#he’s so scared she’ll hurt his family

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[ghost-bxrd]

I love love love Owl Song, will Cass and the rest of the Batkids appear? And if so, when and how? Bc I want to see Cass and Dick nonverbally bonding ✨

Well, as of now Owl Song is still on track to end with Ethiopia so, probably not >.<

Although I think Dick would be very unnerved by Cass at first. He’s not used to humans being so quiet and communicating with body language alone, so he (rightfully) clocks her as a potential threat at first. Cass obviously recognizes this and would deliberately put herself into situations where she’s vulnerable and Dick would have a very easy time to injure her (similarly to how puppies expose their bellies to other dogs in a “I’m not a threat please accept me as pack” kind of way).

Eventually Dick would relax a little and watch closely if she’s just as docile around his other (squishy) family members. Once he’d ascertain that she’s no threat to any of them he’d tentatively allow her closer to the nest, and after a few days invite her inside for obligatory cuddle sessions by giving her a first coo (opposed to the wary hoots and chitters of before).

Cass fits herself so carefully inside the nest Dick gets impatient and just pulls her into the pile of limbs with a huff.

Dick feels a bit bad about not inviting her earlier because she’s radiating such unbridled joy-soft-love-content-gratefulness he doesn’t know how he could ever assume she’d hurt them. She’s as much a protector as he is.

[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[pastryfication]

Can you do another Piastri family fic where the reader is in pain or smth and Oscar can’t be there to help her so his family does xx

PAIN, MORE PAIN

pairing: oscar piastri x reader warnings: mentions of appendicitis & reader being in terrible pain.

the apartment you share with oscar in melbourne feels impossible big and lonely. the bed feels cold and strangely empty despite the humongous amount of throw pillows you have laying around.

the loneliness is something you’ve grown used to, but the loneliness mixed with this terrible pain in your stomach is too much to bear.

it hit you suddenly, no warning signs in sight, and now you lie curled up in the middle of the soft sheets, clutching your stomach as waves of unfamiliar, sharp pain hit, relentless and terrifying.

your hand trembles as you reach for your phone. oscar is thousands of miles away, getting much needed rest before the race. you know it’s late where he is—too late to be calling. you hesitate, your finger hovering over his name in your contacts. you shouldn’t bother him. shouldn’t steal away his focus—what could he do either way?

but as you curl even further into yourself, helplessness consuming you, it becomes too much, and you feel so weak. weak, helpless, and scared.

scared enough to press the call button. shame, guilt, pain, and more pain fills you as you watch your phone ring in silence.

oscar—your absolute angel of a boyfriend—picks up after a few rings, his voice groggy from sleep but instantly alert when he hears the panic in yours. “hey, love. what’s wrong?”

“i didn’t want to wake you,” you start, the guilt gnawing at you. “but something’s really wrong. my stomach . . .” you let out a involuntary whimper. “it hurts so bad, osc. i don’t know what to do.”

there’s a brief pause, and you can practically hear him sitting up in bed, a deep frown taking over his features. “how bad is it? have you taken anything? should i call a doctor?”

“i don’t know,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your side, trying to breathe through the pain. “it’s getting worse. i can barely move.”

“damn it,” oscar mutters angrily under his breath. “i wish i was there with you. but listen, i’m calling my mum. she’ll come and take you to the hospital. you need to get checked out, okay? don’t argue with me.”

you start to protest, your instinct telling you to handle things on your own. “oscar, i don’t want to bother her—”

“you’re not bothering anyone,” he cuts you off firmly. there’s no room for argument in his voice. “you’re in pain. we’re not messing around with this. i’m calling her now, and i’ll stay on the phone until she gets there. promise me you’ll let her help.”

you’re too exhausted to argue anymore, the pain blurring the edges of everything and you desperately want to cry. “okay,” you mumble, feeling a small wave of relief knowing help is on the way despite everything.

oscar keeps talking to you—for once, he’s the one doing the most talking—trying to keep you calm as he calls his mum. within minutes, she’s on her way, and oscar is back on the line, his voice soft but urgent. “she’ll be there soon, love. just hang in there.”

his words are comforting, but the pain is becoming unbearable, and by the time you hear the soft knock on the door, tears are slipping uncontrollably down your face. you barely manage to shuffle to the door, clutching your side, and open it to find nicole standing there, her face etched with worry. she takes one look at you and immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, guiding you toward the couch. “you don’t look good at all. let’s get you to the hospital.”

even more tears spill over at that. it’s not just the pain, it’s the overwhelming sense of being cared for. nicole doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask if it’s too much trouble. she’s just there, steady and reliable.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, hesitating to meet her eyes. “i didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

nicole shakes her head, already helping you into the car with a comforting arm around you. “don’t be ridiculous, love. you’re part of the family now. we look after each other.”

her words settle over you like a warm blanket, and you blink back more tears, grateful for the maternal gentleness she offers.

the ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and exhaustion as nicole speeds toward the emergency room. her hand reaches out to squeeze yours at every chance she gets, the worry in her eyes almost overwhelming.

when you finally arrive, nicole is by your side every step of the way, holding your hand as you’re wheeled into the exam room and after what feels like hours, the doctor finally returns with a diagnosis: appendicitis. you’ll need surgery, and soon.

oscar’s voice cracks through the phone when he hears the news. “i’m so sorry i’m not there. i feel useless.”

nicole gives your hand another reassuring squeeze. “she’s in good hands, oscar. i’ll be with her the whole time, don’t you worry.”

you try to smile, though the pain is still gnawing at your insides. “i’ll be okay. just focus on your race.”

“not a chance,” he replies, his voice softening. “i can’t concentrate when i know you’re in pain. you’re more important than any race.”

as they prep you for surgery, nicole stays by your side, never letting go of your hand.

the last thing you hear before drifting off is her voice, quiet and full of love. “i’ll stay here the entire time, sweetheart. just relax.”

when you wake up after surgery, very groggy but no longer in pain, nicole is still there, sitting by your bedside. she smiles as you blink awake, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“there you are,” she says softly. “everything went perfectly. you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

you blink away the tears that well up, overwhelmed by the care she’s shown you. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “for everything.”

nicole shakes her head, her smile warm and full of love. “no need to thank me, love. we’re family. that’s what family’s for.” she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before tugging your duvet up, helping you get more comfortable in the hospital bed. “hattie is here somewhere, too. came as soon as she woke. think she wanted to buy you some snacks first.”

her words hit you in a way that feels almost foreign. the casual way in which they came out feels weird. to you, it isn’t casual. family is a concept you’ve always struggled with, never having had one that felt like this. but now, with oscar, with nicole and the rest of his family—who are buying you snacks and worrying—you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were missing.

as you drift back to sleep, comforted by the warmth of the bed and something else—something warms from in your heart—you realize that for the first time in your life, you truly have a family—and it feels like home.

[atlabeth]

family line

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x gideon!reader

a/n: pardon the end where i just go into endless conversation for no reason but i cannot control myself. anyways thank you sosososo much for all the love on the last part and gideon!reader as a whole it makes me so happy!! enjoy some dad-daughter-spence car convos(arguing) and some elle time

wc: 3.8k

warning(s): the usual! r and gideon argue, gideon is not a good dad(but theres some reconciliation), angst, hurt/comfort, but some fluff between r and gideon & spence. more of a set-up chapter

The drive over to the safe house is a long one, and unfortunately, not a quiet one. 

Spencer takes the back seat, leaving shotgun for you with your dad. He spends the entirety of the drive briefing you on what living in a safe house will entail, all the things you can and can’t do. 

You can’t use your phone because it could be tracked. You can’t leave the place without Spencer because you are, in fact, being stalked. You’re not to reveal anything about your location to anyone—you’re basically shut off from the world until the unsub is behind bars. 

And once he’s done briefing you, he basically starts interrogating you. 

“Have you been contacted like this before in any way?” 

You huff a laugh. “What, with creepy pictures of myself? No.” 

“Anything unsettling,” he clarifies. “A text message, a call, an email— anything that rubbed you the wrong way that you might’ve just passed off as a joke or spam.” 

“No,” you repeat. 

“You’re sure?” 

“How many times do I have to say no?” You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your dad. “Go through it if you want. You won’t find anything.” 

He pauses, then he nods. “Reid.” 

You shake your head with a slight laugh, then turn it over as Spencer extends a hand. He flips it open and starts to go through it, and you just cross your arms and stare out the windshield. 

“We should really hand this over to Garcia,” he says. “She’ll be able to do a lot more than I can. I don’t really—”

“Like technology, I know,” your dad finished. “We will. Just trying to get all the leads we can upfront.” 

You sigh, but you keep quiet. You guess you can’t really consider it an invasion of privacy when there’s a stalker after you. 

“We typically talk to stalking victims for a while to figure out their lifestyle and possible suspects, as well as the type of stalker we’re dealing with,” Spencer says. “We don’t exactly have the time for that here.” 

“This unsub has already been watching you for a month, maybe more,” your dad says. “He’s made his first move by reaching out to me—that means he wants us to know about him, wants you to know about him.” He glances over at you. “He wants to scare you. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction.” 

“You’re jetting me off to a safehouse before you’ve even gotten the chance to look into any leads,” you say. “It looks like we’re pretty scared, Dad.” 

“It’s preparation,” he says. “The unsub has made his first move—I’m not going to wait around for him to make another and compromise your safety.” 

“This could also be a lot more dangerous than we think,” Spencer says. You still hear him clicking through your messages, and you’re beginning to regret your decision to turn it over to him. “Our unsub could be someone after Gideon using you as collateral.” 

Your heart stops for a split second and your attention snaps to your father. “What?”

“…It is a likely option,” he says. “Very few people know you as my daughter. Someone who wants to hurt me could try to use you to do it.”

“So I was right,” you say. “This is only happening because I’m your daughter.”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes— I want you to admit that I’ve missed out on all the positives of you being my dad and gotten stuck with all the negatives!”

“This is not the time,” he says. 

“How is it not the time?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ve said it yourself several times— my life is in danger. There’s someone out there that might kill me to get back at you. What is a better time than this to talk about how shitty of a dad you’ve been?”

“A better time would be when we aren’t this high strung,” he says evenly. “Neither of us are thinking as properly as we should be. We don’t want to say anything we’ll regret.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll regret any of this,” you say. “After all, I could be dead soon, right? I should get all those regrets out of the way.”

“Please stop arguing,” Spencer interrupts hastily. “This— this is very uncomfortable.”

You scoff. The flames burn just as bright, but for some reason, you decide to hold them back a bit. 

“I’m sure it’s real hard for you, boy genius.”

The silence lingers. You can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Your dad, to his credit, doesn’t stoke the fire.

It looks like you’re all capable of restraint today. 

“I— I went through all her messages,” Spencer continues. It irks you that he talks like you’re not here. “There’s nothing suspicious there, at least.”

“Good,” your dad says. “I’ll hand it over to Garcia after I drop you both off.”

“We’re not gonna have a car?” you ask.

“You’ll have this one,” he says. “That’s why Agent Greenaway is following us.”

“Elle’s coming?” Spencer asks, and you see him perk up. You belatedly wonder what that deal is. 

“Just so she can drive me back to the office,” your dad says. “She offered.”

“What’s everyone else doing?” 

“Garcia is digging through some of your personal records for the team,” he says, glancing at you. “JJ is in contact with the local police stations so they’re ready once we have a profile. Morgan and Hotch should be looking through every case I’ve closed to get a running list of suspects.”

“Great,” you say as you lean back in your seat. “Nothing like getting my whole life aired out and put under a microscope.”

“It already is,” Spencer says. “You’ve got a stalker.”

“Thanks, Spencer,” you mutter. “I forgot.” 

-

The rest of the drive goes by with ease—at least, relative to how difficult you’ve made everything else. 

You’re already sick of Spencer Reid by the time you get out of the car. You don’t know how you’re going to survive such close quarters under these kinds of circumstances. 

Another car parks next to you as the three of you get out, and your eyes are drawn to the woman that steps out. 

“Easy drive?” your dad asks. 

“I was right behind you,” Agent Greenaway says. “You drive like an old man.” 

Your dad just barely smiles. “Stay with her, Elle. Reid and I are going to check the perimeter.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you cut in. 

“I already told you I’m not taking chances with this,” he says, and he takes his gun out. “This won’t take long.” 

Spencer takes his out as well—he carries it with both hands, like it’s actually weighing him down, and it’s a bit ridiculous—and they split to cover both sides of the house and the surrounding area. You sigh and shake your head as you cross your arms. 

“He’s certainly spirited,” Agent Greenaway says. 

You huff a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” 

“I’m Elle, by the way,” she says. “I know we haven’t been formally introduced.” 

You nod your acknowledgment and say your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

She turns to fully face you. “Do you mind if I say a few things?” 

“If it’s about my dad—”

“It’s not,” she interrupts with a wry smile, “I promise.” 

You shrug. “Then sure.” 

“First, I just want to ask if you’re doing alright,” she says. “You’ve gotten a lot dropped on you all at once.”

“I’m as good as I can be,” you say. 

Elle nods, and her eyes soften. “I’m not gonna tell you to take it easy on Gideon. He’s an incredible agent, but that makes it hard to be a good dad.”

You don’t say anything, and she continues. 

“My dad was on the force too. I resented him for a lot of my childhood because he was gone so often, but… then he was killed in the line of duty.”

You frown. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Elle nods in thanks. “I’m not trying to get sympathy. I’m just saying I know what it’s like.”

You shift your balance and sigh, glancing away momentarily. “Everyone here sees him as a hero, and— and he is. He started this whole thing and you all save lives every day, but it feels like he’s missed my entire life because of it.” You huff a bitter laugh. “I think you all know him better than I do.”

“I think you’re probably right,” she admits. “You deserve to be angry. And honestly, I think you deserve to hate him some for it.” 

You huff a slight laugh. “You’re the one person who hasn’t tried to make me feel bad for it.”

She shrugs. “You’re in an awful situation and it might be because of him. You don’t have to have endless grace.”

“Any chance I can get you to stay in here with me instead of Spencer?” you ask.

She smiles. “I don’t think Gideon wants to stick the two of us in a house together. But I am gonna make sure we catch this guy.”

“These kinds of assholes go after vulnerable women because it gives them the attention they crave,” she continues. “They worm themselves into their lives and disrupt it all and it makes them feel powerful—you have to play to their whims.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of experience with this,” you murmur.

“I have a lot of experience putting away sick men,” Elle says. 

“Do you have any advice, then?” you ask weakly. 

“I’ve only been around you for a few hours, but I already know you’re better and stronger than whatever bastard is after you,” she says. “He wants to control your life. Don’t let him.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I’m… really glad you’re on my side.”

She smiles again. “Just doing my job.”

Your eyes latch onto your dad as he and Spencer come back around the front, and they both tuck their guns back into their holsters. 

“It’s all clear,” your dad says. 

“And I’m not dead,” you say. “Looks like we’re all doing good.”

He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at Elle. “Did you go over anything with her?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Just gave some advice.”

“Great,” Spencer says. “Just what I need.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Reid,” Elle says. “You’ll be fine.” 

You don’t miss the look he gives her, and your dad clears his throat. “Can you take her inside and check everything? Reid and I need to talk.” 

He frowns. “We do?” 

“Sure,” she nods. 

You stare at your dad this time, and he doesn’t entertain your annoyance with some of his own. “We’ll be in soon.” 

“Sure,” you repeat. 

You follow Elle in—you don’t feel like getting a lecture on safety just yet—and when you pass a glance over your shoulder, you meet Spencer’s eyes. He was watching you. 

His eyes dart away just as quickly, and you huff the slightest laugh. You don’t know if he’s scared of you or just tired of you already, but whichever one, you don’t really care. If you have to be stuck in this house with him, he has to be stuck in there with you too.

Elle shows you around the place, and it’s nothing special—a one story house with two bedrooms and a noticeable lack of windows, furnished plainly with a couch and a few chairs, a small kitchen table, a television. You’re honestly surprised at how nice it all is. 

But as she takes you on the impromptu tour, you can’t stop thinking about her words. You can’t stop thinking about all of it, honestly. 

A month ago, you were driving home in silence after your dad forgot about the plans you made. A week ago, you were out for drinks with friends. 

Today, you’re hunkering down in a safe house because there’s a stalker after you, and you have to do it with your dad’s stand-in kid. 

That’s what gets you, you think. That you know more about Spencer Reid than anyone at his job knows about you—that your dad ignores you in favor of his work, and instead of trying to fit you into his life, he finds an FBI replacement.

Your jaw clenches. It takes a few seconds for you to realize you’ve completely tuned out Elle, only really coming out of it when she says your name.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was distracted.” 

“I don’t blame you,” she says wryly. 

You’re about to respond when Spencer walks in with your dad. His face is slightly flushed and, as opposed to all the other times, he won’t make eye contact with you. You can only imagine what your dad decided to talk to him about. 

“You showed her around?” your dad asks. 

Elle nods. “The basics. She and Reid can figure out the rest.” 

“Thank you,” he says. He looks at Spencer, who has his hands stuffed in his pockets and is very intently focused on the wall behind you. “Help Elle get the rest of the things out of her car.”

He frowns. “Elle doesn’t need my help.”

“Come on, Reid,” she says as she starts to walk. 

He blinks and nods. “Oh. Uh— yeah.” 

You feel his eyes on you as he goes, but you don’t meet them. You just stare at your father.

“Is it my turn for a lecture?”

His eyes soften as he says your name. “This isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it takes a decade or two of neglect to get here.”

“You’re right,” he says. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me. But I’m going to get you out of it.”

“I hope so,” you say. “Because I don’t really know how Doctor Reid is going to help.”

“Don’t take it out on Reid,” your dad says. “Hate me all you want, but leave him out of it.”

“You’re the one that pulled him into it,” you retort. “He’s more your kid than I am.”

“And I regret it,” he says. Your eyes widen a bit, and it actually gets you to shut up. “I regret that it took something like this for me to be a part of your life again. But I don’t want our last interaction before you’re sequestered for the indefinite future to be a fight.”

“That’s all I’m good at when it comes to you,” you mumble. The wind has been taken out of your sails considerably. 

“And I want to change that,” he says. “But first, we have to get through this. And we’re going to get through it together, sweetheart.” 

The term of affection feels strange coming from him. Ever since your teenage years, he’s felt less like your dad and more like some estranged cousin. You hate it. You hate how unfamiliar everything feels with him. Jason Gideon has been a profiler longer than he’s been a dad and it shows in your every interaction with him. 

But still, your heart aches. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“You promise?” you ask. You feel like a kid again. 

“I promise,” he says. 

Then your dad pulls you into a hug, and for a moment, you freeze. You can’t remember the last time he hugged you. 

Despite the anger inside of you, the bitterness built in your bones, you can’t help it—you hug him back. You practically melt into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the sudden threat of tears. 

Because deep down beneath it all, you’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, actually, and right now you’re just a girl who wants comfort from her dad. 

“I love you,” he says. 

“…I love you too,” you mumble.

Neither of you pull away for a good thirty seconds. When you do, you turn around to wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see. You hear the door open and start, but it’s just Spencer and Elle with some bags and boxes. 

“Elle’s got some groceries,” your dad says, clearing his throat. “We’ll deliver more if necessary, but you’ve got the basics for a couple weeks, at least.” 

“And a whole lot of books and movies,” Spencer says, hefting the box in his hands. “Did you know that there have been approximately 122 million unique titles published since the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in 1440?” 

“That’s less specific than usual,” Elle says. “You sure you’re feeling okay?” 

He frowns. “I couldn’t find statistics on the exact number.” 

“Why were you even looking at those statistics?” 

“I get bored sometimes.” 

Elle just laughs as they continue into the living room. You feel your dad’s eyes on you, and you sigh. 

“I’ll take it easy on him,” you say. “Mostly. Maybe.” 

And he actually smiles. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say offhandedly, but you find the slightest smile creeping on your lips as well. You kind of hate it. 

Everything else goes by relatively quickly now that you’re not arguing every single thing—you have to fight your instincts not to, but you manage—and eventually, after another lingering hug and some promises to be safe (and one from Spencer to your dad to keep you safe)—you’re alone in the house with him. 

“So,” you say as you settle on the couch, “this is what the indefinite future is going to be like.” 

“If it makes you feel better, last time we dealt with a stalker we caught them in a few days,” Spencer says. “She watched her for a good while, though.” 

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “Thanks.” 

“...Sorry.” 

You shrug your indifference and Spencer walks past you, focusing in on some of the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re sure he knows the artist, title, and meaning behind every single one, so you speak up before he can start.  

“What did you and Elle talk about?” 

“How this place doesn’t have a pool,” he says.  

You frown. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “What’d you and Gideon talk about?”

“We fought then made up,” you say. “It was… weird.” 

Spencer looks at you. “How?” 

You shrug again as you cross your arms. “You’ve seen how we are. We don’t exactly get along.” 

“Has he really been that bad of a dad?”

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “But… yes. He’s barely been a dad at all.” 

Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t get that. He’s so different in the field.” 

“That’s why he’s barely been a dad—because he’s so busy here.” You tilt your head. “Don’t you have some facts or whatever on the percentage of fathers that are workaholics?” 

“Well, 89% of dads work full time,” Spencer says. “And fathers typically work around 47 hours a week. But I don’t have anything on workaholics specifically.” 

“Great.” You stand up and walk over to the box of DVDs Spencer set down on the table, and you start rifling through them. “So, what’d my dad tell you about me?” 

Spencer blinks. “What do you mean?” 

“When I came in here with Elle and he kept you out there,” you say. “Did he give you the run-down? Warn you on how difficult I am to be around? Tell you that I hate you?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Uh— no. He just… talked to me. Gave the rundown on everything.”

You hum. “You can tell the truth.” 

“I— I am,” he says. He’s clearly not. “He didn’t say anything bad about you. Promise.” 

“Whatever you say.” You land on a DVD and glance over at him. “How do you feel about Groundhog Day?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t like Bill Murray.” 

You frown. “That’s ridiculous. How can you not like Ghostbusters?” 

“I love Ghostbusters.” 

“How can you like Ghostbusters but not Bill Murray?” 

“Because I like the concept more than I like him,” he says. “I love Halloween.” 

You shake your head and move on. “Who put these together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Gideon? Or maybe some random BAU office worker.” 

“It’s an interesting compilation.” You look up at him again. “How about Dirty Dancing?” 

“No.” 

“No reasoning?”

“I don’t feel like dealing with a musical right now,” he says. 

“So you choose to deprive me of Patrick Swayze,” you tut. You grab one movie out of the back and hold it up. “If I put on Goodfellas, will you interrupt every five seconds with facts?”

“...I can push it back to every thirty seconds,” he says. 

“Five minutes,” you say. 

“One minute.” 

“Two.” 

“One forty-five?” 

“Two—take it or leave it.” 

“Technically I have all the power here,” Spencer says. “I can talk nonstop about anything. Putting down a movie narrows that down.” 

“...One fifty.” 

He nods, and you huff a disbelieving laugh as you put the DVD in the player. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?” 

“A lot,” he says as he sits down on the couch. “I usually get insufferable or weird or annoying, though. So ridiculous isn’t too bad.” 

“Well, you’re certainly something.” 

“That’s also not too bad,” he says. “I could even take it as a compliment.”

You sigh and pick up the remote before you sit back down. You look up at the clock on the wall and bite back a curse. 

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you mutter. 

“Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds, actually,” Spencer says. “Did you know that Scorsese actually cast real mobsters as extras? The cast members were told ahead of time so they could show the necessary respect to them while they were on set. There’s a whole mafia hierarchy, and only full-blooded Italians—”

“I haven’t even gotten to the start screen,” you interrupt in disbelief. 

Spencer shrugs. “You said every minute and fifty seconds. Not how long I could go on for.” 

You let out another sigh as he continues on. You bet Spencer could probably recite the whole movie from memory if you asked, but you honestly don’t know if you could take that. 

There’s one plus, at least. When you’ve got a human encyclopedia next to you that can spout off whatever information he wants any time he wants, you think you’re gonna have a hard time thinking too much about your stalker. 

You look over at Spencer when you finally make it to the opening scene, still talking but now about the different crime families in the United States. His eyebrows are surprisingly animated when he talks, going up and down depending on his inflection, and you find yourself thinking that it’s charming. 

It’s annoying how pretty he is, and it’s annoying how annoying he is. 

You look away. 

This is going to be a very long lockdown.

[wttcsms]

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ you know i'll take you there

ᝰ.ᐟ shinsuke isn't too happy after your little escape attempt, and he makes it known. (fem!reader)

word count 2.5k content contains mating press, creampie, yakuza au, yandere themes, dubcon, praise kink, pet names (good girl), depictions of violence (not towards reader) author's notes sorry for lack of context; this is meant to take place after this fic concept

Shinsuke Kita doesn’t flinch when he pulls the trigger on a gun. 

The recoil doesn’t even register for him; when you do something for so long, eventually, it just becomes second nature. Like the mechanical movements you do when you brush your teeth, or the way you can tie your sneakers without having to actually look at the laces — shooting someone in the head is a mundane thing for Kita, for his line of work. He does it so often, has practiced it ever since he was a young boy, that what he does after is muscle memory. He removes the handkerchief from his suit and wipes the tiny splatter of blood that ended up getting on his cheek. He folds the sullied handkerchief neatly, tucking it away in the inner pocket of his suit. He makes sure the safety on his gun is in place, and he nods for Aran to drag the dead body away. 

When Aran takes his leave, the still-warm corpse in tow, the only people left in the room are Kita and a very scared young man. 

One of these men will be leaving this room, and the other will be hoping for a death as swift and merciful as the flawless execution Kita just delivered. 

“I told you there would be consequences,” Kita doesn’t taunt his victims. He’s not the type to do so. Cold and calculated — his own gang considers him to be a robot, and for the longest time, Kita agreed with them. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Kita has a reason to drag out his torture. Now, Kita understands what it’s like to find his very reason for existing. His purpose isn’t to lead one of the biggest yakuza families in the underground criminal world of Japan. His purpose is to devote his very being to you, and vice versa. 

So imagine how heartbroken he felt when he caught you trying to escape from the farmhouse he built for the two of you. And this man, a low-level runt in his group, had been foolish enough to give in and help you. 

“Please, sir, I wanted no part in the escape! She begged me, she—”

“She’ll receive her own punishment. I value fairness, after all.” Kita interrupts him, sounding as cold as the blood running through the young man’s veins. He’s frozen in fear as he tries to stammer out more excuses, more explanations, more promises to do better in the future but—

—there really isn’t much of a future for him. Not one that he’ll be happy to live in, at least. Kita is fair; having you slip away would have killed him internally. So now, Kita has to kill this man internally. Crush his spirit. Make him dream of death, dangle death in front of his face like a treat to a dog, but never, ever allow him such a kindness. 

(Kita is a fair leader, but very rarely is he kind. 

Kindness will get you killed. 

The boy dumb enough to help you — he’s kind.)

Kita retrieves a knife from one of the inconspicuous cabinets in this room. The fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling casts a warm glow over the both of them, but the blade of the knife reflects back the light, makes it shine in the poor boy’s face. He flinches. 

“Do you remember?” Kita asks him, turning the knife as if to inspect it from every angle. 

“Wh-what?” He stutters out, sounding breathless. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. That’ll make things messier than they need to be. 

“Do you remember what hand you used when you held hers?” Kita clarifies. He sounds calm, but the sight of another man holding your hand had him seething. Even now, it takes everything in him to not plunge the knife right into this young man’s heart, to twist the blade ‘round his insides, make him hurt like how Kita hurt when he witnessed it. 

“It was your left hand.” Kita answers for him. “Fortunately, you’re right-handed. Surely it won’t be too much of an inconvenience for you after I’m done sawing it off.” 

Kita’s chopped off a few fingers and one hand before, but never has he attempted to do it with a medium sized knife. A knife with a purposely dull blade. 

He smiles faintly. Sometimes, it can be fun to break routine and try new things.

You’re in bed by the time Kita returns home. He’s back later than he expects; it turns out, his little experiment with the dull blade is very, very messy. Maybe with practice, he’ll perfect that, too. That boy still has another hand to spare, after all. 

Feeling satisfied with himself, Kita starts humming gently as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. Before you, Kita never bothered making unnecessary noise. He rarely listened to music, but now—

The sting of your betrayal has lessened considerably. Kita isn’t even upset with you anymore. It’s normal for couples to fight and want to storm out on each other, but what matters most is that at the end of the day, he’s coming home to find you warming his bed. 

In his line of work, simple pleasures aren’t usually so sweet. 

You don’t stir when he joins you in bed, the mattress dipping just the slightest bit due to the sudden shift in weight, but he makes his presence hard to ignore, even in your slumber, when he presses his chest against your back, his lips nipping gently on the soft skin of your ears. 

You whine, your eyesight blurry as your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. You’re instantly aware of Kita’s body covering your own, and when he feels the subtle shivers of your body, the both of you know it’s not because of the chill of the air conditioner.

He makes a tiny grunt of disapproval. Even after all this time, you’re scared of him? Silly girl — he’d never do anything to hurt you. 

Well, nothing that would hurt you too badly. 

“Did ya have a good dream?” He asks you, breath warm against your ear. 

You swallow hard, not brave enough to shift your body. Ever since the truth came out, the fact that sweet Shinsuke is more than just an average overworked businessman but is a yakuza crime boss, things have never been the same between you two. Kita is nothing if not persistent, though. He still cuddles up against you, he still whispers sweet nothings in your ear, he’s still affectionate and downright loving in every action he does towards you. 

He knows not to expect an answer from you, especially when he plays with the bottom hem of your silk nightgown. “Wish ya would tell me what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.” 

You can picture him frowning; as perceptive as he is, you know that he prefers hearing your thoughts directly from you. 

“What happened to Goto?” You dare to ask, and the air seems to shift in your bedroom. 

Kita is gripping the soft flesh of your thighs, his hand large and imposing, rough with calluses and forever red with blood. You never really learn, you suppose, about how there’s a time and place for such questions. 

“Goto received his punishment.” Kita answers calmly, voice steady but cold. “And I nearly forgot about yours.” 

Liar. You want to call him out, but you at least have enough self-preservation to bite your tongue. As if Kita would ever forget. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since your little escape attempt. 

Kita adores you, loves you, because in a world of greedy, nasty, spiteful little creatures, you are kind and caring and full of the sugary sweet goodness he’s always going to have a taste for. It’s why he’s not surprised when you ask him, 

“Is he… alive?” 

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Is that what you’re really worried about? Goto, over the broken heart of your husband?” 

When you don’t answer, Kita tightens his grip on your thigh, contemplating his next move, before he lets his hand travel to the apex of your thighs, his knuckles brushing against your bare cunt. He’s pleased to find out that you’re still his obedient, sweet girl, following his direct order of going to bed without a bra or panties. Some nights, he’s so tired, any excess fabric is a hindrance. 

“If you have a heart, you’ll tell me what happened to him.” You mumble, trying to ignore the way your body craves for Kita’s touch. Before the truth of his second life came out, you were an addict for him. No one has ever touched him the way he’s touched you, and even now, when you want to ignore him and try to remind yourself of what an awful person he truly is, you can’t.

There’s a traitorous part of your heart and soul that still longs for Kita, no matter the truth.

“It’s because I have a heart that I didn’t kill him.” Kita isn’t lying. The torture was for his pleasure, sure, but he knows how upset and inconsolable you would be if you felt like you were responsible for Goto’s death. The register of his voice lowers as he speaks again, though. His warning leaves you frozen in fear.

“If his filthy hands ever touch you again, I’ll kill him.” 

There are a litany of reasons why you find yourself in the position you’re currently in: wanting, waiting, whining for Kita. Fear, for one thing. You feel compelled to do whatever he wants, considering the sheer difference in strength and power between the two of you. But try as you might, it’s hard to ignore the tiny, nagging voice in your head that lulls you into a state of docile desire. Kita’s always taken care of you, right? You were in love with him, for fuck’s sake. And as you ride his fingers, content to wrap your warm, wet heat around three of his digits as he chuckles at your wanton display, that nagging voice reminds you that you still do — love him, that is. 

Three fingers buried deeply in the warmth of your cunt is enough to make you forget about the events leading up to tonight. He withdraws his fingers, much to your displeasure, and you whine out for him to continue with his ministrations before he shuts you up by forcing you to suck his thumb. You can feel the rough skin of his finger on your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks, treating this situation as if you were about to suck his cock, and your tongue laps at the pad of his thumb before he removes it from your mouth. 

Without any preamble, he’s back to burying his fingers into your pussy, his thumb — wet with your saliva — pressed firmly against your clit. 

“Do you wish it was my cock filin’ you up?” He grunts out, rubbing mercilessly against your clit as you continue to writhe against the bedsheets. Your cheeks feel warm, blood rushing up to your chest and face, and you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing your answer. A shameless, pitiful yes. 

“You’re so beautiful, so sweet, so kind.” In his world, kindness gets you killed. Kita’s no different from any other man in his line of work, and it’s why he’s ravaging you right now. Pumping his fingers in and out of your slick hole, making a mess of his fingers, of your pussy, of the bedsheets, of you. It’s why every time he brings you to your climax, you cum violently. You’re letting out a string of stuttered, fractured fucks mixed in with sharp intakes of breath and Shinsuke’s, and you buck your hips wildly against his fingers, pushing his digits even further in as you cum. 

With your mind hazy from pleasure, your brain scrambled from sleepiness and an intense orgasm, Kita wastes no time pouncing on you. There’s no chance for you to beg for him to wait, and you register that this must be your punishment.

Shinsuke is going to fuck you without any of his normal restraint.

He slides in your sopping wet cunt in one sharp thrust, burying his thick cock deep into your warm, snug hole. He likes having a routine, he likes having set boundaries and rules, he likes being a man of practicality. But right now, he’s fucking you like a wild beast. All you can do is just take it; take his relentless thrusts, his anger, his need to dominate you, to remind you who you belong to. 

“Open up.” He demands, his voice rough and thick with desire. You comply; it’s so easy, considering that you haven’t been able to hold back a single moan as he has his way with you. He spits directly into your mouth, watching the way his saliva sits on the surface of your pink tongue. He doesn’t need to command you to swallow, because you do, savoring the taste of him.

He makes you look him in the eyes as he fucks into you relentlessly. One hand is gripping your hip, practically crushing you as he pounds into your pussy. You’re so fucking wet that the sounds of him moving in and out of your cunt are so lewd, so loud. The inescapable burn of pain and pleasure, the sensitivity of your cunt having to endure his insatiable lust, has you moaning like a bitch in heat. 

“Shin— Shinsuke! G-gonna cum!” You squeak out, and it only motivates Kita to double down. He holds up your legs, your limbs burning from the stretch as he continues to get rougher with his movements. You’re looking at him with a dazed, fucked out expression, and he has the audacity to let out a chuckle. 

“There’s my good girl.” He praises you, spitting into your open mouth once more. 

With your legs trembling and the foggy haze of pleasure clouding your head, you greedily, happily accept his praise. Your legs press tightly against his sides, and with his spit in your mouth and his cock drilling into you with even sharper movements than before, you cum. 

Kita lets out a grunt of approval as he finishes inside of you, a load of hot seed pouring deep inside of you as he keeps your legs folded, his hips pressed against yours, as if he wants to plug you up with his cum. He kisses your forehead that’s glistening with sweat from the heat of his body colliding with yours; it seems the two orgasms he wrung out of you have taken its toll on your body. You’re a pliant, fucked out little mess — his pliant, fucked out little mess. 

“Good girl.” He murmurs sweetly. “I love you so much.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to say it back. He just pulls out his cock a bit before thrusting back into you. This action causes you to let out another long, drawn out moan. He’s absolutely relentless, and as tired as you are, you realize that you don’t want him to stop.

(Pity that you’re not capable of speech at the moment.

Because you would have told him that you love him, too.)

[luveline]

hi jade!! if ur still up for kbd, can we see an instance where mom feels insecure about her parenting like she feels like she's doing something wrong or being a bad mom (she's not) and Steve just helps her through it? thank<3

KBD —Steve can make you feel better just by being himself. mom!reader, 1.4k

Wren wriggles like a worm on the floor. You’ve spread her baby mat out over the rug, rainbow hearts and stars and smiley faces all around her. 

“Mom, what did you say? What’s tummy time?” Beth asks. “I can’t ’member what you said.” 

Wren whines. Her face is smushed into the floor again. 

“Tummy time is to help her develop her muscles,” you say. “It’s supposed to help her hold her head up by herself. Not working yet…” 

You slide your hand between Wren’s face and the floor. 

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” you say. 

“Try her on your chest,” Steve says, Dove in his arms as he walks through the kitchen doorway into the living room. “She’s much happier when I lay her on my chest before her nap. I lay real flat on the couch.” 

You scoop Wren up under her armpits. Her hair is getting much longer now, the same wavy texture as her father’s, though as she’s grown older her hair has thickened. You’re sure she’s gonna have full curls when she’s older, but for now, you hold her to your chest and brush a hand through those waves thoughtfully. It’s much darker than Steve’s, as are her eyes.

She gurgles as you carry her to the couch. When you lay down, Beth crawls to your side to ask if she can sit on your feet. 

“What are you upto now?” you ask Steve, laying Wren out on your chest. You realise that’s not gonna work and pull her down so her face and neck are flat on your stomach instead. 

“We just washed our hands,” Steve says, letting Dove down. “She made a little mess, that’s all. Need something?” 

“Come n’ sit down, baby,” you murmur, beckoning him in. 

Steve doesn’t need telling twice. He sits in the armchair by your head and feels around for the TV remote. Things go quiet, Dove with her Barbie’s to the right of the room where all the toys live, Beth squeezing your ankle, and Steve clicking through channels until he finds the family movie channel. You tease Wren’s cheek where she rests, but she won’t lift her head. You’re scared she’ll smother herself. 

“Honey, what am I doing wrong?” you ask. 

“Doing what?” 

“Tummy time? She never wants to lift her head.” You frown. “S’like she doesn’t wanna see me.” 

“Maybe you’re just comfy.” 

You sigh and lift Wren again. When she sees you, she smiles. “Ba?” she says. 

“Hiya, baba,” you say softly, “what’s wrong? You don’t wanna play with mama?” 

“Ba,” she says again, dribble curling down her chin as her hand grabs for your face. You let her down against your chest, unperturbed when she grabs your ear. 

“No tummy time, then.” 

“That’s fine, she was on her tummy for a long time earlier,” Steve says, “she’s probably just tired out.” 

“It hurts my neck to hold it up all the time,” Beth says. 

You scrub your eye. Are you hurting her? You hadn’t realised she was tired, but how could you not know that? You’re her mom. 

You’re tired, too. You murmur a sorry to Beth and take your legs from under her. You curl in, pill bug style, baby curled in with you. “Sorry,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. 

“Ba,” she says again, her spit on your cheek. 

You’ve had one of those shitty mom days. You burnt the last bagels in the toaster so Beth had to have toast, which she doesn’t even really like. You tore Avery’s Princess Polly dress trying to clean the sleeve. Dove cried because you didn’t listen to her story, Wren won’t do tummy time, and Steve wouldn’t have done any of those things. He’s amazing, and you’re just… you. He makes being a dad look so easy, he was basically born to do it, and you love your kids but you suck. Today sucks. 

Wren babbles all over you. “Ma-ba ma,” she says, then, “grrrrr.” 

“You growling at me, baby?” 

She lets out a bunch of gr’s and wr’s. You rub her back, tickle it until she giggles. Even the sound of her bumpy baby laughter doesn’t improve your mood. 

Steve goes to the kitchen in silence. He opens the freezer a couple of times, and then he’s calling for the girls to come and have some ice cream and chocolate fudge. Avery tumbles down the stairs from her room. She could take the hallway to the kitchen, but she stumbles into the living room instead. “Hi, mommy,” she says, smiling widely, “are you tired?” 

“A lot,” you confess. 

“Can a kiss make you feel better?” 

You turn your cheek and poke it. “Please. Just one,” —she darts forward to kiss you soundly— “go have your ice cream, baby, quick, before Dove eats it.” 

Steve dodges her. He has a bowl when he returns. He says your name so nicely you don’t think twice about taking it. An ice cream sundae melts inside, three scoops of thick ice cream adorned with cut fruit and a chocolate fudge heart. 

“It looked better five minutes ago. I did yours first.” 

“Where’s yours?” you ask. 

“I thought I’d share yours,” he says. “No?” 

You grin. “Nope.” 

“Alright. Can I sit with you, at least?” 

You straighten up. Wren stays in one arm, your bowl rests on your leg. You lift the other to take your spoon, while Steve sits next to you, not a millimetre of space between your two bodies. 

He doesn’t ask for the baby, which is actually nice. Usually eating with a child in tow is irksome, but you feel a little more capable without his asking. And besides, Steve’s fully trained. You could drop any baby into his lap at any hour and he’d take them without complaint. 

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, but you know you could tell him. Can tell he’s waiting for a confession, or ready to let it go. 

You don’t want to talk about it. Admitting your failings is too embarrassing, sometimes, and he’s biased, so he’ll tell you anything to make it go away if he needs to. Instead, you sit, you eat your ice cream, and you rest your face against his shoulder, listening to the girls scratch their bowls in the kitchen. 

“You can go to bed early, if you need to,” he says gently. 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“How about a shower? A walk?” He lifts his head to press his nose against you. “Just let me know what you want.” 

“I’m okay, really.” 

“Okay,” he says, both of you aware that you’re not fully okay, and that he doesn’t believe it. “Can I have some of those strawberries?” 

You scoop up some strawberries and lift the spoon, but notice movement from the corner of your eye that makes you laugh in surprise. Wren is opening her mouth, waiting for a bite. She’s just on the cusp of being old enough for soft foods, but she’s never expressed any interest, until now. 

“Oh, do you want to try?” you ask, laughing. “I’m sorry, baby, this is much too sugary for your first bite.” You lean down to kiss her head. “Sorry,” you murmur into her hair, “we’ll have to find you something tomorrow.” 

Steve smiles so hard you can hear it. “Wow, soft foods already!” he says to her, rubbing the tip of his finger up and down her chest. “Our big girl, huh? Are you mama’s big girl? Daddy’s big girl?” 

“Ma,” she agrees, before her lips part again for a taste. 

Steve looks into your face proudly, eyes darting between you both. He looks at you like you’ve just hung the moon, when you didn’t do much of anything. 

“What should we make her?” he asks. 

“I don’t know, what do you think she’ll like?” 

“What do you think?” 

You abandon your spoon to soothe one of her curls away from her forehead. “I don’t know… she looks like an applesauce girl, doesn’t she? Or maybe some sweet potato.” 

Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll have sweet potato mash for dinner, then, and she can have the first bite. Good idea, angel.” 

You turn into his hold, letting him nose at your ear. 

[darkbluekies]

Like a fly in a trap

Rich!female!yandere x reader

Summary: you escape Hedwig, only to be brought back and learn a secret about her family that puts everything into perspective.

Warnings: alcoholic? Yandere, Stockholm syndrome, abuse(?), isolation etc

Word count: 3.5k

A cold breeze finds its way into your bones. You pull the hood closer over your head, heart hammering in your chest. The sun is barely up. You have to catch the bus before her alarm clock rings. When she notices that you’re gone, all hell will break lose. 

You can’t pinpoint the moment things changed, you just know that at some point, Hedwig wasn’t the loving, caring girlfriend you got together with, but a clingy, possessive psychopath. Of course, she never shows that side to anyone … not even you. But you’ve been listening in on the calls she makes when she thinks you’re not listening. Wanting to hire hitmen and demanding for people to get hurt, even if they’ve only done as little as speak to you. You can’t say when she became like that … scared that she’s been that through your entire relationship … only that you’ve just started to notice. 

You’re not even sure where you’re going. You can’t go home. That’s the first place Hedwig would look. You don’t have anything on you that could be traced. There’s no plan, you just have to get away from Hedwig. 

The bus stops in front of you and you get on. You walk through the empty bus, sitting down in the very back and pull the hood of your hoodie closer to you.

Hedwig opens her eyes when the alarm sounds. She can tell right away that something is wrong. The bed is empty … and cold. Quickly, she sits up and looks around, heart stopping. Where are you? She rips the covers off of her body and runs over to the bathroom. Empty. Her pulse is hammering in her head. She can’t hear anything. Hedwig sinks down in the corridor to avoid fainting or throwing up. At this point, she’s unsure what she’s going to do. Her entire body is shutting down. It’s feels like she’s dying. 

With shaking hands she picks up her phone and call you. A signal rings through the room and she grows even colder. Your phone is on the bedside table. 

“Y/N, no … what”, she gasps in pure horror. “Y/N, don’t do this to me. Oh, God. Oh, my God.”

She presses her hands over her heart. 

“Hedwig, dearest, what is wrong?” she hears her father ask. 

She looks up and watches her father through her blurry vision. He’s standing in his pajamas, worried eyes looking down at her. 

“My dear, what happened?” her father asks again. 

“Y/N … Y/N …”, she hyperventilates.

“Has something happened to them?”

“They’re gone! I want them back! I want them back now!” She screams through her sobs. “I want them back this instant!”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, don’t cry. Daddy will get them back to you.” He hugs her. “Daddy hates seeing his princess so upset. They will be back, I promise you, my little girl.”’

Hedwig wipes her tears and sobs. 

They go down to the kitchen where her mother has woken up, already with a glass of wine in her hand. 

“My little princess, can you please give your mother and me a smile?” her father begs her. “It will be okay, we will find Y/N again. I have called every person I know who works for the police, private detectives … everyone. I have millions of eyes open.”

Hedwig refuses. She holds her arms over her chest while sitting on a chair. Her mother is sitting beside her, sipping on her red wine while her father is walking back and forth in front of her, stressed out of his mind. When he can’t get Hedwig what she wants, he feels absolutely terrible. 

“We will find them, don’t worry”, her father says. “Daddy will do everything to make you happy.”

Hedwig avoids eye contact. If her fathers contacts can’t find you, then she’ll have to contact hers. None in the family knows about the hitmen she knows — and hires often — and neither does she want them to. Worry is eating her up from the inside. She wants nothing more than to hold you in her arms and kiss every part of your soft, wonderful skin. She wants to run her fingers through your hair and make sure that you know that you’re safe with her. She has never been this worried before. 

“This is the last stop.”

You nod and rise from your seat. Your legs have fallen asleep since long ago and you have no idea where you are. By now, you’re hungry and tired, wishing nothing more than to sleep. Carefully, you look around. Where are you? You’re surrounded by fields, forests and small, small cabins. With a sigh, you sit down by the side of the road, to think before you start going somewhere. You should try to find a payphone, perhaps, to call your family. No, they wouldn’t be able to help you. If Hedwig wouldn’t hire someone to kill them, she would either pay them or manipulate her way to get what she wants. After all, you fell for her little girl act for so long. If only you had seen how unstable and obsessive she really was before you had tangled yourself this far deep into the relationship. By now, it is too late to cut things off. She has nestled her way into your every day life. Wherever you look, Hedwig’s there in some way, shape of form. She has infiltrated your life like a virus. 

You hide your face in your hands. Hedwig’s a fucking spider who has intangled you in her web, slowly draining you of life until she can eat you. What should you do? You can’t go home, can’t talk to anyone you know. If you call the police, she will get away with it. Her family is in the elite class, they always get away with things. 

“Hedwig …”, you whisper frustratedly into your hands. “Why have you done this? Why have you given me this much problem? Why me?”

Your stomach growls and you wrap your arms around your body tightly. You have to find food soon. And after that … shelter. 

Hours go by. You’ve curled up by a tree to get some kind of warmth, but there’s none to be found. Your body temperature is dropping every minute go by. You have nothing to keep you company, apart from the moon. And weirdly enough, it feels like it is pitying you. 

You wake up the following morning by someone trying to catch your attention. An old woman. Your vision is blurry, but you can tell that you’ve never seen her before. 

“Hello, are you okay?” she asks worriedly. “What are you doing out here? You’re freezing!”

You can barely hear what you’re saying, you can’t feel your body. 

“Do you know who you are?” the woman asks. 

You can’t move your body, can’t answer. You’re so cold. 

“Do I need to call someone?” she asks. 

No answer. She picks up her phone and calls the police, telling them that she’s found a person who’s been sleeping outside the entire night, that they’re unresponsive and ice cold. She tells the cops a description of your characteristics. You feel like shutting your eyes again, so tired. 

“No, don’t close your eyes!” she says quickly. “You can die!”

You try to force your eyes to stay open. 

The old woman can’t carry you, so she goes to get you blankets and hot tea. While she forces a warm cup in your hands, you can tell that a white car pulls up on the road in the distance. 

That’s not a cop car. 

“Y/N!” 

The familiar, female voice causes you to drop the mug. Hedwig runs all the way over to you and throws herself at your stone cold body. Her warm face hides into your neck. 

“My God, darling, you’re freezing!” she gasps and cups your icy cheeks with her hands. “My sweetheart, I’ve been so worried!”

The men behind her thank the old lady for calling the cops and you suddenly understand what’s going on. Once again, the elite has taken over the cops. One of the men are Hedwig’s father. You gulp. This is bad. 

The old woman leaves. You want to shout out that they’re not going to help you, that it was this girl’s fault that you endured a night out in the snow for, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, not in in front of Hedwig’s father. 

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’m here now”, she says and tries to warm you up with her hands. “You could have died! I’ll never let this happen again, I promise. I’ll never let you out of my sight again!” 

She removes her expensive coat and scarf and hangs them over your shoulders, wires the scarf around your neck and blows hot air on your hands. She kisses your forehead. Two of the men, you haven’t seen them before, carry your body to the car and place you in the backseat, right next to Hedwig. She tells the chauffeur to bring up the heat to max.

“I’ve been so worried for you, sweetheart”, she says and holds your icy hands between hers while continuing to blow hot air. “Why did you do that? You scared me to death, Y/N!”

“You have given us some problems, young lady/man”, her father says from the front seat. “You’ve made my daughter very upset.”

You can’t respond. There’s something about her father that terrifies you. 

“I don’t ever want to see my little princess upset”, he continues. “I will do everything to make her happy, which means that you need to stay. Do I have to take measures to make sure that you stay with my daughter?”

You gulp and shake your head. Something’s definitely wrong about him.

“I will never let you leave me again”, Hedwig whispers in your ear. “I need you. If i don’t have you … I don’t want to live. Don’t ever try this again. Please.” She seems to realize how she sounds and shakes her head. “Please don't think I want to scare you, I just … I can’t imagine my life without you. I have to keep you with me like this. I know you understand, you’re just cold and tired.”

“You don’t have to drag in your father in your dirty business, Hedwig”, you whisper. “That’s low.”

She brings your cold hands under her shirt, shivering. While you do enjoy the heat, you keep your hands in fists. 

“You’re my everything, I had to do what was necessary, I’m sorry”, Hedwig whispers and sniffles. “No one likes me the way you do. You’re the only real person in this world. Everyone else … they’re fake. You’re so special to me.”

You don’t say anything more to her during the entire car ride. When you come back to her mansion, you’re immediately tucked into bed. Hedwig closes the door to her bedroom after her, locking it.

“Here”, she says and placed a silver tray on the bed. “Soup. The chef made it for you.” She sits down and sighs sadly. “Why did you leave me, sweetheart? What have I done? PLease tell me so I’ll make sure to never do it again. I don’t want to be without you.”

“Stop pretending”, you hiss. “You know very well. Talk to me instead of acting like a defenseless school girl.”

“What?”

“I know what you’ve done. I’ve heard your phone calls at night.”

Hedwig’s face drops and grows multiple shades lighter. At first, she doesn’t say anything. Her hands tremble as she panickedly thinks. 

“O-Oh, Y/N …”, she starts with an unsteady voice. “I never- … I never-”

“Why me, Hedwig?” you ask, not being able to bring your voice above a terrified whisper.

“Because- … because I love you.” 

“You can have anyone you want, you really can … so why me?” 

It is unbelievable. You can’t understand why you are worth killing for. What does she see in you that is that special? You could never have anticipated that someone would end human lives … for you. But then again, is anyone worth killing for?

As the realization of reality sets in, along with your exhausted form, you grow tired. 

 “I’ll have to take precautions from now on”, Hedwig says. “I love you so much, I can never let this happen again.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask coldly. “Send hitmen on me? On my family?”

“No, not you — never you. But …”

“My family, right?”

Hedwig bites her lip before groaning. “I just- … I wish that you never had tried to leave! I don’t want to do these kinds of things! They make me feel so dirty! Fuck, Y/N, why can’t you just … love me again?”

You don't answer. A single tear runs down your cheek. You can't even look at her, which drives her insane. 

“Y/N, please!” she begs and reaches for your hand, but you quickly pull away. “Don't do this to me. I love you. I really, really do!”

She starts to sniffle, then sob. You're amazed that just a little touch deprivation causes her to break down completely, but she expects you to be completely normal when people are getting murdered behind your back — on your behalf?

“I want to go home.”

“I can’t let you go, Y/N. I need you here. I can’t live without you.”

“Let me go home. Now.”

“No, Y/N. You need to stay here. I will make you stay here. If you think that I'm going to let the only one that loves me leave, you're wrong.”

“I don't … love you anymore.”

It looks like someone has punched Hedwig right in her ribs.

“Yes you do”, she says quietly, wishing.

You turn your head away.

“I'll let you be”, she says and slowly stands up. “I love you, Y/N. Please don't think I don't.”

You're forced to sleep beside her all night. You've curled up into a ball and she doesn't try to reach for you, like you had expected … but you can hear her cry. 

She leaves for school, leaving you all alone, but not before reminding you that she has people in the house that won't let you leave the premises. She tells you that you can go down to the kitchen to get yourself something to eat, but you wait in her room, as a silent protest, for as long as you can manage. When your stomach physically hurts, you sigh in defeat and walk downstairs.

Someone's sitting by the kitchen aisle. A blonde woman who twirls a wine glass slowly. Her eyes are empty, but her appearance is that of a goddess. You recognize her, first as the popular actress you used to watch, and as Hedwig's mother second. You're about to turn around and walk out when her voice stops you.

“Stay.” Her voice is low, almost strained.

You turn back and take a few, slow steps into the marble kitchen. The woman doesn't look up from her twirling, red wine.

“I heard that she found you”, she says and sighs.

You nod carefully. 

“They're very alike, you know”, she says, glancing at you, “her and her father.”

“They are?” you ask.

“Yes. Unfortunately.” She nods at the chair in front of her. “Sit down.”

Just like Hedwig’s father, her mother had something in her voice that you don't dare disobey. You sit down, still not being able to look at her.

“Do you know who I am, Y/N?” she asks, sounding like she doesn't expect much.

“I do, ma'am”, you answer. “I used to watch your movies a lot when I was younger. You were awesome.”

Hedwig’s mother smiles slightly, a genuine, warm smile.

“That makes me happy”, she says softly. “Thank you, Y/N. I was scared to have been forgotten.”

“What? No, never. You're an icon. I wish you still did movies.”

“Me too.”

“Why don't you?”

Her smile thins out. “Hedwig’s father … he's … well, let's just say he rather wants me here.” And she adds on, sour grimace on her face: “Where it is safe.”

“That sounds like what-”

“-Hedwig would say, yes. I told you … they're very alike.”

A light turns on in your head.

“Did he … did he take you, too?” you ask, carefully.

“Take and take, not exactly.” Her mother seems to think and the dull look in her eyes returns. “If only it was that quick and direct. He nestled his way into my life, infiltrating every part. First, he wanted to invite me on a date, then help with auditions, then he wanted to be my manager, then director, then boyfriend. He had control of every work related issue … always making sure I never worked intimate with any men, turning down things I really wanted to do … isolating me from my costars. When we married, he wanted me to quit all together, and wanted me to stay home with the child I was pregnant with.”

“Hedwig?”

“Yes.”

“When I was pregnant, I was wishing that she wouldn't inherit that side of her father. I hoped and prayed. But she did. I'm sorry, Y/N.”

“I'm sorry that happened to you.”

The woman gives a weak smile. “Don't be. It's happening to you now, be sorry for yourself. I'm hoping in telling you this, that you somehow can get away before it's too late.”

“Can't you … leave?”

She shakes her head. “It's too late for me.”

“No, it's not. You're still beautiful, Hollywood would love to have you back.”

“Thank you, you're very kind, Y/N. But it's not that easy. He controls more than you can ever imagine. He has made sure to be part of the industry so that I can never return.”

You gesticulate with you hands. “Then … do something else! Prove to him that he can't own you.”

“I envy your enthusiasm. But it wouldn't work, he would get into that too and sabotage for me again.”

“Why does he ruin for you? Doesn't he love you?”

“He does. He just wants me for himself.” She sighs. “I don't know how Hedwig would behave with you, if she would let you work-”

“I don't think so. She has talked about letting me stay home with her so that I could spend time on my hobbies and her taking care of our children.”

“I was afraid of that.” She stands up and downs the last of her red wine. “One thing I'm happy about, is that Hedwig has inherited her father's ability to love. They love too much, I think. And that affects the people around them. If you can't leave, Y/N, I'd advise you to play along. Life is not bad here … as long as you don't try to leave. I promise you that.”

Before she can leave the kitchen, you have to ask her one final question.

“Excuse me, ma'am”, you say and watch how she gives you a look. “Did … did he ever kill for you?”

She doesn't answer.

When Hedwig returns that afternoon, she has a big basket in her hands, and a bouquet of roses.

“Please forgive me for everything I've done”, she whispers and places them both in front of you before sinking down on her knees. “I'm so sorry.”

The basket is filled with your favorite snacks, a few boxes of jewelry and a designer scarf.

“I did what I thought would solve the problem”, she whispers, shaking her head regretfully. “I wanted the people that hurt you yo get what they deserved. I don't have a good explanation for the people that … didn't do anything. I just couldn't bare to see you interact with someone that wasn't me.”

“You're a stupid girl, Hedwig”, you say coldly.

“Yes, yes I am”, she sniffles. “I'm an idiot. Please forgive me.”

You thought back on what her mother had said about how life wasn't bad if you actually did what Hedwig wanted. You looked at her. She really did look like an innocent school girl, sitting on her knees in her school uniform with her hands clasped together, begging for forgiveness with tears streaming down her face. You start to feel bad for her. She is an only child to a pair of parents who went through a weird, macabre relationship. Of course she would want someone to love her and stay with her forever. You have feelings for her, you can't kill them, even if you really want to. Maybe this was what her mother felt, that she really loved Hedwig’s father that much, that she couldn't leave him … and because she knew that he would never let her leave. 

If you stay, people won't get hurt. And maybe, just maybe, you can change her. 

“I … I forgive you …”

[tarjapearce]

can we get something about reader having a kid before she met Miguel. her ex was treating her poorly while she was pregnant and after she gave birth, having her to clean the house and take care of their newborn cause the ex was too lazy and verbally abusive? After knowing Miguel for awhile, reader becomes preggo and she’s super scared that she’ll be neglected, but Miguel’s with her the whole time. or a happy ending of your choice🫣

Yee ✨

Parallels and Opposites

Landlord! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Verbal abuse, manipulation toxic relationships dynamics, controlling behavior, gaslight, mild graphic depictions of domestic violence, hurt, struggles, fluff towards the end. No proofread.

Summary: Miguel shows you what true love and family means.

If someone asked you, what would be your biggest regret, a simple name would come to mind. Samuel 'Sam' Lawson.

The man that with his sweet words and lies had stolen you out of the comfortableness and stability of your home. A man that had seduced you right after you finished college and spoke about how you'd be his perfect little housewife.

Someone that played a perfect house angel role and had convinced your parents to live with him a couple of days after the graduation ceremony. Someone that without a doubt, would've teached Judas his own lying game since it proved effective on you and everyone around you.

Samuel was loving, always filling you with gifts and smiles, always making sure you knew his heart was yours, and always making sure you wouldn't have to worry for things such as money. You were happy.

So happy that ignored the micro-aggressions that hid between the loving noise. Beyond happy that you grown used to his presence, even when he didn't need to be there and ignored your few friend's warnings of his controlling and possessive behavior.

They were just jealous that they didn't have someone like him. Right?

It was normal for your loved one to pull you apart from those friendships that deemed toxic, right?

"They're always criticizing us, babe. They're just jealous I take care of you the way they wished their simpleton partners would. You don't need people like that in our lives."

And little by little your friend's circle decreased considerably, but Sam was always there. Ever loving and supporting. Even when in his outbursts he always made sure to say it was all for your good, because he loved you. That everything he did was for you, like it's always been.

He loved you so damn much that it hurt and his relief was beer, staying outside home until late, or fucking you till your body begged for a break.

Life was generous and good, so good you had gotten pregnant. Sam was ecstatic. You finally were carrying his child. And it was enough to make you his fiancé.

"We ain't married yet, but til death do us apart, honey." He'd say, peppering your face in kisses.

There was nothing to fear. All those seedlings of doubts your friends had put, were sapped away, He loved you.

Until he found out you were having a baby girl.

His loving and protective facade begun slowly chipping away.

The beer's stench stuck on his body and breath most of the times Sam was awake. His bad mood was always rampant, making every little thing an inconvenience that didn't help your crumbling relationship.

A few dishes rested comfortably on the sink? He'd scream and to calm him down, you'd rush to clean it all up. His snacks crumbs were in his favorite seat? God forbid to Sam see them cause it was another round of cruel jokes.

"Maybe if you weren't that fat to clean, this place wouldn't look this bad."

It was his bad humor. You thought at first. You knew he had a bad temper, but you were too busy falling inlove to actually notice it seeping through the cracks. You were too busy loving him that ignored the liquid anger pooling at your feet. Slowly filling the four walls you inhabited.

He'll change.

You clung to that thought alone, hoping that this phase was only temporary. That he'd go back to the same man you met. The same mn that got you breakfast in bed and took you to dance the many times you wanted.

Not this man that hurt your mind with whatever nonsense about your body he thought and his mouth spilled. Or hit the walls, instead of hitting you because he loved you.

He loves me.

"Where's my fucking dinner?"

He's just having a bad time with the medical expenses. That's all.

"You fucking stay here all day long doing shit, instead of keeping it all together while I work my ass off to get your fatass whims."

"I clean and cook, Sam." your mouth mumbled and it was enough for him to be invading your space, his taller frame cornering you against the shiny counter you always cleaned up.

"The fuck did you say?"

You gulped. The words replaying in your mind but unable to come out of your mouth. He seemed pleased on the smell of your fear.

"Wouldn't it the least you could do to your hard working husband, hmm?"

You didn't want to admit that these sudden hot and cold games confused you to no end. But they fed your hope of bringing him back.

"I'm sorry." You hushed and he caressed your chin a bit roughly, making you look at him.

"I know. I know pregnancy is hard on you, but your babygirl is not an excuse to not tend your husband's need, honey. You gotta do better. For me."

You nodded while he kissed your forehead and you got away to serve him his dinner.

"We can't have any more mishaps, can we?"

"I'll do it better, ok?"

He squeezed you against him, satisfied you'd acknowledged your mistakes.

"Good girl."

-----

As the pregnancy went on, so did Sam's moods wings. One minute he had all the hots for you, and when he was done, having his fun, he'd go back to his cold and rude self.

Any little mistake on your end was the perfect excuse for him to throw his harbored venom your way. If he didn't attack the apparent laziness, he'd go for how weak and pathetic you were only cause the baby.

And the more he pressed, the more you got tired of only nodding with a head down. And when you talked back, he only laughed and blamed your hormones for being such a drama queen.

You amused him, and your fight response even better. Yelling became the new thing in the Lawson's home. And each made sure to have a proper turn.

Until little Lily was born.

Things grew obnoxiously quiet for Sam as you were too focused on Lily to indulge his outbursts.

At least he was gentleman enough to keep it quiet, for a bit. But Sam needed that hatred, that yelling and anger to fuel him. So he found a new way to make sure you engaged into his baiting.

He'd make noise on purpose, waking you both and Lily, keeping you exhausted and at the verge of tears. You even begged him once to let you sleep, you couldn't allow another accident due to you being beyond tired.

The bag under your eyes were heavier, weight fluctuated, but even so, Lily remained your priority. And that pissed him to no end.

That in and out continued, stretching for a long long time, everyone around you kept warming you, but you always managed to spin the conversation around. Tired was always something that described you. Your parents grew concerned and the few friends that remained on your side only supported you and Lily

Sam always had an excuse to skip family reunions. But everyone knew that it was a matter of time things to go sour.

And when your final wake up call arrived, it was like a blindfold had been removed from you.

It wasn't the argue this time, neither the beat down he awaited for so long to deliver you, despite your protest and pleas for him to stop hitting you, but the fact Sam was targeting Lily as the new victim of his rage out of control. Only cause you refused sex to him.

Because of her, you never wanted to fuck with him like the old times, you were never in the mood for anything since she arrived. Would it all be better if she was gone?

Definitely.

His mind reasoned.

But before any more tragedies could happen in the day, the vase he always complained about silenced him as it crashed on his nape, knocking him out.

And it was enough time for you to pack up whatever thing you felt necessary, grabbed your two year old crying toddler, and ran away. Ran into the freedom of the night away from Sam's suffocating claws.

No bruise or pain in your body mattered. No scream or insult engraved in your brain by his commanding and absolute voice did. Sam didn't matter anymore.

"We'll be fine, sweetheart." A reassure to you and your toddler.

----

After sojourning through different shelters and housing programs and financial aids, you finally managed to land a proper job that eventually managed you to afford a car. As long as it was functional, in good conditions, and safe wise for Lily, you couldn't care less about the model.

Your baby was three now, and finally you had managed to get a lease in a place in the middle of Nueva York's city. Perfect to reach Lily's school and your work. Life was making sure to reward your suffering with a fresh start.

The new landlord, however was everything you expected a landlord to be. Quiet, reserved, perpetually busy, grumpy at times but surprisingly, gentle and careful with the kids in the building.

Thanks to Lily, and her need of running away in random moments for you to play with her, you had ran into his apartment, your baby giggled as she stumbled upon a curious and surprised looking Miguel in the doorway.

"My goodness, I'm so sorry! Lily, darling come! This is not playtime."

Miguel chuckled softly as your daughter hid behind him.

"I think your mother is right, princesita. Go to her."

"But she is no fun!" Lily pouted, "And she's always busy and tired to play with me."

Your cheeks flustered and your eyes blinked, truly not expecting for her to vent your personal occurrences, but also hurting for the tinge of disappointment in her voice.

Miguel picked her up, and your heart leaped nervously, ready to take the harsh and judging words for not being able to properly take care of your child, like everyone.

But they never came.

"I know it must be frustrating for you to not having mommy to play with you, corazón, but running into places like that is wrong. And quite dangerous. Something could happen to you, and mommy would be extremely sad and upset."

Lily nodded apologizing, as he delivered her back to you.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. O'Hara. It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it. They're children."

"Say sorry to Mr. O'Hara for running without his permission into his home."

Your baby girl apologized, and after him reassuring it was fine, that she only needed to be careful, you returned to your apartment.

Miguel O'Hara or Mr. O'Hara for the other tenants, seemed a regular man, always up to something in the building and making sure everyone lived in perfect conditions. A place that most in the neighborhood wanted to live in.

Not only because of him and his gorgeous looks, but the actual quality of life the building had, despite being an old one.

If the sink was dripping, he made sure to see it as soon as possible. You found out that plumbing, wall repairing and other appliances were in his repertoire of knowledge, he was a multitasking man, that always waved your little girl of they met in the hall, no matter how busy he was.

The 'Hi, Mr. O'Hara!' echoed every morning through the halls along his 'Good morning, princesita.' and every evening when you returned from work and picking up Lily.

But besides your toddler interacting with him, there wasn't much reason for you to approach him. Matters of the heart were too recent and fragile to approach. Your heart had so much to do to glue back the pieces Samuel had made sure to break.

And he was always busy. Always with his head into something. Life however had these little moments that conceded you a hint of what ifs and what not.

Like Miguel helping you with the grocery bags that gave you trouble, Him making sure everything in your apartment worked properly, fixing a tire from your car and sharing a bit of his food, something that Lily rambled once to him. She told him about you praising the smell of his food from across the hall, and next thing you know, is him delivering a bowl of freshly made Tinga in your hands.

"Made a bit too much of it." He mumbled with a coy smile after greeting Lily with a smile.

He was good with the other kids, but with Lily he interacted the most. The other kids just greeted him and kept it to themselves.

Food sharing however, was only the start of something neither were aware of it brewing.

It all started with you, retrieving the favor with some baked goods, a flan. Something your daughter saw him eating a couple of times along a pack of coffee. He was always smelling like that fancy colombian package with extra roast. And a little Thank you note.

He replied with an envelope full of coupons from the supemarket on things you'd need, along a 'Saw these in my mail, I think they're more useful to you."

Cause in truth, what other concerns a single and childless man like him could have?

He realized you were a single mom cause of Lily. He noticed how she never mentioned her dad.

"Mommy doesn't like talking about him."

The girl said and it was enough for him to understand.

A couple of days later, you'd have him in the kitchen sink, looking through the pipes of the dishwasher. As it refused to work.

Miguel was patient, and explained what was wrong and pulled out a couple of toys in pieces that obstructed the blades.

Your cheeks were burning from the embarrassment, but he wasn't mad. He wasn't angry at your toddler for behaving like a child. Unlike Sam, that yelled whenever Lily cried.

"Don't you worry about it. It happens way too often than you think."

"Still, sorry, There's times when I just wanna come home and crash on bed. Work is a bit stressful and I just wanna do my best for her."

"Hey, relax." His hand caressed your arm gently, a brief yet soothing gesture that had your heart running leaps in your chest, "She's lucky to have you as a mom."

"You think? I felt terrible when she said I didn't have any time to play with her."

"She's too young to understand all what you must do for her, preciosa. Don't rack your brain about it."

"Thank you, Miguel." His words had been like a balm to your aching soul. None had actually had the decency to acknowledge everything you did for your kid, as they were all too busy judging. But not Miguel.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck nervously.

"I... I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place and have some dinner?"

"Oh?"

He gulped on your surprise, "It's alright if you don't. I think... fuck. I think that was too soon." He swallowed again, tensing.

You chuckled, "It's alright. I'll bring the dessert. And Lily if that's okay."

"It's perfect" He breathed, relieved, "She needs to keep me updated in this story on the beetle she saw in her classroom."

You laughed and his heart shuddered at the sound.

"Seems we both need an update on it."

----

"And it flew! It was buzzing and then landed on a flower outside."

"No way! Look at that, you fought the beetle! "

"Mommy says they help the flowers to grow. But everyone was scared and I fought it off!"

"Good job, princesa." Miguel chuckled as he served Lily her plate of food while you cut the flan in pieces.

The not so-date was fun and offered you a new perspective on eachother. And so the many others you had.

But life had been in a weird mood that pressed enough just to remind you, the dangers out there.

You had just came from a true date with Miguel as Lily was with her grandma. You really never lost contact with your parents, and when you grew quiet, they were concerned. But now that everything was going as smoothly as it could, the weekend visits were a must to make up for all the missing time.

You took the elevator first, to change into something more, sultry to match the night overall's mood. The soft caresses and lingering looks between Miguel and you were undeniable. And rightfully so, he had earned that spot into your heart, and what a better way to reward him with something you both died for to enjoy?

As you grabbed your keys and opened the door, a rough calloused hand grabbed you by your hair.

"Well, well.. Long time no see honey."

He pushed you in, but you budged, moving away from him yet his firm grip tightened.

"Let me go!"

Samuel had found you, after years of looking on his own. His beer breath wasn't news, yet the stench of it all made you retch and move away.

He slammed you against the wall and hovered over your trembling form.

"Where's Lily?!" he grabbed you by the collar of your dress and you spat his face.

"Fuck you!" A punch landed on your cheekbone, sending you to the floor, stunned.

"Do you know how long it took me to find you?! Where the fuck is my daughter!?"

He sat on your hips to ground you as his fist hovered over your face. No harm came however.

Strong and tanned hands pulled the paler guy away from you, like a ragdoll, growling as Miguel squashed him against the floor.

Samuel was no match for him, but the last thing you needed was more violence. Despite the anger consuming him, Miguel tossed Samuel off the stairs, earning him a pained groan from the man.

Your ex laid on the floor, unable to get up as Miguel dialed the police. Within matters of minutes, Samuel had been taken care of and took away.

You on the other hand, cried in Miguel's arms. Shaking and sobbing as the landlord himself tended your wounds, apprehension in his face.

How dared that man to touch you?, How dared that man to even think about hurting his own child? He was thankful Lily wasn't around, or Migue truly didn't know what he would be capable of.

You had explained everything to him. How it all started with Samuel, how everything changed and how you had to escape him in order to save Lily from a certain death.

To your little surprise, Sam had been escaping the law for a few years now. But that chapter in your life was now closed and tossed forever to a vault underground and threw the key somewhere you couldn't care less at the moment, nor later or ever.

"You're safe now, corazón." He cradled you against his chest, promising not a single harm would come to you now.

----

The two parallel lines in the pregnancy test finally showed up, announcing the start of a new life within you.

Moving in with Miguel in his apartment, was only one of the many perks that came in hand when dating him.

Your heart finally had the chance of opening and receive and give all that love you always dreamed of receiving again.

Miguel didn't lie, Miguel didn't treat you good because he wanted something out of you, he praised you whenever your efforts came to fruition, and was always pampering Lily, to the point of her calling him by accident dad a couple of times.

But he liked it. He loved the sound of that title in your daughter's life. Miguel was everything that was good in this world. Sure, he had a temper, but never lashed out on you or Lily. He never yelled or screamed, or bait you into a fighting game.

And it terrified you at first. You were so used to chaos that anything like calm and conflict resolution was something you had to learn if you wanted him to be at your side.

Therapy always worked and it helped you to improve all those pestering thoughts Samuel had planted on your mind.

Miguel had taken his sweet time into proving that you no longer had to fear for your life and Lily's. That you no longer had to scream to have your voice listened or that you had to fight in order to have something done.

You didn't have to be on survival and flight or fight mode.

And when you delivered the news to him? He showered your face in affection, praised you for making him the happiest man ever. Even thanked you for making one of his dreams come true.

-----

And when you found out another girl was on the way, you braced for impact.

At first, a deep part you thought that Miguel would act exactly like Samuel, and as much as it hurt you to think that way, some pains never truly left. They just remained dormant and buried away.

But again, nothing but love came your way. Miguel rambled to no end about the baby's room color, how Lily would be an amazing big sister and how she was also thrilled to have a sister.

He was excited. Not yelling. Miguel complimented your body changes and kissed your baby bump in every chance he had, not calling you a lazy fat ass.

He'd cook for you and even going to the extent of visiting the convenience store at wee hours of the night to have your cravings met, not telling you to shut the fuck up an let him sleep.

Miguel didn't allow you to stand too much time once your last trimester hit. He took charge of your home and kept it clean and comfortable for you, not insulting, yelling and accusing you for being exhausted and putting up excuses to have the house clean and his dinner ready.

Miguel was gentle and always praised you. He spent those times when you needed him buried into you, worshipping your body with such care and love before, during and after he was done pleasing you, not fucking the daylights out of you and leaving you to clean after yourself the mess he created, not caring at all if you were sore.

The sole idea of hitting you, terrified him, he confessed once, not amused him. Miguel didn't get off by taunting you with slurs like Sam did. He didn't had fun into competing for who screamed more before your voices gave out, like Sam did.

He accompanied you to every single doctor appointment and even bought you vitamins and supplements, not complained all the way home on how expensive everything was and how much you owed him for the appointment and medicines. If he bought you any.

Thank heavens Lily came perfectly healthy thanks to the vitamins your parents gave you.

And he definitely didn't hit you, dehumanized you and treated you poorly, like Samuel did.

You felt ashamed for even daring to do such comparison, but it was unavoidable. Not when everything you had know was chaos and this man offered you a complete opposite spectrum of a love you always dreamed off.

And when Gabriella was born, yours and his dream was finally complete. You got true and untampered love, and he got a family on his own, ready to show you the true meaning of such word.

[kurokawaia]

❛ DADZAI?? ❜

DAD!Dazai Osamu X MUM!Reader

WC: 1k+ | WARNINGS: x fem reader, reader is a mother, dazai is a father, you both have a daughter, ooc dazai? + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: hihihi!!! this idea has been stuck in my head for the longest time, And I absolutely love ur writing style!!!!!!!! So I’m wondering if it’s possible for you to write a dadzai x fem!reader and he has a little daughter!! Thank u!!! - ANON

m.list | bsd m.list

Dazai would be the ultimate playful dad. He'd constantly come up with games to entertain his daughter, he'd let her win every time! he doesn't love to see his little princess sad, he wants her happy all the time. No tears around here!

Dazai’s teasing extends to both you and your daughter. He’d affectionately poke fun at the little things, like when his daughter mispronounces words or when you’re caught being overly serious.

Dazai is very protective of the both of you, your his only family, your his wife, and she's his daughter. He makes sure everything is secure, he doesn't want either of you in danger, he's always looking out for the threats, especially considering what his last job was.

Dazai would constantly shower his daughter with affection, but in the most chaotic way possible. Imagine him picking her up and spinning her around until she’s dizzy with laughter, or carrying her on his shoulders >.<

After your daughter goes to bed, Dazai loves having lovey-dovey moments with you, kissing you, hugging you, teasing you, having sex with you, he loves you all.

Dazai always be thinking of spontaneous adventures to take you and your daughter on (yes he will avoid work by doing this, he's hitting two birds with one stone) loves to watch his little girl play on the playground, making sandcastles but he glares at any boys who goes up to her.

Protective Dazai! GLARES AT THE LITTLE BOYS WHO WALK UP TO HIS LITTLE PRINCESS 😭🙏🏼

Dazai’s attempts at teaching his daughter important life lessons would often be... unorthodox. He’d tell her bizarre metaphors or use strange examples... when she's older, in her teen years, she starts talking about a double suicide as well...

When his daughter comes home with school projects or arts and crafts, Dazai gets surprisingly into it. He’d help her build the most elaborate school project.

As much as he wants to shelter his daughter, Dazai also believes in giving her independence to explore the world. He trusts that with both of your guidance, she’ll grow into someone independent.

BEDTIME STORIES!! DAZAI LOVES PULLING GUNNY VOICES WHILE READING HIS PRINCESS A STORY! He’d act out characters, make exaggerated voices, and then cuddle up with her until she falls asleep, her tiny hand clutching his 🥺

Dazai and your daughter would often conspire against you in the cutest of ways, like pretending to plan a prank or plotting a surprise just to make you laugh.

Now.... Beast!Dazai as a father...

Dazai would soften in front of his daughter, would absolutely never get mad, never yell, none of that. He is incredibly protective of the both of you, almost to the point where he is paranoid because he's scared something might happen to you and his little princess.

Though he’s a feared man in the underworld, when he’s home, he’s a completely different person with his daughter. He’ll play peek-a-boo, help her chase butterflies, and allow her to style his hair (which is why he often has bows or clips in his hair when you come home)

He’s big on teaching his daughter how to read people and situations. Even from a young age, he’ll subtly point out things like body language, tone of voice, and how to trust her instincts. He wants her to be sharp and never get hurt, he doesn't want her to suffer in a world like his

Dazai spoils you both, bringing back gifts with him after missions, flowers, toys, all of that. He loves to see his girls happy.

On nights where he can’t sleep (which is often), you’ll find him in his daughter’s room, quietly watching her sleep (NOT IN A CREEPY WAY LAMFOBSOJBVLS) Sometimes, he’ll hum lullabies from his childhood to soothe himself as much as his daughter.

You are the one person who keeps Dazai grounded. While his daughter melts his heart, you provide him with emotional stability. He’ll confide in you about his fears of failing as a father, or anything, because he knows you're there to help him, to help him do teh right things, reassure him, telling him that he's doing the best.

Dazai trains his daughter in self defense. He doesn't want her involved in the mafia, he just wants her to be able to protect herself. He only does it when his pretty wifey isn't home though... he doesn't want to get scolded for you catching him teaching her how to wield and shoot a gun

Family nights every night! Dazai never knows when his last night will be so he makes you eat together, watch a movie, reading a story to his daughter every night without a fail because he chesrishes these moments so much.

Dazai isn’t big on over-the-top displays of affection in public, but when it’s just you and him, he’ll wrap his arms around you, especially when he’s feeling vulnerable. He’ll kiss your forehead or play with your hair.

Dazai would raise his daughter to be independent. He’ll often praise her when she tries to solve problems on her own, even if it’s just something as small as putting her toys away. He wants her to grow up capable, strong enough so a man doesn't need to provide for her (even if shes an adult, dazai will never approve of a man with her)

Though Dazai is laid-back around you, once his daughter starts showing affection to other male figures, whether it's an innocent crush or just bonding with a friend, he’ll get hilariously overprotective. You’d have to reassure him that his little girl isn’t going anywhere 😭🙏🏼

He has a habit of giving his daughter cute nicknames, princess, my little girl, my little princess!

Dazai occasionally fears that he won’t be a good father because of his past and the world he’s still involved in. But you remind him that he’s doing his best, and the love he has for both you and his daughter is more than enough to prove he’s a great dad.

Dazai has a hidden soft spot for his family (obviously). You often catch him staring at both of you with a soft, almost melancholic smile, as if he can’t believe he’s found something so pure and worth protecting.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[str4ngergirlw0rld]

steve is a protective lover boy

1984 hes blocking you from danger in the byers house , hes forcing you to stay in the bus with the kids and when the demodog is above max he shoves all of you outta the way so hard you get a bruise but he ices it and kisses it everytime he sees it reminding you that he did it to protect you.

1985 you guys somehow got separated you’re with eleven and hes in the russian base , when you guys all meet up again he runs to you almost knocking you over , grabbing your face your arms making sure you have few to no cuts , he shoves you into his chest his heart beating rapidly because he was so scared of losing you , his bruises hurting less because hes with you again. during the battle of starcourt he makes sure you’re standing behind him but still making sure you’re throwing fireworks as well , when everything is done he makes sure to take you to a doctor to check for hearing loss and ptsd and when the nightmares hit he holds you through them, you doing the same.

1986 you visit him everyday at family video , the day chrissy is on the news he immediately thinks of the worst because you’re not there , he drives straight to your apartment and finds you getting ready to leave because you already heard and once again he shoves you into his chest being so thankful it wasn’t you on the news, the entire time you’re with him, when he jumps into the water he makes sure to give you a bruising kiss and he scolds you to stay on the boat no matter what, you don’t listen diving in immediately when he gets pulled under the water , you end up in the upside down stabbing and stepping on bats , if one grabs you steve isn’t afraid to bite into it , hes the one bleeding and yet he tries to make sure you’re fine, getting through the gate back to real hawkins he makes sure you go first and he cushions you with whatever he can find in the trailer, he makes you stay back with max on the last day knowing you would want to be there anyway, when he gets back and your face is tear struck and youre unable to move yourself away from maxs mangled body he realizes bruises are littering your body and he pulls you into his arms softly to not hurt you more than you already are giving you his dirty jacket , when you can’t look away from max he realizes you don’t need him to hold you , he lifts max effortlessly and he assures both you and lucas she’ll be fine , that you guys need to be there for each other , he makes sure you and lucas are trailing him and when he gets into the car he lies max down onto the passenger seat , pushed and reclined all the way back so she isn’t hurt more , he covers her with a blanket to keep her warm then he seats you and lucas down in the backseat covering you both with the many blankets he keeps in there for when you get cold and when he finds out andy was the reason for you being hurt he has no problem making his life a living hell.

[mvltisstuff]

going, going, gone pt. 2 - c.f

summary: y/n leaves to do what susannah always wanted for her boys.

conrad fisher x conklin!reader

a/n: gif is not mine, but i was so so happy to see how much everyone loved part one!! i’ve never had to tag people, but i will try and do that at the end of the story <3 this is also not following the books, that i haven’t read because i’m the worst reader 😭

y/n stood on the opposite side of susannah’s bed, visiting her in boston after she was waiting to see her girls. her connection to laurels daughters was always something susannah felt from the moment they were born. she always wanted girls of her own, but she was still blessed with her two sons.

belly was sitting on the bed, a bright blue dress as susannah looked into her eyes. laurel had gone out to run errands for her friend, so the girls had stayed with susannah.

it was clear that her condition was declining, and rapidly. her face didn’t have the usual sunshine look, and she appeared weaker than y/n and belly were ever used to. her skinny hands trailed to theirs and wrapped together. her touch went from a warm comfort to as light as a feather. somehow, through the cloudy day, the sun poked through and her angelic smile blessed the girls.

“i’ve been missing you so much,” susannah grinned, placing a hand on belly’s thigh and grabbing y/n’s hand with the other. “i’m so glad you came to see me. i needed to see you girls.”

the look on belly’s face was almost coated with uncomfortableness, her na��ve self not used to seeing people in this condition. y/n didn’t want susannah to see her fall apart in her grasp, so she made herself blend with tranquility.

the time had passed where they wanted to attempt to save susannah. now, they knew it was only a matter of time until they lost her. they may not have physically lost susannah, but they lost the spark in her a long time ago.

“the boys love you, you know,” she tells belly, and then turning her head to y/n. “both of you.”

“i know,” y/n replies, seeing belly trying to find the right words.

“promise me something?” she asks, looking at belly who’s head perks up. “look after them for me.”

“you’re going to do that yourself,” belly remarks barely over a whisper, moments away from letting the dam break. y/n’s cried enough tears for susannah, but somehow they don’t seem to stop. watching her whole family experience this grief makes her feel less alone, but seeing her baby sister fall apart is near unbearable.

she watched as belly crumpled on the bed into susannah’s arms, and her once warm grasp felt lighter than ever.

ever since her death, y/n wants to look at belly the same. her actions make it so hard. she promised susannah to take care of her boys, and she failed. she let jeremiah sit around knowing he wasn’t the one she truly wanted. afterwards, she made conrad watch in heartbreak her new self with jeremiah.

that scares y/n, knowing that she’ll never truly be able to pick between them. in the long run, no matter who she “picks”, she’s hurting more people than she thinks.

she figures the best thing she can do is be there for conrad, as belly and jeremiah don’t think it’s necessary.

as she drove further and further away, the music she normally sings to turned into static. conrad would probably still be in cousins, not wanting to face his family back in boston. the traffic had quieted down, for people would be home with their families.

she pulled up the the house that had gotten it’s life back before julia took it all away. conrad and y/n were the main ones trying to save the house from being invaded by another family. even if they couldn’t, the cousins house would always have the fisher’s name on it. when y/n walked up to the front door, she slowly turned the doorknob and stepped in.

her footsteps lightly echoed due to the emptiness of the house, some of the front rooms still looking lifeless. y/n walked around, picturing everything exactly how susannah had it, all the portraits and loving decor she had around. she knew, though, that’s how conrad will set everything up.

the sun was just starting to dip down below the horizon, and when she spotted conrad sitting with his feet dipped in the pool, he looked lower than the sun ever could get.

she quietly stepped out onto the back, not saying a word until he noticed her. his head slowly tilted around, feeling her sweet eyes burning through him. he felt more relieved. she’s the only person he wants to see. she’s the one person who hasn’t ripped his heart out and used it.

“what are you doing back?” he questions, keeping his collected expression.

“i didn’t think you really wanted to be alone. you can’t fool me, conrad,” she smirks softly, moving over to sit next to him on the edge of the pool. she dips her feet into the cool water, not yet graced by the hot summer air.

“i don’t need you to be here for me, i don’t think i’m too good of company right now.”

“i think that’s exactly why you need me,” y/n says as conrad looks back to her. he’s always noticed y/n’s beauty on the outside, but he never got to really appreciate the inside. her mind was just as beautiful as her hair when the wind blows it, or the dimples on her cheeks when she’s happy. “you don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

“yeah,” he sighs, swaying his feet in the pool. “i thought jere would at least help me.”

“i talked to belly,” y/n tells him, seeing him quickly freeze and lean his head back.

“it’s not a big deal, y/n, really,” conrad says.

“it is to me. i never thought of her like this, but i don’t understand how she could do that to you.”

“it’s a me problem, clearly jeremiah’s better than i am.”

“that’s not true. belly’s young and thinks she’s innocent. she doesn’t deserve someone like you. she’ll never take the time to know you, but she’s going to jeremiah because he’s ‘easier’.” y/n replies. “you’re perfectly fine the way you are, and you never have to change for her, or me.”

“my mom always saw me with belly. i think that’s the worst part.”

“but your mom didn’t see what belly’s done to you. susannah would never want you to change in order to be with her.” y/n says, clearly to him. “susannah asked belly to be there, and she failed.”

“what do you mean?”

“when belly and i went to visit, she asked us to take care of you and jeremiah. belly barely looked after you, and i don’t even know if she’s helping jeremiah.”

“i get it, though. i left her at prom, and broke her heart.”

“was it shitty of you? yes, i’m not gonna lie to you. at this point, she’s taking it too far by playing with you and now it’s jeremiah’s turn.”

“maybe my mom was wrong,” he looks away, connecting his eyes back with the minute waves in the water. “i miss her. she was like a breath of fresh air, and i feel like i haven’t gotten that since she died.”

“she’s still here,” y/n tells him, seeing the corner of his mouth turn up a bit.

“i still feel her sometimes. if i’m home and i hear a noise, i’ll think she’s cooking, or painting. i don’t need people to see me fall apart.”

“you never have to hide, conrad. not anymore, and not from me.”

the next time he locks eyes with y/n, he can majorly see the sincerity in her face. there’s still a hint of when they were young in their eyes, memories swimming back into conrad’s head. every time she talked to him, all the time she spent with him. every party she skipped because conrad didn’t feel up to it, and she didn’t want him to be alone. he never felt nervous around y/n the way he did with her sister. they always had a complex relationship, but never once did y/n fail to be next to him. conrad let his inch closer to y/n’s, letting her hand lay on top of his, leaving solace in him. he never noticed how soft her hands were, literally and figuratively. she never once used him and glued his pieces back together. it’s then that he realizes that’s something belly never did.

impulsively, he moves his body more toward y/n, trying to get all the gladdening she can give. she’s more than happy to give it to him, letting conrad hold onto her and have her help him. the world around the boy became lighter, almost forgetting about his former despondency caused by belly. the closer he got to y/n, the more he thought that his mother had mistaken belly for the one.

he brushes a stand of y/n’s hair behind her ear, placing his hand on the side of her neck. she breathes lightly, knowing what conrad wants from her, but not knowing if he needs it.

“conrad,” she whispers, his name coming across incredibly from her lips. “you know i love you.”

“of course,” he says back, his hand trailing down her arm.

“but i won’t be a redemption because you cannot have belly. i’ve been the second choice once and i destroyed myself. i won’t do it again.”

“belly’s not who i want. i don’t think i’ve ever loved belly the way i have for you.” it all felt so sudden, the tension growing thicker between them as conrad only wanted to deepen the connection. y/n was just so horrified of hurting him more. she knows that she could help him and love him how he should, but she needs to know that he’s not just trying to get belly back.

“i think we need time, conrad. please?” she asks, and he nods, slipping his hand back down and grabbing her hand. “but trust me when i say that’s it’s not over with us.”

the meaning behind her words is stronger. in reality, she just wants to dive into conrad and accept anything he has to give, but he needs to strengthen his own heart first. he needs to know what he wants. if y/n needs time, he will wait for her.

tags: @historygeekqueen @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @celesteblack08 @parkerdayaa @shelby-x

[moonstruckme]

Hii!! I had an idea for soft!eddie x reader… I hope you like it!

So what about soft!eddie x reader that watch a horror movie before bed because Eddie wanted to and reader said yes… but then reader wakes up from a nightmare and gets a little bit paranoid? Like she wants to go get a glass of water, but she’s so scared that she’ll see a creepy face appear out of no where? Or she doesn’t want to look at the windows and that kind of stuff? (When I wake up in the middle of the night, I get so paranoid/scared, I wish Eddie was there 😭) and she finally gets up to get a glass of water and then (in between all of that Eddie woke up) Eddie says something like ‘why are you awake at 2am’ and she has a jump scare, and drops her glass, and basically the adrenaline kicks in and she starts to cry because it’s too much and she was so scared? And Eddie just hugs her and comforts her and he helps her falls back asleep?

I hope all of that made sense… if not… I’m so sorry😭😭

I’m sending lots of love!! Have a good day/night!! 💗💗🫶

- ☀️

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 750 words

It’s a while before you can convince yourself to set one foot on the floor, but the inside of your mouth feels like it’s made of wool and something needs to be done about this. When no clawed hand reaches out to yank you underneath the bed, you take it as a sign of good faith. 

Your footsteps are featherlight and cautious, every dark corner and unshuttered window a threat. An empty threat, you remind yourself, but even the voice in your head is shaky. 

The Munsons don’t have glasses, but they do have an array of things picked up from here and there, plastic cups from restaurants and old containers and one plain mug for Wayne’s coffee. You grab a cleaned-out jam jar from the top shelf, filling it with cold water from the tap. It does the trick, sweet and refreshing on your tongue. You feel instantly better. 

You pad back towards Eddie’s room with a clearer head. It was just a movie. There’s no creeping shadows here, no cloud so thick it blots out the moon. There’s fluorescent light from the street coming in through Eddie’s windows, and families sleeping in the trailers on either side of you. Nothing bad could happen to you here. 

You slow as you get to Eddie’s room, trying to be quiet. 

“Hey.” 

Your gasp is so sharp it hurts a little in your chest. Your body stiffens, the condensation on the glass making it slip from your hand. It shatters on the floor. 

“Shit, what the hell?” 

You turn, and it’s Eddie—of course it’s Eddie, who else would it be?—standing behind you in the dark hallway, a pillow crease imprinted on his cheek. 

“Oh my god.” Your voice comes out breathless, and you press your hands over your eyes. 

“Babe, what—shit, are you crying? Are you hurt?” You shake your head, and Eddie’s hands come around your arms, pulling you towards him. “Careful, don’t step on the glass. I scared you, huh?” 

You nod as he folds you into his chest, scrubbing up and down between your shoulder blades. 

“Yeah? Well fuck, don’t to cry about that,” he says, panic melding back into sleepiness as his voice takes on a fond bent. “I wouldn’t’a hurt ya.” 

“I thought you were the ghost,” you mumble sheepishly into his chest. 

Eddie pauses for a moment. Your face feels ten degrees hotter. 

“Me?” He sounds like he’s smiling. Then he lets go of you, taking your face between his hands, and you know he is. It’s giant and goofy, its own sort of light to combat the dark corners. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m flattered. But no dice.” Eddie shrugs like this is something he can’t help. “All flesh and blood in here, baby. The gross stuff.” 

“Yeah,” you say quietly, embarrassed. Those couple of quick tears have already mostly dried, but Eddie swipes at them with his thumbs anyway, grinning like you’re silly. “I’m sorry I broke your glass.” 

“It happens all the time,” he reassures you. “Don’t sweat it, I’ll clean it up in the morning.” He takes a big step over the glass shards, offering you a hand to help you do the same. Doesn’t let go of it even when you’re on the other side. “Should I be worried that you’re up at 2 in the morning looking for ghosts?” 

“I was getting water,” you mumble, letting him sit you down on the edge of the bed. Eddie gives you a look. “I also don’t really do well with scary movies.” 

“Yeah. I figured that one out when you wouldn’t go to sleep until I closed the blinds.” He grins. You smile back bashfully, and he makes a dramatic groaning sound, hauling you into a hug. “You should’a told me you didn’t want to watch it. I wouldn’t have picked it if I’d known you’d get all freaked.” 

“I didn’t want to be a wuss,” you say. You can practically feel Eddie rolling his eyes over the top of your head. 

“You can’t fight your true nature, babe. But it’s cool.” He flops the both of you over so you’re laying down between him and the wall. “This way, anything that wants to get you will have to go through me.” 

You turn in his arms, pouting. “I don’t want anything to have to go through you.” 

“Then let's go back to there are no ghosts, ‘kay?” He plants a kiss between your brows, snuggling you close. “Sleep tight, scaredy cat.” 

[backmuscles21]

Finally Found You

Tonowari x Reader x Ronal

Summary: Jake and Tonowari find your body washed up on the shore, it's a forest Na'vi's body. Once Jake sees your face, he remembers you and it scares him. You were blue but you never had a Na'vi body. Ronal nurses you back to health and Tonowari shows you around. You told Jake about all of Ardmore's plans and what had happened, only you didn't know how you ended up on the Metkayina shore beaten to a pulp. Tonowari and Ronal end up falling for you, and once you mate with them, you'll do anything to protect your family, even kill again.

Warnings: smut, canon typical violence, self-esteem issues, bisexual reader, mating rituals, hurt/comfort

The last thing you remembered was dark, it was pitch black. You feel like maybe there were waves, maybe you heard waves, but maybe it was just your mind making things up in the coldness of dark and lonely silence.

Jake and Tonowari were going over some of the plans that the warriors and hunters would be going over, they were deep in conversation when they heard kids screaming. Jake and Tonowari turned around to see mothers holding onto their kids, they both walked closer to the shore.

It was a forest Na’vi body, the body was female and completely naked, it also looked pretty bruised up from the sight of it. Tonowari and Jake pulled the body from the water and covered it in a blanket. When they flipped you onto your back, Jake was shocked, he knew you. He stumbled back, he quite literally saw the face of a ghost.

“Are you okay?” Tonowari asked Jake seeing the look on his face.

Jake nodded; he couldn’t form words. You were there when home tree went down, you and Trudy were in her helicopter. You left after they did; you gave them word Quaritch was coming and stayed to help. You and Trudy died when her helicopter went down. You were Marines and a Na’vi sympathizer, but you never had an avatar. He didn’t understand, he didn’t know what to think.

“Jake?” Tonowari asked again, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“I knew her, the face. I knew her as a sky person. When she was also a sky person. It doesn’t make sense. She died; I saw her die. She was always on the outside but she was never blue. I don’t know what happened.”

Tonowari squatted down by your face, despite all the bruising, you were quite pretty. That’s when he felt it, your warm breath on his cheek. It was barely there but he stood up and looked at Jake.

“She’s still alive, I felt her breathe. There her chest is rising and falling ever so slightly. Help me take her to the Tshaik’s tent.”

Tonowari and Jake took you to the Tshaik’s tent and Ronal looked at what was wrong.

“We will leave her here to rest and recover. I don’t know what happened to her but it looks like she was beaten within an inch of her life. Her body will take time to recover. She’ll be lucky to wake up in the next few days,” Ronal said.

However, in the next few days, you woke up.

Ronal was mixing some herbs, you sat up and took the deepest breath Ronal has ever heard, like your lungs had never known what oxygen was. You looked around, your eyes widened when you saw Ronal.

“What happened?” You asked quietly after staring for a moment.

Ronal came over to you, “you look better now that you’re awake. I will get the boys.”

“Who?” you questioned as she left.

Moments later, Tonowari and Jake followed through the opening with Ronal.

“Y/N,” Jake said.

“Jake?” You sat up more and hugged him. “Jake, what’s going on?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Last I saw you; you went down in Trudy’s burning helicopter.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“There was this project, Project Phoenix, I signed up for it back when we were at Hell’s Gate, long before home tree went down. They selected certain marines to get brain scans and then we’d use them to learn and fight fire with fire. A couple of months ago, I woke up with the memories of y/n. I’ve always loved the people but you made me fall in love with the Na’vi even more. I forgot all about the project and they didn’t remember about me switching sides, clearly. I did but only some of it, obviously, I didn’t know how I died or if I did at all. General Ardmore is who we’d answer to, me, Quaritch, Wainfleet, Zdog, Walker, Fike, Ja, Prager, Warren, Mansk, Zhang, and Brown. We were to go boots on the ground in the rainforest and look for you, we went out like twice. We never found you. last thing I remember was heading back to the base, a helicopter was coming for us and then it was lights out.”

“Well, they did. Or they found some of my kids at least. That's why I'm here. However, they beat you pretty badly I think and stripped you and threw you in the ocean. Probably thought they killed you.”

“I think I wish they did,” you looked up at Jake, tears starting to well up in your eyes.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m an abomination. I died; I don’t get second chances. I’m on the bad guy’s side. Jake – I don’t want this. They brought us all back to do their bidding. I’m not a lap dog, I’m not kissing ass again,” you felt the tears roll down your cheeks.

“You’re with us now. You don’t have to go back. You can be a warrior with us now.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t wanna live like this. I don’t want to fight again. I was bred to fight and if I’m using this second chance, I’m not killing again.”

“There are many jobs here that you could do. You don’t have to waste this chance.”

Tonowari looked at you and smiled, “you are welcome to stay. We could always use the help.”

“Thank you. And thank you for saving me,” you looked at Tonowari and smiled as another tear fell down your cheek.

“You’re welcome. I can show you to your mauri.”

You nodded, you stood up and saw you were in traditional Metkayina garb. You walked with him along the bouncy path, you looked around as you walked. This place was like you’ve never seen, it was gorgeous and the water was so blue.

“I think you’ll fit in nicely here. I’ll show you around tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to a couple of ladies and you can pick a job. There are a few in mind.”

“Thank you for everything. I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“You do, you’ve done a lot for Jake and soon for us.”

“I didn’t do a lot. I helped when the war happened but not initially.”

“You were following orders.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Tonowari stopped in front of you, his hands on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes, “you’re doing the right thing now. That’s all that matters. You died for our cause; you saved many forest Na’vi.”

“I would’ve died either way. Not to mention I killed. I have memories of shooting up a school. Not that I enjoyed it or liked it, but I still did it.”

“That doesn’t matter now, that’s in the past. You’ve lived that life and now you have a new one and you can choose what you want to do with it.”

“Tonowari, what if I can’t? What if I’m only ever good for following orders and killing?”

His hands moved to your cheeks; he wiped the tears falling down your cheeks. “You will do your best and if something happens or you can’t handle it, you let me know. We can work on it. It won’t be easy but it will be possible and as your new olo’eyktan I want you to succeed.”

You leaned into him to hug him; he was probably the most loving person you ever met. You grew up as a military brat, you were never shown supportive love like this. You never knew love like this and you wanted to reach out and grab it and never let it go. You held onto him; your arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled into his neck. He hugged you just as tightly, he could see how hurt you were.

“I don’t quit, never have never will.”

“I think you’ll find other things you are good at.”

“Like what?”

“Weaving perhaps, healing, or maybe fishing, possibly you could be a hunter. You could provide for the people.”

“I will give it a try.”

After a long night's rest, you met a few people that morning, Tonowari took you by each person to meet them and try the jobs out.

As you figured, you sucked at weaving and cooking and healing and fishing. You would get frustrated easily, anything fitness-wise came easy to you as usually were always strong and fast. That’s why, when you went hunting with Tonowari, you kicked ass and had fun.

That’s when you started to admire Tonowari’s smile.

You knew he was mated with the tshaik but that didn’t stop you from staring and dreaming. Normally, you wouldn’t go for guys, you were bisexual, but you preferred women. At least most human women could actually make you cum, hence why you dated Trudy.

You spent a lot of time around Tonowari since you developed a small crush on him, which is how you started to crush on his mate more. You were over with him and his mate a lot, and you couldn’t help but to fall in love with them both, they both had such beautiful bodies and faces and personalities. You felt like every time you were flirting with them but they never seemed to reciprocate.

Ronal was even more loving than Tonowari and you were addicted to it, you wanted to be around her all the time. Ronal was always there to clean your cuts and ensure you were healing properly from all the bruising. You liked that she was so doting and caring, she was so special to you as was Tonowari.

Weeks later, you were with Jake’s kids, you were making jewelry with Kiri, Tuk and Tsireya. You found yourself having a lot of shell jewelry already thanks to Tuk, so you found yourself making a necklace for Ronal. You just wanted to do something nice for her since she helped you so much. Of course, you did make a bracelet for Tuk which she adored.

You were going over there for dinner and that was the perfect time to give her the necklace you made her. When you got there, you gave it to her with a large smile on your face. At first, she looked taken aback but then she smiled and set it down to hug you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I thought it was the perfect gift to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Of course, you didn’t know about mating rituals.

Ronal and Tonowari talked after you left and they were ready to give you a courting gift and hopefully have you mate with them.

You were over with Ronal and Tonowari again, it was the place to go to try and find you. As you were chatting with Tonowari about a recent hunt Ronal came over with a small box in hand. You looked at her, she smiled as she sat down in front of you and Tonowari, and you smiled along with her.

“I have this for you.”

“For me?”

Ronal handed you the box, as she opened it, your face lit up. It was a very traditional armband that Metkayina wore. Your face lit up and you smiled widely as you took it from her hands.

“It’s gorgeous Ronal, thank you. Both of you. It’s amazing. I love it a lot.”

“Ronal made it, it was my idea to make the armband though.”

“Well, you both did amazing.”

“So, you accept?” Ronal asked with a wide smile.

“Of course, I accept,” only you didn’t really know what you were accepting.

Tonowari’s hand held your jaw as he moved your face from looking straight ahead at Ronal to look at him. He looked into your wide eyes and his hand moved to your jaw as he kissed you. When he pulled back, you looked shocked, you never expected that. Once your brain reconnected, you moved in to kiss him. Your hands went to his neck and you went in for the kill, you have been wanting this.

You were kissing him quite passionately, although you didn’t realize you accepted their courting gift, you absolutely wanted this. Once you moved back, you smiled, you smiled at both of them.

“So, you will mate with us?” Ronal asked.

“A million times yes. I have only dreamed about this since you guys saved me.”

You moved in to hug Ronal, when you pulled away you stared at her.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, unsure if she wanted that or accepted that.

She kissed you; you crawled closer to her while your lips remained locked. Your arms went around her neck as you were practically on top of her, that’s when you felt a hand on your back. It went up your back and had you turn your head to Tonowari, who then started to kiss you again. You felt Ronal’s hands fall to your waist and drag down to your hips, her hands slid back up your body to your chest covering.

She reached behind your neck and untied it slowly to allow you to stop her, but that never came. She pulled your chest covering off and her hands gravitated to your tits which she held so nicely. Your body was writhing as she played with your nipples, and you moaned into Tonowari’s mouth. Your back arched and you pressed your lips into Tonowari more. Tonowari’s hands gripped your rib cage and squeezed his way down to your hips before moving between your legs. His fingers worked their way under your loincloth, your lips detached and your head rested on Tonowari’s shoulder.

The couple worked on you, as you moaned out loudly. You raised your hand and covered your mouth to try and keep the sounds to a minimum. Tonowari’s hand quickly followed yours and pulled your hand off your face.

“The noise doesn’t matter. Anyone nearby can smell it already. They know what’s happening,” Tonowari said.

“So, you just want everyone to know how well you’re pleasing me.”

“Obviously,” Tonowari said as he removed his fingers and started to untie your loin cloth.

You whimpered but then Tonowari removed your loin cloth fully and Ronal took her hands off your chest. He grabbed your hips and lied you on your stomach, he lifted your hips up enough to give himself some decent leverage.

“I’m going to fuck you and why don’t you eat out your darling mate Ronal,” Tonowari said as he slowly sunk into you.

You grabbed Ronal’s bare thighs and pulled her close to you, you immediately started to eat her out as Tonowari fucked you. Cumming from being fucking mercilessly by Tonowari was one of life’s greatest achievements and to top that off, your face was pressed further and further into one of the prettiest women you’ve ever seen. Making her cum was second to being fucked by Tonowari, it was immaculate to even taste her.

Your life from then on revolved around those two and your newfound adopted kids, Ao’nung, Tsireya, and the current unborn child Ronal was carrying. You were with them every step of the way, from holding Ronal all night after her spirit sister was killed to watching the kids leave to save Jake’s youngest son tulkan friend.

The sky people came to attack and you had no choice but to become a warrior. You were ready to fight for these people, you didn’t care what you wanted.

“I’m going out there, you can’t stop me.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Tonowari asked.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, our kids are out there.”

“You didn’t want to be a warrior or a killer.”

“I don’t have a choice. They took what is the most special to me, my family. I’ll kill for that.”

Tonowari let go of your arm and let you onto your skimwing and raced off to save the kids.

Once Jake went out to talk to Quaritch, you were looking at both your mates as Jake went to save your daughter and his two kids.

Then all hell broke loose and you did exactly what 10 years of intense military training taught you to do, kill.

You swam in fast; you were killing left and right, pushing through many bodies of so many different soldiers. You were blind, you remember this feeling, all you see is red and you’re mindlessly killing. This time it wasn’t orders though, this time you were fighting for your home and for your family. This time it was like a big middle finger to Quaritch for all the shit he’s ever done to you in the time you’ve known him on Pandora.

Watching Jake’s eldest cut loose his siblings and your daughter, you had Tsireya and you were trying to get Lo’ak and Neteyam to come with you once Tuk went with her mom. You had a choice to make, take your daughter to safety or help the boys go get their friend. You were blinded with rage still and Tsireya called an ilu and went back to her parents while you hopped aboard the ship. You followed the boys into the ship, you grabbed a gun and you shot at the few soldiers still straggling around.

The boys saw you following them, you went further into the ship together once they got Spider back. You shot at more soldiers, before getting into the water. It was shortly after you were confronted with Quaritch.

“I see you lived.”

“What would you know about that?”

Quaritch smirked as he held Kiri.

“What did you do to me?”

“You lied.”

“About what?”

“You were never on our side, even before you signed up for Deja Blue.”

“That’s true, but I didn’t defy until before home tree went down.”

“Still, you should have never been on our team. That’s why we had to take matters into our own hands.”

“By beating me and dumping me in a river.”

“You were supposed to die.”

“I wish I did. But at least I get to have some well-deserved revenge.”

Once the ship started to sink, you got out and went back to shore. You couldn’t fight Quaritch anymore and Jake had it covered anyways.

Your skimwing brought you to the shore and you saw your mates standing there, they did not look pleased. You couldn’t be happier about having to travel through water to get back to the shore, all the blood was washed off you, at least the blood that wasn’t yours.

“Where the hell have you been? Tsireya came home by herself.”

Tonowari was yelling at you, he was using his chieftain voice. You’ll be damned if it didn’t both scared you and turn you on, but you knew this was not a light circumstance. You stared at your mates, you felt nervous and you felt remorseful.

“I’m sorry. I went to help Jake’s kids. I think I just was seeing red and I didn’t want to stop.”

“You left your daughter alone,” Ronal said as she walked up to you.

“I’m sorry, I really am. This is why I didn’t want to start killing but I didn’t care anymore. They had our daughter and I just had to. I shouldn’t have left her, I knew that. But I did see one of the people I got brought back with. He told me what happened.”

“What did you learn, syulang,” Tonowari said as he pulled you into a hug.

“They knew about me being a traitor so they tried to kill me and get rid of me. I wanted revenge. I know it was selfish but still.”

“It’s okay. Just make sure you apologize to Tsireya.”

“I love you guys more than anything.”

“Let’s go get you cleaned up. You have a couple of cuts,” Ronal said as she started to bring you back to your home.

refuse to write Neteyam’s death so I just left it out.

[electrozeistyking]

Even more questions:

What if Tessa met Beanie? How would she react to N being a father?

Does Beanie hang upside down using her tail? If she can of course.

Does she like reading? If yes then what's her favorite book?

What if J met Beanie?

What if Uzi didn't have to die?

Does she play with her dad's hair?

How does V spend time with Beanie?

What if Beanie somehow found out about what happened to her mother?

Does Beanie have any fears? Like things that make her uncomfortable, scared and ect.

What does make Beanie happy?

For that first question, I’m just going to say I think Tessa would be disgruntled and confused. N (and V) spent eight years on Copper-9, and suddenly he’s a dad??? As for the other questions, I have spent all day drawing stuff for.

I assume Beanie would like generic children’s books (though I assume they’d be pretty wacky, considering they’d be written by drones). However, she has once stolen and read a whole dictionary. She may be a little WordGirl in the making, but hell if she can pronounce any of them.

So I debated on whether I should unveil GD!J’s design for this, and I decided “Eh. Why not?” I believe J and Beanie’s first meeting would not go over well, which would certainly make Bea develop a hatred towards J (like mother like daughter!). In her words, J is a bum.

N definitely would not have ghost sight, and would have kept his old (if a little well-loved at this point) outfit. Seeing as Beanie was named by N when he put Uzi’s hat on her head whilst being sleep-deprived, I highly doubt that she would still have that name here. Also N still gets kisses. :D

Like a little kitty cat, especially when he’s recharging. She likes batting at his bangs a lot. Who knows why.

I like the idea V would accept the role of being Beanie’s wacky aunt. They are a force to be reckoned with, and they’re sometimes very unhelpful put together. (By the way, Bea inherited N’s dialect, meaning they both pronounce certain words the same way. In this case, they both say “Awn-tee.”)

She... probably wouldn’t take it well in the wrong context. She may like biting things, but she only bites other drones when she’s scared. The above comic features Beanie overhearing that N technically killed her mother, and terrified by the idea he could hurt his loved ones, she bites him for the first (and possibly only) time.

While Beanie is scared of strangers and freaky dark places, that’s nothing in compared to how terrified and worried she becomes when separated from her father for long periods of time, thanks to him always being around her. She could wander away from him, but she’ll always toddle back to him.

Outside of her family and turtlenecks, what I’ve taken to calling “roboroaches” make Beanie happy! She gets an extra blast of serotonin when she sees them, and she may be some kind of “cute little bug” whisperer at this point.

Thanks for the questions! Hope you enjoyed the responses :3

OH FROGS! SHE DOES NOT HANG UPSIDE DOWN BY HER TAIL BTW, I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING TO ANSWER ONE. She does open doors with it sometimes, though.

[hypnos333]

Their Forever

Cha Hyunsu x reader

Synopsis: You gave birth again with another child but Hyunsu brought another little girl home (It’s a bit short)

Pt.1 - Your Forever Pt.2- Our Forever

“Hi Sunhye, I’m Taehoon your Oppa” Taehoon said cheerfully as Sunhye grip Taehoon finger as she sat on your lap. “Be careful Tae we still don’t know her monster abilities” You sigh as you gave Sunhye her bottle.

“What if she’s just Human Mama?” He asked Curiously before brightening up “Then I can protect Sun from bad people no matter what” He said cheerfully making you chuckle.

“Well My love Sunhye had a habit of bringing Monsters around the house when she’s sleeping” You stated making him pout.

Sunhye laid back on your chest drifting asleep until the door opened up. “We’re home!” Hyunsu yelled out making Sunhye snap her eyes open more awake to go to her Dad. Hyunsu kisses you on the lips in greeting.

“Ah-yi!!!” Taehoon yelled hugging her tight making Ah-yi smile. She felt like home is with you and Hyunsu, She didn’t have to wear her gloves and when you first met her, you welcome her with open arms with no hesitation.

“Eonni let’s go play” Taehoon whine making her agree. “Ah ah make sure you wear your gloves and blindfold before meeting people unless they’re hurting you both” You said in a motherly tone before handing Sunhye to Hyunsu as he cooed at his daughter.

“Okay” They said in unison

“And Make sure you come back for dinner” You yelled out making them stop and look at you with innocent smiles

“What’s for dinner Mama?” They said in unison again making you roll your eyes at the two as Hyunsu chuckled at the scene in front of him.

“Samyang noodles with rice paper, rice and sweet and sour chicken” You said making the kids excited.

“Okay Mama” The kids said before chasing each other out the door. You happily watched them and then turn to see Hyunsu playing with Sunhye. You can definitely tell she was a daddy’s girl.

Taehoon wasn’t talkative when he was a baby and it so happens that Sunhye is the same way.

“I think I figured out her golden hour” Hyunsu said as you cooked dinner. Sunhye is bright and was never scared of the monsters so that made him curious.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to tell My love?” You asked making him shake his head as you washed the rice.

“Taehoon got his when he was a baby so Sunhye would mostly be the same way” He answered making him hum to continue his theory. “Sunhye might have an attraction to monsters, like when she’s in danger monster could locate her-“Wherever she is without a sound” You finished his theory in realization.

You both looked at Sunhye as she smiled innocently making you chuckle as you continued making dinner.

Hours later Taehoon and Ah-yi made it back home just in time as Hyunsu was setting up the table. You rushed them to shower before eating.

You gave Sunhye a bit of rice and sweet & sour chicken knowing she’ll eat it.

Taehoon then settle next to Ah-yi, they were attached to the hip ever since they met. Taehoon and Ah-yi both dish out they’re good with big portions making Hyunsu scold them to not eat fast or they’ll get sick.

The table was full of teasing and chatter, it was full of laughter. There was nothing to worry about. This was family, it was forever, Their forever.