brutal enforcers. Berrynose was killed in a huge skirmish, and now there's just Bumblestripe left alone to shoulder his sins.

After saying goodbye to his father for what's probably the last time, getting to meet the mythical oldest brother he's been compared to his entire life, and seeing Cloud and Fern looking to visit the Old Forest Territories... Bumblestripe goes with them even further to make sure the old cats stay safe.

Like Graystripe's Vow, I'm planning to keep the split chronology. It goes back and forth between Ferncloud in the Broken Era, and Ferncloud back during the Fire Era.

The ultimate moral here, the point I want to build to, is that Cloudtail and Ferncloud did exactly what was expected of them. They raised a loyal warrior who holds the code above all. They're only responsible for Ashfur insofar as they were responsible for teaching him the same values of vengeance, violence, and distrust of outsiders as was expected... in Firestar's absence.

(Though... there's lots of other questions that I don't think FP will answer. Like, COULD they have truly stopped him? Can they ever understand WHY, if they don't currently? There's a LOT of feelings here and I don't know if all of them really have answers.)

WIP STUFF TIME

Here's new stuff, I've either not mentioned this before, or I've mentioned it in passing without actually linking it to Ferncloud's Parting.

I have a LOT of ideas here that I have to start sorting through. I think these characters are all really interesting so it's really a matter of cutting down all these little details into something more coherent.

When Ashkit is young, he's a child. There was nothing particularly outstanding about him, besides the fact he was a bit lonely and eager to please.

There's a bit of an air of "loss" when Ferncloud thinks back to Ashpaw's childhood. Elderberry and One-eye will be dying soon after the "flashback" segments, so when she goes back to the modern era, thinking about them feels bittersweet.

I also want to sneak in that Ferncloud feels jealous over Cloudtail's mateship with Brightheart lmao, because she has a crush on Brightheart. (Note, maybe tie this to Ashfur being obsessed with Squirrelflight, with Fern questioning if her jealousy rubbed off on Ashfur)

Through helping WarriorClan, Bumblestripe feels REALLY good. They don't know anything about his past, his struggles, or his failures as a person. He's just a hero to them and that feels... good.

Watching Bumblestripe be good, learning more about his issues and WHY he did what he did while following Ashfur brings Cloud and Fern some insight... but not entirely what they need. Is Ashfur just a Bumblestripe on a bigger scale? Or are they just learning more about how good of a manipulator Ashfur is? In which case... where did that ability to manipulate come from?

Fang/Honeysuckle might be Bumblestripe's half-brother. If that's the case, Bumble is... frustrated by it. MORE of his dad's complicated legacy.

Ferncloud and Cloudtail probably have some short discussions about how much is really appropriate to teach to WarriorClan... after all, they're here questioning if any part of Ashfur was THEIR fault, what if they accidentally teach them something terrible?

But at the same time, Ferncloud is the Educator of ThunderClan, and these cats can't write. The Glyph system would be very useful to them, and they're begging to learn more about Clan culture.

Putting a pin in that part, for now. Will tie back more into the conclusion that the Clan cat party ultimately reaches.

BACK IN THE PAST; Firestar is away bringing back SkyClan in Firestar's Quietus. Everything that is done is without him.

Longtail, the deputy, is blinded and a leader does not immediately rise to fill the space in ThunderClan.

And in BloodClan, their trading partner... Scourge does the same. Oops! WRONG TIME, SCOOJ!

Planning to retire, Scourge announces an event called The Frenzy. He will choose the next leader from whoever accomplishes the biggest achievement in the given timeframe. This is how BloodClan passes on leadership.

He gives his chosen heir, Claw, their first Frenzy Achievement-- the fang of a dog from his own collar. Anyone who wishes to take power instead must accomplish a feat even bigger than what had allowed SCOURGE to take power in the first place; Killing a dog.

Fury is a challenger. She does NOT want Scourge's chosen heir, Claw, to lead BloodClan next. Claw will continue the trading and friendliness towards Clan cats, which Fury wants to end.

ENTER WILLOWPELT

Willowpelt ALSO wants this trading with BloodClan to stop. She feels it's gone too far.

BloodClan killed her mate-- Whitestorm. Firestar might have been willing to just throw his life away for this, but she's NOT.

She's recovering from a boar bite, currently, but it's scarring up nicely... and she's willing to pretend she's injured a little longer if it shakes suspicion off her.

She doesn't WANT to be allies with Fury, but if her goal is to bring BloodClan back into isolation... then, Willowpelt will do it.

And Fury promises her something else; Revenge. Scourge is the reason why Whitestorm died, and together, they can ruin his plans and make him watch as his peaceful little power transfer crumbles into ash.

GOOD SETUP IMO but I still need to work out what nefarious deed they'll do, exactly. All I know is that Fury will betray Willowpelt at the height of it. Maybe something about taking over Barley's barn. Maybe Elderberry gets killed.

But, I have one very strong feeling in mind; Ferncloud probably ends up killing Fury while Ashpaw watches or even helps.

Hmm... maybe Graystripe (becomes deputy as soon as Firestar gets back for handling this crisis so well) ordered them to let Fury go.

But Ferncloud looked at Fury, and decided that Willowpelt was right about one thing. Most BloodClan cats cannot be trusted.

The code does not apply equally to outsiders.

Maybe I WILL have Fury end up killing Elderberry in some way, and then give Ferncloud and Ashpaw a conversation about it. "Those who don't live by the code will not be protected by it. And we must protect our Clan... even if Graystripe doesn't realize it."

I could make it clear that Fury is not a threat at that point, having been beaten in some way and Claw ascending to BloodClan leadership. OR I could have left it open-ended, like, maybe Fury would be a future problem, maybe not. Not sure yet.

Willowpelt of course will also need to experience some consequences for this... unleeeess, I have Graystripe let her off really easy exactly because she's Clanborn, which even Cloudtail is frustrated about, maybe even coining the term "Codebreaker" as an insult under his breath.

In any case, Ferncloud never told Cloudtail about how she secretly killed Fury. It's too juicy to have her reveal it to him in the modern day, explaining that it IS her fault, she DID teach him the wrong thing.

Hmm... I'm talking myself into it. Though I did also like the original vibe that Ashfur's tyranny was kind of unknowable, trying to make sense out of a senseless thing he did. I think it feels a lot more interesting for Ferncloud to have been hiding this for literal years, and now feeling like she has to "pay the world back" for what she did.

Maybe even build towards something metal about Fury's grave. Hmm... maybe to hide the murder, she buried her in Elderberry's freshly dug one, since no one would notice the soil had been recently disturbed as it was JUST dug.

Buried my sister and my secret victim in the same grave. ~Just Girlie Things~

Cloudtail sitting here, War Criminal to the right and Secret Murderer to the left like "can i ever be around normal people. like, just once"

Jokes aside... Cloudtail needs to point out something very important. Ferncloud regretted what she did, and she never did what Ashfur is doing. She never sought power, when Firestar came back she's lived a long life without ever once undermining him, and even her beliefs have softened over time.

She was a Traditionalist back then, but is Fire Alone now. After everything. The destruction of the forest, loss of her kits, WindClan rebellion, reveal of Squirrelflight and Leafpool's secret...

She's helped to raise every new generation as the Educator. And yet, Ashfur, the Impostor, is unique.

And look at Bumblestripe... being Graystripe's son didn't stop him from being the Impostor's lackey.

We all make our choices. HE made his. You made your own.

But... I don't feel like Ferncloud can entirely accept that as an answer either. There would be a very forlorn sort of feeling here. Yes, we all make our own choices-- but we influence each other. For better and for worse. And she refuses to avoid responsibility for that.

Maybe in that moment I'll have her make the choice to return home, and BE the one who becomes the Light in the Mist to face Ashfur in the Dark Forest. Seems to be coming together.

[starneteyam]

hiii, luv <3 hru?

i saw that your requests were open and i have a scenario that has been living in my head rent free. i will totally understand if you don't like it or it's not your style of writing, so please take it more as a suggestion!

you know that moment in the beginning of avatar 2 where neteyam gets injured after following lo'ak into the middle of the attack and it makes jake super worried? can you write a drabble of something like, after neteyam gets his injuries treated, he goes after reader who was also on the mission, but in a different area, so she doesn't know what happened to him to check up on her and then the moment she sees him hurt she gets super troubled and distressed, but he calms her up and they have a super cute moment after. pure fluff: just him venting about the pressure of being the perfect son, his worries towards his family and she reassuring him that he doesn't have to be perfect all the time and that he’ll always be safe with her… that kind of thing. maybe that’s the first time they ever said ‘i see you’ to each other ? idk, it’s up to you <3

i’ve been missing my baby boy sm lately so i’ve been daydreaming a lot :( thank you in advance and i hope you have a great day !! i love your content <3

MINE IS YOURS, YOURS IS MINE ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x fem! Omaticaya! reader

🖇️ warn. None, best friends to lovers

🎥 In which Neteyam gets injured during an attack on the Sky people, and you worry about him

A/N Tysm for requesting!! I love this scenario it’s so cute :( I kind of ate this oneshot ngl 😜

Even though Neteyam was your best friend, he was very affectionate with you. He liked resting his head on your shoulder, and he loved the way you comforted him. Something about you made him so calm, and you made all his worries go away with a single smile. He was basically glued to your hip, and nobody would see you without the other.

But as you grew, the Sky People started becoming more aggressive and frequent with their attacks, and Neteyam was becoming older, which meant he would start going out into battle with his father, along with Lo’ak. You would be situated in a different group, in charge of grabbing any medicine you could loot from the cargo. You hated the fact that you had to wish Neteyam safety as you watched him fly into danger and possible death, but you knew he was only doing overwatch work, which meant he wouldn’t be in the battle field. He would come back without a scratch, every single time.

That was, until today. Lo’ak decided it would be a great idea to go down to ground and “help out”, and being his older brother, Neteyam followed. After a missile striked near where the two of them were, he got blown back and injured, getting cuts and bruises scattered all over his body, losing consciousness for a few seconds. You had seen the missile, furrowing your eyebrows as you watched it hit the ground. Your heart burned anytime any of your people got hurt, and you just hoped nobody who you knew had gotten hurt, or worse.

After flying back to the caves, of course, he got an earful from his father, who was very clearly disappointed in him. ‘I tried to stop him,’ Neteyam wanted to argue, but he bit his tongue and stayed quiet. His father dismissed him with a huff, and Kiri led Neteyam to her grandmother to get himself treated. You, on the other hand, was still at the train tracks, looking carefully for any medicine or herbs you could fine, taking hours.

You finally flew back to the caves, groaning, as your legs were sore and your feet were scratched. You turned your head, cracking some joints as you entered the first aid tent, seeing nobody inside. It was already dark out, and you could hear nothing but the sound of ikrans crying around you. You sat on the floor, unpacking your looted items, drained. “You’re back.” You heard a voice from behind you, and it was as if all the tiredness just suddenly went away, a smile creeping onto your face as you immediately recognized the voice, your heart skipping a beat.

You turned around, and your smile soon disappeared as quick as it came. “Neteyam!” You gasped, looking at his body full of cuts and scratches, his ribs covered with bruises. You stepped forward, your hand hovering his injuries as the other cupped your open mouth. “What happened?” You asked, your hand grabbing his wrist as you looked up at him. He looked down at your worried expression and frowned.

“Lo’ak.” He replied shortly, his voice soft and quiet. Your ears turned downwards as you heard his voice full of hurt. “You need to be more careful, Neteyam. Are you alright?” You rambled, not knowing wether to be angry or concerned. “What if you had gotten killed? I would’ve- I…” Your breaths were patterned, and he immediately reassured you by cupping the side of your face with his palm, forcing you to look at him. “I’m alright.” He told you sternly, and you let out a shaky breath, closing your mouth and nodding firmly.

He sighed as he leaned into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he fit you like a puzzle piece, melting into you. This is what Neteyam had been longing for. You hugged him back, one hand on the back of his head as you lightly pet him. “It was that missile, no?” You asked quietly in his ear, and he said nothing but nodded.

You stayed silent for a few heartbeats, letting him relax into your touch. “It wasn’t your fault.” You told him, knowing he needed to hear it. He pulled away, scoffing as he walked past you. “Tell that to my father.” He mumbled, plopping onto the floor. You let out a tiny sigh. Jake was too harsh on Neteyam, everybody knew that. You couldn’t imagine the pressure Neteyam held. If Lo’ak, or even his other siblings were to get themselves killed, you knew Neteyam would blame himself—and you feared that the most.

You sat on the floor next to him, and as if you were a magnet, he leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder. “It is Lo’ak’s fault, I told him to stop, to come back! He never listens, and he never apologizes.” He complained, looking at the floor as he played with his fingers, frustrated. You stayed quiet as you listened to him ramble, knowing he just needed to rant. He talked on and on for what felt like hours, and you just sat there, listening, playing with his fingers and hair as you did. You would do anything for him.

“Neteyam.” You called to him, interrupting him as you scooted in front of him, grabbing both his hands. “It was not your fault.” You pronounced each word carefully as you shook both hands, and he frowned, looking away as he shrugged his shoulders. “I know, but-”

You interrupted him again, this time, hand on his jaw so he would stop looking away, and look at you and you only. “Not but, Neteyam. It was not your fault Lo’ak decided to wander off, and I’m more worried about you!” You huffed, frustrated. “You’re terribly injured and you nearly got killed!” You brought your hands to his face, softly brushing your thumbs across his cheeks as your searched his face. “I worry for you, Neteyam. I care for you.” Your words got quieter as the words you always wanted to say now sat on the tip of your tongue.

You closed your mouth, sighing through your nose before opening your mouth to speak again. “Your father may not see it, but I do.” Your mouth opened and closed as you hesitated to say the words. He looked at you expectantly, leaning into your palm. “I see you, Neteyam.” You said quietly and slowly, making sure the words sunk into his heart.

The words flowed out of your mouth, and you saw Neteyam’s expression change to a relieved one. Without warning, he leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as he pushed his lips against yours, a hand on the ground as he did so. It was a deep, slow kiss, your breath getting lost in his mouth as he moved his lips rhythmically, moving in sync with yours. It was as if a dam had been broken, all of your feelings flowing into that one kiss. He pushed against you eagerly, almost knocking you back.

You longed for this moment since forever, and so has he. All the days you had spent, hugging each other with care or looking at each other with eyes that would never look at anybody else the same — all of it being released. After one final, deep kiss, he pulled away, eyes flickering from your lips to your doe eyes, still feeling the ghost of his lips on yours. Your breath tickled his skin, a shiver being sent down his spine. He let out a small laugh, as if only now realizing he had finally kissed you, and you smiled back. “And I see you—only you.” He told you.

[rxmqnova]

Surprise!

Y/N: 28 years old Scar: 35 years old Rose: 5 years old Story: The Marvel cast decides to surprise Scarlett with a birthday party… ——————————————————

Y/N'S POV My girlfriend and I had been trying for a baby for months. We had many fertility appointments and attempts and it finally happened! I'm pregnant! I found out a week after Scarlett left to film a movie which was 3 months ago. It sucks, cause I want to tell her personally, so she still has no idea. However, she's coming back today and it's also her birthday, so it's a perfect gift. I can't wait to see her reaction! Right now I'm watching a movie in our bed, wearing my favorite Scarlett's hoodie and her sweatpants. I miss her so much, so I tend to steal her clothes when she's away. To be honest I steal her clothes even when she's home…

Rose's spending some time with her grandmother this week, so I'm home all alone, but Lizzie offered to pick her up today, so we'll be together soon. It's nice to have some time for myself, but I miss that little demon so much. She's not biologically mine, but we have such a great relationship. She even calls me 'mama' which melts my heart every time I hear it.

My sister Lizzie spent here the entire week. She's so excited to be an auntie to another little human. I'm surprised she hasn't told Scarlett yet, the two of them are best friends.

I stop my movie as I ran out of chips, ready to go and grab a new bag from the kitchen when I hear some noise from downstairs. It can't be Scarlett, cause she's on the plane right now. She called me a few hours ago from the AirPort… Who in the world would rob a house at 2 in the afternoon?! I quickly open my closet, taking out a bat that I'd hidden here when Scarlett left. I quietly and slowly walk downstairs, ready to punch anyone who's here right now.

My heart is about to skip a beat with every step I make and my hands are shaking like crazy. I step off the last step, putting the bat on my shoulder properly and walking to the kitchen where the noise is coming from.

I see a man standing with his back facing me. I tighten my grip over the bat, ready to hit him in the head.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A man's voice says behind me, making me jump.

I slowly turn around to be met with Robert Downey Junior. The man I was about to hit turns around, looking at me. It's Chris Evans.

Seconds later there is literally the entire Marvel cast, except my sister as she's the one picking Scarlett up from the AirPort. Great…

"What are you doing here?" Chris Evans asks me. "And why the hell are you holding that bat?"

"I-I-" I sutter, getting cut off by Robert.

"She wanted to hit you with it" Robert says. The truth is that even though Scar and I are together for a few years, she hasn't come out yet. Her friends have no idea about me, so that's why they're reacting like this. My sister knows of course, she's the only one from Scarlett's friends.

"I-I'm sorry. I… I-I thought you wanted to rob the house" I finally let out some words. I've never been more scared in my life.

"Us? Who even are you? Oh my god, is that Scarlett's hoodie?" Jeremy looks at me with wide eyes. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

"Y-Yeah. I-I'm Y/N" I say.

"Well, Y/N… What are you doing in Scarlett's house?" Robert asks. "I-I'm living here" I answer. Where's my sister when I need her…

"Yeah, there's no way Scarlett wouldn't tell us if someone was living in her house" Evans says. "Call the police" He orders, looking at Robert. "What? No. That's not necessary. I'm living here" I repeat, I really don't want to get into trouble. I haven't even done anything.

"Yeah. I'm calling" Robert says, already putting his phone to his ear. I sigh, pressing a palm to my forehead. Scarlett's gonna be so mad. I bet the last thing she wants is to deal with her girlfriend being taken to the police station…

"Please don't call the police. Lizzie is my sister" I sigh, looking at Robert with hope, but he only rolls his eyes.

It doesn't take long until the police arrives. I show them my documents like they asked me to and they lead me out of the house. They're really gonna lock me up for getting into my own house?? Great, really great, Y/N…

Just before I can get into the car, a little body crashes into my legs. I smile when I see my daughter looking up at me, her arms wrapped around my thighs.

"Hi" I give her a smile which she returns, mumbling a 'hi, mama' back to me.

"Rose, what are you doing? Come here" Evans says, practically peeling Rosie off of me. The little girl starts crying, immediately calling me to help her, but my hands are in handcuffs and I can talk what I want, but nobody listens to me.

I sigh in relief when I see Lizzie walking out of her car, Scarlett following her.

"Mama!" Rosie cries out, reaching her hands for me. Tears from in my eyes when I see my little one crying and I can't hold her.

"Don't you see she's crying for me?! She's my daughter for god's sake! Take off that stupid handcuffs! I didn't do anything!" I raise my voice, tears running down my cheeks. I'm so tired of this bullshit. I just want my Scarly and Rosie to cuddle and my bag of chips.

"What's going on here? Why are you in handcuffs? Where are you taking her?" Scarlett is finally here, my sister right behind her.

"I'm sorry" I say before breaking into tears. I just can't hold it anymore. Stupid pregnancy mood swings… Scarlett comes to me, telling off the police when they tell her to stay back.

"About what, honey?" She asks, cupping my cheeks with her hands and wiping my tears out with her thumbs.

"You must be so tired and you come home to see this" I cry out. "Hey, it's okay, Y/N/N" She smiles. "Tell me what happened"

"Your friends thought I was a theif and a stalker and god knows what and they called the police on me" I explain, tears still running down my cheeks even though Scarlett's wiping them out.

"Y/N/N, I'm so sorry" She sighs. "She's not a theif or a stalker. Y/N is my girlfriend, she lives here" Scar says to the police. They finally take off the painful handcuffs and I wrap my arms around Scarlett's neck.

"Mama" Rosie cries out again. I smile, taking her from Evan's arms.

"It's okay now, baby. I'm not going anywhere" I kiss her cheek a few times, walking back to Scarlett who wraps her arms both of us.

"I missed you" Scar says into my ear while we're hugging.

"I missed you too, so much" I tell her back honestly before we pull away and in a second I get pulled into another hug by my sister. "Are you okay?" She asks with a smile.

"Yeah. All good now" I smile and hug her again.

"Can someone explain to us what's happening?" Downey asks confused.

"You called the police on my little sister, that's happening" Lizzie says annoyed. She's very overprotective over me. I usually hate it, but today it feels nice.

"That's your sister?" Evans asks surprised, pointing at me.

"Don't be so surprised, I told you I was Lizzie's sister when you were calling the police" I give him a glare. I won't forget this that quickly.

"I literally told you about her last week" Lizzie sighs.

"Why is she living in Scarlett's house though?" Jeremy asks.

"Because Y/N is my girlfriend. You could have just called me and I'd tell you it's fine" Scar sighs. "Let's just go inside"

We all move inside, everybody apologizing to me and Downey immediately handing us a glass of champagne since it's Scar's birthday.

"I won't, thanks" I tell him on which my girlfriend furrows her brows, wrapping her arms around me from behind and resting her head on my shoulder.

"You're not my Y/N. My Y/N never says no to alcohol" Scar jokes, making me chuckle.

"Well… I wouldn't say no if I didn't have to but… I can't drink for a while" I smile, turning around in her arms and getting met with a confused look from my girlfriend. I take her hand, putting it on my stomach on which she seems to realize.

"No… You're… you're pregnant?" She asks, her eyes filling with tears. I smile, nodding my head.

"I found out a week after you left. We're having a baby" I almost whisper as tears are in my eyes too by now. "Happy birthday, my love" I smile and she pulls me into a kiss.

Scarlett drags me on the couch, pushing me gently to sit down. She kneels in front of me, pulling my (her) hoodie up. I laugh when she starts spreading kisses all over my stomach.

"Hey there, little one. It's your mommy. I love you so much" She mumbles between kisses. "So we're 3 months far?" She asks, smiling at me.

"3 months" I smile back, twirling my finger around Scar's hair. She rolls my hoodie back down, sitting next to me and wrapping her arm around me on which I cuddle up to her and she rubs my stomach with her free hand. "I love you so much"

"I love you too" She smiles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. --------------------

Scarlett Johansson masterlist

Masterlist

[harley-sunday]

Renaissance

Renaissance [noun]

re·​nais·​sance ˌren-ə-ˈsän(t)s  -ˈzän(t)s 

1. capitalized : the period of European history between the 14th and 17th centuries marked by a flourishing of art and literature inspired by ancient times and by the beginnings of modern science 2. often capitalized : a movement or period of great activity (as in literature, science, and the arts) 3. literal translation from French : re-birth

Summary: Charles wins the Monaco Grand Prix.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 765 (a short one, I know)

AN: You know I had to come out of retirement after Charles winning his home Grand Prix. Hope you enjoy this little drabble. Please come yell at me in the comments ♥

Part of Rituals

Charles Leclerc, in 2021, when asked if he has any race rituals: “At every start of the season, until F2, my grandmother used to take my race suits, remove one of the sponsor logos and sew a little cross instead of it. Now grandma is gone, I can’t sew and the ritual is over. I was thinking about keeping a lucky charm in my pocket but then I thought to myself: if you need an object [to feel better], then you are missing something on the mental aspect, so I let it go.”

[Angel of God, my guardian dear,]

The ritual is not over.

You can sew and the ritual is not over. 

Charles took pole today, you can sew, and the ritual is not over.

[To whom God's love commits me here,]

It’s late. It’s late and with the rest of the world asleep you are wide awake, hunched over in a chair, with the red of the Ferrari race suit draped across your legs, and the floor lamp casting a golden glow over your lone figure. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the window earlier, the scene eerily reminiscent of a renaissance painting you saw in the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Nice last year. 

Freddy is sleeping at your feet, tired after spending yet another day barking at race cars from the safety of the balcony. The gray hairs around his nose are becoming more and more prominent, a cruel reminder of his upcoming sixth birthday next month. Except for Freddy’s soft snores, the house is quiet, and it almost feels like a sanctuary. 

[Ever this day, be at my side,]

Modern Formula One suits don’t have sponsor patches, everything is printed on, and so instead of having to decide which patch to remove, you try to find a piece of thread that matches the yellow of the Ferrari logo. There’s no exact match, everything you have is a slightly different shade, and after a few minutes you give up and take out a bobbin with black thread instead. 

It’s been years since you’ve last sewn something but your muscle memory makes feeding the thread through the eye of the needle easy. You pick up the fabric and set to work, using a simple back stitch to sew a cross in the black of the Ferrari horse. No one will even know it’s there, not unless they look closely, and people hardly ever do. It only takes a couple of minutes to finish and once you’re done you run your fingers over the stitches, while you say a quiet prayer. 

Careful not to disturb Freddy, you get up then and drape the suit back over the chair, making sure it looks untouched. You leave the light on, it’s almost morning anyway, and make your way back to the bedroom. 

Charles stirs when you lay down next to him and when you settle into him you can feel him press a kiss to your forehead, “Lucie is back to sleep?” 

For a moment you’re confused, not sure what he means, but then you remember you told him you’d go check on your daughter earlier. You nod and tilt your head back so he can let his lips ghost over yours, “She is. You should be as well, chéri. You’ve got a race to win tomorrow.” 

[To light and guard, Rule and guide.]

Charles takes it all in from the top step of the podium, lets his eyes wander over the sea of people below him, the water in Port Hercule glistening in the distance. He can feel his smile growing wider when he finds his family in the cheering crowd - his mom and his brothers looking at him with watery eyes and soft smiles, and her, with their daughter perched on her hip, biting her lip to keep from crying. He wants nothing more than to hug them, hold them close, and celebrate with them, but he knows that will come later, in the quiet hours after the public celebrations, back in the sanctity of their home.

It’s time for the national anthem and so Charles takes his cap off and places his hand over his heart. When his fingers graze over what he quickly realizes is a cross, embroidered onto the Ferrari horse, he has to swallow back tears. He didn’t see it before the race, doubt anyone has, but now that he knows it’s there he never wants to race without it ever again. 

The ritual is not over and Charles Leclerc is a Monaco Grand Prix race winner.

[fruitcoops]

The Shiplap of Amontillado

Day 11: no movie for this one, just The Horrors (TM) of HGTV. Characters belong to @lumosinlove, header is from @noots-fic-fests! I can't believe it's almost over :(

Day 10 movie: Little Shop of Horrors (1986)

Ugly, Pascal thought. The house was ugly as hell. Was he in hell?

“We are just so excited for this next part,” the realtor gushed, leading them around the next corner. “Soo many modern homes these days don’t have parlors, but since you guys decided to go with something more old-fashioned, you get all the benefits!”

“Old-fashioned?” Pascal asked weakly. The house looked the same as the one he grew up in.

Jesus fuck, was he in his parents’ house?

“It’s sooo easy to convert something like this into a family room.” The realtor swept her hand in an abstract circle in the doorway to the parlor. Her smile showed far too many of her teeth for Pascal to feel at ease.

He risked a glance down at Celeste and his heart sank. She was nodding along. The terror of it all.

“The wood paneling might have to go,” the realtor said, all sweet apologies. “It’s really fallen out of fashion and darkens the room. I understand if that’s a dealbreaker, but I really encourage you to think of the room’s potential before making any decisions.”

Pascal stared. “Can’t we just…take it off the wall?”

The realtor looked immediately at Celeste with a strange cooing noise. “You got yourself a handyman?”

“I’m very lucky,” Celeste laughed, squeezing Pascal around the waist. She looked up at him with so much excitement that it was hard to remain unsettled. “What do you think? I like this one a lot, even if it’s a bit creaky.”

Creaky. Pascal had grown up here. The horror was back full-force. “Ah…”

“I know you’re on a bit of a time crunch,” the realtor said sympathetically. “I have all the paperwork on me, though, so you could sign today if you wanted to. I really think this is a good option for you two.”

“Two?” His head was spinning. Celeste appeared unbothered. “The kids—did we even start packing yet?”

She patted his chest. “Don’t worry, my love. We can do it tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Such a worrywart,” she sighed with an affectionate shake of her head at the realtor, who gave a saccharine smile.

Pascal did not like that woman. “What about the kids?”

Celeste’s forehead crinkled. “They moved out, Pascal. We drove Katie to college last weekend.”

“But…” He had bought the radio set in that cabinet for his father for Christmas when he was seventeen. The cabinet itself belonged to his grandmother. Katie was in college. Despair. Sorrow. Awful, awful things. “But I tucked her into bed last night.”

“This has been a stressful time.” Celeste smoothed the arm of his shirt free of wrinkles, then kissed his cheek. “You’ve been so busy! And with such a last-minute move, too. We’ve had no time to really think about how much is changing.”

“Changing,” Pascal echoed.

Celeste’s smile seemed genuine, at least. She held tight to his hand, guiding him to follow her into the parlor. “I like this one. It’ll be good and quiet, nice and far from all of that Gryffindor noise.”

Pascal stopped in his tracks. Wrong. This whole thing was wrong, but that—“You love Gryffindor.”

“Hmm?” Celeste hummed mildly.

“You love Gryffindor,” he repeated. A spot behind his eye was aching. “You like it more than New York. You don’t want to leave Sirius and Logan and Lily and all your friends, and you love the city.”

“I do,” Celeste agreed easily. She stepped back out of the living room and nudged her forehead into his shoulder. Her expression turned soft and relaxed on one long exhale; he cupped the back of her head in his hand and kissed the top of her dark hair, lingering there. His heart was racing, but sandalwood and vanilla slowed it soon.

“I think we should go home,” he offered. We need to get out of my parents’ house before I run out screaming and end up on the evening news. “And maybe we can get ice cream on the way home.”

He felt Celeste snort. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“I need ice cream.” Fuck it, he needed therapy. Living out his retirement years in the same place he learned to walk was simply not allowed. “With caramel. And sprinkles.”

--

Pascal patted around the duvet until he found a shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. Tabarnak, Logan was forbidden from mixing drinks for anyone ever again. Those margaritas were the devil’s work. He was going to put that boy back in the basement until he took a bartending class.

“Celeste.” He kissed the space behind her ear. “Hey. Hey.”

She took a deep breath, as if dragging herself awake, then gave a sudden flinch.

“Shh, shh, c’est moi,” he assured her, drawing a loose piece of her hair back over her ear. “Did I scare you?”

A monotone grumble answered.

“I…” It was gone. Pascal blinked, bleary and confused. Their room was warm. He hadn’t heard anything strange. Something about the house…?

“Quoi, Pascal?” Celeste mumbled.

He scratched the stubbly side of his cheek. Wood paneling? A broken cabinet? “I look good in my tool belt, right? You think it looks nice?”

The vague figure of Celeste turned her face into the pillow and exhaled hard. Her shoulder shook. “Ouais, sure.” She was laughing at him. Why was she laughing? Her hand reached back and bumped his elbow. “Very nice. Go to sleep.”

“D’accord. Je t’adore.” He shuffled over to put his head on her pillow. Sleep caught him between one breath and the next.

“Je t’aime,” she whispered in the dark.