#by giving your cat the love that would be given to a child

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

About ten years ago it seemed like the dominant paradigm around people I knew who chose pets over children was that they didn't want the responsibility of human children and pets were easier / less pressure

Then about five years ago I noticed a shift where having pets was actually the morally superior option, better for the environment (?), more difficult than human children (??), and ultimately a more merciful choice for the unborn who by virtue of their unbirth would not experience suffering (or anything else, but this is a point for another day), started to see op-eds painting "pet parenthood" as a serious thing that is directly comparable to actual parenthood (just kidding ha ha, unless...?)

But now increasingly I'm seeing things about like, the beauty of self-sacrifice, and you love pets without expecting anything in return, and people have their animals in prams and things and like. . .if you are looking at your pet as a subject to love and respect and for which to sacrifice for 13-18 years with nothing in return, embracing inevitable heartbreak as an inherently beautiful part of the process, spending more on your pet's food than you spend on your own, paying for pet health insurance, pet life insurance, bank accounts for your pet, at some point you need to step back and ask yourself what the hell you are doing

[violetpixiedust]

14-02-21

dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader

description: you were somewhat content living in kildare with your beautiful twin girls, collecting child support cheques, and staying out of the kook limelight. that was until your ex and baby daddy rafe cameron got clean. the now head of cameron development finally realized that he needed to step up, and be the father he always promised he would be for your children. not to mention the man you had practically begged for before that devastating night you left him. but will you give him the chance?

warnings: afab reader. no description of appearance. featuring ex!rafe cameron x ex!reader. dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader. girl dad!rafe cameron. toxic!rafe. businessman!rafe. pogue to kook!reader. sweet!reader. florist!reader. angst. not teen pregnancy, but not adult either. co-parenting. mentions of drugs. mentions of domestic violence. 18+. mdni.

a/n: a new series i’m working on! let me know if you��d like to read more?

1. 𓍼

it was awkward to say the least.

that brand new car smell of rafe’s porche made you queasy, holding your breath to the best of your ability despite your twin daughters babbling in the backseat. they were enraptured with the brand new jelly-cats rafe- or perhaps- rafe’s assistant had purchased for them.

it hadn’t always been this way. there had been a time when you believed you knew rafe, the real one behind the glitz and glamour of being outer banks royalty. behind each stinging line and dime bag of coke, cigar smoke, and tightly wound up bills that came with capitalizing on people’s addictions. rafe was top dog, barry his right hand man, running their drug operation past the cut and then some under the guise of cameron development- which had been newly inherited.

amidst the fancy cars, motorbikes, top shelf whisky, tannyhill, designer clothes and 18k gold jewelry, you were rafe’s most prized possession. a sweet little bar cart girl from the country club turned co-ruler of the rambunctious beach side town. you were a pogue turned kook long before rafe had noticed you, but you still managed to catch his eye whilst being decorated in vintage prada and blumarine, skipping in the ocean coast at the boneyard.

your romance grew hot, blooming faster than anybody could fathom. within a week you were the angel bar cart girl turned rafe’s lover. you wanted to believe he loved you, did believe him for longer than you should have. even when his saltwater eyes would be rimmed with scarlet, pupils dilated despite the fact that he promised he would stop dipping into his own supply. even when his once gentle hold would leave an ache beneath your tender skin, his gold signet ring often threatening to leave a brand. even when his booming voice would vibrate off the decorative wallpaper, blowing your hair back with the sheer force of his anger in your face.

and especially when you sat alone at the country club, rafe’s empty seat mocking you from where you picked at your cooling dinner, numb to the local’s pitiful and amused stares.

that had been rafe up until your period was two weeks late, two vibrant lines on four home pregnancy tests snapping him into gear. it wasn’t a discussion. you would be having the child- children- two twin girls, and he would be the father he never had. he would stop the coke, the dealing, the parties. be the man you always wanted. the man you knew when it was just the two of you between your silk sheets. in the early hours of the peaceful and serene morning, staring at his sober expression that was filled with love rather than turmoil.

that had been rafe for longer than you thought he could be.

“you sick or something?” despite your ex’s harsh tone, you knew he wasn’t angry. annoyed most likely- given that this was the first time you had agreed to an outing with him and both of your children since the separation. the children lived in a gorgeous house with you a few blocks from tannyhill since before they had turned one- their fourth birthday now a mere few months away much to your disbelief. rafe had ensured his children would still have a spectacular view of the ocean that he had grown up having. he was good at that. making sure the three of you were taken care of. throwing however much money you needed for necessities, toys for the girls, furniture and decor for the home, and then some for your own pleasure.

your oldest daughter by five minutes- valentine, spoke up. “is mommy sick?”

you quickly turned in your place from the passenger seat, ignoring rafe’s piercing cobalt eyes only to meet valentine’s that matched them almost identically. your mustered up smile quickly turned genuine at the sight of your sweet babies in their car seats, stuffed animals flopped in their laps. “‘m fine, val-“

your younger daughter- rosette- or rosy for short, appeared as a mirror of your younger self- with her doe eyes so similar to yours staring back at you. “pwomise?” her sweet voice was quiet, hiding behind her new scarlet bunny jellycat. your expression softened immensely, holding out your chipped manicured pinky. instantly, both of your daughter’s latched on with theirs, the trio of you giggling for no apparent reason, missing rafe’s uncomfortable expression from behind the wheel.

your twins were aware of their father, which was a miracle given that rafe had always struggled to keep his word about being the dad he never had. a continued presence in their lives despite your separation. as the breadwinner however, he couldn’t be there all the time- and living separately only made things harder. the heir of cameron development visited at least once a week for coffee at your home. the two of you would watch your daughters play with the new toys rafe purchased for them weekly, helping them when they occasionally got stuck. it would be tense between you two at the beginning of every visit. rafe keeping to a strict routine of asking if everything was working properly, that the girls were healthy, that you had enough. you would assure him every time that you did, but held your tongue when describing your week. he had been in the bahamas on business when you had given birth, but had never missed a birthday since. he had been out at the country club with topper when valentine had said her first word- cat, which caused him to spiral when he heard he had missed it. he’d been absent when they learned how to walk, when they were potty training, learned how to talk, learned how to read small words, write small words. still, he couldn’t abandon his legacy for his children that he had spent under a hundred hours with during the year. as long as they had enough.

rafe’s porche eventually pulled up outside of a bakery he had never been to- let alone heard of teetering on the edge of the cut. the blonde held his tongue when you initially offered the location of the establishment you had the liberty of choosing, mentioning that they had a kids menu the girls would enjoy. he wondered if you regularly brought his children to places near or on the poorer side of the island, knowing how firmly against he was on the subject.

it had always been a point of contention between you two that you could never fully assimilate to kook culture. despite your mother becoming a successful name in the real estate business through pure dedication and hard work in your freshman year, you never wanted to take full advantage of it. rafe couldn’t forget your old car, one that was still parked outside of your mother’s house the last time he checked. a violet 1965 chevrolet impala that had been passed down from your grandmother after she died. the doors were squeaky, handles slightly sticky, the silver bumper rusted some, and the paint was chipped, but you refused to get rid of it. it was only until rafe threatened to have the piece of junk towed if you ever thought about driving his children around in that metal death trap that you folded. instead, you picked a sensible audi as your new car when he took you to the dealership a few weeks before your separation. a model so unlike either of you much to his chagrin.

speaking of, your vintage handbag that was speckled with age and decorated with cutesy keychains no doubt picked out by your daughters, jingled in the summer breeze when you stepped out of his car. despite how much your stubbornness and individuality got on his nerves, rafe couldn’t deny that you still held his heart after all these years. you stuck by him till the end of the line. endured his mood swings, his violent tendencies, his addiction, all because you loved him. he couldn’t fault you for leaving when it got to its worst, especially since it was for the sake of your girls. your tearful voice still echoed in his ears as if it were yesterday. i can’t have them growing up in this house thinking that this is what love should feel like, rafe. i can’t. you can’t seriously want someone like you as their example for marriage.

that had kept rafe up at night for months after you moved out.

before he could pull rosy out of her car seat, the blonde heard your soft melodic voice singing from the other side of the vehicle. the short haired man straightened up slowly, as if disbelieving of the sound.

you were cast in a beacon of sunlight. the early summer morning glowing against your stunning complexion that your daughters’ shared. he hadn’t said anything about your darling mini dress when you had opened your front door only a half hour ago, just stared for a moment too long before stepping past you inside. rafe wasn’t sure how to verbalize that every time he saw you, you reminded him that nobody else could ever hold a candle to how gorgeous you were.

the eldest cameron inevitably grew up since you discovered you were pregnant. having shaved off his juvenile curtain bangs, swapping his colourful polos and graphic tees with button down dress shirts and neutral designer short sleeves. wearing the family ring on his finger with pride, along with a watch that cost more than the house you grew up in on his wrist. replacing his dirt bike with a number of luxury cars, each more expensive than the last. despite that, he couldn’t deny that it seemed like not a second had passed since the first time he saw you in that bar cart, all those reinventions of himself ago.

you were still the sweetest girl in the outer banks apparently. only with him, now, you were more reserved. speaking when spoken to and keeping details concise- just in case he had to fly out the door that next minute to tend to a number of other responsibilities a man like him had. wheezie kept him updated. you still smiled at everyone you came across, kook or pogue- your daughters’ following in suit, sharing your sweetness. the residents of outer banks only had nice things to say about his family. rafe regularly heard about you picking some flowers for the elderly woman who lived down the road from your home, as her son was one of his business partners’.

a few weeks ago, you had donated some of the twins’ old toys that they explicitly said they didn’t play with to unprivileged children on the cut. after he heard about that one- he immediately drove to your house to confront you- the gifts for his daughters’ meaning more to him than you had initially realized. even still, you were under the impression that his assistant had been picking them out. sensing he felt as if you were donating his affection.

you were perfect in every sense of the word, and rafe couldn’t help the feeling of your small hand squeezing around his heart- unable to look away from where you and your eldest daughter were singing a song he didn’t recognize. the grip her little hands had on your shoulders tightened after you lifted her up, swinging her around as best you could- much to her delight.

rafe jumped when he felt a tiny hand pull on his left fingers, absent from a wedding band. you two hadn’t gotten that far before everything went to shit. the sun kissed man looked down, your doe eyes staring back up at him from where your youngest daughter was still sat in her car seat. his adams apple bobbed with a harsh swallow, quickly unbuckling the little girl before plopping her on his hip. the scent of the baby shampoo you still used on rosy’s hair wafted up to rafe’s nose after the toddler quietly rested her head in the crook of his neck. a dull ache pulsed behind his cobalt eyes when he remembered his little girl as a baby. the chub in her cheeks had softened since then, and rafe knew her features would only keep growing in every day he wasn’t there.

the exterior of the bakery was painted a deep green shade, and valentine had excitedly commented on how it was the same colour as your neighbour’s new ‘boyfriend’ (engagement) ring. inferiority wormed it’s way into rafe’s chest, a feeling that seemed to make itself known when he was faced with the topic of marriage and companionship. you were raised by a single mother yourself. your father having skipped out on the two of you before you learned how to walk. rafe knew you appreciated everything he did for you, but he wasn’t blind when faced with that bittersweet look in your eyes every time your daughters would mention something rafe had no knowledge of. wether it be a show, something funny that had happened earlier that week, or something you had done.

the four of you walked through the open glass door, with rafe managing to hide his surprise at the charm of the small hole in the wall bakery. the bottom half of the walls were painted a warm butter yellow, the tops cream with matching engraved trimmings, paired with deep grey tiled floors, and a small strip of patterned green carpet that ran beneath the petite tables on the right hand side of the establishment. each small circular table was decorated with a clear vase of stemmed flowers, coinciding with the decorative floral piece that hung from the middle of the ceiling. a leather booth seat ran down the entire right hand wall of the seating area, turning the corner with a window that faced the lot. the left hand side showcased a matching window, displaying freshly baked bread, along with a glass case of sweet and savoury baked treats. behind the long counter and barista machines was a wooden board displaying the menu, which admittedly looked delicious to rafe.

before he could even speak, a short haired woman walked out from behind the serving counter. “hey, you!” rafe watched intently at the way your expression instantly brightened at the sight of the mystery woman. her quirky mushroom crocheted earrings bobbed when she gave you a hug as best she could with valentine between you. jesus, rafe rolled his eyes. it was as if he wasn’t even in the room when the employee started speaking. “i’m so glad you’re here! i was going to text you! architectural digest is doing a segment on flowers in public spaces, and they came in this morning to take photos of your display.”

rafe could’ve dropped rosy at that statement, his pink lips falling agape. architectural digest? your floral display? you made-?

“what?” your normally soothing voice was a mix between incredulous and excitement, teary with emotion. valentine’s cobalt gaze finally tore away from the treats, her eyebrows furrowing in concern at the crystals balancing along her mother’s waterline.

“you- you made that?” rafe asked dumbly, mildly embarrassed at the way his question came out. the employee seemed to register rafe then, her fading smile bleeding with recognition. the cameron man hardened his expression to mask his various feelings at that look, tightening his tense lips before sending a poisonous glare in the short haired woman’s direction. she answered before you did, her initially friendly tone now clipped.

“she did. she’s been making them for us since we opened last year.” guilt immediately flooded the man’s rigid body. last year? how had you- the mother of his children- been making floral displays for the last year, and architectural digest knew before he did? rafe turned to look at you, but you stayed silent, choosing to bounce valentine in your arms to avoid his intense glare. frustration began to seep into rafe’s veins, filtering out the guilt in the only way he knew how.

“she’s always been quite humble, hasn’t she?” it would have been a sweet sentiment, had rafe’s bass toned voice not been coated with distain. why hadn’t you told him this was something you were interested in? something you wanted to pursue? how did you even have the time to do this? who was watching his children when you were doing this?

the short haired woman turned to look at you, her hardened expression softening at the weak smile of embarrassment you sent her unbeknownst to rafe. “well, i bought a hundred copies. along with two extras for you and your mom.”

you gasped, unable to do anything but protest. “sandra, you didn’t-“

sandra, only laughed as if it had been the easiest decision in the world. “of course i did, and to say thank you for bringing ad to the bakery, lunch is on me today. anything you and the kids want.” valentine laughed when sandra tickled her tummy with her pointer finger, causing you to finally smile brightly once again. the two of you hugged tightly once more before sandra left your family to their own devices, another kind looking employee standing on deck behind the counter for when you four made your decision.

“we’re not done talkin’ about this.” rafe harshly broke the silence between your little family. you didn’t respond, only leading the way to a corner table that would allow you two the most room in the albeit empty bakery. there were only two other people enjoying what was assumed to be a coffee date on the other end of the establishment. rafe bitterly couldn’t help but wonder how sandra made any money if her bakery was this empty on a friday morning.

your twins were silent, meeting each others eyes with seemingly twin telepathy. you and rafe didn’t notice when you both sat down on either side of the corner booth, too engrossed in your own thoughts with valentine and rosy in your laps respectively. “mommy, can we have treats later?” valentine peaked up at you unsurely, foreign to the somber energy you were radiating.

tears threatened to drip down your throat. you were so unsure of how a man who had given you the two greatest and sweetest things in your life could be so mean when he wanted to be. “of course, baby. mommy wants some too. we just need to eat some real food first.”

“what d’you girls want?” rafe asked your daughters, addressing them for seemingly the first time today besides his initial hugs and hellos. you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, bouncing valentine on your lap much to her delight while you scanned the kids menu.

“they have pancake cereal.” you managed to put on a grin for your children, valentine and rosy gasping with excitement once they realized what you had said. rafe furrowed his eyebrows, reading over what that was.

mini pancake cereal

fluffy, house made, mini buttermilk and vanilla pancakes with fresh strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

comes with your choice of whip cream, maple syrup, or mixed berry compote

“can we please get it, mommy!” rosy exclaimed, one of her tiny fists balling rafe’s black polo in it’s grasp, her other arm clutching her new bunny stuffie to her chest. rafe’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, never having heard his youngest speak so loud unless she was playing tag with her sister. she was usually so shy in her father’s mind. you laughed sweetly, as if you were expecting it.

as if it were a regular occurrence.

“of course we can, lovie.” your ex felt his heart swell and break simultaneously while watching you with the twins. you were such an amazing mother. it was so clear you adored them, and in turn they adored you. rafe swallowed dryly when the kids began to babble nonsense about this supposed pancake cereal, letting himself look at you properly. his cobalt eyes raked across the serene slopes of your face, catching sight of the sparkly eyeshadow and rosy lipgloss that decorated your angelic features. it was like you to put in the extra effort on your appearance when going anywhere, something rafe admired heavily about you when you first started dating, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you had put in a little extra effort for him this time. it had been years since the pair of you went out like this, only now you had two children who emulated your beauty to a tee.

“what’re you getting?” you seemed shocked that he was speaking to you, figuring you would get the silent treatment. rafe sighed through his nose, knowing if he wanted this to be a regular occurrence, he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him. you didn’t deserve that- no matter how much he made you feel like you did. you watched carefully when his large hand began stroking rosy’s back- as if he had been doing it her whole life. rafe gritted his teeth momentarily, looking away before catching sight of the floral display that hung from the ceiling.

it’s textures were dazzling. a tilted silhouette made up of beiges, hints of yellows, pinks, and whites. vines, cotton ball flowers, feathered plants, and dried flowers were among the many plants it contained. it was masterfully chaotic, and acted as a skillful conduit for the outside to match the in. “it’s beautiful- your- uh, your installation, i mean.” rafe caught himself. “i wish that i-“ he bit his lip, chuckling humourlessly at the fact that he could speak to a whole conference room composed of the most powerful businessmen in the country, but couldn’t tell you the truth. “i-i wish that i knew that part of you.”

he avoided your eyes, unknowing to the way they softened at his quiet admission. you knew that took a lot for him to admit, to be vulnerable after everything that’s happened. it wasn’t even a fraction of enough to get you back to the highest of highs in your relationship, but it was the strongest start in a long time. “thank you, rafe.” rafe looked at you then, ignoring the goosebumps that travelled up his arms at the way you said his name. you were blissfully unaware that he just narrowly avoided asking all the questions that balanced on the tip of his tongue. “do you know what you’re getting?”

“i’ll do the same.” rafe decided quickly, your eyebrows furrowing when you realized you hadn’t told him what you wanted yet. his eyes widened a moment later in realization, clearing his throat to the side before mumbling quietly. “you- uh, you always used to get the vegetarian hash at the country club for brunch. jus’ thought you would do the same here.”

a sharp gasp left your glossy lips. you couldn’t believe he remembered that. thankfully, valentine spoke up before you could internalize what that meant. “mommy, could i get orange juice? rosy wants apple.”

rafe held rosy in his strong arms, cradling the little girl to his chest much to your rapidly melting facade. it was completely different watching him interact with them in public. only having seen him somewhat cautiously playing with your daughters’ on your living room rug under your watchful eyes, or scooping them up for a quick hug when he came through the front door at the beginning and end of his visits. “‘course, baby.” rafe answered for you. valentine spared her father a look before turning back towards you for the final verdict. your doe eyes flitted towards your ex, immediately noticing how enamoured he was with rosy on his lap, gazing at her relaxed form with pure adoration. your heart raced at the little grin that spread across his pink lips, rosy staring back at her father with the same agape lips that rafe was often known for supporting.

you spoke up after ensuring both juices were on the menu. “of course, val’s, but you don’t have to ask only me. you can ask daddy too.” rafe inhaled a sharp breath, in utter disbelief that you had just acknowledged him like that. a genuine smile directed towards him spread across your lips for the first time that morning. “coffee. black. no sugar?”

there was something in rafe’s cerulean eyes that gleamed, glittering with cautious hope before he whispered. “yeah. only if you get an oat chai.”

once the food had been brought out, and your girls’ fruit juices had been poured into their travel sippy cups, the four of you began to eat. sandra had gotten the chef to make the pancakes extra mini, allowing the girls’ to use their hands and chew their breakfast safely. still, rafe and yourself stood by in case they needed help.

“s’it good, baby?” rafe whispered to rosy, smiling softly at her nod before pressing a gentle kiss to the chub of her soft cheek. unable to help himself, his calloused fingers pinched valentine’s identical chubby cheek, chuckling at her little grin.

it was clear to both of you that valentine was a leader, taking after rafe in that way. she always looked out for rosy. asking her questions that she could answer yes or no to, letting her parents know what her shy little sister wanted in case she didn’t want to speak. she was fiercely protective and intuitive, which is why you found that she often assessed your reactions with rafe. she loved her father, but you could tell she was having a harder time completely warming up to the man in front of her. meanwhile, rosy was more than happy to fulfill her role as a daddy’s girl. though it made you nervous for when rafe inevitably had to leave. you tried not to think about it, quickly putting on a smile. “what do you say to daddy, lovies?”

“tank you.”

“tank you, dada.”

rafe felt his breath catch in his throat for the twentieth time that morning. it meant more to him than he realized having them acknowledge something so little like breakfast. it was different than toys, a gift. this was time spent with their father, and they were thanking him. the blonde blinked, a wide smile eventually spreading across his pink lips. “you’re welcome. thanks for comin’ out with me today.” despite him looking at your daughters’, you knew the last part was directed towards you. quietly, you reached your left hand out, rafe finally noticing the promise ring he had given you at the height of his addiction adorning your ring finger. it was a smaller gemstone than he would’ve liked, but he knew you wouldn’t have appreciated something so flashy. he hadn’t seen it since your separation. your birthstone stared back at rafe, and immediately his right hand caught yours before you could change your mind.

the pair of you tensed up at the feeling of your hands meeting, before eventually relaxing once the initial sparks subsided. rafe gently ran his thumb over the back of your hand, travelling down to the ring he had given you in the bed of his old truck, parked at the beach all those years ago. it had been a final resort to keep you from leaving him, knowing he couldn’t do the right thing and let you go despite his addiction taking control of his life. rafe could feel the guilt beginning to swirl in his stomach, parting his lips before valentine giggled mischievously.

“mommy and daddy sittin’ in a tree-“ rafe froze, multiple scoldings halted at the hint of shyness that cloaked your giddy expression. you could believe how cheeky your daughters were being in public, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the fire engine red shade that burned atop your ex’s now bare ears.

rosy joined with a delighted laugh. “k-i-s-s-r-o-t.“ you both laughed at the misspelling, letting go of each others hands almost reluctantly. rafe chuckled again before kissing rosy’s head who giggled. your manicured fingers tickled valentine’s tummy playfully, the little girl squirming in delight at the feeling. the sight of your little family together like this had you wishing that it could feel like this all the time. like rafe had been there everyday since the twins came into this world. that he didn’t have to pull several strings to get a day off for the first time in months. you blinked back your approaching tears, hiding your bittersweet smile from behind your lukewarm oat chai.

after cleaning the girls’ up, and rafe admittedly buying too many treats for just the four of you to go- which you promised the girls as dessert that night despite their pleading- you were driving back to your house. it was a gorgeous day out. the sun not even at it’s peak yet despite the heat already making itself more than known to the residents of outer banks. your manicured nails flicked together in contemplation, the feelings of finality weighing heavily in the luxury car. you knew rafe wouldn’t push for more time today. it was a mutual understanding that he was on thin ice, and this visit would be on your terms, but would it be so wrong that you wanted him to stay?

“lovies, do you wanna have a pool day today?” the girls’ cheered before you could take it back. despite the underground pool that took over most of your backyard, you were terrified at the thought of the girls starting to learn how to swim. they were still so little in your mind. so you conceded, buying them a larger than normal pink kiddy pool in the shape of a heart for pool days. you figured this was something you should speak to rafe about, along with a number of things the quicker your girls’ seemed to grow up. while the toddlers talked amongst themselves, you hesitantly rested your hand on rafe’s shoulder at a red light, feeling the muscle tense before relaxing beneath your palm. “you can join too.” the blonde man turned to look at you then, flickering his eyes over your soft expression before nodding in agreement.

rafe stored the treats in your refrigerator while you got the girls’ dressed in their swimsuits. he had a pair of black swim shorts in the trunk of his car, leftover from when topper or kelce had decided they wanted to spontaneously go to the beach a few weeks ago. you had asked him to fill the pool up after he got dressed, which confused him at first, but now he could see the heart shaped kiddy pool about fifteen paces away from the actual pool. the man couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes half heartedly before he got to work.

once the pool was about halfway filled with lukewarm water- he’d be damned if his babies were cold- he heard the patio door slide open. rafe looked up, spotting the twins dressed in their matching frilly bathing suits with protective hairstyles. valentine’s was a pale teal colour, and rosy’s a vibrant magenta. rafe was ashamed to say he still got the twins mixed up until a few months ago, remedied after he had gifted them little gold necklaces with a ‘v’ and ‘r’ respectively. you had smiled softly at his admission, letting him know that the only way you were able to tell them apart at first was because wheezie had painted one of each of their toenails a different colour. rafe ignored the pang in his chest when you told him that. wishing he could’ve seen it. wishing that he could’ve looked up from his own reflection long enough to help you out more.

their little feet padded up to rafe, standing on either side of his knelt down form as he continued to hold the hose into the pool. rosy’s short fingers reached out to touch the stream of water, flinching away while hissing out a giggle at the funny feeling. rafe grinned, chuckling when valentine cutely dipped her spread out toes into the shallow water, her little hands keeping herself steady on rafe’s shoulder. suddenly, he heard the clacking of heeled sandals, whipping his head up towards the sound before his jaw dropped.

it wasn’t as if rafe hadn’t looked at you romantically since your separation. it was no question that you were the most sought after girl in the outer banks- before and after- the eldest cameron had finally managed to lock you down. he hadn’t slept with you- or anyone else believe it or not- since the breakup. the father of your children had only caught pg 13 moments of you when he was lucky. like a stray bra strap showing when the shoulder of your loose sweaters would fall, or the lace of your panties that had peaked out from beneath your mini skirts on more than one occasion. it had him fucking his fist as soon as he crossed the threshold of his home in a way he hadn’t since he first started puberty, but fuck. rafe really didn’t think you could get any more gorgeous, especially after having his twins. he was wrong. so, so wrong.

a stringy bikini left little to the imagination, revealing your rich complexion that glittered with some sort of oil. the bottom strings were tied high on your hips in bows, while the top was tied behind your neck and between your shoulder blades. you didn’t look exactly the same as you did before of course, but god you looked so much better to rafe. your tits were heavier for lack of a better term, and your bottom had filled out, more perky, rounder. the blonde wasn’t aware of what he was doing until valentine squealed, the hose water spraying her chubby legs rather than filling the pool. he swore softly under his breath, cursing to himself silently afterwards when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to do that in front of the girls. rafe gently pulled valentine further into the sun, giving her nose little butterfly kisses in apology before allowing her to hold the hose for him. rosy glued herself to rafe’s other side, her chubby arms wrapping behind his neck with her warm cheek pressing against his. the elder man smiled widely, wrapping his other arm around his youngest daughter before placing a kiss along her cheek.

unbeknownst to rafe, you weren’t fairing any better either. he had somehow filled out even more since the two of you had broken up. his skin was just as golden as it always had been, prompting his shaved blonde hair, strong bone structure dotted with golden stubble, and blue eyes to stand out that much more. his biceps bulged while he hugged your daughters, their little hands pressed against the defined muscles of his shoulders and back. you bit your bottom lip, sitting down on a stray poolside chair before calling out. “sweethearts. sunscreen time.”

“but mommy-“ valentine whined softly, her feet already dipped in the now filled up pool from where she stood inside of it. rafe stroked the little girl’s back, chiding her softly.

“c’mon now, listen to mommy.” your heart swelled. “we’ll make it quick.” your eldest grumbled half heartedly, her little humph morphing into an excited squeal when rafe playfully lifted her up with an exaggerated groan. both little girls on his hips cheered with delight, held six feet up in the air as if they weighed nothing.

oh god, you were done for.

“can you do mine, dada?” rosy asked sweetly, gently playing with his rope chain necklace from where she laid in the crook of his neck. rafe couldn’t stop his heart from melting, unable to deny his girls anything- unless you said so, of course. maybe.

“‘course i can, baby.” valentine reached out for you, rafe handing her off before sitting on the grassy ground in front of you. the other pool chair too far from you and val for his comfort. you bit your glossy bottom lip, giggling at the way your eldest squirmed at the cool feeling of the sunscreen. practically lifting all of her limbs at you like a spider monkey to somehow make the process go faster.

a few minutes later, rafe had gotten your youngest daughter pretty much covered besides her face, which he took his sweet time with. you furrowed your eyebrows at the way he applied the sun cream with his fingertips, rosy turned away from you. it wasn’t until he turned your youngest daughter around to reveal a little white nose and slightly messy kitten whiskers made from sunscreen, that you laughed louder than expected. valentine gasped, giggling along with you much to rosy’s confusion. quickly, you pulled out your phone, snapping a few too many pictures of your oblivious daughter and an amused rafe behind her. “i want one too!” valentine hopped off your lap, running to her father before presenting her already sun screened face.

you showed the pictures to a curious rosy while rafe got to work, giggling at her little gasp and toothy grin at the artwork on her face. after snapping “a few” more pictures of your little kittens, they ran off into the pool, toys of their choosing scattered throughout the water. you smiled at the way rafe didn’t take his eyes off of them, turning your chair horizontally much to his confusion. “c’mon, we can share it.” the blonde got up after a beat, sitting down while you stood above him. “d’you want a beer?”

a careful eyebrow raised itself on his handsome face. “you tryna’ get me drunk?” rafe naturally smirked when you rolled your eyes sexily, dragging his cerulean gaze up and down your perfect form while you walked back inside the house to get said beer.

soon, you returned with two small coolers filled with ice. the one you placed next to rafe had a few imported beers from mexico, and some drinks for yourself. the ones for your daughters next to their kitty pool held sippy cups of watered down juice, and little bottles of water.

handing an open beer to rafe, you sat next to him beneath the large umbrella above the pool chair. he thanked you, clinking your drinks for good luck before taking a sip. the pair of you sat quietly for a few moments, basking in the heat while watching your daughters play in their pool a few feet away. rafe scrunched his nose suddenly, stroking the back of his neck before leaning forwards- elbows to knees. “so uh.. tell me about your flower installations.”

you smiled softly, shrugging. “i don’t really know what to say. i..” rafe turned to look at you, admiring the way your expression softened when thinking about something that clearly brought you joy. you looked hopeful. such a contrast from the stoicism and defeat you exhibited when you were with him. “you remember topper’s ex girlfriend? ruthie?”

your ex scoffed out a laugh at that, sipping his beer before nodding. “yeah. i remember her.” amused giggles left your lips, reminiscing about how tumultuous their relationship had been when you were only teenagers.

“well, she invited me to her wedding two years ago-“

“no.” rafe laughed incredulously. “you went to that?” you hid your face in your left hand to mask your laughter, birthstone catching his eyes again. before he could overthink it, he nudged your thigh with his playfully. “kay. so after you watched her uncle kiss her cousin, what happened-?”

“oh god. i wasn’t there long enough for that. the girls were at my mom’s and rosy caught a cold somehow-“

“what?” rafe’s relaxed demeanour went rigid. you turned your focus to him, a sad smile painting your lips when you took in his reaction. “why didn’t you call me-?”

“i tried. your phone kept going to voicemail, so i called your assistant and they said you were on business, and that they would let you know i called.” rafe’s mouth fell agape, sighing irritatedly before pinching the bridge of his nose to will away his oncoming tension headache. he hadn’t been away for business. he had taken topper to his bahamas vacation house to drink away his sorrows like a sorority girl. he couldn’t believe- “but she was fine the next morning. the paediatrician told us it was only a twenty-four hour cold. so when you called back, i didn’t want to worry you-“

rafe grabbed your hand before he could stop himself, immediately softening his hold when you flinched out of habit. the elder man swallowed then, eyes filled with anguish before gradually tilting his head forwards to show you he meant no harm. “you don’t ever worry about worrying me, or bothering me. not when- not when it comes to the girls.. and- and especially not when it comes to you, a-a’ight-?“ he cut himself off while he was ahead, unsure of how to continue without ruining more than he already had. you set down your drink, pulling your smaller hand out of his grip softly much to his disappointment. shockingly though, your palms enveloped the sides of his face. rafe spared a look at you, afraid to even breathe at the risk of breaking the moment. as if it were the easiest decision of your life, you stroked the soft pad of your thumb over the approaching wrinkles along his forehead, softening the tension in his face as best you could. gently, you placed a feather soft kiss to the same area, eyes watering at the sound of the shaky breath that left the man who still held your heart after everything.

“i promise.”

the sound of ice pouring into water caught both of your attentions, snapping your heads towards the kitty pool that was now bobbing with ice cubes. valentine gently dropped the empty cooler on the grass, bottles fallen beside it. she placed her sunglasses over her eyes with a sigh before laying in the pool next to her sister- who looked equally as relaxed. your jaw dropped at the way their little arms rested behind their heads, unable to hold back your laughter after rafe commented incredulously. “there’s no way that just happened.”

you attempted to cover your mouth, but just couldn’t stop laughing. “in case you were unsure that val was yours-“

“that has you written all over it! are you kidding?” you knew rafe wasn’t mad despite his indignant tone, his smile threatening to take over his entire face. you giggled, even while standing up to reach for a beach umbrella behind you. “what’re you doing?”

“i’m just gonna go set this up by their little pool. they must be so hot-“ before you could even blink, rafe took the umbrella from your hands. you couldn’t help but stand there dumbly, your ex flicking his head back in the direction of the pool chair.

“relax. i got it, mama.” a red hot desire burst through your veins at how easily those words left his mouth, forgetting how slick it could be. as if that weren’t enough, rafe tucked his head down to place a chapped kiss along your cheekbone, already on his way to your daughters before you could register what had happened.

you could still feel rafe’s kiss on your cheek and his warm face beneath your palms even after he returned to your side. he sat closer to you this time, and you couldn’t believe how giddy you felt. especially after everything that had happened between you two since your first meeting at the country club as teenagers. you birthed his children for gods sake, but it felt as if you had just held hands on the playground for all your classmates to see. “i think they should start learning how to swim. what uh, what d’you think?”

you blinked, watching your girls who were as cool as cucumbers relaxing in their kiddy pool. “i’m afraid i’ve turned them into pool loungers and they wouldn’t like it.” rafe laughed at that, sipping his beer with a warm smile. the kids had lifted up their sunglasses momentarily at his arrival, pretending to be nonchalant but giggling madly when he attacked them with kisses after setting up their umbrella. “but we can try. maybe we could teach them next weekend in the big pool. the shallow end is only three feet.”

“yeah, yeah i can do that.” rafe nodded to himself. “i have a few meetings on friday, but i’ll clear my schedule for the weekend. that work for you?”

“you’d be able to get the whole weekend off?” you didn’t mean to sound disbelieving, but you also needed to make sure that rafe wasn’t making promises to your girls’ that he couldn’t keep. you had been down that road before, and they didn’t deserve that.

the eldest cameron sighed through his nose, quite literally shrugging off your concerns. “it’s my company. i should get the weekend off. simple as that.” you immediately raised a manicured brow at that. where was simple as that when you were deciding baby names? nursery colours? having cravings, morning sickness, giving birth, changing diapers, staying up for hours into the early morning when the twins wouldn’t stop crying? where was simple as that when he missed watching their first steps, hearing their first words, potty training? times two? but yes, the mountain of toys falling off their playroom shelves was enough consolation. two hours a week at most with their father was apparently enough. all the money in the world and he couldn’t tell them apart unless he was able to see the initials strung around their necks. “what?” rafe seemed genuinely confused at the way you shut down, and that was the worst of all. he genuinely couldn’t fathom how much of your life you had given to your children.

you were still so young when you had gotten pregnant. it happened during your year off after high school graduation, you hadn’t even been with rafe for a year, hadn’t even been legal enough to drink. still, ward- albeit geriatric- insisted, stating an abortion would be preposterous, and rafe listened to him. it was no question that you loved your children more than anything else in the world. you would never regret having them for a second. except you couldn’t believe that rafe had promised you he would be there for you, that he loved you, but still left you alone during the most difficult time of your life. all for ward. rafe was able to grow up. rafe was able to reinvent himself. rafe was able to leave when things got hard, and rafe was able to come back anytime he wanted because you let him.

“mommy? i need a towel. gotta go potty.” rosy tugged at your hand, lifting you out of your stupor. you snapped into action, picking up the fluffy pink towel behind you and drying your daughter off as quickly as you could.

“do you need me to come with you?”

rosy shook her head, already running into the house as fast as her legs could carry her. “no. i gotta pee!”

rafe chuckled from behind his beer, but you didn’t see anything funny about the possibility of your daughter having an accident. “where’re you going? she said she’s fine-“

“she could’ve had an accident, and i’m not making her walk out here to tell me. i need you to watch val.” you both turned to catch the girl quickly looking away from your conversation, resuming playing with her toys. “i think you can manage that much.”

“hey-“ rafe’s larger hand just managed to grab your wrist, but you pulled it away twice as rough, moving back a few steps. the man opposite to you immediately stood up, his once intimidating height appearing smaller and smaller the more you let yourself think about the past few years. confusion bled into his hurt expression, his hushed irritation only adding to your turmoil. “c’mon. what’s going on-?”

“you-“ you lowered your voice suddenly to keep val from hearing you. cursing yourself for how it wobbled with tears, teetering on the edge of a sob. rafe could only watch helplessly. that’s all he’s ever been able to do. “you choose when you come and go. you get to break promis-es.” a wet hiccup left your lips, quickly cut off by your shaking left hand. your ‘promise ring’ felt more like a shackle with everyday you spent apart from the man in front of you. rafe’s mouth fell agape, taken aback at how quickly everything had shifted. a watery smile drew itself over your trembling lips, doe eyes staring up at the man in front of you with an eerie sense of glee that withered away the longer they did. “but time is a thief, and he’s robbing you blind, rafe.” rafe swallowed dryly, twisting his face and shifting on his feet before his fail safe expression made an appearance. every feature of his, especially the ones your daughters’ shared, became devoid of any kind of emotion. you sniffled pitifully, wanting to curse yourself for being so stupid. for believing that he loved you despite his first reaction being aloof condescension at the discovery of your achievements. for believing that he abandoned you and the children he forced you to bring into this world because he had no other choice. for believing him about anything. “no amount of money in this world will ever be able to change that.”

with that, you dashed into the house after rosy, missing the way rafe’s stoic expression crumbled behind you.

[holybibly]

For bunnies who, like me, can't stop thinking about stalker Yunho.

Yunho is a good boy, the most diligent of them all. He's always been this way, apart from a few innocent lies as a child or a few biscuits stolen from the jar when no one was watching. But he has never done anything bad enough to make him feel really guilty. Yunho is a good boy, the nicest of all. He loves his family, his job at the little bookshop on the corner, cosy romantic films, and the thick taste of hot chocolate that melts on his tongue. But there is something he loves more than all of that. 

What Yunho loves most is your used panties, no matter how much he embarrassedly admits it. 

"Oh, God..." The sound of his voice is low and husky, his mouth ajar as he presses it against your expensive silk panties, the rich, creamy fabric sliding down his nose and tickling the flushed skin of his cheeks with the exquisite French lace. 

These are his favourites, although he is equally fond of the lovely peach ones with the little bow at the front that you wear most often. He can tell by the smell, not that he has looked up your skirt... yet. Yunho is too shy for that, and he's not sure he wouldn't get arrested if he tried to put his head up your skirt to see what kind of panties you're wearing on a given day, or if he put his face between your legs as how he always fantasises about and touching the wet, soft fabric with his tongue. Yunho is pretty sure he could easily identify them by the feel of them in his mouth; after all, he's sucked or licked them too many times not to know that. 

But for now, he's quite content to enjoy the taste and the smell of your used panties, and to see you three times a week when you go to his bookshop to buy a new book or some stationery that you keep losing. And you don't need to know that Yunho keeps your pens and pencils in the top drawer of his bedside table. You like to suck on the tip of a pencil when you're concentrating; Yunho likes to suck on it when he's fucking his pillow, imagining it's your tiny, squelching with mucus pussy stretching so beautifully around his cock.

Right now, he's sitting comfortably on your bed, stroking his hard, leaking cock in lazy motions. He's pressing the sticky, slightly damp fabric of your panties, which you'd taken off this morning before going to work, to his face. Yunho rubs the soiled silk between his fingers, feeling the trace of your juices on his fingertips as he takes them into his mouth, sucking sweetly, savouring every hint of your taste. He'd give anything to get a real taste of you.

One of his favourite fantasies is one in which he worships your pussy with his tongue. He knows you'll love it too, judging by how often you highlight such scenes in those kinky novels you read at night. He's read them all; he knows exactly how to make you go crazy for it. Yunho is a diligent student; he's learnt his lesson to perfection. 

Yunho imagines spreading your legs wide, burying his face in your pussy. He will treat you like a true princess and show you how much you deserve to be pleasured and worshipped. He will spread your labia with his fingers and stick his tongue as deep into your hole as he can until his nose rests on your clit and he can no longer breathe properly.

He would let you use yourself as a toy if you wanted him to; he would let you grab his hair and rub your cunt all over his face until you came in his mouth. He would also want you to ride his face while he fucks you with his tongue; he would love to do this as long as you give him permission to learn how to make you cum so that he can do it when you ask him to. It doesn't matter if he cum or not, but he knows he will; he just needs to get close enough to you to do it, not to mention that he has thought about being your boyfriend. He'll go out with you, he'll buy you cake and hot chocolate, he'll love your cat, he'll look after the flowers on your window, he'll give you kisses and spend time with you when you're depressed, and he'll screw you at any time of the day, whether he's busy or not. And he's tough; you can bite or bruise or dig your nails into his back or beat him; he can take anything and much, much worse if it's for you. 

His tongue sticks out to lather your panties with his saliva, barely thinking, his grip on his cock tightening as he jerks himself faster and harder, as if you were the one jerking him off, wrapping your tiny palm around his heavy, hot length so you can sit on it afterwards. Wouldn't that be the ultimate prize? He'd have no problem getting his tongue inside you and sucking your clit for hours on end, but actually fucking you would be a whole other realm of pleasure that he has no idea even exists. You would look so beautiful with your tiny, plump pussy stretched around his cock, and he could be so gentle with you, fucking you like it was your first time—and he really hopes it is because virgins are all dirty; they are the most kinky little desperate bitches who dream of a hard big cock, and Yunho will give you that; he will give you everything. But he can also be rough with you; he can fuck your brain; he can make you squirt over and over and over again. He can even play with you and take you without your consent, the way you have dreamed of it while you were finger-fucking yourself and reading about it in your book. He knows your desire to have him tear you apart, and who is he to deny you that?

He can dream many things. He can dream long enough so that he doesn't realise what he's doing until it's too late, until he feels himself coming and he has nothing to hold on to to hide his presence from your gaze. Nothing but the panties in his hand, which he has no choice but to press against his cock and watch as his cum shakes out in strands so thick they begin to seep through the fabric. 

Yunho looks down at your ruined panties wrapped around his cock, all wet and sticky, and thinks about how one day he's going to cum on your pussy just like that, make it dirty, make it his.

[reidrum]

the prophecy part 1:

cards on the table, mine played out like fools in a fable | s.r.

A/N: trying something new…..this one’s been on my mind for too long and the angst hurt too good. sorry in advance ! perhaps a part 2 who’s to say ..,,,..,. ?

cw: bau!fem!reader, spoilers for prison arc, implied talks of SA (referring to when lindsey doses spencer in mexico), maeve donovan, just angst bro this doesn’t end well

summary: you and jj accompany spencer to cat’s correctional facility to play her games, except there’s more than one loser

wc: 2.1k

part 2

——————————————————————————

Cat Adams’ taunts and demands have led Spencer, JJ, and you to visit her in her correctional facility to play whatever game she has for him. Emily had you and JJ go with him given his erratic state from just being released, in hopes that you both could regulate and monitor the whole meeting.

You and JJ watch Spencer walk in stoically, sitting down across from Cat as she smiles at him. He angrily demands for his mother’s location, but she gets upset and tells him that he doesn’t get to treat her like a criminal. She only agrees to tell him the location if he plays her game, and figures out the secret she knows about Spencer.

Spencer’s brain works overtime to figure out what he’s missing, what Cat could possibly be holding against him that would make him deny the truth of it. He runs through all the scenarios; Spencer being able to now understand how it feels to have a parent used as a pawn, Cat wanting him to admit his love for her. But she shakes her head and reveals that a clue was left in a scrapbook in Spencer’s apartment.

You remember you took a picture of it when you went with Spencer to scope it out, and pulled it out to show JJ.

“Is that an X and a Y?” She ponders, “What could that mean?”

“I think it’s…” You stop halfway, realizing what it means. Your face drops and you look back in the room to watch Spencer come to the same conclusion.

“We’re pregnant!” Cat sings.

You and JJ look at each other in shock, the blonde’s voice slowly drowning out as you sink further into the Cat shaped hole. You vaguely hear her mention going to the guard to find her medical records, but all you can think about is how she could be bearing Spencer’s child.

Spencer and you had been together for a little over two years now. While still in the relative early stages, a lot about your relationship had been figured out and solidified. It was the most secure you’d ever felt with anyone, and despite the road bumps with Mexico you felt that you both came through it as well as any couple would in that situation.

You loved Spencer, and Spencer loved you. Right now was just another one of those road bumps, just like Mexico. That’s what you needed to tell yourself.

JJ bursts through the door with the medical documents, “I got them.” breaking you out of your spiral. You both anxiously look at the paper to find a little (+) sign ticked next to the pregnant box.

Cat Adams really was pregnant. You think you could be sick, you feel JJ’s hand grip your arm in an attempt to tether you back down, but it’s a futile effort. Your brain has already taken the information and ran a billion different directions with it, each coming up with a more crazy conclusion.

You stare blankly into the interrogation room as Spencer vehemently denies the child being his, denying any such way that it could even be his. The disbelief is ruling his words as he shuts down any theory that gives it truth, until Cat reminds him of the heavy dose he was given in Mexico. It hit him then, if he could barely remember the third person in that room, he had no bearing on whatever else transpired.

Spencer tries not to let the anxiety and shock show on his face as he sits down to face Cat in the eyes, “How did you do it?”

“I gave Lindsey very specific instructions to get you in the mood.”

“She pretend to be you?”

“Why, would that have worked?”

“No.” he says sternly.

She pauses, ego clearly bruised, “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid "Hot or Not" list. I told her to pretend to be Maeve. Maeve Donovan, who had her brains blown out right in front of you before you two could even kiss.”

Spencer’s face falls. No, he thinks, no no no. He looks back at the one way window behind him, knowing very well he can’t see you but you’re watching everything unfold disastrously.

Your heart drops so fast it could have very well been seismic. To your horror, Cat continues.

“I thought about telling her to pretend to be your little BAU girlfriend,” she chuckles, “But then I realized, you only had one love of your life. and you won’t let anyone else measure up.” She leans in closer, “By the way, I know that you still think about Maeve when you’re, you know, with your little crime fighter over there. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She gives an over exaggerated wink to the window.

Spencer feels like he’s seeing white, anger coursing through his body as the reality of his situation comes to a head. He’s definitely not thinking when he pushes the table aside harshly, grabbing Cat by the collar and pushing her against the wall. He’s only able to stop when JJ is beside him suddenly attempting to pull him back, reminding him that she’s pregnant.

His fists are clenched and without a second thought he storms out of the room, his tunnel vision taking him right past you and JJ.

JJ doesn’t know what to do, she looks back into the room to see Cat smirking to herself, and god if she didn’t have morals she’d finish what Spencer started. She thinks it’s wise to go after Spencer and check on him, knowing that Cat’s timer is still ticking and the faster he gets back in there the sooner they can find his mother.

But then she looks at you and suddenly her feet are rooted next to yours.

She lays her hand on your shoulder and gently speaks, “Hey, I’m right here okay?”

You nod mindlessly, hoping you can keep the ocean of tears at bay with whatever resolve you can muster. She squeezes her hand at your acknowledgment and doesn’t move.

How is she supposed to even comfort you? How are you supposed to process this?

You knew how important Maeve Donovan was to Spencer. The whole thing had happened a year before you joined the team, only having heard the story through your teammates. It was tragic, there was no other way to put it, and your heart clenched for Spencer for having to go through that by himself. When you both first started dating, he disclosed the more intimate details to you, wanting nothing to be left unspoken about his past to affect his future with you.

What a cruel twist of fate.

“I—I think,” you stutter, “I have to go, JJ, I can’t be here right now.”

“But—“ She starts.

You cut her off, “No, JJ you have to go talk to Spencer and get him back in there. The longer his mom is with Lindsey…” you trail off.

She nods, understanding that you’re thinking about the priorities right now, “Okay, okay I’ll go find him. Where are you going to go?”

You could go home, the one you share with Spencer. Or you could go back to the office, the one you also share with Spencer.

Every realization adds another needle to your stack, and you’re about to crumble under the weight. “I—I don’t know.” You whimper.

JJ closes her eyes to think quickly and grips your shoulders, “Go back to the BAU okay? I’m going to call Emily and tell her to expect you back, you go straight there, do you understand me?” she emphasizes. JJ is smart enough to know that you cannot be alone right now, and that Spencer wouldn’t be able to scrounge up whatever focus he could into getting answers from Cat if he knew you had left by yourself to god knows where.

All you could do was nod, and hope and pray that your feet would carry you to the car and back to the bureau. JJ was nervous having you drive back, but she really didn’t have a choice. All she could do was notify Emily, as well as Penelope for tracking purposes, that you were headed back, and to not ask you too many questions.

After you left, JJ stood in the waiting room for a brief moment before going to find where Spencer went. She finds him sitting on the floor of an unused interrogation room with his head tucked into his knees.

She speaks quietly to not startle him, “Hey.”

He looks up at the voice, JJ noticing his eyes flit around and behind her as if looking for something, or someone. His eyes sulk back when he’s unable to find it.

Spencer opens his mouth to speak, “Is she—“

“She’s going back to the BAU, Emily knows she’s on the way,” she cuts him off already anticipating his question, “Listen, whatever you’re feeling about what just happened right now has to be paused. You need to focus and finish this stupid game with Cat so we can find your mother and be done with her.” She grits out.

He sighs shakily, he doesn’t even want to think about what must be going through your head. As much as it pained him to experience her vitriol first hand, you were on the other side of that window listening to every word Cat spewed out. And somehow, knowing you watched all of that hurt worse than Mexico, worse than Tobias Hankel, and even worse than Maeve Donovan.

Cat was playing a deeply fucked psychological game with him, and she had now called you in as a pawn. You, his darling girl. The one who made him see the light of the sun after it was constantly being put out, the one who loved him through his mother’s illness and wrongful imprisonment, the one who is, with all and every bit of certainty, the love of his life.

If the velvet black box in his sock drawer was any testament to the power that love held, he hoped it would take mercy on him in this moment.

He stands up and paces the room for a moment before kicking the chair to the other side of the room. JJ startles, her eyes widening but attempting to remain neutral faced as Spencer sorts out his emotions.

“Spence, we need to focus,” she reminds him, “Time is running out.”

“I know,” he mumbles and paces the room hoping to have a stroke of insight, “I have an idea.”

———

You must be no better than a zombie in the final apocalypse when you walk into the bullpen, stumbling around with glassy eyes, no regard for what’s in your way. The apathetic coping mechanism you’ve deployed almost makes you seem as mindless as those monsters, if it weren’t for Penelope to show up and steady you.

“I gotcha, honey,” She makes eye contact with Emily, acknowledging that she’s got you, before turning back to you again, “Come here, let’s sit down.” Penelope sits you down in the nearest chair and drags another one for her to sit right next to you.

You don’t speak for an hour after sitting. Penelope doesn’t ask, only checking in every ten minutes to see if you want a snack or some water, to which you shake your head no every time. She’s too busy typing away on her laptop getting information that could help the team find Spencer’s mother, the last thing you want to be is a bump in the road for them.

Another hour passes before the team exits the conference room, alerting you and Penelope that they think they’ve found the cabin where Diana and Lindsey are. Emily gathers everything they need before approaching you in the bullpen.

“Do I have to be here when you guys come back?” You ask quietly.

Emily sighs, understanding the gravity of your circumstance, “No, you don’t. Will you let Garcia drop you home though? Give us all a peace of mind.” She chuckles humorlessly, unknowingly squeezing the other shoulder JJ didn’t.

You know the ‘all’ she’s referring to really just means one person. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but you don’t think it’s meant to. She brings you in for a tight hug, “I’ll check on you after, okay?”

You nod and release from her embrace. Penelope gathers her things next to you and you both walk to the elevator.

“Honey,” It pained Garcia to see you like this, and she didn’t know how she could help, “What can I do?”

You sniffle and shrug, there isn’t much she can do. There isn’t even much that you could do. Not that anything you could do would be enough, it was never enough. Not for you, not for the team, and not for Spencer.

With a bitter chuckle you answer Penelope’s question,

“Bring back Maeve.”

[cherryswisherz]

what does this mean

azzi x oc

warnings: smut, choking a lil bit, pining, friends to lovers, azzi a part gyal, rushed as a mf

based off this rec

"you know if you feel about the same way, i'd be so out my mind. could be dangerous, we'll fall but i'll give you the world."

give you the world (steve lacy, 2022)

-

when azzi called me at 3am to come get her from her apartment, i didn't ask any questions. it didn't matter to me that we were just together 30 minutes prior, or that she'd sounded softer than usual. she was my best friend. she was a wild child, a party girl, a motor mouth, a diva. she was all these things, and she was my best friend since we were 19. 

being azzi's best friend meant doing as told, because she was the peoples princess. she never had to ask for things, they were just given to her. 

and now here we were in my bed, she'd changed while i showered, and now we laid in my bed. she never slept in my bed. always in the guest room that she'd dubbed as hers. but tonight she'd simply climbed into my bed like a cat and looked at me until i bended to her will and joined her. 

what does this mean?

almost like she'd read my mind, she spoke. "when i first saw you, it wasn't anything. It wasn't love at first sight. you were so fucking attractive. and i was aware of you. you were around. i was around. we saw each other. but you were mostly silent. you never talked about anything other than basketball. and then one day a bunch of us were at ted's i remember. and you laughed for the first time and the whole room turned to look at you. and from then on i started to listen to things you said and started to want to be around you. and then today you wore that hat and it made your eyes pop and that was it. i was gone."

azzi was looking at me with that pure focus that made me feel like the most powerful thing in the world. and i knew it was an illusion. i knew that it was just one of the many things that made her magnetic. she picked up every needle in the haystack and she didn't even try. she couldn't help it. i told myself this and yet, under her gaze, i became powerful. 

my hands felt too clumsy against the small of her back, even though there was plenty of space for it. if i'd moved that hand lower, where i'd pictured it a thousand times, would she object? an hour ago i might have said yes. now i saw something bright in her eyes, bright like the spots of light dancing across the darkened city. 

what did that mean? 

i tangled my fingers in her t-shirt, as if that would give me more of her. it wouldn't but sometimes desperate people tried pointless things because it was better than sitting and wanting. i thought kiss me. please fucking kiss me. give me something. give me a reason. give me permission. 

maybe she'd heard me. maybe she saw it on my face because i was that fucking obvious. either way, she trailed her fingers up my arm and i felt fireworks spark and fly. my core tightened and my pussy damn near cried, all because she'd touched my fucking arm. i had no idea  how she did this to me. i'd never understood and i doubted i ever would but i never wanted her to stop. 

and yet, she did. her weight shifted as she leaned towards me, raising her chin until our mouths were level. so close that there was no space for light between us, so close that i barely saw her in the darkness. i felt her though. and then she stopped. 

my pulse was racing, my blood burning through my veins, like wildfire. my nerves tingled in anticipation, but i stayed still. stayed quiet. 

azzi licked her lower lip, the tip of her tongue sliding over that plump curve, like ripe fruit. i wanted to sink my teeth into it. 

her whisper sliced through the air like a knife. "god, zara. you're soooo.... fuck." her fingers caught in my tee, tightening like she wanted me impossibly closer. 

i told myself to stay in control, but i'd lost the meaning of the word somewhere along the line. like i didn't recognize it anymore. so instead i told myself, fuck it. 

i closed the space between us. my lips slanted over hers, barely touching, and that was enough to take the air right out of my lungs. in the silence and the shadows, the brush of her lips felt like something holy. like prayers whispered into the earth. like purifying flames. this was the closest i'd ever get to perfection. 

but no. she pulled away, and laughed softly. "kiss me like you mean it, my love." 

she was fucking impossible, and that was perfection. 

i slid and hand into her hair and pulled her back to my mouth. this time, when our lips met, the flames didn't purify so much as devour. i kissed her hard, the way i'd always dreamed, and she responded like i'd always dreamed, except it was so much better because it was real and it was azzi and i couldn't fucking believe it. she kissed me as if she were starving. her breath came in short, sharp little gasps and her whole body rocked against mine. 

her hair felt like a cloud in my hand, thick and cool and fresh. i tightened my grip on it because right now, i could. as long as she kissed me like this, she was mine. my other hand slid from her back to her ass and the ache between my legs grew heavier. she was wearing my t-shirt, like she always did when she slept over. so i dragged up the fabric, and she arched her back like it was an invitation, and nothing had ever turned me on more in my fucking life. 

 i slid my hand the bare skin of her thigh, and traveled the curves of her thighs until i reached heaven. grabbing one cheek, sinking my fingers into the curve of her ass, actually made me moan against her lips. i could feel the fabric of her panties, cotton, and in my fucking way. i struggled to push them to the side, and she laughed against my mouth. 

"just take them off." she whispered. 

i shook my head even though i wanted nothing more than to do just that. "if there's something you want me to do, ask for it. nicely."

i expected her to laugh or tell me to fuck off, but azzi never did what i expected. 

"zara," she said softly. "take them off. make me cum. kiss me until we fall asleep." she was slightly breathless, but there was no laughter in her voice. she recited her list with something like desperation.

i sat up, pulling her with me. she gripped my shoulders, and straddled my lap. my pussy was screaming at me to do something  i ignored her, because right now, i wanted to focus on the woman in my arms, and all the things i wanted to do. make her smile. make her sigh. make her scream. 

i raised a hand to her face and ran a thumb over her cheek. "asking," i whispered, "is hard. taking is easy. doing is easy. but asking for what you want.... asking is showing someone everything, and trusting that thy won't use it against you. asking is about feeling safe." 

azzi swallowed hard. then she caught my hand, the one sitting at her waist, and moved it lower. over the ridges of her abs, the gathered fabric her skirt until my palm came to rest her pussy. 

i squeezed my eyes shut as the last of my common sense evaporated. i couldn't stop myself if i tried. couldn't stop myself from feeling every inch if her, from stroking her soft folds through the fabric of her underwear.  she made a soft noise in the back of her throat, rocking against my palm. 

that was all i wanted. for her to understand the need. to feel it the way i'd always had. i wanted her hungry. 

i shoved my hand beneath the waistband of her panties, and the i kissed her. as my fingers tangled in her soft curls, i nudged her clit and the moan she let allowed me to slide my tongue over hers. she sank her fingers into my hair and the part of my mind that still functioned, was grateful that i always did what she asked. that i stopped straightening my hair years ago because now, she was pulling hard and the sharp pain danced down my spine like something heaven sent. 

"you have no idea." i choked out. 

"what?" she panted, biting my lip.

"how much i want you. how much i have wanted you-"

"you can't be serious." she chuckled, still kissing me. 

i circled her clit and gave her the pressure that made her breath hitch. "of course i'm fucking serious."

she moaned, arching into my arms. "i thought.... i mean, you always seem so.... fuck-" she cried out. "i notice now."

"i would hope so." i lowered my lips to her throat, tasting her there. 

"you can't leave a hickey." she gasped. 

"there? or anywhere?"

"there, or anywhere someone could see." 

"fine." i sighed. 

"fuck," she panted. i kissed her neck, tasting the coconut oil she always used and was filled with pleasure when she whispered something that sounded like more. 

i pulled back, still circling her clit, and asked "what was that?" 

"nothing." 

i let go of her waist, sliding my hand up to her throat. her gaze, suddenly sharp and defiant, met mine. i smiled. "liar." 

she stuck her tongue out so i pulled her forward and kissing her, devouring her wondering how the reality of azzi was so much better than every single one of my fantasies. 

weren't fantasies untouchable? wasn't reality disappointing? 

she held my face as we kissed. the kiss was frantic and desperate and messy and nothing had ever been so perfect. i slid my hand from her clit to her entrance and pushed a finger inside. she moaned into my mouth and god she was so fucking hot, and so tight and i was so turned on that i was practically hurting. 

i dragged my mouth from hers, "touch me." i demanded in a voice that i didn't recognize. 

it was as if she'd been waiting for permission. her hands finally strayed from my hair, to the place i needed her most. she reached between us and dipped into my pants, rubbing me like it was her god given job. 

i groaned with relief as she slid her hand over me. i spread my legs so she could work and then added a second finger to reward her. 

she caught my earlobe between her teeth for one sharp second then pulled back to plant a kiss on my nose. "i love your nose." 

i bit back a moan as she swiped a finger over my clit. "you're the only  person who's said that." 

"don't know why," she rubbed my clit hard and fast, "the first time i saw you, all i wanted to do was sit on your face." 

"don't say shit like that." i tightened my grip on her throat, just nough to remind her i was ther. 

"why not?" she asked, her voice wavering as i reached deeper inside her, finding that tender spot. 

"because, i said and repeated the action. "i'm trying to draw this out as long as i can." 

she cried out, her pussy clenching around my fingers. "oh my god keep doing that. holy shit." 

i watched as her face twisted. she writhed against me with every thrust of my fingers, her breath coming in gasps. her hands shook as her pace on my clit quickened. 

my body trembled as every nerve ending on my body exploded. i came with an embarrassingly loud moan of her name.

 i felt her tighten around my fingers until it was almost painful and then she looked at him biting her lip, chest heaving, cheeks dark. 

and then with a sigh azzi fell off my lap and back into my side, holding me a little closer than before i knew what she tasted like and traced circles on my stomach.

as i felt her breathing even out, i stared at my ceiling and asked myself once again...

what does this mean?

niyah speaks: hate this lol but i posted AYYYE!!

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long. 

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh. 

The dreams weren’t uncommon. 

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten. 

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake. 

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom. 

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley. 

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy. 

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter. 

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?” 

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance. 

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.” 

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.” 

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!” 

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords. 

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him. 

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold. 

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin. 

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more. 

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him. 

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift. 

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you. 

“Call me Ember.” 

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter. 

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you. 

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing. 

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.” 

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now. 

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort. 

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him. 

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf. 

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories. 

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock. 

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace. 

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted. 

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine. 

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight. 

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt. 

“Ember…” 

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper. 

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right. 

He left. 

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough. 

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears. 

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways. 

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall. 

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing. 

The same boy you still loved. 

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny. 

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment. 

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down. 

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you. 

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned. 

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life. 

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free. 

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see. 

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast. 

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle. 

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.” 

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist. 

He was shaking slightly. 

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you. 

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths. 

But something went wrong on one of his deployments. 

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet. 

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months. 

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance. 

He didn’t let you touch him. 

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words. 

‘Don’t look for me.’ 

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together. 

All of those years. 

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided. 

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs. 

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages. 

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend. 

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness. 

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.” 

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock. 

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders. 

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.” 

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank. 

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it. 

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t. 

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.” 

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again. 

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes. 

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours. 

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes. 

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!” 

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen. 

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!” 

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly. 

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.” 

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.” 

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe. 

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor. 

A pact of loyalty. 

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life. 

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet. 

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself. 

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?” 

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath. 

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.” 

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon. 

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he? 

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through? 

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even. 

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth. 

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—” 

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip. 

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.” 

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid. 

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern. 

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.  

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters. 

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking. 

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath. 

“Need you t’know it.” 

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment. 

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy. 

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain. 

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up. 

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks. 

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head. 

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself. 

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.” 

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax. 

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly. 

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you. 

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it. 

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way. 

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence. 

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist. 

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name. 

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long.  Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not. 

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?” 

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?” 

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you. 

With you survival became secondary. 

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years. 

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin. 

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.” 

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill. 

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist. 

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.” 

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth. 

And he’d give you it. All of it. 

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time. 

And you’d both never slept better

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[scuderiasundays]

better together

summary: airline lounges, box box widgets, and a cheesy greeting card 💌

words: 1,045

a/n: the romcom girlie in me has always wanted to write a meet-cute and i've been listening to too much lizzy mcalpine! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, @diorleclerc, and @userlando just because. let me know if you'd want a part two! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

Love comes when you least expect it. Those same old words had fallen from the lips of every person you knew, so much so that they now felt weightless. On this particular evening, you found yourself at your best friend’s wedding reception, zoning out at the open bar. You nodded along as some man who’d had one too many G&T’s rambled on about his meet-cute on the Paris metro. Seeing two people you adored make a lifelong commitment only reaffirmed the fact that you craved the same.

It was no secret you weren’t exactly the MVP of the single scene. On any given night out, you’d leave the club before midnight to get a full eight-hour snooze. Dating apps were a no-no, as reruns of Catfish had made you skeptical about “finding the one” online. At work, you kept a low profile, socializing just enough to have a tight circle of work friends. It was as if you were coasting on autopilot, wanting love but hesitant to steer towards it.

Not to say that being single was all bad. Every hard-earned dollar was invested right back into the things you loved: trips, clothes, and your dog Cannoli. You silently weighed the pros and cons of your lifestyle as you stepped into the airline lounge.

Setting down your latest read to save your seat, you made your way to the breakfast buffet and grabbed a plate of avocado toast, poached eggs, and a glass of orange juice. On your way back, you spotted someone in a hoodie and cap making themselves at home in the armchair opposite yours.

The whole lounge was virtually empty, and this just had to be his seat of choice? You slowly approached from behind and let out a quiet gasp as you noticed them flipping through your book. “Love languages, huh?” The man pointed at the cover and smiled.

Your pupils dilated twice their size as you registered just who it was. The fan-made bracelets, the Leica, and, most of all, the signature McLaren cap—it all fell into place. “My manager and I just got into a huge argument, and honestly, I’d rather be anywhere but with him right now. Do you mind if I-" He gestured towards the seat beside you, his eyes radiating a silent plea.

“No problem. Let me give you your space,” you responded, hastily gathering your things. Just as you were about to step away, his hand gently clasped your wrist. “I could use the company. I’m Bob, by the way,” he mumbled, oblivious to the fact that his cover was blown.

As in, you knew he was currently seventh place in the driver’s championship and slowly but surely climbing up the standings. The last thing he needed was for you to bring any of that up, so you did as he said, trying to give him a sense of normalcy he so deserved.

He headed to the breakfast buffet and returned with the very items you had selected. "Copying me?" you teased. “First step in getting to know you,” he grinned. Curious about your life, he asked about your job in the emergency room. You told him the hours were grueling but watching extremely sick patients leave healthy made it all worthwhile. "Hope I never end up being your patient," he joked.

His interest didn't stop there; he inquired about siblings (only child), your dream vacation destination (Antibes), and whether you were a dog or cat person (not even a question). You, being a proud dog mom, wanted to show your furry guy off and handed Lando your phone.

As he squinted at your phone, you heard him say, "7 days to go. United States Grand Prix." A wave of panic washed over you as you remembered the Box Box widget that also occupied your screen. The silence was deafening as you wished the ground would swallow you up. 

“Let me see the app,” He said. You normally wouldn’t have acquiesced so quickly, but you crumbled and unlocked your phone. He appeared to scroll and click a few things before he handed it back. “Widget Preferences. Constructor: McLaren? Driver: Lando Norris?” You asked as you noticed he’d made some selections.

“You hadn’t bothered with the preferences, so I took the liberty of choosing.” He blushed as the awkwardness of it all hung in the air. “That doesn’t feel fair. I’ve had all this time to get to know you, and I can’t say the same for the other drivers.” You teasingly retorted.

“I'll let the guys know they're in a tight race for your heart." He snickered. The man was on the verge of tears when his manager came by to remind him of his impending flight. “Flight’s in an hour, Lando,” snapped him right back to reality.

He entrusted you with his bags as he ran out to run a quick pre-flight errand. You couldn’t help but squeal the second Lando had vanished from view. What kind of magic was in the air at this airport and could it be bottled?

You tapped through your best friend’s Instagram stories as you awaited his return. The nearly empty lounge echoed as Lando asked a nearby gentleman for a pen and jotted something down. Breathless, he handed you a card, urging you to read it later.

"Your shoelace is untied," he mentioned, and as he bent down to tie it, his blue-green eyes met yours. 

The British racing driver left your life in the abrupt way he had entered it. You took in the card, decked out with drawings of mac and cheese, milk and cereal, and avocado and toast, captioned "Better Together" at the bottom.

It was the only card in the store, but it felt just right. You highlighted “words of affirmation” as your love language, so I thought I’d give this a go. Thanks for keeping me company. Talk soon? - LN 

His number was scribbled at the end. You quickly changed your lock screen widget to showcase his stats and took a screenshot to send his way.

New look. I might be biased, but I think you just became my favorite driver. Let's see if you can keep it up.

He replied right away.

I like the sound of that. When can I see you again?

[thebadboyfanclub]

Together As One (Daemon x Reader)

So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!

Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.

That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.

Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.

“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”

(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.

(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.

She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?

-

“Mother”

“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”

“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”

“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”

(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.

“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”

“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”

Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”

“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”

“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”

“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”

(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?

“How is the king?”

“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”

“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”

“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”

(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.

“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”

Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.

“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”

“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”

-

(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.

Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.

“My Love”

“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”

“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”

“Viserys? What about- no”

“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”

(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.

“Viserys”

Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.

“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”

“What does Elora have to do with this?”

“She is to be queen, she needs her father”

“Queen? Have you gone mad?”

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.

“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”

“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”

“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”

“This is not a matter to discuss”

“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”

Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.

“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”

Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.

(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.

“You may enter”

“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”

(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.

“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”

“Right away”

The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.

Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.

(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.

“My dearest loves”

Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.

“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”

“Father I-“

“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”

“I will do anything to see you happy”

“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”

Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.

“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”

“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”

‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.

“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”

“I will be waiting for you”

Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.

“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”

“I spoke nothing but the truth”

She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.

Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.

“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”

“The war?”

“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”

“You have gone mad”

“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”

“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”

“Because I love you”

(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.

“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”

“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”

“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”

“You truly mean all this?”

“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”

(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.

“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”

“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”

Requests are open!

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 2

A/N: Highly requested so here you guys go! Enjoy!

<----part 1 part 3---->

DogDay led me outside of the Playhouse and back outside into Playcare. A few feet in front of us was a chicken. A tall yellow chicken. Ah, that must have been KickinChicken. “Hiya KC!” DogDay was still holding my hand but with his other he waved extremely fast to KickinChicken. “Sup DD! Hey, finally got yourself a helper now huh? ‘Bout time dude.” KickinChicken then handed off the kids too, I’m assuming his helper. His helper also matched him as well. Guess that was the uniform for us working with these...tall animal mascots.  

Kickinchicken walked up to me and DogDay. “Names Kickinchicken, the cool member of the Smiling Critters.” DogDay laughed when he said that. “Go on Angel, introduce yourself.” I wasn’t used to seeing animals so tall, it scared me a little. I held out my free hand to KickenChicken and summoned some courage to talk.  

“Hello, I’m Y/N or Angel, doesn’t really matter what you call me. Nice to meet you.” KickenChicken then slapped my hand with his and started to make a handshake with me. I mirrored his movements to understand this new handshake I was given. “Haha, she’s pretty cool DD, you got yourself a rad helper.” He then looked at me up and down. “Not bad looking either.” KickenChicken smiled at me. I was going to comment on that, but DogDay beat me too it. “Look at the time! You better hurry along to your group now KC, don’t want our little friends upset now do we?” “Right, well nice meeting ya Y/N, we’ll chat later.” he spoke as he walked back to his group and helper. DogDay squeezed my hand a bit before leading us to the center of Playcare. “On with the tour!” 

--------------- 

DogDay first showed me the statue in the center. It was all the Smiling Critters. There were eight of them in total: DogDay the leader, Bobby Bearhug the loving one, KickenChicken was the cool one, Hoppy Hopscotch the energetic one, CraftyCorn was the artist in the group, Bubba Bubbaphant the smart one, PickyPiggy the foodie, and lastly there was CatNap, DogDays bestest friend. He supposably makes sure that everyone else gets a good night's rest every day to ensure that they are ready for the next day.  

Next, we went into the Toy Store. DogDay was tall, so he had to walk on all fours. “This is where the children can come and buy some sweet toys of yours truly, and the others!” I smiled and looked around. Sure enough there were plushies of DogDay and the rest of the group. There were also some other toys like a blue limp doll, a dinosaur that matched the lamps outside, what looked like a cat and a bee mixed, and other toys. I picked up a smaller version of DogDay and looked at it. “You said the kids buy these?” “Uh-huh! We give them play money to use around here, that way when they get adopted, they’ll know about the real world and how to manage their expenses.” That was smart of them. I set the plushie back down and followed DogDay outside. 

We then looked at the consoler's office and school. DogDay told me that the consolers office was where the staff would put their belongings in and where parents would go to adopt a child. Only DogDay was allowed in the consoler's office, none of the other Smiling Critters could go in there. I’m not sure why but I didn’t question it. “The school is where the children spend most of their time. I’d take you inside so you could meet Miss Delight and her sisters, but I wouldn’t want to interrupt her teachings.” “That’s okay, I’m sure I’ll get to meet them one day.”  

--------------- 

It was now naptime for the children which meant that the Smiling Critters could step away and hang out all together and just relax. I was in the consolers office to check out my assigned office. Each helper had their own office to get away to when needed. Outside my door was a card that had ‘Welcome’ on the front. I picked it up and walked into my new office. I took a look around, nice office, however what stuck out to me was the big dog bed in the corner.  

I was about to walk over to it until I heard a knock at the door. I set down the card and opened the door, but no one was there. Suddenly DogDays head popped out from the side. “Hiya Angel!” “Ah-” I fell back in shock. As I laid on the floor DogDay hovered over me with a worried expression, his sun pendant laid against my chest. “Angel?! Oh gosh I’m so sorry! Are you okay??!” I did a double-blink and then slowly sat up. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just wasn’t expecting that at all.” DogDay then held out a paw towards me to help me to my feet. I took his paw into my hand and once my hand met his paw his tail started to wag. He pulled me up to my feet and got close to me.   I wasn't used to being this close to anyone, let alone a giant dog so I started to blush. This caught DogDays attention. “Angel your face is really red, are you sick?” I was starting to feel bad, not physically but mentally. I didn’t want him to be worried about me. “I-I’m fine! Really DogDay. So, um what brings you by?” I wanted to change the subject as fast as possible. DogDay then smiled and leaned away from me. “I wanted to see if you liked the card we made!” I went to my desk, picked up the card and opened it. ‘Welcome newest helper, we hope that this job brings you happiness and joy as we do to our children here. We look forward to working with you, signed everyone.’ I did like the letter. 

--------------- 

Me and DogDay started chatting for a while until out of nowhere, I yawned. “Oh my, sorry about that.” Guess I was starting to get a bit tired. “That’s okay Angel. There’s thirty minutes left of nap time; you should rest up!” A power nap did sound good. I nodded and told DogDay that he should go back to his friends, but he shook his head no and picked me up and walked over to the dog bed in the corner. Should’ve known it was his.  

“I’d rather spend my free time with you Angel, plus as your boss you have no say.” He stuck his tongue out and booped my nose with his paw. My face got warm again. He then laid down on his bed and laid me in between his front paws. “You can rest with me Angel; I’ve been told that I’m a very fluffy pillow.” He was very soft and the smell of vanilla on him was almost like a drug to put you to sleep, and it was working. I yawned once more and closed my eyes. DogDays head rested near me. “Rest well my Angel.” was the last thing I heard before drifting off to sleep.  

A/N: Thank you for reading!

[hellodropbear]

it's time. (IV)

mapi leon x ingrid engen x child

part I, II and III

enjoy! this is the final part of the series

please send requests for any one shots for this family because I love them!

~~~~~~

The knock at the door was loud and rapid.

Mapi knew exactly who it was, having received very subtly passive text messages from Alexia about 15 minutes earlier.

Besides, it's not like it was going to be Ingrid, and nobody else visited her at the apartment.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she opened the door, bracing herself for whatever Alexia was going to say to her.

No words ever came out though, the midfielder just striding in and sitting herself on the sofa, her feet right beside where Isabel was playing.

"Ale!" The toddler's voice became excited as soon as she noticed her godmother walking in.

"Hey my Is." Her first words were incredibly exasperated, a long sigh escaping as her attention was turned to Mapi who was standing anxiously by the front door, having frozen after closing it.

"Frido told me that Ingrid is 'dejected and confused.'" She used her hands to make quotation marks around the adjectives before continuing. "She told me exactly what you said to her, how you said it. When you said it."

Mapi exhaled softly, walking over to where she had been playing with her daughter and sitting down, her little black cat settling in her lap.

"You told me to talk to her." Her voice came out like a mouse, quiet and hesitant.

"I didn't mean say one sentence on the pitch after the game and walk away! I meant think about what you wanted to say, how to say it and then have a grown up conversation with her!"

Isabel's head whipped back up, unfamiliar with the aggression in Alexia's voice. The midfielder winced, reducing her voice down to a softer tone.

"You are going to have to fix this Mapi, you can't avoid her like I know you were planning on doing."

The centre back's hands were occupied with the toys, but her mind was far from playing as she considered her options.

"What, so I tell her I want to be friends?"

Alexia nodded easily.

"But what if I can't? She's not someone I can just be friends with, Ale."

"Then you can just see where it takes you."

She shakes her head, her hands freezing around the toys in her hands.

"I wish it were that easy."

Alexia's heart broke with Mapi's voice, only now noticing the heartbreak written all over her best friend's face. Because this is really what Mapi thought was the right thing to do.

"Depriving yourself of happiness for the sake of your child is not going to end well for either of you."

Alexia's voice was softer now, her hand coming to a rest on Isabel's curly head of hair.

But Mapi just shook her head again, disagreeing.

"Isabel doesn't deprive me of happiness, she makes me happy. She's kept me going ever since Luis died."

The midfielder knew this, and she knew how much her best friend loved her child, how much she needed her and how much she relied on her. The baby was everything to Mapi and it was so obvious that she was just so afraid of doing something wrong, of messing up Isabel's childhood.

Everyone who knew the mother knew that wouldn't happen because she has done such a good job of raising the happy baby despite her own problems that she could easily let overcome her.

Once, she told Alexia that she had lost a best friend but been given a new one instead.

Another time, she had said that she would never be good enough for the baby that carries half of Luis around with her. She admitted that every once in a while, she would see tiny bits of her late best friend in her child and be so overcome with emotion.

Because it took her best friend dying to have this baby who she loved so much.

The day of Isabel's birth was a day of huge and conflicting emotions because Mapi loved the baby before she even saw her and couldn't imagine giving her away so quickly, but she also knew that if she hadn't just experienced the greatest heartbreak of her life she would have had to give her back to her parents.

And on top of that, the death of Luis and Isabel meant that they wouldn't be able to watch their little girl grow up, they wouldn't be able to be parents, something both of them desired so greatly.

So she loved her baby daughter so much, but part of that love would always be tainted by what she could have been, what she should have been; the fun aunt.

She was given the baby because she was the next best option after the two perfect parents, and she made a promise to herself that she would spend every day of her life trying to live up to what Isabel could have had.

Why should the baby lose out on such good parenting because of a tragic car accident?

And Mapi knew that she could never and would never break that promise.

Alexia knew that too, but she didn't think that Mapi finding someone to love would break her promise. If Ingrid was the right person, she would love and care for Isabel too, just like she already did.

"I know, Maria. But I think you deserve this, I know you do. If you don't like her like that I'll leave you alone, but I think you do."

Mapi's face softened.

"Of course I like her, Ale. She's kind, she's loyal, she's helpful. Is loves her and she loves Is. She's gorgeous - on the inside and the outside but she is so much more than that. She's complex, Alexia and-"

She was interrupted.

"And so are you. We all are complex and that's good. We all have our own stories and hardships, they just vary in size. You have a big story Mapi, I know. She knows that too."

"She doesn't know."

The centre back shook her head because in truth, she hadn't been able to bring herself to say it.

She had spent hours with Ingrid, every day over the past month they'd seen each other, gone on walks, had dinner together. Of course the topic of how Isabel was born should have come up, because Mapi was obviously a gay woman, it wouldn't have just been an accident.

She'd told Ingrid that she gave birth to Isabel, but nothing more.

Ingrid didn't feel like it was her place to ask any questions, and Mapi didn't know how to say anything more without breaking into tears for her lost best friend. She couldn't tell Ingrid about the pressure she felt because the Norwegian wouldn't have understood. Surely, she couldn't have?

Alexia's eyes rose and then focussed back down on Mapi.

"She doesn't know about Luis? Why you were out for so long?"

She shrugged, letting out a long exhale.

"I said that I gave birth to Isabel and didn't want to leave her so soon to go to training. She didn't ask any more questions. It's not like I lied or anything."

"I think you need to talk to her, Mapi. You don't need to talk about Isabel, but you need to tell her your thoughts. Try and be friends, for the sake of the team, please."

Mapi shrugged, telling Alexia that she would consider it.

The midfielder also suggested visiting the psychologist, but the suggestion was quickly shot down, as it was when Jonatan suggested it on her first day back.

Mapi had been to a psychologist once since Isabel was born, and it was a secret she would likely take to her grave. It had been a low point and she didn't know who to talk to, so she searched up a psychologist in Barcelona and went the next day.

She had sobbed on that sofa as Isabel slept in her arms, entirely unsure of what to do next and how to deal with her career, with her baby and with the grief that consumed her everyday life.

The psychologist had sat there with a neutral face, appearing bored as Mapi poured her heart out. She only spoke when Mapi's cries were reduced to quiet whimpers, telling her that she was depressed and shouldn't have taken on a load as big as a whole child when she was still clearly grieving her best friend.

The referral to the psychiatrist had only made the Spaniard feel worse, and she had returned to her apartment with less security in her decisions than she had before she went.

Another promise was made that day, and that was that she would never return to a psychologist, not unless she was forced to by the club. She would deal with everything else on her own.

~~~~~~

"You've been so good to me, Ingrid, and I'm so grateful. But I'm sorry, I can't do this. I can't have a girlfriend."

The words echoed through Ingrid's mind in the days that followed, unsure of what had happened, where she went wrong.

Mapi was the first person she'd become friends with, and she thought it was going well. She thought the Spaniard had liked her just as much as Ingrid liked the Spaniard, but clearly not. She had read the signs wrong or something, because you wouldn't say that to someone you liked.

She heard Isabel calling for her on the bus on the way home again, but this time she just smiled and waved.

She couldn't bring herself to sit next to Mapi, not when she had left her in the dust as soon as she recited her rehearsed lyric. It was confusion that she felt for a few days, but it didn't take long for that confusion to morph into anger and bitterness.

Frido had been understanding throughout it all, listening to all Ingrid's anger and confusion, advising her over and over to just talk to the Spaniard.

"She's got a child and we don't even know where she came from. It took her 14 months to start training again after giving birth when it usually takes up to 9. There must be something going on, Ingrid. She said she can't have a girlfriend, not that she doesn't want one."

The Norwegian had scowled, brushing off Frido's concern for Mapi and complaining that she was supposed to be on her side.

Frido was, but she was level-headed, she was smart. She wasn't blinded by anger or love or whatever Ingrid felt for the short centre-back with the adorable child.

"I don't want to talk to her, I don't want to go and beg. I just want it to be easy, I wish it was just easy."

Frido shook her head, an arm around Ingrid.

"It's not easy for an average person, let alone someone like Mapi who clearly has so much stuff going on. We don't know if she has anyone to talk to about anything, about raising a child."

"Alexia is like Isabel's other parent, she's been there since day one, apparently. Mapi's mum and Alexia were the only ones at the hospital when Isabel was born. She's not completely alone."

Ingrid shrugged but Frido frowned, becoming more and more curious about Mapi found herself with this child, and what the mystery was.

It wasn't her business, Frido knew that, but everyone was so proud of the Spaniard when she went back to training, her first game back. Their pride in the special centre back was more important than anything else after a long two years off.

And Mapi's emotions on that first day, the seemingly happy tears that she had wept in the changing room. They felt like more than happiness about a return to football.

Although, Frido couldn't be sure. Maybe Mapi just loved football more than anything else, a perfectly reasonable and realistic explanation to the emotions that were witnessed that day.

Ingrid knew it was more than that, more than just a return to football that had made her so happy. Because Ingrid knew Mapi, and while football was important to the Spaniard, it was nowhere near as important as her life outside of the sport: her friends, her family. Her daughter.

It was something that Ingrid was so drawn to. It was clear on the pitch how much she loved the sport, how she thrived when she was playing it. But outside of that... it was like she didn't play football.

Her apartment was like a sanctuary, a place cut off from the rest of the world where Isabel could live in naive happiness and Mapi could rest with her baby and her cat. It exuded happiness, bright colours and toys displayed, the fridge decorated with bits of scrap paper covered in a selection of scribbled lines. Mapi would draw Ingrid's attention over to the fridge when a new piece appeared, bragging about how her child was an artistic genius, how she would grow up to be just like her Mami.

She was so full of love for someone so small and it made Ingrid's heart weak, unable to fully comprehend the stark difference between Mapi at football and Mapi with Isabel.

She fell in love, she thought, with both versions of her.

With the one who would carelessly block dangerous shots, carefree and boisterous on the field, assertive and aggressive when she needed to be but always running off with a laugh afterwards. She lead the team in a way that even Alexia admired, the young players drawn to her uncanny ability to make everyone laugh.

She fell in love with the one who spoke in a childish voice, relishing in the never ending hugs and kisses that Isabel would provide, swinging her around in the park and never being more than a couple metres away from the baby that she loved so so much. A perfect mother with a perfect daughter, both so full of love for each other.

And Ingrid felt so lucky that she could see both sides of the Spaniard, that she could witness her around two things she loved so much and compare how differently she materialised her love for both of them.

But then she made her return to a competitive game, in Valencia with a perfect comeback.

Ingrid was so excited for her, happy to see her thriving on the field, a place she loved. She played brilliantly as well, quietening all the people who said she shouldn't be there, that she had spent too much time off.

She proved that she had, in fact, been that missing piece of Barcelona in their past two years of struggle, easily filling in the gap with her generational talent.

And the Norwegian was so proud, despite not knowing the whole story, not knowing all the challenges that Mapi had faced between the birth of Isabel and now. She knew enough to be proud and that is all that mattered.

She had smiled brightly at the Spaniard, walking towards her and pulling her into a hug ready to whisper her congratulations.

But Mapi had other plans, her words rendering Ingrid speechless as she walked away, back down the tunnel with Alexia's arm swung over her shoulders.

But the Norwegian felt frozen in time, unsure of what had just happened and why she said whatever she had just said.

She'd been pulled from her frozen state quickly by Frido, who had noticed the interaction and frowned.

It was easy for the Swede to recognise her best friend's crush, and also to recognise how it was so easily reciprocated by Mapi. She hadn't expected Mapi to say what she said to Ingrid, and was suddenly filled with overprotective and frustrated anger.

~~~~~~

Isabel had begun to miss Ingrid's presence after about a week. It was clear when Mapi took her out on her walks, her small head peering out of the pram, trying to spot the tall Norwegian with those warm and comfortable arms.

Mapi brushed it off every time, but it didn't help the pit in her stomach at all.

The Spaniard was lonely, she realised, and she had been since Isabel was born.

Sure, she had a person living with her, but there was only so much she could say to a baby so little without going crazy at the lack of response. Other than the word 'Mami', of course.

She was lonely before Ingrid, and it was only after she pushed the Norwegian away that she realised how she filled that hole so easily.

Conversation had fallen so easily between them and it filled the silences that Mapi had grown so used to as she lived her life with the baby. She enjoyed talking to someone about things that weren't about her grief, her baby.

She enjoyed talking about herself again, simultaneously getting to know Ingrid and  everything she stood for.

She fell for the Norwegian, quickly, but that wasn't hard for her to understand, it hadn't taken her long to realise it.

It was harder to realise that they couldn't be anything more than friends, that she had to push her away - the exact opposite to what she actually wanted to do. She knew Ingrid would be upset. That she'd be confused and angry.

But it's what she knew was right. At least it's what she thought was right.

She wasn't so sure anymore, her heart breaking a little bit more every time Isabel looked around for the Norwegian, her face falling at her absence over and over again.

"Ingrid!"

The lift doors opened to a sweaty Norwegian, headphones in and her eyes on her phone.

Isabel saw her first, Mapi's eyes also on her phone on the trip down.

Both of the adults looked up at each other, Ingrid almost immediately diverting her eyes down to Isabel who was beaming.

"Hello Is! I've missed you!" She smiled at Isabel, and Mapi's smile dimmed slightly.

It was a reminder of what she had pushed away, of everything she couldn't have.

The baby giggled happily, reaching her arms up to try and get Ingrid to lift her.

The Norwegian made eye contact with Mapi, silently checking if it was alright and the centre back nodded easily.

Ingrid tried to ignore the sadness in Mapi's eyes. Maybe the centre back did miss her. Maybe she did regret pushing her away.

Maybe there was a reason why she pushed her away, more than just to hurt the Norwegian.

She picked Isabel up easily and the baby fit perfectly on her hip, planting a kiss on her cheek and wrapping her arms around her neck.

She looked over at Mapi, who was still somewhat frozen by the elevator door.

"Mami! Ingrid." She pointed at the Norwegian. "Play!"

Mapi shook her head.

"No, Is. Ingrid can't come with us."

The baby frowned, tilting her head at Mapi.

"Why?"

"Because she's just been on a walk! She can't go on two."

The Spaniard's voice was weak and Isabel's lip trembled, her smile disappearing as she understood her mother's words.

"No!"

She began to cry and Mapi stood frozen on the spot, completely unsure of what to do.

She wasn't a bad mother, she was better than this. She knew how to calm her crying baby but for some reason she just couldn't move.

She bit back her own tears, refusing to let Ingrid see her cry, to see her so weak and helpless with her baby when she was supposed to be a strong and independent mother.

Ingrid let Isabel cry into her neck, rocking her softly and staring at a frozen Spaniard.

"It's fine, Mapi. I can come."

She frowned at her still frozen form, unsure how else she could deal with the situation.

Mapi didn't know either, but she nodded, somewhat misunderstanding Ingrid's offer when she shoved the pram over to her.

"I can't, I can't deal with this right now." Mapi felt hysterical, but she tried desperately to keep it together. "Please just take her, calm her down. She hates me, she hates me so much."

It wasn't true, obviously, because Isabel loved Mapi more than anything.

But Ingrid knew Mapi, and she knew she wouldn't listen to anything that she had to say in attempts to comfort her.

"I'll take her, come back in an hour or so and you sort yourself out, Mapi. She's confused, she doesn't hate you. She just got used to me and then you got rid of me and is confused about it all. She's only little. So go back to your apartment, calm yourself down and sort yourself out. I'll calm her down and bring her back in one piece."

Mapi nodded aggressively, stepping backwards into the closed lift doors, awkwardly pressing the button as Ingrid walked away with her still crying baby.

It was only when she reached her apartment again that everything hit her. The confusion, the guilt, the stress, the embarrassment.

And she cried. She let everything out as loud as she could because for the first time in so long she was alone in the apartment, no child to hear her cry, no friends to help her work through the emotions.

It never worked, either. Crying was the best way for Mapi to release everything, she realised and she took advantage of the empty apartment as she realised that she hadn't been able to cheer her own daughter up, she had passed off to her teammate as she cried.

She was weak, she was a terrible mother.

She couldn't do it anymore.

Luis would be disappointed.

Worse, Luis would be heartbroken.

And that's what she thought as she fell asleep, the tears tiring her eyes until they dropped closed, sending her off to a restless sleep on the sofa.

~~~~~~

"Wake up, Mapi."

She must have forgotten to lock the door because Ingrid had walked in as she slept and was now sat on the other side of the sofa.

Mapi's eyes snapped open, looking around in confusion before sinking back into herself as she realised it was not just a dream.

"Isabel is ok. She's asleep and I put her down in her cot. She stopped crying pretty quickly and was happy at the park. She fell asleep in her pram on the way back."

Mapi nodded, sitting up and wiping her eyes.

"You need to tell me what's going on."

The Spaniard frowned. There was a lot going on.

"Which bit?" She smiled weakly, faltering under the Norwegian's harsh gaze.

"Why you said what you said. Why you just froze when Isabel was crying, practically running away and letting me deal with it. Why you came up here and cried yourself to sleep. I deserve to know this. I at least deserve to know why you pushed me away so easily and so suddenly."

If there was a time that Mapi wished the floor would swallow her whole, it was right then and there. Because she wasn't prepared for this conversation, she didn't know how she was supposed to have it without breaking down all over again.

It wasn't an easy topic, talking about why she can't date which is what had caused the whole debacle. It opened the whole story about Luis and how Isabel was created.

And of all times, this night was the worst possible time for Mapi to speak about Luis. Right after she realised how disappointed he would be in her parenting, how sad he would be that his daughter was being raised by someone so incapable.

It was funny, really, how one tiny situation could change Mapi's entire perspective, how it could completely destroy any confidence she had about her parenting abilities.

She didn't want to talk about it, not at all. But Ingrid was right there, a judgemental yet somewhat concerned eye focused on the Spaniard who seemed to be struggling to form a sentence.

The silence lasted multiple minutes and Ingrid was about to speak again right before Mapi opened her mouth.

She didn't know what she was going to say, but she knew she needed to say something, so she did.

She started at the beginning, with Isabel's health issues and Ingrid had no idea where it was going.

Why did it matter that Mapi's best friend's wife was sick?

But very quickly, as Mapi spoke about their desires to become parents, everything began to fall into place.

And the Norwegian was horrified by the tragic story she was hearing, a lump in her throat forming as the mother lamented how she was the only option left to raise Isabel, how she was alone in her final trimester until Alexia came over two weeks later and found out that Luis had died, that her best friend had been left behind with his unborn baby, her life changed forever.

His genetics still growing inside her long after he took his final breaths.

Mapi didn't stop as her voice broke, moving away from the topic of Luis and onto how much Isabel meant to her, how much she worried that she would make a mistake, that her friends would have made such better parents than she did.

How she had to have full focus on raising Isabel and couldn't be distracted by anything - she couldn't be distracted by football in the beginning which is why she took so long to come back. How she can't be distracted by a girlfriend now, which is why she pushed Ingrid away.

Ingrid wiped a tear away as Mapi's fell freely, continuing to explain how she had been depressed but unable to get herself any help after the one disastrous trip to the psychologist.

How she felt incapable of unloading her issues onto others, only telling Alexia the necessary stuff to stop her from nagging.

"Luis would be so disappointed in me because I have ruined everything. I can't do anything by myself and I never should have agreed to keep her. I love her so much, I don't want to ruin her."

That was where the Spaniard stopped, seemingly overcome with emotion as she broke down into her hands, Ingrid quick to move to her side and pull her into a warm hug.

"You're so wrong, Mapi. So wrong. I've never heard anyone be more wrong in my life. You are the best mother Isabel could ask for and it hurts that you can't see that."

Mapi could only cry, too conflicted to even try and decide what was true.

"Ale said I needed to talk to you, to fix things. Because I don't want you to hate me and I definitely don't hate you. But Ingrid, we can't just be friends, you know that."

She looked up at the Norwegian, who easily noticed the anguish all over her face.

"Why don't we try? See where it takes us. We can figure it out together, Mapi, you don't have to do everything alone."

She nodded, trying to convince the both of them that they could try.

And Mapi nodded hesitantly.

"Isabel does like you."

Ingrid chuckled quietly, nodding.

"Not as much as she loves you. She was asking for you about 2 minutes after we left. You are so good to her."

Mapi smiled, leaning into Ingrid's embrace.

"I don't think I can be just friends with you, Ingrid. I think that's why I've been so upset."

Ingrid hummed in agreement, waiting for her to continue.

"I've been so worried about losing you and so worried about being distracted from Is. But I don't think I ever could be, I don't think you'd ever let me be."

The Norwegian chuckled.

"I don't think she'd ever let you, she loves the attention too much."

And just like that, Mapi knew.

Ingrid was the right person, the person Alexia had been going on about for years, since before Isabel was even considered.

"And Mapi?"

Mapi looked up, her eyes meeting Ingrid's.

"I don't think I could ever just be friends with you either."

She smiled, placing her hand around Mapi's neck and drawing her close.

Mapi leaned in closer and waited for Ingrid to finally close that small gap.

And then Ingrid's lips were on hers, a promise, a declaration of love.

And Mapi made another promise to herself, right then and there.

She would never let Ingrid go.

~~~~~~

right so that’s the end! hope you’ve enjoyed so far!

not the end of Isabel Leon because I already have a few requests for her that have been thought about or planned (some of them)

I also have the blurb of her at the Olympics (2032) doing her sport that nobody has guessed so I’ll give you an obvious clue - it’s an action sport lol

I’m considering putting her in something else too but they’re like polar opposite disciplines so let me know if you think yes or no

and please send me requests because I want to write more about Isabel!

thanks for reading and for the love on this story, you’ve made me cry from all the nice messages

have a good day :)

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your daughter really wants a cat, and you're adamant that the answer is no... until it starts to look like a yes.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sanji x wife!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: daughter oc, sanji and reader have a child, chaos ensues, no use of Y/N

𝐚/𝐧: a very happy mother's day to all the mothers out there! had this in the drafts so i decided today would be the perfect day to finish it :)

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“So unfair!”

“Dyla! Dyla!” You called after your daughter as she sprinted down the hall, nearly slipping on her socked feet, and disappeared around the corner. A door slammed a second later. 

You ran a hand over your face as your husband sauntered in from the kitchen, eyeing the hall as if to see that the coast was clear. Sanji had a habit of disappearing the moment your daughter showed signs of a tantrum.

Today was one of the worst ones, all because you’d told her no. Sighing, you managed not to throttle Sanji when he grinned and offered you a cookie, fresh from the oven. You swiped it and took a bite, letting the stress roll off your shoulders as the cookie melted on your tongue. 

“What’s she fussing about?” Sanji wondered, prompting you to roll your eyes to the heavens as you shoved the whole cookie in your mouth, swallowing it too early and wincing as you choked it down.

“She wants a cat,” you told him as you placed your hands on your hips.

Sanji raised a brow. “And you said no?”

“Of course I said no!” You pinched your brow. “We can’t take care of a cat.”

“... Why not?”

You shot him a sharp look, gesturing toward the window giving you a beautiful view of the sea and her rolling waves. The small ship rocked underneath you. “I’ll give you one guess.”

He followed your gesture and had the nerve to shrug, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So? Cats love water.”

You flicked his forehead and swept over to clean up the pile of blankets Dyla had left out from her pillow fort. “Wrong. They hate water.”

“A cat would chase off the mice?”

“Whose side are you on, Sanji?” You tossed all the blankets into one pile as your gaze was drawn back down the hall again. 

“No one’s, my love,” he said softly, resting his hands on your shoulders and rubbing small circles on your back. “I’ll talk to her. Maybe Aunt Nami will make her a stuffed cat when we dock in a few days.”

That brought a smile to your face, though only slightly. Sanji pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “She’ll be over it in an hour.”

“You sure?”

“Aren’t I always?”

“... I won’t dignify that with a response.”

And sure enough, three days later, when you docked in Cocoyashi Village, Dyla’s mood had improved greatly. Hopefully, by the time your family returned to your sea-top restaurant drifting somewhere in the East, Dyla will have given up on her cat fixation.

That was until Aunt Nami promptly squashed all your hopes.

“Aww, c’mon,” Nami whined, a pouting Dyla on her hip. “Let ‘er have a cat.”

Sanji barely choked back a laugh at the way your whole face fell at your daughter’s sudden excitement. You ran your hand over your face, pulling at your skin, and shot Nami a glare. “Our lifestyle isn’t ideal for a cat.”

Dyla groaned, dropping her head onto Nami’s shoulder. Catching your eye, Nami chuckled nervously. “Oh, yeah. I don’t think a kitty would like living on the water, kid.”

Again, a prolonged whine came from your child. Nami pursed her lips, obviously trying to think of something, before her face brightened. “Hmm, does it have to be a cat?”

Dyla lifted her chin, head tilted. “Huh?”

“Your pet. Does it have to be a cat?”

Your daughter spent a moment in thought, her eyes flickering to side as if assessing invisible calculations, before she shrugged. “I guess not.”

Nami beamed at her and shot you a grin. “Perfect! What if we find a pet that would love being at sea, huh? I think your mom would compromise.”

Dyla’s hopeful eyes found you in an instant, and you grinned halfheartedly. “If you find a pet that likes water, and promise to take care of it… I’ll say yes.”

She let out a giddy squeal, squirming out of Nami arms and racing toward the rows of tangerine trees. Dyla wasted no time in digging around in the dirt. She talked to herself off in the distance, tripping over roots and kicking around fallen, rotten fruits. Nami bumped your shoulder with her own, now standing between you and your husband. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed softly. “With our luck, she’ll bring back a cobra.”

“Compromise,” Nami sang, starting toward the little girl now hanging from a low tree branch, screaming for help at the top of her lungs. 

Sanji swept around and took both your hands, quickly drawing you away with a tiny smirk on his lips. You raised a brow. “Yes?”

“The others will be here by evening,” he said. “Which means we only have a few hours to ourselves.”

Shooting a glance back over your shoulder, you found Nami somehow waving you off whilst she held Dyla’s legs up, the girl monkey-barring up and down the branch. You whipped back around and gripped Sanji’s hand in a vice, giggling like a kid again. “Let’s go.”

Up and down the streets of Cocoyashi’s neighboring port, if you could even call the little village a port, you and Sanji raced and teased and danced around markets and docks. His lithe fingers tickled at your slides as he ducked through the meager crowd, and your sneaky hands tugged at his hair before you darted behind a stack of crates.

Sanji’s arms caught your middle when you tried the trick again, laughter spilling from your lips. Chests heaving, he released you just enough for you to spin in his arms and peck his lips. People were staring, sure, but neither of you could care less. 

Sanji suggested the pair of you find something to thank Nami for babysitting. Halfway into agreeing, you spotted something… odd, just over his shoulder. Lightly tapping his arm you moved around him and slinked toward the tower of metal crates resting in the shade of a building. Beside it a market stand of various jewels and fine metals were being sold. 

“You wanna get her a necklace or somethin’?” Sanji wondered aloud, promptly guiding you forward with a hand on your back till you dug in yoru heels and grabbed him by his shirt sleeve. You only shook your head, slowly approaching the vendor. 

You stopped in front of the crate tower, and only then did Sanji realize what the matter was. Within the confines of the very bottom crate was a creature, curled into itself. Its little body was orange and striped and shivering. As you knelt on the ground, two of the tiniest fear-filled yellow eyes peered out at you.

Emotions welled up within you. Reaching out a hand to tap the cage bar, your heart tightened around nothing when the cub flinched away. “That can’t be comfortable, can it…”

“Ah!” The creaky voice of the vendor interrupted your thoughts. “I see you’ve found my little friend!”

Your eyes darted up to find a sorry excuse for a man staring down at you. Sanji stood over you with a matching scowl. The vendor simply kept on with that irritating glow in his eyes. “Right from the jungles of Little Garden!”

Slowly, you rose from the ground and settled the man with a steely look. A thousand possibilities came to mind, but only one arose to topple the rest (a possibility you saw yourself regretting in the very near future). “How much?”

“You won’t find a better—Wait.” The man stammered, hands clasping together as an excited laugh left him. “Of course! You’re very direct, dear! I like it!”

Sanji’s lips curled. “Just tell me the price.”

The man choked on air, cheeks flushing. “Yes, of course. Apologies.” He paused and did a little mental math, taking in the livid expressions on his clients' faces, and also the fact that they seemed in no mood to bargain. “Three thousand berries.”

The expected lashing out, followed by heated bartering, never came. Sanji only reached into his coat pocket and slipped out the appropriate amount of paper slips, slamming it all down on the wooden stand. The vendor’s mouth was agape as he scrambled to pick it all up, absolutely ecstatic at the course of events. “Lovely doing business with you!”

You held back from spitting out what you really wanted to say, instead turning and shoving the tower of crates over, sending them all crashing to the ground. A lid popped off and sent several copies of a supposedly one-of-a-kind bracelet across the market ground (a young woman in the business of purchasing one scoffed and swiftly swept away). 

Together, you and Sanji left the scene and the vendor in hindsight, a cramped little crate in the arms of your husband. 

Sanji looked down at the crate, then back at you. Your face hadn’t lost that fuming sort of look all the way back to Cocoyashi. “Darling?”

“Hmm?” You blinked suddenly, as if waking up from a bad dream. “Sorry. What?”

“Are you all right?”

You puffed out a sigh. “I’m fine.” Casting the crate a look, “Just wallowing in my hypocrisy.”

“Someone will be happy, though,” Sanji laughed.

You reached Nojiko’s house to find it empty, save for the sleeping form of your host in the dark of her bedroom. Sanji set the crate on the kitchen table and only then did you plop down and run your ahnds through your hair. “I’m too impulsive.”

Sanji came up behind your chair and kissed your head. “No. Just passionate.” He nosed your hair. “I thought it was sweet.”

“Sweet or not,” you started, “we’re down three thousand berries and up one… tiger cub.”

Sanji dropped down to be eye level with the opening of the crate. “I think he’s cute.”

Your husband softened his eyes and inched his hand forward, unthwarted by the cub curling away from his reach. “Dearest, grab some dried tangerines, yeah?”

Choosing to humor him (do tigers even like tangerines?), you rounded the table and swiped a few dried slices form the bowl on the counter. Sanji bounced on his heels like a kid on Christmas, slipping a slice through the bars and waiting. To your great surprise, only seconds passed before the cub lunged forward and took the slice in his little jaws.

Sanji laughed, bright eyes darting up to you. “He likes it!”

You set a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to peer in on your new friend, a grin tugging at your lips. Those little yellow eyes blinked widely as he swallowed all of the treat, a low gurgle signaling his request for more. 

Nami and Dyla returned three hours later, your daughter perched on her aunt’s shoulders. Luffy and Chopper were right on their trail after meeting them at the docks, Usopp met up with them on the trail to the orchard, and Zoro appeared somewhere between the docks and the house having little to say about how he got there. 

The door swung open and the lot was faced with a peculiar sight; you and Sanji on Nojiko’s couch, which wouldn’t have been odd at all if it weren’t for the tiger curled up on Sanji’s lap. 

Nami’s jaw was on the floor, her eyes filled with mirth. She met your eyes and couldn’t hold back her laugh. “That isn’t compromise. That’s conceding.”

Rolling your eyes, you defended weakly. “Plans changed.”

Dyla slid from Nami’s shoulder in one swift motion, on trepid feet as she approached the couch. Her eyes flickered from you and her father before landing on the cub. “Mom?”

“Yes,” you playfully exasperated. “He’s ours.”

She hesitated, eyes widening when the cub yawned, showing off his little fangs. Sanji, barely able to hide his smile, nodded to the bowl on the table. “Bring ‘im a tangerine, love.”

Scrambling to do as he asked, she came back with the whole bowl in hand as the group settled in around the kitchen. Nami hopped onto the table as Zoro leaned beside her, the pair watching on in mixed awe and hilarity. 

Zoro scoffed as Dyla squealed at the feel of the cub’s sandpaper tongue on her hand. Despite the apparent smile on his face, he declared to Nami, “If I ever start gettin’ domestic, slap me.”

Nami decided to keep to herself that she knew for a fact Zoro learned to cook just to ensure Luffy ate more than raw materials three meals a day, and that the white powder under his jaw was definitely flour from making pancakes that morning. She pat his shoulder with a shake of her head. “Sure thing, mosshead.”

They tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Dyla scratch at the cub’s head and announce for them all to hear, “His name is… is… Strawhat!”

The only one to humor the name at all was Luffy, who jumped over to kneel beside Dyla as if he only just tuned into what was happening, his hat hung on the back of his neck. You chuckled wryly. “You sure? You can think of something—”

“Strawhat.” Dyla crept closer to the little tiger, locking eyes with the creature and having some sort of surreal connection only a child could understand. “His name is Strawhat.”

Strawhat mewled as if to agree, pawing at Dyla’s pigtail. 

“He’s really cute!” Luffy bellowed through a laugh, waggling his fingers in front of the cub’s face and getting a swipe of claws in return. “Hey, easy, buddy!”

“Quiet down!” Nojiko appeared in all her sleepy glory, hands bracing herself on the door frames, and her eyes scanned over the room till she found Strawhat. She silently blinked and breathed till she shook her head and retreated into her room, murmuring under her breath. 

Luffy broke the silent moment by tucking his hat on Dyla’s head, dragging another stifled laugh from her. Strawhat crawled toward her till they were nose to nose, and the cub sneezed so suddenly Dyla lurched backward. A laugh bubbled out of you, hardly hidden behind your hand as you leaned into Sanji. The day’s events quickly caught up to you as your eyes fluttered upon the scene of Luffy and Dyla playing with the tiger cub, now feeling safe and content in that little house with your daughter. 

Sanji’s lips found your temple as you struggled to stay awake. Across the room, Zoro rolled his eyes while Usopp and Nami awed, and Chopper finally joined in on the fun and started up a conversation with the little tiger cub. 

Safe to say Nojiko was irate by morning, but Dyla smile was positively brilliant.

[thesilentsongbirds]

Yandere men the first time you return their affections

Characters: Xiao, Diluc, Zhongli, Ayato, Childe

TW: mentions of sex, captivity, general yandere content, isolation and manipulation, drugs with Childe

~~~~~~~

Diluc

Oh Diluc would be a mess. The first time you hand brushes his cheek? He completely freezes, standing stiff as a board and wondering if it actually happened.

He'd blush, turning his gaze away even as he steps closer to you. You thought his clinginess was bad before? It's worse now.

He's a starving man who's been given just a sip of water

Now he wants the rest. He almost needs to have your loving touch

And he'll do anything to get it

Xiao

Doesn't react, doesn't even seem to notice. You get a blink, maybe. But other than that he doesn't react.

He will admit the hug feels nice but he doesn't get human interaction. He's seen other humans hug, but he's never had one.

It's not like he left you alone for long! What's a few weeks in the span of a lifetime. You have everything you need in the teapot.

When you finally pull back, not completely letting him go, you see the lightest blush in his cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears.

Doesn't understand it, but definitely wants another one once he has time to process.

Also will not hesitate to leave you alone for a couple more weeks in the hopes that you might give him another hug.

Zhongli

Oh boy.

It's in your contract to be affectionate. As husband and wife would be. But willingly? You've always kept that from him.

His breath hitches the first time you willingly lean against him or cuddle him.

He's like someone who has a cat unexpectedly sit on them. Nope. Sorry. Can't do his archon duties today. He can't move.

But then his arm is around your waist and something breaks in you, a little bit of that iron will that attracted the archon of stone to you in the first place.

It's fine. Don't think about that right now. His hand is so warm and soft, rubbing up and down your back.

After all, you have a contract for eternity. And Zhongli is nothing but patient waiting for you to break down even more.

Ayato

This prideful man. Absolutely no shame in him.

Becoming the mistress to the Kamisato clan was already hard for you. Ayato tried to make it better, but he was busy. There's a lot of work to be done.

He often works late, and by extension so do you. He doesn't want to put a lot of work on you, but it's healthy to share the burden, isn't it?

He doesn't realize how late it is until your head falls against his shoulder, breathing soft and even. Ayato freezes, glancing at the clock from the corner of his eye. It is rather late.

You hardly shift as he picks you up, cradling you in his arms. A small murmur leaves your lips, gentle and soft.

Your eyes barely open through the haze of sleep. Ayato nuzzles your head, and without thinking of the consequences you lean into the touch, nuzzling back and burying your face into the crook of his neck. You're asleep before you can think about it.

Ayato almost preens. He's waited too long for you to return his affections. You've opened a door you can't close.

Give this man an inch and he'll take several. Or rather you will later.

Childe

Childe just has one thought the first time you touch him

Finally

It took long enough for it to kick in. He'll have to up the dose next time, but for now your movements are uncoordinated and sloppy

But that just makes you cute. The glazed over eyes are so cute. You really are perfect.

Sure, he likes it when you fight back, but sometimes he'd also like you to want to touch him.

Or to get down on your knees for him. After all, he provides and protects you, the least you could do was worship him a bit.

He should have done this ages ago.

[pedge-page]

Joel dealing with Preggo Wife # 7: House Pet

Can be read with others in series or standalone

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight Daddy kink, suggestive of oral M receiving, annoying reader and annoyed Joel

18 + ONLY

- - - -

You watch one depressing commercial of shivering dogs left emaciated in the cold begging for love and care, and all the water in your entire body comes flooding out in tears.

“J-j-j"—snUFFF—“JOeeeOEeeeoelllLLLL!!!" You wail, wiping your snot on his shirt sleeve while curled up against him. “THEY NWEEEDDD MWEEEEE!!!!”

“You wanna donate?”

N-d—nooo--“sniffle—“wanna -wa-wanna aa-ad-ad-opt—“

He chuckles like its some obvious joke, but when he sees the absolute shine in your giant eyes staring pleadingly at him, he puts his foot down as gently as possible: “Honey, we can’t have a dog right now. With you—being like this, and a baby on the way, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. Wanna make sure you and babygirl are well taken care of first, okay?”

There’s a tense silence hanging in the air as you seize a breath in your throat. 

And then you’re LOSING IT, whining and crying like a child into his face.

“Jesus,” he mumbles softly, gently stroking your hair, hushing little shhhhh into your forehead and rocking you in his arms like a baby in a cradle— a giant baby stuffed with another baby currently rattling the emotions of the big baby.

 He's given you a cup of water for bed and tucking you in, picking up the litany of tissues tossed around you, while you refuse to quit your puffy eye’d and endless barrage of tears. 

By the next morning, swollen lids yet calm, he thought he’d heard the last of it last night. And you were doing much better mood wise—no cries, though a little cold shoulder to him. He gives you a few hours till you’re over it and asking for ice cream like nothing happened. 

Until now, five days later where every minute is just a retort to his face about getting a dog.

When you best friend comes over to give you extra baby clothes:

"Aww your girl named her puppy Winston? That's so adorable! Joel, ya hear that??” You peak loudly so he can hear from the kitchen. “Too bad I don’t have a puppy named Winston.”

"When you have our daughter, she can get a puppy named Winston"

"Oh! Already picking her over me for getting a dog?"

He rolls his eyes, tuning out to focus on making you biscuits that are too salty so you’ll have something else to whine about.

-

During movie night:

“…If only I had a dog to help keep my feet warm on the couch.”

He shovels a fist full of popcorn into his tilted back, wide mouth. “‘At’s what a blanket’s for.” he yanks your favorite soft one over your toes and keeps his eyes on the TV.

-

To the neighbor that just fucking moved in two weeks ago:

"Joel doesn't kiss me enough. If I had a dog, I wouldn't complain as much since the pup would love me unconditionally."

He grits his teeth, excusing himself to the bathroom.

-

At Tommy’s place for a Sunday BBQ:

“Bought the wood second hand—I re constructed our living room myself,” he says braggingly, drawing a beer from the cooler.

"Yeah, Tommy, it’s real nice.” You charm, and you can already see Joel's fist clench at his side. “Would look even better with a dog in the window."

-

“Wish I had a fluffy dog to cuddle instead of your big ass."

-

"My husband spoils me so much. He usually gets me anything I want without asking! Unless it's a dog ..."

-

Joel finishing adding furniture to the baby room.

"You know what else this room could use?” 

"A dog bed, a dog blanket, a dog.”

-

"If you say-one more-god damn thing-about the dog..." he huffs.

"What dog? We don't even have a dog."

"We don't-need one. Got a cat in the house already."

He thrusts in again with a grunt, your trail of thought disappearing for a second just as Joel’s fat cock penetrates you.

 The two of you are lying sideways on the bed, his chest pressed flush against your back. With your leg just barely propped up with his masculine arm hooked under your knee, a hand splayed protectively over your big belly, he has enough room to slot his length into your achy sopping cunt, slowly fucking you with harsh little jolts. You grip the back of his neck, fingers clutched in his sweaty locks, feeling his hot breath dampening your collar. 

He lets out a pained hiss. “This lil pussy right here is all the animal I can handle now. Now quit it.”

His hips begin to crash lightly over your ass, rutting his tip deeper into you with muffled slaps. He loves the sight of your now largely grown thighs jiggling with each impact. Loves the feeling of your swollen breasts suffocating his other hand. Loves the knowledge of his wife so stuffed full of him for everyone to see. 

You moan lightly, clenching around him at the leisure, unhurried yet pent up pleasure coursing through you. But your mind wonders again. “If you don't want a rescue we can get a certain breed: How about a malnoise? Or something smaller like a corgi? Or aussie. Oh Pitties are so cute!"

He rolls his eyes, nose buried in your hair. How are you even able to have a coherent conversation right now while he's rearranging your guts? Rather than hushing you with another quit it, he decides to entertain you. "Jesus woman. Ain't pitties all mean?"

"Nooooo —mmm baby, right there—“ you whine, panting in sync as you lowly try to hump him back. “Protective, intimidating looking.” You smile, mouth agape and eyes closed when he hits that sweet spot deep inside.  “Just—like you, big ol sweethearts…Who give their wives exactly what they fucking want—like a dog."

“Christ.” The hand from under your leg glides over your wet clit, his rough digits rubbing fast circles while his other free arm  unfolds from under your throat to grip it lightly. His knees bend so he can rock just his hips with ferocious power, railing with the intent to fuck you so dumb, you can’t help but shut up. “One more peep and I'm switching us up and gonna fuck you like one.”

You really didn’t want to —resorting to this lounging position because your back hurt too much to be fucked doggy, and the baby weighed too heavily to ride him. Thank God his cock was fucking huge—it could reach deep into you at any position. No fucking wonder you got pregnant so easily. 

“no- no Daddy, I'll be good," you hum. "Unfff—mmm-yeah—yeah! Fuuuck—fuck me baby that’s it!” You shout. Joel’s hand works endlessly on your little nub, now at the mercy of his ministrations to get you off since you can’t reach yourself anymore. You grip your belly and cry, walls convulsing around his meat with a much needed orgasm. Joel follows suit not too long after, biting your shoulder as his hips still against your ass, pumping you full of his pearly cum.

The two of you stay in the same position, breathing heavily as you come down from your respective highs. 

His eyes close, breath slowing and getting deeper in relaxation as his fingers lightly dance over your swole bump.

You feel the gentle cooling breeze of the fan spinning above you. Sighing contently now filled with your husband’s love and caressed with his tender hands. 

 “…So I was thinking, when we get a dog..."

"WE ARE NOT GETTIN’ A DOG AND THAT’S FINAL."

-

Tommy comes over and can tell something is up between you two.  When Joel leaves the room, he asks "so what is it this week with Joel?"

"He won't get me--what do you mean THIS week??"

"Nothing nothing, he won't get you a what?"

"A dog. I want a dog. He doesn’t want a dog. So I don’t understand why he can’t compromise and get a dog.”

He laughs. “Honey, cuz that’s not a compromise. You know why he won't get you one, right?"

"Cuz he doesn't want to take care of me, a baby, and the dog at the same time"

"Nah. He's worried you'll only want the dog’s affection, and the baby gets the rest of your attention. Then you won’t have anything left for him.”

“…Oh!"

-

Later that night, Joel is still steaming from your earlier conversation after sex, having no regard for listening to another thing you had to say the rest of the day. You waddle into the bedroom, looking apologetic as possible with your hands held behind your back. He only looks up from the bed to see you: in his large T shirt with nothing else, freshly lavender scented from your bath, and big pleading child-like eyes full of sorrow. He purses his lips before returning to his book, glasses perched on his nose.

You approach Joel with an apology gift that you hid behind your back: a stuffed wolf.

He smiles gently unable to even pretend to hold his temper against you. you kiss the tip of his nose as he caresses your smoothed bump. “You're my favorite dog anyway,” you say warmly. “Needy. Grumpy. Likes food. Gives me kisses."

“Thought I didn’t give ya enough kisses? Least that’s what you told neighbor.”

“That was—a lie.” You bat your eyes cutely. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, his eyes raking over your curves just barely covered now due to your size. “I don’t know, Daddy might need more apologies — ya did treat me real bad this week.”

You hum sadly, nuzzling yourself against his chest. your hand trails down his firm middle, all the way to the growing tent sticking up from his boxers.

“I can lick it better,” you whisper seductively in his ear, nipping at his pulse point.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

And after one of your famous deep throated blow job with Joel's balls happily emptied in your already full belly, he leans over to his side table and pulls the drawer open, holding something tight in his hand.

You just barely stop yourself from falling asleep with your head on his lap when he dangles a dog collar above your head. You sit up, inspecting it with grubbing hands: it has your home address etched on to the metal plate, but no name on it. 

“What you want me to be your dog? I’ll wear the collar but I’m not getting on my knees, nor crawling around and drinking from dog bowls  and shitting in the yard—“

“No angel,” he shushes you. Although the image of you wearing the collar, naked and heavily pregnant on your knees in front of him wasn’t a bad idea at all…he shakes his head from the delusion. ”Aint for you. Thought about it—but ONLY after have the baby and are settled, and ya know IF —and that’s a mighty big if—we find one that’s not too rough shape, got a good sense about ‘im, then MAYBE I’ll consider it.”

"Oh my god! Thank you! Thankyouthankyou--"

"I said IF sweetheart. Got along road ahead till then."

"I'll give you as many blow jobs as you want."

"You already do that for yourself."

"Yeah but... how about I sit on your face? Fully?"

His ears perk up. "Yeah?"

"After the baby is born," you quip, smirking with more confidence then your swollen body can muster trying to wiggle away from his grasp like a devious chubby oompa lumpa. He just laughs to himself as you slip down the bed, and the sudden urge to pee has you B-lining to the bathroom.

- - - -

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[dreamwritersworld]

His daughter (sully family x reader) part 2

Y/n’s anxiety was the worse growing up, if she hadn’t done it right or if her father didn’t approve she’d panic. Anything she did was effortless and beautiful but neither of them saw that. If you challenged Y/n, she’d prove you wrong immediately.

For as long as Y/n could remember everybody loved her. She never knew exactly what it was. She just knew that she had something special, something intangible, something immeasurable, and it gave her “confidence”.

However no one knew much she put into getting all her skills in check. There was so much stress in such a young girl to please the people. She saw her father as gold at the top of the mountain and her mother’s proud smile as the sweetest item amongst Eywa creations. She wanted their approval so badly..

*

Y/n had scrapes and mud along side her knees and body, it only got worse as she crawled further up the small trunk of a tree. Here she was moving her fastest as she goes against Neteyam who had been given a simpler task of obstacles. She struggled to breathe through the tight space…panicking at the realization that she wouldn’t succeed

I want it, I wanted it bad

The bloodshed and exhaustion was getting to her

but there were so many red flags

When she crawled right through, Neteyam had already been rewarded, the dirtest part of him being sweat and very little mud. Y/n’s sorrow was written all over her face, that afternoon she walked home covered in mud, drops of blood and sweat..she weeped to the empty forest that night begging Eywa to give her the sweetest reward on her…to save her and have her succeed further than she could imagine..

*

She loved her father and his approval, she wanted it more than anyone else. He knew this, he made her dependent and knew she’d crave it. If Y/n couldn’t stay with him forever, he’d find a way so that she would. Sure, Tuk was younger but Y/n was his real baby, she had almost died on him and he wasn’t going to let her go after that.

When Y/n wasn’t with Jake, she was with Neytiri. She wasn’t only her mother but Y/n’s best friend. Their relationship was so strong. On the days Y/n was exhausted she rested her head right on Neytiri’s lap as she played with her hair, she looked like a cat, calmly sleeping in her mother’s lap. It’d be hard to decide weather she was a daddy’s girl or mamas girl…but you’d have to take into consideration that when she was with Neytiri she at least provided a sense of that peace..mamas girl. It was true, Y/n spoke very highly of her mother constantly even if she had betrayed her…

*

Y/n had been speaking to one of the little girls who was asking to learn about human culture that Jake had taught her growing up..

“…mmh and Mother’s Day is the day people celebrate mommies?..”

“yes sweetheart!”

“What do you think about your mother?”

“My mom is a very important person in my life. And I think she taught me a lot of lessons in life, how to respect the public and the rest of my family. And I think it’s very important to have a mother and I want to be like her.”

Y/n’s voice was clear and you can tell she meant every word. The moment was cut short when an adult asked Y/n to aid them in healing..so she left the child alone with her mother. Neytiri’s eyes watered to her daughter’s sweet answer..

“And you? What about you?”

The young child looked dearly and innocently at Neytiri, filled with excitement to get a deeper connection between the two.

“Growing up I always told y/n to not change her way of being. You know, to all the time be humble and caring how she is with everyone..She’s a very special girl. Same as my other kids, all kids are special of course but..without her, I can’t imagine a life without her…she’s very important, she keeps my family together..”

Everything Neytiri had stated was true, Y/n made sure to develop a close relationship with her siblings. Her parents had been so connected to her and all was well with their family, as long as Y/n was there. As soon as Jake was gone she’d comfort her siblings and give them all her love. That was just the type of person she was.

*

Jake and Neytiri ripped Y/n apart. Their love was toxic to the child..

Jake would practically tell Y/n not to listen to her mother when she instructed her to stay behind during training and Neytiri would have Y/n sit on her lap while she cried, it may have seemed sweet until you realized that she was crying from the stress of canceling on her father and him yelling at her while her mother sat and watched..there’s no denying that she’d loved them until her final breathe.

They isolated her..

*

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! What you waiting for?”

“Please come out and play with us!”

“Y/n likes to stay in the house children..she can’t play right now.” (Neytiri)

“Oh..please let her come out and play with us now..”

“She can’t, she has important Navi’s to meet today..” (Jake)

Jake passed a smile at the young children, he heard himself say pure bliss. Y/n was being set up to meet perfect leaders that will help guide her and Neteyam as clan leaders. The child sat in silence with a saddened face, making eye contact with the children right before her father closed the curtain..

M-A-M-A-G-I-R-L

mama’s girl

mama’s girl

D-A-D-D-Y-G-I-R-L

daddy’s girl

daddy’s girl

*

When it was time for dinner in the morning, Y/n ate in silence. Her eyes were red from the crying. Jake didn’t even dare to stare longer, knowing that he too was upset..

Tsireya and Ao’nung had interrupted their breakfast to let them know that they’d be ready to teach as soon as they’re ready and to meet them at their Maui. The entire family walked in silence ready to greet the Tonowari, Ronal and their kids.

Ronal was instructing Tsireya on what’d it be best to start with today..however a certain someone in the small crowd of demon bloods caught her attention. All teens were quietly discussing amongst themselves except Y/n…she was dazed and looking right past Ronal, sheeply smiling at the home.

“Y/n!..are you tired today?”

The exhaustion was practically noticeable to the healer who can feel it. Y/n immediately glanced at her father, seeing his smile had dropped and she was now frightened that he’d be upset and start an argument right then and there.

“..no.”

She passed a gentle smile, attempting for it to wash over.

“No..okay you look a little tired.”

“Perhaps, it’s all the traveling..im sorry. I can assure you , your home and island has done me good the last couple of hours..sorry.”

Ronal was satisfied in Y/n’s answer. Soon it was time to begin training and the adults and children went their separate ways.

Ao’nung didn’t know where he’d even begin to start a conversation with her…but he found a way.

“..so not tired?”

Y/n turned and laughed at his awkward attempt, smiling at his efforts, being silently grateful.

“I am, but that’s between us! Your island is very beautiful..”

“Once you get used to it, it’ll be ordinary..normal!”

“Yea..when it’s not an everyday thing, you’ll learn to appreciate it I guess. Sorry, what’s your name? Just asking so I get it right!”

“Ao’nung, and your Y/n correct?”

“Yes Ao’nung. How about we run in the water together!”

The young boy liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, she said it as though she knew him forever. Y/n made their conversation comfortable, and she even offered a good race. The rest of the practice went well and the group got awfully comfortable. Ao’nung and Y/n connected immediately. When Y/n got home that bond seemed to be the hottest topic at the table..

“How was practice today? Everyone did good?”

“Yes sir! Everyone did great, their ways are different but good to learn.”

Neteyam spoke proudly, despite his sadness about leaving his position back at home he felt good to learn new ways of life.

“..mmh im sure of that. Anything else?”

Everyone knew Jake was trying to get Y/n to talk, but her stubbornness wouldn’t allow it. She was furious with him, he had yet to feel bad about anything he said. Lo’ak however thought it’d be best to make his twin sister smile; he just didn’t realize what he was about to say would be the wrong place to bring it up.

“Ao’nung is crushing on Y/n!”

All four siblings turned to the brother, shocked that he’d bring up the topic they thought they had silently agreed not to.

“Hehe..no he’s not.”

Y/n replied with an awkward frustrated laugh and stern voice, telling her brother to be quiet.

“…Ao’nung mmh…you know you can’t y/n-“

“I never said I would.”

Jake’s face was surprised at how quick she was to talk back and he immediately got defensive.

“Well I’m ordering you not to.”

“Im not a soldier, Ao’nung and I are just friends.”

Y/n had left a distaste in Jake’s mouth that made him no longer want to speak. The family tried moving past it while Y/n stayed silent. In the back of Jake’s mind he was panicking, afraid Y/n wouldn’t focus on training and that she’d fall behind and never learn their way. All the issues would fall like dominos…if she fell behind, she wouldn’t learn, if she didn’t learn she would become dependent on Ao’nung, if he wasn’t there she wouldn’t know what to do, if she didn’t know what to do…she wouldn’t survive at all. He didn’t even take into consideration that Ao’nung was the one teaching her the way of water, he just thought of him as some boy..oh how was he so wrong..

!🎀!

REMEMBER MY INBOX IS OPEN!!!! 💕

@ruyaas-world @neteyamyanw3 @elegantkidfansoul @adaydreamaway08 @luxiniary @venomsvl

[devildomwriter]

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause | Diavolo x Reader

900+ words | GN reader | warnings: Diavolo and reader have a child

The towering pine tree shone brightly in the ballroom of the castle. Barbatos had given in this year to Diavolo’s pleas for an unreasonably large Christmas tree and now you both got to enjoy it reflecting the ornaments across the room.

“I told him it was worth it,” Diavolo, dressed as Santa, grinned proudly. Barbatos sighed and brought in the last stack of gifts you’d prepared for everyone.

“This is all of the gifts. Are you certain you won’t be needing my services anymore tonight, Young lord?” Barbatos asked Diavolo with a worried frown.

“Yes, ___ and I can handle the rest. You like organizing the gifts right?” Diavolo double-checked with you and you nodded enthusiastically.

Diavolo chuckled and Barbatos bowed and made a swift exit, ready to turn in for the night.

“Okay, so they’re in different wrapping paper for different people right?” Diavolo asked and you nodded and began sorting them.

“Where’s Luci’s pile?”

“The dark blue ones with peacock feathers.”

Diavolo started laughing and began to guess the others. “Golden ones for Mammon, Ruri-Chan for Levi, Christmas Cats for Satan….let’s see, the pink ones with kiss lip stains must be Asmo’s. Where did you find such perfect paper?” He asked as he looked everything over.

“The internet.”

“Yes that would make sense…no food ones for Beel?”

“Not all his stuff is food and we don’t want him eating it. The perishables are in the walk-in freezer.”

Diavolo nodded, agreeing with your choice. “So…his paper must be Devilcat? Wise decision! He truly loves that mascot, doesn’t he? And Belphie here must be the clouds, right?” He continued talking to himself as he delighted in the choices of wrapping paper.

He burst into laughter as you handed him one of Luke’s gifts, wrapped in chihuahuas of course.

“Thirteen is the octopus one, Solomon is the magic wands, Raphael is the music notes, Simeon is the quills, Mephistopheles is the My Little Pony—“

“Bahahahahahaha,” Diavolo burst into laughter strong enough that tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Lastly, Barbatos is the British tea set paper, mine is the royal cats, yours are the cutesy animals, and—“

You reached for a gift simultaneously, touching hands. You smiled and took the gift and placed it in the nicest pile. “And these, are Chao’s.”

Diavolo smiled and pulled you into his chest as you sat on the large tree skirt.

“He’s gonna love them,” Diavolo smiled and kissed your forehead.

“It’ll be hard to top Barbatos, I don’t know how he does it,” you sighed. Chao may be yours and Diavolo’s son but every year Barbatos seemed to outshine the two of you gift-wise.

“Barbatos is still hiding his gifts in his room for Christmas morning,” Diavolo shook his head. “He really won’t give us a chance to outdo him, will he?”

You shook your head in agreement, “he’s currying favor already,” you joked and Diavolo laughed and kissed the back of your neck.

You eyed Diavolo up and down, letting your eyes linger long enough for him to notice and he grinned playfully.

“Done delivering gifts for the night?” You asked him sweetly and he nodded, got to his feet, and pulled you up with him.

“There’s just one more thing I want to do for the very special person at the top of my nice list,” he whispered into your ear. “Can you guess what that is?”

You blushed and nodded, “I think I can.”

Diavolo leaned in to kiss you when you both heard an ornament jingle and fall to the floor. Diavolo turned around to investigate and you followed but saw nothing.

Diavolo smirked and chuckled. “I think someone’s being naughty, should we go and see?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No, I’d rather have Santa to myself right now,” you teased and he nodded eagerly as you both left to your room.

Meanwhile, Barbatos, settling into bed was disturbed by the tapping of quick footsteps and loud banging on his door. He sighed, slipped on his shoes, and opened the door to see Chao looking frantic. His eyes shone like his mother’s and his hair was red and messy like his father’s.

“Oh my, whatever are you doing up at this hour Young prince?” Barbatos asked, feigning concern.

“Out there! Out there! It’s Mommy,” he sputtered in between gasps. Barbatos picked up Chao and prepared to investigate when Chao revealed his secret, “Mommy was kissing Santa! I saw it! We have to tell Daddy!”

Barbatos stopped in his tracks and started laughing. “Oh my, is that what happened? Don’t worry, I’m sure Daddy doesn’t mind a greeting kiss.”

Chao looked even more concerned, “Does Daddy like that kind of stuff?”

Barbatos’s eye twitched. “Whatever could you mean by that…”

“Uncle Asmo said—“ Barbatos covered Chao’s mouth.

“Listen to me Chao, this is very important.” Chao nodded, hand still over his mouth. “We will never ever listen to anything Uncle Asmo tells us. Understood?” Chao nodded again. “And if Uncle Asmo tells you anything weird, come tell me, okay?”

Chao nodded again and Barbatos took his hand away. “Now then, why don’t we get you back to bed, we have a busy day tomorrow, six of your uncles will be here for their gifts from you and we want you looking your best.”

“Don’t you mean seven uncles?”

“No, I meant six. Now let’s tuck you into bed little one. it’s nearly Christmas Day.”

[icarusredwings]

This post may not be suitable for littles or people who get uncomfy with mentions of baby making stuff. IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK THO I SWEAR!!!!

Wade:

Thinking about how much Wade loves babies when he's small.

He's holding Logan's hand down the street as they're running errands, and he's being so good, like SUPER good. Not running away, litsening to instructions, using his words in a way Kitty can understand.

He doesn't even have Fluffy with him either, so he's doing all of this with minimal emotional support, just his chewy star necklace and one of Logans big hoodies. He's in some colorful leggings, though, and in his pocket is nothing but a snack. Not even his cup.

Bro is raw dogging the adult outdoors as his small self with practically nothing. He's still wearing his dog tags, though, just in case he gets lost, they're used as a source of identification.

Ealier, when Wade wanted to pet a stray cat instead of just running off, he gasped and pointed to it. "Kitty!" Which is obviously code for "Look! A cool thing!" So when Logan looked, he saw how polite Wade was behaving.

"Be gentle, okay? Sometimes, they don't like humans." He tells him, carefully walking him over in which Wade just squats down to pet the cat very nicely. You would think 'yeah no duh he wouldn't hurt it,' and you would be correct, though sometimes he pets them too rough or moves too quickly so they get scared and scratch him.

Right now, he's bored, leaning on his shoulder and starting to get fussy because paying bills is boring, and he wants to go home. Chewing on his star, he stops, and his eyes light up, seeing a stoller.

Wade loves strollers. Because where there is a pram- Theres a babe. And babies were great. (Unless they were screaming, and then they were not)

He tugs a bit on Logan, but he's ignored because he's trying to ask the internet service people why they charged them 15 extra this month when nothing changed. "Kitty!" He points, looking at him for consent to go see the baby. Frustrated, confused, and not looking, Logan assumes that he sees another cat and waves a hand. "Yeah, sure. Be gentle."

So, being given the okay, Wade practically skips over to the stroller and crouches down to see a chunky cheeked baby boy. His mum is busy on the phone, so she doesn't even notice a grown man cooing over the child.

Giggling to the baby, he lets him grab his finger and nibble on it. Tickling his cheeks and stuff, you know. Baby stuff. So when he takes off his hood to let the baby play with his necklace, the baby gets upset and starts to cry.

I think we would all cry if we saw a glowy yellow eyed man smiling at us like that with such unfarmiliar skin. You have to remember, babies only know what they're shown, and I doubt it's ever seen anything like this before.

Of course, it cries. And the crying alerts the mom. "Ooh shh, Steven, you're al- Ahh!! Who are you! Get away from my baby, you freak!"

Getting shooed away, he whines, unsure of what he did wrong. Was it bad to play with babies? His head said No.

"What is wrong with you!?"

"I-i... but.." he dosn't know what to say, tries to explain that he didn't do anything bad and that he was sorry but she dosn't seem to care about his words. This is New York afterall. Kids are stolen all the time here.

The yelling, of course, makes Logan think "Great some idiot made the baby cry," only to pause and wonder where Wade went. "OH SHIT that's MY idiot." He thinks and instantly becomes protective, growling as he gives in and throws the extra money at the tiller. Coming outside, he steps in front of Wade. Sure, Wade is a weirdo, but he wouldn't do anything to the baby. Right??

"What's your deal lady!?"

"He tried to take my son!!" She says, assuming the worst.

Logan gives a glance to Wade, who's already crying and shakes his head, unable to get any words out, but "I'm good!" Seeing as various times today, Logan has praised him for behaving. "You're being so good today, kid."

"No he didn't! Now take your ugly pup and get!"

A bit more of arguing, and she finally goes on her way, complaining about New York Weirdos.

After that, he starts asking Wade why he was touching a random baby and honestly just running his mouth that he knows better and shouldn't do that, etc.

Almost instantly, it stops, though, because he's already crying. He lets out this huge sigh. "Fine... Im sorry.. I know you like babies. How about I give you a baby. Would you like that?"

Logan doesn't mean it in the way Wade thinks, obviously, as his eyes widden, sniffling. "You're gonna give me a baby!?"

"Yeah, sure-"

"We're gonna have a baby!!!??"

"WAIT- No! Not like that!"

He squeals and excitedly flaps his hands, continuing to go on about how 'Mommy tried to give him a baby, but it didn't work'

Slapping his hand over his face, he's so embarrassed, blushing all the way down his neck and up his ears. He shakes his head and growls. "SHHH!!! That's not what I meant!! We can't even have a baby moron!" I mean, who wouldn't be embarrassed about their partner OPENLY talking about their past relations in public?

So- He does what every person does when their partner is obsessed with babies by can't have any.

He takes him to the thrift store to pick one out.