#i swear i can fix them- [false]

[foxnikki]

No because I do not understand why most of the villains are so hot, like- look at them!

I know they're villain, please leave me alone-

[wroetolando]

𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 | 𝙼𝚅𝟷

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x reporter!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where max and his reporter wife accidentally adopt five chaotic rookies and become the unofficial grid parents

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: sweet disposition - the temper trap

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The paddock was a hive of noise and motion as the sun began to dip over the circuit, golden rays catching the sweat on mechanics’ foreheads and the gleam of carbon-fiber wings. Post-race buzz hummed in the air—victory for some, frustration for others—but at the very center of it all stood the one woman who could command the attention of five energetic, half-exhausted rookies with nothing more than a look.

“You are not skipping cool down, I don’t care how much your legs hurt,” she said firmly, arms crossed as she stood just outside the Mercedes hospitality unit. “And Jack, stop trying to convince Gabriel to trade media slots with you.”

Jack Doohan blinked innocently. “Worth a try.”

Max, leaning a few feet away with his arms folded and an amused tilt to his lips, watched the scene with the same fondness someone might have when watching a cat try to wrangle five puppies. His wife—ever composed, ever commanding—had somehow become the gravitational center of the rookie pack, and Max had long since accepted his role as the silent co-pilot in their little operation.

“We need a whiteboard,” you muttered as Isack Hadjar arrived, hair still damp from his post-race shower. “I need a whiteboard. And a whistle.”

“You want a whistle?” Max asked.

“I want a bullhorn.”

Oliver Bearman arrived next, tugging off his cap and brushing sweat-damp curls back. “Are we doing interviews first or eating first? I swear I might pass out if—”

“You’ll eat after you give me one sentence that isn’t ‘the car felt good’ or ‘we take the positives,’” you cut in, tapping your iPad. “No bland quotes. I want actual thoughts.”

Gabriel Bortoleto offered him a protein bar from his pocket. “Here, you can survive five minutes.”

“You’ve had that in your pocket for two hours,” Oliver recoiled. “That’s like a biological weapon now.”

Kimi Antonelli, fresh from a P3 finish and visibly trying to act cooler than he felt, walked in just in time to see Oliver shoving the protein bar back at Gabriel like it was radioactive. “Children,” Kimi muttered under his breath.

Max straightened from the wall, clapping a hand lightly on Kimi’s shoulder. “Congrats, by the way. Good race.”

Kimi perked up at the rare praise from the four-time world champion, nodding once. “Thanks. Felt good after last weekend.”

Max didn’t say more, but the nod he returned carried weight—and Kimi caught it, posture squaring slightly.

You were already directing the boys into a loose circle outside the Red Bull hospitality tent, setting up for your impromptu group media debrief. The usual reporters had already swarmed them post-race, but yours was different—somewhere between an interview and a therapy session, half professional, half familiar. The boys trusted you. And Max… well, Max mostly observed, speaking when necessary, stepping in when the chaos got too loud or the mood shifted too dark.

Like now.

Isack had slumped onto the couch, jaw tight. He’d DNF’d—again. Three times in five races. The media had already started with the “overhyped” murmurs, and even though you hadn’t asked him to speak first, you noticed the way his leg bounced, eyes fixed on the floor.

You gave Max a look.

Without a word, he moved to sit beside the younger driver, not pressing, not announcing himself. Just… there. Solid. Real. Isack noticed, of course. Everyone did. It was rare for Max to show warmth like this outside the Red Bull bubble—but when he did, it hit hard.

“Tough race,” Max said simply.

Isack let out a breath. “Felt like I was driving blind. Car didn’t respond. Almost clipped the wall.”

“You didn’t.”

“But I might next time.”

“You won’t.”

There was no false encouragement in Max’s tone—just certainty. That unshakable Verstappen steel. Isack didn’t say anything, but his shoulders dropped a little, the tension leaking out.

You watched it happen, heart softening.

God, how had this become your life?

You—the paddock reporter who used to get mistaken for an intern. Max—the closed-off, stone-faced champion who’d once swore he’d never babysit rookies. And now here you both were: grid mum and dad, sitting on uncomfortable couches with five boys who had no idea how deeply they were cared for.

You cleared your throat. “Alright. Rapid-fire. Best moment of the race—go.”

“Overtaking Jack,” Gabriel said immediately.

“Hey!”

“Jack’s reaction, then,” Gabriel added.

Kimi smirked. “Probably my start. Got the jump on Piastri.”

“Oliver?”

“When I didn’t pass out from heat stroke on Lap 42.”

You nodded. “You hydrated?”

“Define hydrated.”

Max groaned. “You’re getting electrolytes now.”

“You sound like my physio.”

“I’m scarier than your physio.”

“He’s right,” you said. “He once threatened to throw Lando in a lake because he wouldn’t stretch properly.”

“It was a very shallow lake,” Max defended.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Two nights later, the paddock chaos traded its background of engine whines and pit lane screeches for the quieter hum of your home — though “quieter” was a stretch with five young drivers crammed into your kitchen like it was a race briefing gone feral.

“I’m telling you, the mushroom ones are not real tortellini,” Jack insisted, poking at a package of fresh pasta like it had personally offended him.

“They are,” you sighed, pushing him gently out of the way as you balanced two saucepans and a tray of garlic bread. “They’re gourmet.”

“Italians would riot,” Kimi muttered from the dining table, scrolling through his phone.

“Then they can come over and cook,” Max deadpanned from the stovetop, where he was fiercely focused on carbonara like it was an FIA directive.

“Do you actually know what you’re doing?” Oliver asked suspiciously, leaning over Max’s shoulder.

Max didn’t even look up. “I’ve watched like six Gordon Ramsay videos.”

“That’s not the same as cooking.”

“I beat two of you last week,” Max said, stirring the pasta. “You really want to test me on this, too?”

You hid your smile behind your wine glass. There was something inexplicably funny about watching your world-champion husband in sweatpants and socks, bickering with young adults over parmesan cheese.

And even funnier watching the rookies actually respect it.

Dinner, somehow, made it to the table in one piece — pasta, garlic bread, salad (which no one touched), and three types of fizzy drinks because “we’re not hydrating with water off-duty, Mum.”

Plates clinked. Conversation overlapped. Gabriel told a wild story about nearly missing a flight. Jack roasted Kimi for accidentally texting “love u” to his race engineer. Isack, now with a better result under his belt, looked lighter, laughing easily between bites.

It was loud. It was messy. It was perfect.

At one point, Max leaned back in his chair, just watching them. The dim kitchen lights caught in his hair, and his arm brushed against yours beneath the table.

“This is insane,” he murmured.

“This is our insane,” you whispered back.

Halfway through dessert (store-bought tiramisu because you were not a miracle worker), Oliver spotted the old Nintendo Switch docked to the TV.

“Oh hell yes,” he gasped. “Do you guys have Mario Kart?”

Max blinked. “Yeah, but—”

“I’m calling dibs on Yoshi,” Jack declared, jumping up.

“No fair! You always play Yoshi!” Isack protested.

You blinked. “Wait, you guys… actually want to play a game here?”

Gabriel grinned. “We’ve literally been waiting for an invite.”

Kimi, still cool as ever, shrugged. “Let them embarrass themselves.”

You stood with your empty plate. “Max hasn’t lost a Mario Kart game in five years. Good luck.”

“Five years?” Oliver echoed. “Challenge accepted.”

And just like that, a Mario Kart tournament was born.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Two hours, three arguments, and one broken Joy-Con later, the living room looked like a war zone.

Jack had screamed loud enough during one of the rounds that your neighbor’s dog had barked. Isack got so invested he’d physically ducked during a turn. Oliver tried to cheat by leaning over to press Gabriel’s buttons. Kimi sat straight-faced the entire time and still won twice. Without Max playing of course.

Max, of course, held his crown with quiet smugness, holding his controller like a weapon of war.

You sat curled up on the arm of the couch, watching it all unfold, your heart full.

Because they weren’t just rookies. They weren’t just kids with team uniforms and talent and pressure pressing against their ribs. They were yours in a way that no one outside this circle would ever really understand.

You remembered how scared Oliver had looked when he’d been called up mid-season. How Isack had cried quietly after his third crash. How Gabriel had pulled you aside after a brutal interview, asking, “Do I actually belong here?”

How Kimi — calm, quiet, composed — had once confessed during a late media day, “Sometimes I think I’m boring. Like I’ll never be more than a name.”

And you’d been there. Max, too. Quiet in different ways, but always present.

You looked over at Max now. He had his arm slung along the back of the couch, eyes focused on the screen but clearly aware of the way you were watching him.

“You’re soft,” you whispered.

He gave a low laugh. “Don’t say that in front of them. They’ll never let me live it down.”

You leaned in. “Too late. I already told Kimi you teared up during that baby penguin documentary.”

“You what—”

You pressed your fingers to your lips. “Shhh. Grid dad’s gotta keep his edge.”

From the floor, Oliver shouted, “Okay but seriously, can we do this every week?”

Jack added, “I’ll bring dessert next time!”

Isack: “I’m bringing my own controller. I don’t trust these ones.”

Kimi, dry as ever: “Just admit you suck.”

Gabriel, mouth full of more tiramisu: “This is better than half the sponsor events we do.”

Max gave you a look.

You smiled.

“Every week?” he repeated, voice low, wry.

You looped your arm through his. “Every week.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The door clicked shut on the last of them just before midnight, leaving behind only the echoes of footsteps, laughter, and a faint smell of burnt garlic bread.

You stood in the hallway, arms crossed, staring at the living room like it had personally betrayed you.

“Did Jack really spill soda on the couch again?” you asked, voice exhausted.

Max wandered in behind you, barefoot, rubbing the back of his neck. “At least he didn’t put the controller in the freezer this time.”

You blinked. “He what?”

“Long story.”

You groaned and collapsed onto the couch—carefully avoiding the suspiciously damp spot—and tossed your head back with a dramatic sigh. Max stood over you for a second, as if deciding whether to help clean or collapse next to you. Predictably, he picked the latter.

He sat with a grunt, thigh brushing yours. The room had settled into that warm, familiar silence that followed a day well spent—TV off, dishes drying, the chaos of earlier fading into the comfort of shared space.

“Do you ever wonder how the hell we got here?” you asked.

Max tilted his head toward you, brow raised. “Here as in… couch stained with soda and Mario Kart casualties?”

You gave him a dry look. “Here as in… being the unofficial grid parents to five emotionally chaotic, underfed children in motorsport.”

Max smirked and looked up at the ceiling. “Sometimes. But I think I’d miss it if it stopped.”

You fell quiet, surprised.

“I used to think I was done with caring about anything outside my races,” he added after a beat. “Media, the circus, the drama. But now…” He glanced sideways. “You care. So I guess I started caring too.”

Your throat tightened.

“You do more than care,” you said softly. “You show up. Even when it’s quiet. When they need something and don’t know how to ask for it.”

He looked at you for a long moment. “So do you.”

You leaned into him slightly, shoulder pressing to his.

There was a pause.

Then: “You think Oliver’s okay? He seemed distracted tonight.”

“Yeah,” Max said. “I caught him staring at his phone a lot. Could be pressure.”

“Or homesickness,” you said. “He mentioned something about his sister’s birthday.”

Max nodded. “I’ll talk to him at the track.”

You blinked. “You just volunteered for emotional labor.”

“I didn’t volunteer. I just said I’ll talk.”

“Which counts as—”

“Don’t.”

You grinned, sliding your hand into his. His palm was warm, calloused, familiar.

The two of you sat like that for a while. Just holding hands in a room that smelled like pasta and bad decisions, with a broken Joy-Con on the coffee table and your collective future somehow resting in the ability to balance mentorship, love, and motor racing chaos.

You hadn’t meant to become this. You hadn’t planned for the jokes about “grid mum and dad” to stick. But somewhere along the line—somewhere between media sessions and debriefs, late-night calls and race weekend dinners—it had turned real.

And despite all logic, it felt… right.

“I swear if Kimi calls me mum in public again, I’m walking into the ocean,” you muttered.

Max snorted. “I think he does it just to make you flinch.”

“I think he does everything just to make someone flinch.”

Silence again. Comfortable.

Then Max said, “You think they’re gonna be okay this season?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“They’ve got each other,” you said. “And they’ve got us.”

He nodded.

And that was it. That was the truth of it. The unspoken contract written in pasta dinners and post-race pep talks, quiet hallway chats and raucous living room tournaments. The family you never saw coming—but wouldn’t trade for anything.

Not even clean furniture.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The group chat was cursed.

You knew this the moment Jack renamed it “Grid Orphans Anonymous” and Kimi promptly changed it back to “Grid Children of Max & Mum.”

You groaned as the notification pinged at 2:12 a.m. on a race week.

Gabriel:

jack you absolute maniac you left your fireproofs in my hotel room

Jack:

I panicked! we swapped bags after the media thing remember???

also why is there a half-eaten protein bar in the pocket

Isack:

can we please just have one week without emergency?

Oliver:

guys max saw me spill my drink on the simulator

he didn’t say anything

just gave me the look

Kimi:

may God have mercy on your soul

You closed your phone and rolled over to Max, who was half-asleep and glaring at the ceiling like he could feel the idiocy through the walls.

“Tell me again why we let them have our numbers,” he mumbled.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, pulling the duvet up to your ears. “This is your fault. You made eye contact with Oliver once and now you’re legally his father.”

“They need a manager,” he muttered.

“They need a babysitter. A live-in one. With military training.”

Max exhaled. “I’m not old enough to be a dad.”

You rolled onto your side. “Max, you yelled at Gabriel for not bringing a jacket in the rain. And earlier today, you said the phrase, ‘You’ll catch a cold like that.’ You are thirty.”

He blinked into the darkness. “That’s not that old.”

“You also made Kimi take a nap before media day.”

“He was cranky!”

“Oh my God.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Two days later, at a sponsor event, it happened.

You were mid-conversation with a McLaren comms rep when you heard it—clear as day, across the crowd of journalists, VIPs, and crew.

“Hey, Dad, can I borrow your pen?”

Max visibly froze. The world slowed. Cameras clicked. PR reps turned.

Jack was holding out a Sharpie and looking at Max like nothing was wrong with the words he’d just said out loud, in front of dozens of people.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Max turned so slowly you thought his neck might snap.

“Don’t—call me that,” he said through clenched teeth.

Jack blinked. “But you are?”

“I’m not your dad, Doohan.”

Jack grinned, unbothered. “Sure, dad.”

You wheezed behind a camera rig.

Later, Max hissed in your ear, “He’s dead. I’m removing him from the will.”

“You’re not even his real father!”

“Exactly!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The final straw came at 7:04 AM on a blessedly rare day off.

The doorbell rang.

Twice.

Max, still shirtless and half-asleep, cracked the door open to find Oliver and Gabriel standing on your porch with smoothies and matching expressions of deep panic.

“…Why?” was all Max said.

“There’s a sponsor Q&A at nine,” Gabriel said. “They changed the location last night, and our hotel’s shuttle won’t get us there in time.”

Oliver held up a phone with the email. “We’re begging you. We didn’t know who else to call.”

Max looked like he aged ten years in five seconds. “Do I look like an Uber to you?”

You emerged in his hoodie and pajama shorts, took one look at the situation, and sighed like a saint.

“Get in the car,” you said. “No talking. If I don’t get coffee first, I’m leaving you in a parking lot.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Later that day, after the boys had been safely dropped off (with strict instructions not to text before 10 a.m.), Max and you sat in the Red Bull motorhome, sipping your respective drinks in complete silence.

Max finally spoke. “We could’ve had another cat.”

You snorted. “We have enough cats.”

“So?”

“I think you secretly like this.”

“I don’t.”

“You like being the dad.”

“I don’t.”

You leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You do.”

He didn’t argue.

Just laced his fingers with yours under the table, silent and soft.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Somewhere across the paddock, five rookies sent the same text to the same chat:

Oliver:

race weekend dinner at yours again?

Gabriel:

i’ll bring snacks if Max promises not to cook

Kimi:

i’ll win mario kart again. just letting you all know.

Isack:

we should do a team quiz or smth. losers do pushups.

Jack:

do we think mum and dad will ever realize they adopted us

You smiled at the messages as they came in.

Max didn’t even look up from his phone.

“They’re coming for dinner again, aren’t they?”

You grinned. “Yup.”

He sighed. “Fine. But if Jack calls me ‘Dad’ again, I’m unplugging the Switch.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[emeritusemeritus]

Oh supreme leader of Weasley twins smut, can I please ask for another dirty dirty rough mean degradation basically hate fucking with boys, just them using their needy wife because she asked both of them to break her when she had a bad day to relieve her stress with big fluffy after care when they’re done :,) work was rough last night.

Hi Anon, I have been summoned! Please accept this absolute filth (I think I’m ovulating). I hope your work has gotten better and you don’t have bad days anymore 🖤

Warnings: SMUT. Graphic sex, piv sex, fingering, clit play. Swearing and degradation. Dom/sub dynamics, George is a soft!dom (it’s always the quiet ones). brat taming. Reader is a brat. BREEDING KINK. cum play, polyamory, no twincest. Actual chance of pregnancy.

Word count: 2.3k

Break me.

“Get down on your knees... now."

You can hardly tell who is who by this point, your eyes clouded with unshed tears from overwhelm and overstimulation. Their figures are hazy, a blur of delicious milky skin and writhing bodies with no viable way to determine between them. Even their honeyed voices have melded together, as smooth as caramel but as harsh as a whip with their sharp words. It's a delicious juxtaposition. Their hard, unforgiving bodies, so manly and dominant compared to your soft submissive figure.

You'd done this yourself, that you couldn't deny. In your defence, not that it mattered now really, you'd just wanted to put your awful day behind you and to end the day on a high and there was no better way than this.

"Why the fuck do you still have your trousers on?" You'd huffed, clumsily fumbling with the fastenings of Fred's trousers, the tailored tweed personally offending you by still covering what you'd so desperately needed. You revel in your stubbornness, resisting their attempts to get you to submit to them. You wouldn't make it easy tonight.

"Patience is a virtue princess," Fred had retorted before pulling you into a searing kiss, still much more playful than his twin who had been watching in silent judgement with dark eyes.

"Fuck virtues," you'd almost whined, getting more and more frustrated that they weren't already naked and pounding some sense into you. "Give me sin."

"Feisty tonight isn't she?" Fred smirks towards his twin who has remained resolute, clearly not finding the same humour in your sass.

"Don't ruin my dress," you admonish with a bite, wriggling against Fred's dominant hold. He's got you pinned face down against the bed as he hovers on top of you, the curve of your ass pressing against the impressive bulge in the trousers he's still fucking wearing. As much as you hated your job right now and could daydream for hours about never returning, that really wasn't an option and so you would need the dress.

"We'll be gentle," Fred replies, his lips ghosting the back of your neck.

"Until the dress is off," George adds darkly, his first spoken words for what seems like hours. His eyes are fixed upon your body, almost degradingly so, like you were his prey to be devoured. It fills you with a semblance of something resembling fear thought it's the very best kind, entwined with an excitement for what you know is inevitably coming.

Your dress is unceremoniously peeled off of you, leaving you in just your underwear. In the back of your mind you wished you'd worn a nicer pair this morning but realistically they weren't going to last much longer regardless. You feel a kiss placed to the centre of your back once your bra is unclapsed, a gentle precursor that could in theory give you false hope of gentility. Your eyes flick to George once more and you freeze when you see that he's now entirely naked, the gentle lamplight illuminating every inch of delicious freckle spattered skin, including his fully erect cock in his hand. His hand drags across his length slowly, the foreskin catching with each deliberate swipe, a taunt of what you so desperately want but won't admit. The sight alone makes your mouth water and you're immediately closer to breaking your resolve.

There's a sudden movement from Fred behind you and a sudden pulling sensation on your body before a resounding rip occurs. You shiver as you feel your now bare pussy exposed to the air in the room, your panties having been ripped off by Fred. You're vulnerable now, your body exposed to his view behind you, your body aligned perfectly for him to just slip in, if he would just take those fucking trousers off finally.

You watch as your panties are thrown across the room, landing in George's outstretched hands. It's ridiculously hot in the moment how effortless his catch was and you hold back a shiver. He wraps your panties around his fingers and keeps hold of them as his hand returns to his bulging cock.

"What do you want princess?" Fred says, his fingers drifting onto your breasts, toying with your nipples.

"Fucking hell," you huff at his attempts to tease you any further. Surely it was fairly obvious what you wanted, why did he have to be so Fred about the whole thing?

"Two guesses," you spit, not even bothering to look up at him as you consider rolling your eyes. The swift smack to your right buttcheek echoes through the room, making you jump.

"Manners princess," Fred admonishes, tutting at you as he rubs the prickling skin of your rear where he'd struck. You sigh out of frustration, wishing for once they would just listen and not have to joke around.

"Say please," he adds mockingly, only furthering your annoyance. You're half tempted to get off the bed and finish the job yourself, though it could never compare to them.

You won't say please and you won't give in. As much as you so desperately want them, want to be fucked out of your bad mood so you can reach that heavenly headspace you so craved, you wouldn't beg.

Another smack to your bum makes you gasp, his hands striking the exact same sensitive spot.

"What will it take hmm?" He says, caressing your sore bum. You feel his hands get lower and lower with each stroke until his fingers are sweeping past your opening, catching on your sensitive lips.

You cry out when his finger breaches your weeping hole, finding relief in his long and slender digits but it's still not enough. You need his cock like you need oxygen, both of their cocks if you're honest with yourself but you're not even getting one right now. You will not say it. You will not beg.

"You're dripping down my hand sweet girl, sure you won't just give in?" Fred says, pushing his fingers deep into you. You're silent, forcing yourself not to moan, getting dangerously close to breaking.

"Little brat," you hear one of them say sharply, though you're too focused in to know who it is.

"Goes away for 12 hours at work and this is how you return? Forgetting all your manners." It's George, you think. But he sounds closer now, had he moved? You can barely bring yourself to raise your head to check, the feeling of fred's fingers in you just too much.

"Fuck!" You cry out as you feel a harsh slap on your bum, the kind that stings instantly and leaves finger marks for the rest of the night. You know that it's George for certain now.

"See? Maybe you shouldn't be allowed to work anymore," Fred says, curving his fingers up into your pussy.

"Maybe we should just keep you here, let your husbands take care of you instead. Keep you here ready to take us whenever we like," George says darkly, moving to stand in front of you, his imposing figure creating a shadow that covers and looms over you.

"Knocking you up over and over again, always filled with one of us," Fred adds.

"Give in to us darling, then you'll get everything you need," George says with a surprisingly soft tone. It's a trap, it must be.

You think, desperate for more but still not willing to give up.

"Fine, be a brat." The shadow disappears and you scramble, only now realising that you might have pushed him too far, that you might be left completely unsatisfied.

Your eyes lock as you look up, his dangerous smirk directed straight at you. He knew exactly what he was doing and had weaved you into his little trap. Now you were really in for it.

"Come on baby straddle me," George says as he positions himself on the bed, holding out his hand for you, knowing your legs were wobbly at best. Fred had completely ruined you whilst George had watched with dangerously dark eyes, his gaze electrifying you. You were thoroughly fucked, dripping Fred's cum onto the bedsheets and already exhausted but your need for George was still much too overwhelming.

"Say please," you say in a breathy voice, using the last of your willpower to torment him one last time. The look on his face tells you that he very much did not appreciate your snark.

"Get on my fucking lap before you can't sit down for a week."

You cry out at the stretch as he enters you, shuddering as your walls clench around him tightly to accommodate him, even if Fred had already worked you up before. You're squirming in his lap, his cock pressed deep inside you to the point you're certain you can feel him in your tummy. His hands hold you in a bruising grip and you can tell he's holding himself back, sensing that you need time to adjust to him. When he finally begins to roll his hips, you throw your head back at the sensation. Godric he fills you completely. It feels like he's everywhere, not a single patch of your insides not stimulated by him. You cling to his shoulders, desperately grounding yourself as he begins to manoeuvre you, guiding your hips until you're riding him with increasing intensity.

He's using you like a sex doll for his own pleasure, directing your hips and controlling the speed until you're in a trance like state. You feel yourself slipping into your own headspace, your sense of reality beginning to slip away.

"This is what you needed baby? My big cock filling you like this?" George says, breaking your slight trance. His tone is slightly condescending but it only fuels your passion, hearing his sinful and dominating words.

"Can't hear you Angel..."'

You're both covered in sweat and fluids, partly yours, partly Fred's. It's sinful and utterly erotic, your own hips canting to match his as you feel the telltale tingle of your second climax on the horizon. You let out a loud chant of his name, each thrust making you want to cry out louder and so you plant your face into the crook of his neck to conceal your desperate need to scream. Your hips rock against his and you clench as you hear his own groans of pleasure, your fingers clinging onto his wide shoulders to anchor yourself to him.

His hand leaves your hip to pull you up forcefully to look at him, his thrusts momentarily stopping.

"Don't hide from me Angel, I want to hear every single sound you make. I want to hear the way you cry for me."

He lifts you up off of his cock with his strong arms and throws you down onto the bed, hardly giving you a moment to settle before he’s lifting your hips up to him, pulling you half onto his lap and ramming his cock back inside. You cry out, grabbing hold of the duvet for support as he fucks into you wildly. Your tits are freely bouncing and you can feel George’s hungry gaze upon them as he fucks up into you without abandon. He’s close, you can sense it, his eyebrows pulled together as he fights to hold back his climax.

You’re completely exposed like this, your body freely on display and vulnerable to his gaze, it’s so erotic. You feel a presence beside you and turn your head slightly to watch Fred appear on the bed, his eyes also drawn to your bouncing tits whilst his hand creeps across your tummy and down to your abandoned clit.

“We want you to cum again sweet girl, can you do that for us?” He says, stroking your clit with perfect precision even as George rails you.

“Give us one more,” Fred adds temptingly, his fingers never faltering on your swollen bud, your climax rapidly approaching as you feel warmth begin to spread through your body.

“One more load for you sweet girl, can you take it?”

“Yes fuck, please!” You cry out, the magic word finally being said.

They share a look of victory at your pleading, each of them knowing that they finally broke you. You’re fucked out, finally letting go of your inhibitions and allowing them to take complete control.

You let out a guttural moan, so pure and erotic that you’d be slightly embarrassed if you could fully comprehend as your orgasm crests, their hands and cocks working perfectly to get you off. You clench around George’s cock so tightly you can feel it pulsing within you.

George roars as he cums, filling you to the brim with his warmth, keeping his cock tucked deep inside as he practically breeds you.

You’re floating in the ether, with all thought of logic or consequence completely gone, finally fucked to the point that you can feel nothing but bliss. Your shitty day is forgotten, you only exist in this blissful piece of time tied only to your two husbands.

When you finally come back to earth, you’re snuggled between your two loves, with George pulling you into his chest. Fred works on cleaning you up with a flick of his wand before settling in beside you.

“Rough day?” Fred says, stroking your hair. George is monopolising your cuddles but he doesn’t mind, sensing that George needs this aftercare and grounding just as much as you. You simply nod on defeat, not wanting those thoughts to re-emerge in your head.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he says gently, “you never know, hopefully this time we actually have knocked you up and you won’t have to go back there at all.”

“My thoughts exactly,” George adds, sounding on the brink of sleep.

You can’t deny, it’s incredibly tempting.

[coffeefleecy]

The Serpent's Kiss

Pairing: Caleb X MC

Summary: After getting your fix, the exhaustion returns almost tenfold. Caleb answered your pleas before - can he answer them again?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three Part Four

Word Count: 4.2 K

Tags/Warnings: incubus!Caleb, smut, degradation, slight manipulation, dream sex, face-sitting, cunnilingus, gaslighting

It’s been weeks since Caleb has invaded your mind, yet the lingering feeling of dread looms over you like a dark cloud whenever you see the unoccupied vase he’d pointed out to you over on your dresser. It seems like such a trivial thing to fixate on; such a tiny detail that you could be misremembering, but you swear he’d pointed those roses out to you to show you that you were dreaming – that it hadn’t been real.

“See? Those wouldn’t be there if you weren’t dreaming, right?”

Despite the anxiety that came with not knowing what was real and what your sleep-addled brain had produced, you’d awoken later that morning feeling more rested than you had in weeks. The fix, like all fixes do, wears off after a few days and that pleasant glow you’ve been sporting is ebbing away. Your flushed cheeks turn sullen and the bags under your eyes grow more pronounced with every sleepless night in the following week, only adding to your despair and confusion.

Your hands roam and you let your fingers explore your body with the intent to tire yourself out, but  the movements lack conviction or aim to seek pleasure. Due to disingenuous nature, it all feels forced and contrived. It’s all wrong, the performance false and empty in spite of the audience being only you. You give up and roll over, deciding you’re beyond help.

The methods you’ve tried before to no avail are put into practice again, this time producing even less of a result than the last. The sleepy teas you drink only serve to fill your bladder. The melatonin you take addles your brain with a heavy fog, yet the sleep meant to accompany it never comes. You’re left with the side effects of all of these methods without the benefit of passing out afterward. Caleb fades from your mind, becoming nothing more than a distant memory like all dreams do, your exhaustion the only thing preoccupying your focus.

On the eighth night after Caleb’s visit and without more than a couple of hours of sleep, you struggle with your comforter bunching at your feet, huffing out at the feeling of being trapped. The fabric feels like quicksand, pulling you deeper and deeper into frustration and restless exhaustion, tangled and obnoxious like perturbing hands. Even your thin tank top and the most comfortable pair of loose shorts you’ve donned feel restricting, despite both those and the stretchy, hipster panties beneath your usual pajamas of choice.

“Please.” You silently beg, the misery permeating every bit of your thoughts and tainting them. “Just - ten minutes. I just need ten minutes.”

It’s like deja vu when you feel a pair of strong, thick arms wrapping around your middle and the dizzying scent of apples assaults your senses. 

“You call me for me, pipsqueak?”

His voice is as sickly sweet as syrup, those honeyed words oozing with pity and a selfish sarcasm that makes you feel anxious and eager at the same time; like he’s only here because he feels sorry for you and gets nothing out of it.

“Caleb?”

“The man, the myth - the legend,” He murmurs into your ear, tracing your torso with his fingertips until they’re slipping underneath your shirt. “Seems like you need my help, huh?”

“Thought - thought it was a dream,” You murmur in confusion. “You told me -”

“Yeah, yeah - just a little dream. Nothing to worry about - just let me take care of you, okay? You need me so badly, don’t you? I can feel your body singing for me, sweetheart.”

“I’m so confused,” You whine sleepily. “Feels so real.”

“I know you missed me,” Caleb ignores your exhausted rambles and presses kisses into your collarbone. “Been thinking about my fingers, huh? Yours aren’t long enough or skilled enough to reach where mine can. I noticed you trying yesterday - why not tonight? Gave up?”

“Doesn’t… doesn’t feel right,” You complain, unknowingly craning your neck to give him better access as you melt into his words and touch. “Feels all wrong.”

“I know, baby,” He pities you, delicately sliding his hands from underneath your tank top and down your body so they rest at your hips. “I left you wanting for so much more, didn’t I?”

“More?” You ask incredulously.

“Oh, you have no idea what I have planned for you, you poor thing. I was just getting you used to me. Don’t worry, once I break you in a little more I’ll be able to give you everything.”

Caleb flattens his tongue against your throat and suckles gently; not enough to leave a mark, but enough to kick your senses into overdrive.

“The flowers,” You manage despite leaning into Caleb’s kisses as his mouth preoccupies your mind. “You - You said the flowers were only there because I was dreaming, but…”

“What are you talking about? I never said that, you must have been hearing things. Why would I say something like that? Silly, sweet girl, you just need me to take care of you.”

Is your mind going? He’s so convincing with everything he tells you; as if he’s never been untruthful in his life. 

“No,” You bite back, pulling away from his grasp and scrambling into a sitting position so you’re facing him, those mesmerizing eyes burning into yours.  “I - I woke up and the flowers were still there.”

The sight of him is something to behold as he unabashedly stares at you, all thick muscle and intimidation that juxtapose a sly and boyish face. He could be the boy next door or the high school sweetheart with those sleepy eyes and teasing lips, yet the energy he gives off feels manipulative; vitriolic in spite of his assurance that he’s only there to help you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Caleb deadpans, cocking his head to the side and observing you with a predatory gaze. “You really need sleep, huh? You know I can help you, remember? What do you want me to do to you?”

Caleb places his large hands on your shoulders to guide you so you’re lying down, pushing you back into the bed and holding you there. He grins down at you, establishing his dominance and control with a warning in his eyes that root you to the spot and let you know that he has you exactly where he wants you. He loosens his grip on you, but you suddenly find you’re unable to move as some unknown force weighs on you and pins you down.

“But, the flowers-” You gasp as you attempt to thrash against your sudden invisible restraint and a slight panic begins to spread in the form of gooseflesh pricking at your skin. “What - Why can’t I move?”

“Shut the fuck up about the goddamn roses,” Caleb’s carefully crafted mask cracks as he hisses and slips his hands between your thighs to part them. “Pay attention to me.”

It only faintly crosses your mind that you hadn’t mentioned what kind of flowers they were when you feel him pressing his hand against you, the spike of pleasure intense and like a white-hot wire despite the layers of fabric. A whimper bubbles in your throat as he grinds his palm against you, agonizingly slow and lazy as he moves so his legs are on either side of you, caging you in from above. That unexplianable force holding you back before lets up as Caleb poses his next question.

“That’s better; are you gonna be a good girl and open your legs a little wider for me or are you gonna waste time fixating on somethin’ I never said?”

“But -”

“Yes or no, pipsqueak?” Caleb demands, using the fabric of your underwear and sleep shorts as an advantage to create a burning, barely satisfying friction on your clit. “You did summon me, after all - ‘m not gonna do anything without your enthusiastic yes.”

Does any of it really matter? What difference does it make that the roses were there when you woke up? You’ve been so tired that you’re having vivid sex dreams; anything is possible, right? 

There’s no way this is actually real.

“Y-yes  I want it,  but what are you going to do?” You ask breathlessly, trying your best to keep your hips anchored to the bed so you don’t give him the satisfaction of desperately humping his hand.

Caleb tugs your shorts down your thighs so they’re situated above your kneecaps and unabashedly stares at your comfortable and well-loved cherry-patterned panties. There is nothing inherently sexy about them and serves more for utility over aesthetic, but he licks his lips, eyes flitting up to meet yours and swimming in intention and promise.

“My fingers won’t be enough this time, will they?” He asks, ignoring your question. “Judging by how wet these panties are, you’re gonna need someone to clean up that mess you’ve made. Fuck, you’re soaked and you smell delicious.”

“N-No, that’s so embarrassing,” You whine, scrambling to cover yourself with your hands. “Don’t look.”

“You’ve got about five seconds to remove your hands before I do it for you – don’t fucking cover yourself when I’m trying to have my meal, it’s rude.” Caleb snaps. “I think you know I can make you keep still - Or would you prefer me to tie you up?”

That thought sends a shiver down your spine and images of Caleb fucking you with his tongue as you struggle against restraints causes another flood of arousal between your thighs. Caleb smirks and presses his pointer and middle finger against you through your panties, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he feels how wet you are. 

“You like that idea, huh?” Caleb taunts, producing his fingers to show you the evidence of your arousal, the clear, thick slick stretching in ribbons and dripping down them as he spreads them. 

Caleb sticks out his tongue and shoves his wet fingers in his mouth, making a show of sucking on them as a low, needy moan bubbles in the back of his throat. He never once breaks eye contact with you, even when he pulls his fingers out, his spit and your arousal dribbling down his chin. He parts his fingers and curls his tongue around each digit, shameless in his mission to show you just what he intends to with that tongue. 

“Caleb, you don’t have to -”

You’re cut off as he pushes himself down between your legs and hauls them over his shoulders so he can have unblocked access. He inhales deeply, a broken and shuddery ‘fuck’ escaping his lips as he breathes your scent in.

“Gonna fuck you with my tongue until i’m drowning in you - need you to get that all over me, yeah? Make me smell like you? Fuck, you smell so good,” he’s babbling, barely making any sense, his nose practically digging into your ruined underwear. 

He presses his mouth against you through your panties and you can feel his tongue, wet and insistent as he finds your clit through the fabric.

“Need it, need you so badly,” He groans and flattens his tongue against the fabric to lick up every bit of arousal that’s soaked through. “Gonna let me keep these cute little panties as a souvenir? Let me jerk myself off with them so I can stuff ‘em in my mouth and taste us together?”

His words are disgusting, depraved and downright shameful; things you’ve never heard anyone utter out loud before. The embarrassment must register on your face because he laughs, pleased with the expression and clearly getting off on scandalizing you.

“I can get more explicit if you want, since you seem to fucking love it. Aren’t you just a little freak? Everyone probably thinks you’re so innocent, but here you are, spreading that pussy for me like you’re in fucking heat  - I can feel how wet you get every time I talk, sweetheart.”

Caleb pries your panties off of you just to ball up the fabric and stuff it in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself and ignoring your sputters to shove them deeper in.

“See how good that is?” He compliments you sweetly. “Gonna keep those in your mouth so I can eat this pussy in peace? Uh-huh? Gonna gag on ‘em for now ‘til I give you my cock later?”

Stinging, hot tears of frustration and arousal pinprick your ducts, this man driving you so insane you can’t think straight, let alone answer him. 

“So much to do with you, so little time,” Caleb laments with his tone mocking and harsh, dramatically pretending to weigh his options. “You ever done this with anyone, pipsqueak? A simple nod or shake of your head will suffice, I know that pretty little mouth is stuffed.”

You shake your head, trembling underneath him.

“Thought so. Ever taken cock before?”

You  have a feeling that he somehow knows the answer to that and just wants to see you confirm it, yet you shake your head again.

“That’s what I fucking thought. This is gonna be so fun, I can’t wait to ruin you for anyone else. You’re never going to be able to sleep with anyone again without thinking of me, isn’t that exciting? Gonna fucking ruin you. Now stay still.”

That force is back, rendering your movements null and limbs useless; spread open and at his mercy. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, desperate for some relief from the taunting.

“Awe, you’re shy? So scandalized and so shy, yet I know for a fact you’ve been thinking about me. These are your dreams, you know? This is all you, sweetheart. I can’t help that you’re this disgusting, you did it all on your own. I’m just here to help you, remember?”

He’s ruthless, mean and taunting with his pointed words that aim for a reaction. It’s dawning on you that he’s saying things just to see how you’ll take them – whether or not he can strike a chord and what makes you tick; what makes you burn.  He settles between your thighs, face hovering barely centimeters away and blows hot air all over you, the sensation equal parts exciting and daunting.

With no precursor or grace, Caleb spreads your lips apart and drags his tongue through them, collecting all of the wetness there with a satisfied grunt that vibrates in delicious ways. His tongue probes your entrance, opening you up more for him and switching to his thumbs to pry your lips apart as he presses on your clit with both of his pointer fingers. 

“So good,” He slurs before dipping his tongue inside of you, the wet muscle warm and sensational, making you feel a buzzing feeling you’ve never experienced before as he toys with your clit.

“Gushing all over me like a good girl, c’mon and give me some more to taste ‘cause I’m starving,” He encourages, rubbing circles into your clit and releasing his hold on you enough to let your legs clamp around his head.  “That’s it,  choke me with those thighs. Hey - do me a favor and fuck yourself on my tongue for me, hm? Just take what you need.”

The remaining force that’s been pushing you into the bed dissipates entirely in waves of trembles and heat, like the blood recirculating in a numb limb. You twitch under his touch as you regain movement, yet you’re still unable to thrash about as his unwavering power and dominance pins you to the spot, taking your body hostage and relentlessly exacting rapture from it despite your physical freedom.

“It really is so sweet of you to save yourself for me, pipsqueak - I’m honored. Say, you think it would make it better for you if I told you I loved you? Ooh - felt you clench a little there - you need me to tell you I love you, huh?”

You feel yourself convulsing around his fingers, beyond gone and drunk with the bliss he’s giving you that the added mix of the word ‘love’ is doing dangerous things to your psyche. The soggy fabric in your mouth serves as a gag, muffling all of your would-be moans, but it’s like Caleb can sense them even without hearing them

“Are you gonna cum for me? Cum all over my face like I asked? You can do it - I love it when you get like this, love you,” Caleb taunts, the devotion like a poison on his lips. 

You don’t need him to pretend or put on a performance for you, yet the empty limerence triggers such a visceral response in your body and he can tell. He fixes you to the spot with his eyes as he continues his onslaught of licks and sucks, surprisingly gentle with the way he introduces his teeth in the form of little nibbles here and there with almost no force behind the bites. Caleb’s efforts increase with force and speed as he removes his fingers from the mix and focuses on your clit with his tongue, flicking it up and down relentlessly. 

Overcome with the sensations and pleasure and desperate for the release you’ve been craving since the lasts visit, you feel your body begin to convulse; clenching around nothing and the anguishing need to have something inside of you grows and that tightly wound coil threatens to snap.

“I said to ride my tongue,” Comes Caleb’s muffled demand. “I let up on that gravity, so grind against my face and take what you need, don’t be so fucking shy about it. Here -”

He moves from between your thighs to sit back on his haunches, drinking in the picture of you trembling and pliant beneath his touch. Caleb leans forward to yank the underwear out of your mouth and you can’t be certain, but it looks as if he tucks them away. 

He’s strong, forceful and all-ecompassing as he switches your positions and you’re clumsily being pulled atop his chest. He prises you further up his body so you’re hovering over his face and peers up at you from between your legs with a shit-eating smirk, seemingly at your mercy even though he’s in complete control and won’t let you forget that for one second.

He digs his fingernails into your ass, the sharpness bitingly pleasant despite the pinpricks of pain. Caleb presses you down on his face to get you started, puppeteering your body with his hands so you’re slowly grinding against his tongue. It’s a pervasive and ardent feeling - the unspoken guilt that comes with taking the pleasure you’re offered foreign and shameful - but Caleb can sense all of your feelings as soon as you feel them yourself and his grip on you strengthens. The pressure is indescribable, and when you look down, you can see that his face is completely covered in a mixture of your arousal and his saliva, glistening and the portrait of gluttonous debauchery. You whine, missing the fabric of the underwear in your mouth in some strange way so that you don’t have to hear yourself making those unabashed noises.

His hands encourage your hips and you begin to move of your own accord, throwing caution to the wind and ignoring that looming ignominy as you chase the pleasure he’s plying from you. Caleb drinks you in like his mouth is desiccated and you are an oasis, a flooding and invigorating spring so delicious and refreshing he’s possessed by the taste. He’s shameless in the way he moans against you and that would normally turn your face red, but the knowledge that you’re making him sound that way purely from suffocating him does dangerous things to your libido. He forces his tongue further inside of you, thick  and so wet as your shared fluids drip from the side of his face and onto the bed in rivulets.

“That’s it – good fucking girl,” Caleb coaxes beneath you, his voice strained and almost as thirsty as you are, like his sole reason for existing is to make you come with no regard for his own physical state. “Love this, love you, love taking everything you’ll give me - just surrender to me.”

The word ‘love’ has you convulsing around his tongue, sucking it deeper into you as you writhe above him, so self-conscious but too entranced out to care. Caleb notices this, as he notices every single one of your seemingly unimportant and subconscious movements and uses his hands to press you against him so hard, it’s a miracle he can even breathe.

You come completely undone, shattering into a thousand pieces, wreaking havoc on Caleb’s face and your bedsheets with the sheer amount of slick gushing out of you. He eases you through your orgasm in an unexpectedly tender way, allowing you to finish out the wave as he gently rocks you back and forth, drawing every last bit out of you that he can. You shudder one last time until your exhaustion becomes too much to bear in spite of Caleb’s support. You scramble to get off of his face to collapse on the bed in a sweaty, wet heap, lust drunk and in a post orgasmic stupor that leaves you blind to the world. You barely register Caleb trailing wet, sloppy kisses up your body until he pries your lips open with his fingers and forces his tongue into your mouth, demanding you to taste yourself.

Caleb breaks the kiss to gaze reverently at you, a strand of spit connecting your mouths. He reaches between your legs, ignoring your overstimulated cries and gathers as much of the liquid as he possibly can before shoving two of his fingers pasty your lips and pressing them against your tongue insistently to feed it to you.

“Good fucking girl, that’s it,” He encourages tauntingly, flexing his fingers against your tongue to make you swallow around them. “So good for me. Shame, I don’t think you can handle much more tonight - you’d look prettier choking on my cock instead.”

You close your eyes as Caleb carefully extracts his fingers from your lips, gasping at the influx of oxygen. The absence of Caleb’s touch only vaguely registers in your mind, sleep creeping in and claiming you breath by breath as you feel a cool, wet terry cloth wiping at your face. The sensation trickles down your body as sleep invades it, a trail of comforting dampness stretching from your lips to your stomach, then between your legs. A small smile plays at your lips when you realize Caleb is cleaning you up – something you didn’t think existed in wet dreams. The warmth of your comforter is welcomed when he pulls it over you and serves as the final nail in the coffin of your impending unconsciousness.

“Until next time, princess,” Caleb murmurs faintly into your ear, delicately brushing your hair back from your face. “You might be my favorite human.”

Everything fades to black, Caleb’s dulcet tones echoing faintly in the recesses of your mind. You dream in color and noise, sucked deep into a realm of utmost relaxation as nonsensical blobs and indistinguishable figures flash in and out of your dreamscape. Nothing makes sense and nothing has to make sense; the contentedness to just be and observe seeping into your pores with a melting sense of familiarity. 

You are so well rested and absorbed into unconsciousness you don’t wake until the afternoon, the sun hanging high in the sky; brilliantly pouring buttery light into your open window with a brightness that demands to be seen. You stretch your sore limbs, wringing the inactivity and uselessness out of them as you yawn, your senses still at arm’s length while you get adjusted to being awake. 

It feels as though you remember Caleb more vividly than the first time, his achingly smooth voice ringing in your ears along with the memory of his moans and the utterly indecent words he’s singed into your mind. The cool air hits you as you shuck your comforter off, the warmth too uncomfortable. You feel a breeze between your legs, frigid and soothing as you realize your underwear are missing. 

Everything else seems to be in order, you observe, as you take stock of the rest of your clothing and realize only your bottoms are missing. Thinking you’ll find the missing undergarment tangled in the bed sheets or comforter, you root around, your search ultimately fruitless when you find nothing but damp linens that make you flush when you remember the reason. Shaking off your shame, you are a newborn foal as your jelly-like legs cause you to stumble when you try to stand. You use the bed to steady yourself and right your stance, feet firmly planted on the ground as you continue your search for the missing panties. 

The floor is bare; nothing out of sorts in your tidy room and the same sinking sensation you felt the last time when you realized Caleb had lied about the flowers unsettles your stomach in a disquieting dread. You yank open your dresser to pull out fresh clothes and double-check your delicates drawer to search for that missing pair and then to your disturbingly empty hamper when that’s not the case. 

Maybe you’d slept walk and put it away? Perhaps they’re in your hamper? Surely they’re lying around somewhere, right? They couldn’t have gone far. 

It becomes harder for you to tell yourself that you’re imagining things; that you simply misplaced the fabric even though you know you went to sleep fully clothed. It is nearly impossible to sooth the anxiety bubbling in the back of your throat as vivid images of Caleb between your legs plague your vision and you distinctly remember him extracting the sopping fabric from your mouth and tucking the ruined garment somewhere you couldn’t see. 

[allthornsnopetals]

We are not Friends D.Bridgerton

Description: A falling out results in a lost friendship, between Y/n and Daphne, due to this, the two have not been friends for some time. But a sticky situation occurs and they are to come back together again. Let's hope the truth comes out, or God help these women.

"Mama!" Daphne cries, clenching the newest Lady Whistledown gossip in hand, pacing the drawing room, breaking closer to tears.

Violet Bridgerton rushes in, barely having a moment to steady herself before Daphne is crashing into her arms, weeping a set of worked up emotions.

"What seems to be the matter?" Violet takes her hand, sitting them both on the sofa, ringing for tea.

"Look!" She shoves the parchment in her chest, sulking in her handkerchief.

Violet's eyes blew open, shock visible on her face. "Oh, no... Anthony!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n gasps, her mouth agape, caring not for her breakfast, storming out of her room.

"This has to be some sort of joke."

"Papa! Edger! Look at what Lady Whistledown had published!" She almost screams, running to the drawing room, slamming the parchment down on the breakfast table.

Damon jumps, spilling his tea with Y/n slumping herself on the sofa, visibly hopeless. "Must you be so loud, Y/n." He hisses, taking the paper with a scowl. "Sorry, papa but just read it."

Dearest gentle readers,

It seems, a simple ruse, can stain even the purest fabrics, even a Baudelaire and Bridgerton. Something new has come to this authors attention... Something rather fake, such as a false friendship. It seems, Miss Y/n Baudelaire and Miss Daphne Bridgerton, have never been allies, let alone friends for almost a year. You see, before the season of debutantes and marriage, the close friends had a falling out, one that led to tears, unspoken words and unfortunately an unmendable relationship. If it were me, I would have guessed a man had been involved. They have fooled us all with their plastic grins, gentle tones and 'friendly' banter. All this time behind closed doors, the two ladies loathed each other with a burning passion, all over a man.

Of course, Daphne and Y/n have not been friends for some time, but they both assumed their roles to be well-kept, keeping a distance and only conversing when need be. But that did not fool Lady Whistledown and now everyone in town knew of their broken alliance, leaving a gaping hole in their family relations. You see, both dynasties held a strong relationship, one of favors and marriage. They were like kin to each other, all relying on their relationship, like kings and queens to neighboring nations, for here in London their is always some sort of war among the tons.

"What did you do!" Damon booms, tossing the paper to the floor in a rage.

"Nothing, I swear it, papa. It's blaspheme, lies. Lady whis-"

"Lady Whistledown, is never wrong, child. In this situation, you best hope she is." Damon marches off, rage fuming from his ears.

A long silence fills the air, one thick and angry. Edger, her eldest brother hunches over, squeezing the bridge of his nose, frowning deeply, breathing harshly, clearly angry. Y/n tries to speak, feeling the need to smooth the tension over but nothing comes.

"Don't speak, your words will only upset me," He sighs sharply, legs crossed, trying to calm himself. "I don't want to know what happened but only, how are you going to mend your friendship with Miss Bridgerton." He's staring at her now, eyes calm, body still tense

"What am I going to do? It is but a rumor, Daphne and I are, thick as thieves." She nods, setting herself up with haste, leaving him alone before she suffocates herself on the tension.

What was she to do, indeed? Y/n, had not a clue. Her heart was not yet ready to be fixed, let alone face the girl who had shattered it with her lies. She was done with her but it seems the ton is not.

If she is to face Daphne Birdgerton again, she will have the truth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Daphne paces the room, sure to burn a hole through the carpet, waiting on Y/n, if she shows up of course. Surely she would, surely she is to care about the reputation of here family. But as the time drew to midnight, the ball soon to end, Daphne began to slowly lose hope.

"My apologies gentlemen, but my dance card is full. Better luck, next event, yes?" Y/n slides past the double doors, closing them with a shaky breath, turning the lock as she enters.

"Where have you been?" Said Daphne, her tone strained and irritated.

Y/n does not answer, pouring herself a glass of bubbles, no doubt a method to pull it together. "My feet do hurt." She flops on the cushioned sofa, past Daphne, near the fire, slipping her feet wear off, tucking her them under herself, getting comfortable.

The library of the host wasn't as large as the Baudelaire Mansion, but it were a library and a private place, certain to keep unwanted eyes and ears away.

"Sit, I do prefer our conversation to be comfortable." She says, lazily waving Daphne over, ignoring her exasperated groan as she sits on the other end of the sofa.

She could see in the corner of her eye, Daphne pouting, legs crossed with her dainty arms folded over her chest. If the circumstances were different, Y/n would tease and even draw a laugh, but they were no longer friends, so the thought of making fun and jokes were nothing but a past-time, forgotten and never to be forged again. Anyways, she's exhausted, feet aching, Y/n was in no mood for banter or going through memory-lane, as if they could.

"Why were you late." Daphne turns to her, stern and still sulking. Y/n laughs, sipping her drink, effortlessly turning her head, staring at her, as if she were a child. "I am to marry before the end of the season, can't do that if no man asks for my hand." She explains, rather plainly as if she were bored.

A sharp pang jabs Daphne's chest. She knew Y/n would stop at nothing, until she had found a Suitor and wed. It's the goal of every young lady present at the party, except hers. Daphne wanted to make her dynasty proud and wed out of love, but she could not do that, if the one she loved stared back at her, wanting not a woman but a man. Oh, how she wished, she were a man, not a woman. Perhaps, she could wed Y/n, run to the countryside and build a family together. But the longer she stares at her, the more doubt she felt, for the eyes that looked at her were filled with bitter anger and unforgiveness.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore, Y/n. I think it's best, that you and I make our separate ways."

Daphne could still recall the pain in her eyes, her smile erased in a few simple words, their long lasting friendship gone in a few moments. Guilt still loomed over her, like a shadow. But she couldn't pretend anymore, her heart became far too great for her to handle, Daphne could not trust herself to be alone with her, afraid she might flip and do something she'll regret. It had to be done, even if the eyes she once found comfort in hated her, wishing her dead.

If only things were different.

Y/n waves a hand in her face. "Hello, did you not hear a single word I said?" Her tone harsh, expression tight and clearly annoyed.

"Yes, of course!"

Y/n laughs humorlessly, visibly unconvinced. "You were spacing out again." She scoffs, setting the empty glass on the small wooden coffee table.

"You always do that! Especially when under hot water! Do you not car-"

Daphne zones out, losing herself in Y/n's visible rage. She were the only woman who could make anger look effortlessly beautiful, even if her words stung, which most of the time they did. But she cared not, for she knew Y/n did not mean what she said, only saying what comes to her mind when overwhelmed with fits of anger. She couldn't help the grin curving her lips, she's been starved of her company for too long, she had missed her yelling, her anger, her imperfections, that made her so perfect. She has missed every part of her, even her most messyest parts.

"What are you grinning at?" Said Y/n, frowning deeply, her tongue laced in poison, readying to kill.

"Nothing," Daphne snorts, clapping a hand over her lips, as if it could stop her uncontrollable chuckles. "Truly, nothing. My apologies, continue."

Y/n stood, furious and exhausted. "If this is how you defend your reputation— my reputation, you can kindly sod off!"

She picked up her skirts, making a b line for the exit. "Wait! You can't walk out there looking like that!" Daphne shields the only way out, blocking Y/n's path, trying her best not to buckle under glare.

"Looking like what."

Daphne swallows thickly, afraid of the wild fire before her: beautiful, stunning, luring, but dangerous and even deadly.

"You look displeased, angry, mad, furious... may I say, beautifully deadly." Daphne squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for another applause of sharpened words, but they never came.

Silence fell, like rain, cooling and even putting out the angry fire. Opening her eyes, she watches Y/n pour herself another drink, this time offering her a glass, eyes soft and gentle.

So that is all it took to calm her. Complements and sweetened words, is all that was needed to extinguish the flame. If only Daphne knew sooner, she could have saved her plenty of burns. Taking their places back on the sofa, Y/n slipping her slippers off once again, finding a comfortable position, they sat awkwardly, no words spoken.

"What I said before was, acting, pretending. We are already doing that, but we have to be closer, and spend a lot more time in public. Form a believable ruse." Y/n went on to explain, shifting in her spot, attention glued to Daphne.

Ruse.

The word made Daphne's stomach stir, making her sick. She did not want to pretend, did not want to act. She wanted her company to be raw, genuine. But she's fairly aware of her shortcomings, she just hoped that she could keep her wandering heart under control. There were many things Daphne wished for, but she will never wish for the falling of another's dynasty because she simply couldn't keep it together.

"Deal?"

"Deal." They shook hands in agreement, unknowingly dooming themselves in an unbreakable contract.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The spring sun bloomed a great deal of heat and light, the park bustling with noise of joy, celebrating the thaw, signifying the beginning of warmer weather in the ton. Y/n kept safe under the provided shade of her family camp, fanning herself and sipping pink lemonade, doing her best to keep up chatter with another possible Suitor, completely ignoring the second party drawing near her family tent.

"Well, good afternoon Miss Daphne! It has been much time since we last had your company over for tea." Edger curtsied, offering her a chair beside Y/n.

"It has, hasn't it? I have been preoccupied with far too difficult things, I'm sure you'll understand." She grins in thanks, taking a glass of pink lemonade.

"Yes, of course. I'm sure Mr Deluca would be happy to join me and the other gentlemen, elsewhere." He looks between Daphne and Y/n, sending him a silent message.

He nods, leaving a kiss to Y/n's gloved knuckles, curtsying, acknowledging both women in farewell.

Y/n flutters her lashes, grinning as Stephen takes his leave, his gaze still glued to the young lady, incapable of tearing it away, fumbling behind Edger. Once out of view, she turns her attention to Daphne, finding a rather nasty scowl.

"Fix your face, it appears to me that you have sucked a sour lemon." Y/n shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable, watching her younger brothers: Harwin and Hamish, fly their kites with Hyacinth and Gregory, Daphne's youngest siblings.

She gasps, insulted, hitting Y/n in the shoulder with her fan. "I do not!"

Y/n winches with irritation, hitting Daphne back, acting like children. "Don't hit me, you sour lemon." She chuckles, dodging her attackers next move with a swift stance, ready to run. Without a second thought, she pokes her harshly in the thigh with her fan, making a run for it when Daphne decides to stand, surly for revenge, starting a chase.

Ladies should not run but in this case, Y/n saw it rather fitting to make chase from the woman hot on her tail, she sure were fast for someone rather slow. With the possibility of being physically harmed she couldn't help but laugh, a smile permanently stuck to her face, swiftly sliding past Daphne as she drove forward, fan in hand. Y/n gave a gentle tap with her fan to her behind, watching Daphne gasp, grinning as she shook her head, recollecting herself before continuing with the chase.

"You're going to regret that, Y/n."

With a squeal Y/n ran, dodging and weaving past young and old, even through the Bridgerton tent. "Sorry!" She yells, passing Violet, using her as a shield from her attacker.

"Using my mama, is rather cowardice, don't you think?" Daphne pants, trying to find a way past Violet who stood with a smile, finally happy to see her daughter and dearest friend frolic.

"Not at all, I'm sure your mama is enjoying herself. Aren't you ma'am?"

Violet rolls her eyes, stiff as a board. "Oh, Y/n what's that!" Daphne stills, pointing at something past Y/n's gaze, distracting her.

With her distraction she catches her, holding her in her arms, making it impossible for Y/n to escape. "Cheat!" She cries, laughing and without thinking, embraces Daphne, panting and grinning.

The two held each other, completely out of breath and out of hatred. The Bridgerton and Baudelaire girls back together again, even though it were a false friendship.

"Y/n would you join us for a glass of peach tea and perhaps chat about the season, so far? I see plenty of Suitors have swept to your feet." Violet offered a glass, acknowledging her state of jovial exhaustion.

"Yes, of course, Violet! I do adore your peach tea, I find it the most refreshing." She beams, taking the glass with Daphne's hand intertwined with her own.

Even with the presence of the spring heat, they chat for hours, drawing laughs, terrible jokes and even worse memories. "No, he didn't!" Daphne gasped, squeezing her hand.

"Oh, yes! Violet saw and had to step in. If she didn't I would have smacked him senseless." Y/n explained, high on story telling, completely oblivious or unbothered to her head resting on her shoulder, chuckling at the sudden throw back.

"Oh, yes... He was rather, rude and arrogant. His mother needs to teach him better manners." Violet gave a disapproving shake, sipping her peach tea, the pitcher almost empty.

"The worst part is, the young gentlemen came back! The nerve... And with his mother, no less." Violet tsk's, rolling her eyes.

"His mother!" Daphne chokes on her peach tea.

"Yes! A nasty blob of a woman."

"Mother!" Daphne scolds, Y/n laughing harder than intended.

"Your mother can be quite the... Bear." Y/n mutters, laying her empty glass down on the small white table, holding a silver tray.

"What? Would you have preferred that I do nothing? That witch bore an ugly heart of a boy, with a face of a donkey." She shrugged, pouring her guess another glass.

Y/n whizzed a laugh, Daphne slapping her on the arm, clearly not wanting her to encourage her mothers antics.

"Don't encourage her, she'll never stop." Daphne warns with a playful grins. "My apologies. Violet, next time go for the eyes before the crutch."

Violet chuckled with a wink, Daphne nudging Y/n.

At this time tents were slowly being stored away and the sun began to draw behind the clouds, dipping away for the night. With that, Y/n's lady Maid, Daisy strolled over, fetching the young lady.

"We are to leave in five, Edger wishes everyone to make haste to the carriage." She informs her, bobbing a curtsy, leaving faster than she came.

"Right, well the tea has been splendid, thank you Violet," She stands, sweeping her dress clean, bowing in farewell and thanks. "I do wish to spend another day like this, perhaps sooner than later."

"Oh, the thanks is all mine, you truly are missed. Our door is always open to you, if you ever need an escape from your brothers, but I can't promise much relief." She returns her bow, hugging her farewell.

"I'll walk you back." Daphne offers, high on a day filled with someone she missed, even with the sense of a ruse

She took her arm, moving rather slowly, not wanting to let her other half go, just yet.

"Stephen seems smitten with you, like all of your Suitors. He'll make an excellent husband and a great father, if you wed of course. You are to be wed?" Daphne asks, her tone and expression worried, searching for Y/n's gaze.

For a moment, her eyes pooled with fear, something Daphne thought she would never witness, for Y/n was always knowing, always confident and strong. Did she not wish to be wed?

Patting Daphne's arm, Y/n stops, looping her arm free, clearing her throat, her smile genuine to the eyes of a fool but Daphne is no fool, she sees right through her, like one sees through glass. Her smile seemed strained, pained, worried and hurt.

"I do thank you for today, it truly was a treat but I best go now and with haste, don't want to keep Edger waiting, you dare keep him waiting and he's all on you with claws. Hopefully Lady Whistledown buys our little ruse and our families reputation... Will be mended," She pauses, rolling her thumbs over Daphne's gloved hands, comforting and reassuring.

"I am sure you want me gone as much as Eloise, wishes to rid the world of men."

No, I do not want you gone, I want you near, close, incapable of leaving... I want you, as one wants oxygen.

But Daphne could not say that, not to anyone. To harbor affection for a fellow woman is forbidden, wrong, worse compared to her current situation. If Daphne were to bring speech to her hidden affirmation, she could be ruined─ her entire dynasty will be ruined, all because she couldn't stop her stubborn heart for loving this woman, who loathed her most. Would she hate her more, if she were to be honest? Would she kill her or out her if she were to give voice for her love?

Daphne wanted to scream, shout, yell and cry until her throat ran dry. She needs Y/n, like oxygen... Like a bed of roses that craves for water. But she couldn't have her, not in this life... Not in any.

Parting, broke Daphne, as if a weight had landed on her chest, crushing her heart.

"With haste, Daphne!" Eloise calls, her voice booming over the chatter of the bustling park, scaring a flock of birds, that took flight, frightened by the sudden noise, flapping and gobbling their own sounds.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Daphne is not the only person who eyed Y/n, as if she were the main course of the dinner party──"She's beautiful." Said Benedict, sipping his cocktail, eyeing the girl he's been trying to court for the entire season.

Of course, she were beautiful, it's Y/n, beauty came naturally to her and so did Suitors. She had not yet made it to the floor when a swarm of men crowded her, offering her a dance, a drink, a hand and even food. "Of course, she's beautiful, Benedict, only a fool will think otherwise." Said Daphne, gritting her teeth at her brother and the other men swooning for someone she wish were her's.

Y/n, wore her award winning smile, promising a dance to the first few boys, who pooled to her pink jeweled feet. Tonight she bared a rose quartz color dress, her neck donned with a matching gem necklace. Her hair flowed in ringlets, decoder with pink jeweled flowers, drawing back half her mane in a lovely back crown. Her ears, clipped with pink diamonds, rolling out a theme with her outfit. She stuck out.

Half way through the night Daphne had danced, performing that best she could, her gaze constantly shifting to the girl in pink, chatting to a ring off men, containing of lords, viscounts, dukes and even a prince.

She's growing tired at watching them frolic around her, making her laugh, gritting her teeth to dust. If she were a man, she would have courted Lady Y/n, long ago, asking for her hand with the most expensive flowers, gems, jewels and food─she loves her food, the best way to Y/n's heart is always food. Daphne is sure, that if Y/n had a choice between a husband and an infinite supply of her favorite foods, this season would have been short lived, less then a second spent on finding a husband, she'll be with a food child, living her best life.

By the expression on Y/n's face, she is growing exhausted, tired of these men, ready for sleep and perhaps a hearty meal. But the night was not over and the room is becoming far too warm. Fanning herself, Y/n excuses herself, gliding past men and women, young and old, shifting through until she were out, venturing to the fountain, relieved to finally have silence.

"I didn't expect you to leave such handsome men behind. Many looked rather wounded at your departure, I'm sure you shattered a few hearts." The sound of Daphne's voice makes Y/n jump, hand slamming against her chest in fright.

Calming herself, Y/n breaths an exhausted laugh, fanning herself still. She did not expect company, especially not Daphnes.

"Excuse my behavior but you gave me a fright. I was not anticipating your presence, not after Lady Whisledown's latest update." Said Y/n, scooting over, allowing Daphne to sit with her in the lip of the fountain.

"Uh, yes Lady Whistledown's paper, she seems rather impressed with our ruse, she even called us 'two peas in a pod'." The two shared a short laugh, consumed by awkward silence and embarrassing sniffs.

Lady Whistledown seemed pleased with their act, that she published two columns regarding their false friendship, speaking great praise for their public fondness. Thinking their friendship to be mended, fixed and thriving. So, why spend another minute in the same environment, pretending to enjoy their company.

Clearing her throat, Y/n turned her attention to Daphne. "Do you need something?" Her eyes wander, bottom lip stuck between her teeth, waiting for an answer.

Daphne paused, thinking for the best excuse possible. "No, I just wanted to see you... Perhaps offer a stroll around the gardens."

"I don't want to be your friend anymore, Y/n. I think it's best, that you and I make our separate ways."

Y/n scoffs, lowering her gaze to the gravel floor, an irritated grin, spreading across her face. "What are you doing?" She questions, her tone angry and steady, fire blooming under her gaze.

What is Daphne doing, indeed?

She had made it abundantly clear, their friendship meant nothing to her, that she wanted no part with Y/n at all. So, what were she doing, indeed?

Daphne swallowed thickly, guilt pooling in her stomach, knowing what she meant. She could be honest and risk her friendship a second time, or lie, and simply never see Y/n's face again.

"Don't say you don't know what I speak, because you do." Said Y/n, leveling her eyes with Daphne's, killing the slightest light in her eyes. "Must I recall what you said to me... What you never want me to forget. I don't want to be your friend anymore, Y/n. I think it's best, that you and I make our separate ways." Her tone, sharp and mean.

"You lied to me, to yourself. You never thought it best for us to go our separate ways. If you did, you would not be here, you would be happy with Lady Whistledowns latest publish, leaving me be... Like nothing had changed."

Y/n spoke with confidence, anger, bitterness and unforgiveness. But behind her words, something sad, hurt and betrayed lived there. Something Daphne did not miss, hurting herself in the process, shifting her gaze to her hands, wanting to disappear, hating herself for allowing her heart to fall so far.

"Why did you lie?" The crack in her voice, sounded false, fictional, but one glance in her eyes, Daphne was sure her heart shattered. She had missed Daphne, wanting to let her go as quickly as she had come. Heal quickly and move on. But her heart wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow her to patch and sew herself back up again, until she had the truth.

Daphne's throat ran dry, she didn't know where to start, or even say anything, but her chest ached, she had to tell her. Sucking in a breath, Daphne steadied herself, bracing the threshold.

"I didn't want to let you go. I wanted to keep you, to steal you, to force you to stay and never leave my side... Not even for a man, for a Suitor, or for a husband." Daphne shook her head, laughing at herself. "Frankly, I wish I were a man, for a far different reason than Eloise. I wish I were born with a penis, because my affection for you... They're abnormal, wrong, forbidden... Strangling me, starving me of oxygen." Daphne sniffles, tears clogging her speech, her smile strained and tight.

"I wish to have you as a Suitor wishes to court you. Y/n I never wanted to go our separate ways, but what were I to do! You wish to wed a fine man, but I am a woman... You hate me, you don't feel the slightest affection for me... You'll love, and I'll die." She cries into her palm, body shaking, nose sniffling.

Y/n's mouth fell open, gaping, soundless. She did not expect her own friend to spill her heart out to her, to love her as a husband loved his wife. Y/n was speechless.

"You wish to be a man, for me?" Y/n leans forward, freeing Daphne's hands from her face, staring into her puffy eyes, searching for truth.

Daphne quivers. "Disgusting, for a woman to wish to be a man, so she could be free to love the woman her heart longs for." She chokes, leaning into Y/n's shoulder, her hand guiding her head, cuddling her closer.

Y/n grins, stroking Daphne's hair.

"You say disgusting, I say romantic." She giggles, rolling her thumb over Daphne's arm.

Daphne tilts her head up, gazing up at Y/n, clearly confused.

"What?" Her question barely, audible.

"If you wish to be a man for my heart, why not have it?" Y/n held her chin between her fingers, gently kissing her, sealing her vow.

"You do wish to have my heart?" She asks once a part, allowing Daphne to process the moment.

"Yes! A thousand times yes!" Daphne smiles, snatching another kiss, holding Y/n so very close, their chests embrace each other.

[capybaramurdock]

Ba-Bum (just a soft lil blurb)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Plus Size!Reader Word count: 841 Summary: You both agreed to stop trying. The vitamins stayed. The calendars disappeared. And then, one night, half-asleep in his lap, Matt freezes. He hears it. A third heartbeat.

Warnings: + Emotional mentions of infertility struggles + a pregnancy reveal + soft crying + supportive partner behavior + a little chaos + a lot of love 🥹

Available on ao3 as well! 🫶🏻 https://archiveofourown.org/works/66714571

— ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ —

You both agreed to stop trying.

It had started full of hope and excitement—calendars, vitamins, whispered promises in the dark. But the months began to pass, and one test at a time slowly turned into four or five.

Maybe it was too early. Perhaps they were false negatives.

But nothing ever changed.

There was only one moment when your tears couldn’t be contained. You and Matt had been putting away a few little onesies...ones you bought too early, too hopefully. You told yourself it was just for now that you’d be getting them out again soon.

But as your fingers folded that soft cotton, the quiet truth pressed down hard: maybe that moment just wasn’t coming.

Matt didn’t say a word when he heard your sniffles and could taste the salt in the air from your tears. He just wrapped himself around you from behind, arms tight, forehead pressed to your shoulder—his way of apologizing when he didn’t know how to fix it.

You had that moment. And then you let it go.

Not the dream, but the pressure. The grief. The weight of disappointment. You kept taking your vitamins, more for your own health than anything else. You stopped counting days. Stopped checking apps. You started dancing in the kitchen again. Tickle fights on lazy Sundays. Laughing under the covers.

Not thinking about timing or tests.

Just loving each other in that quiet, peaceful way that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Months passed like that.

And one night, you were curled up together on the couch—a rerun murmuring softly in the background. Your head rested in Matt’s lap, his fingers gently combing through your hair, the other hand drifting across the soft curve of your belly, his usual rhythm when he could tell you were close to nodding off.

Then—

Ba-bum.

He froze.

Ba-dum.

It wasn’t yours.

Ba-bum.

Not his.

Too fast. Too small.

He held his breath, hand stilling. Then, slowly, carefully, he laid his palm flat against your stomach. It was probably just in his head. A fluke. A fridge hum.

Until—

He swears it got faster.

As if it were reacting to his touch.

His voice came out hoarse.

“There’s a heartbeat.”

You stirred in his lap, blinking blearily. “Huh?”

“Honey, there’s a—” he swallowed hard. “I can hear it.”

You jolted upright. Your hands lifted defensively like you were about to defend against an intruder.

“Where do you hear it coming from?”

Matt barely stifled a laugh, but his voice was serious when he said,

“In your body, sweetheart.”

His hand returned to your belly.

“Right here.”

You squinted at him.

“Matty…you’re messing with me. It’s gotta be the microwave or the fridge again.”

He shook his head, brushing his thumb gently over your shirt.

“No. It’s in your body, baby,” he said softly. “I’m pretty confident about the jurisdiction.”

You turned toward him, searching for something—anything lighthearted in his tone. But there was no teasing there. Just that focused stillness. The kind he only wore in the courtroom…or when everything was about to change.

And then?

You launched off the couch.

“Where are you going?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“To get a damn test!” you called over your shoulder, feet pounding down the hallway. “Even though apparently you’re the test now!”

Matt groaned and buried his face in his hands, exhaling like it might help calm his racing heart.

(Spoilers: It did not.)

By the time you were digging through the bathroom drawer like a woman on a mission, Matt was pacing in the living room like a man possessed.

Hands on hips. Arms crossed. Hands in his hair.

“Do we even have a pediatrician?”

“Matthew—!”

“Okay, okay! I’m calm. Totally calm. Should we baby-proof the windows? What kind of car seat do we need? Should we get one of those fancy air filters for the nursery? Do we have a nursery?? Where are we even putting the— ”

The bathroom door creaked open.

You stood there, hand trembling as you clutched the test to your chest. The other wiped at your eyes, but he could still hear the catch in your breath—feel the shift in the room, soft and full of something he hadn’t dared hope for.

You didn’t even need to speak.

Matt’s whole world went still.

And then, he dropped to his knees.

Gently, so gently, he slid his hands around your waist. Pressed his cheek to your belly. Breathed like he was praying. Like this moment was sacred.

“Hi there, little heartbeat,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

You cradled his head to you, the tears slipping freely now as laughter bubbled up too. Something inside you...something that had been waiting and waiting...finally exhaled.

And Matt?

He just stayed there, whispering to your belly like he was already in love with someone he hadn’t even met yet.

Because he is.

Because he’s Matt.

And this? This is the moment everything changes.

— ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ — ♡ —

[mirkwoodshewolf]

You're our son nothing can ever change that; Sirius Black x reader

*Author's note*

This literally only took me a few hours to write but I never got around to posting it cause I had me a long weekend outside of writing but finally I decided that after looking this fic over and fixing or adding in some stuff it was finally ready to post. Now this takes place during OOTP the 5th movie and both reader and Sirius are married and have a son who is in the twins year. I won't spoil anything else so I hope you all enjoy it :)

Warnings: Some angst (this hits right at Arthur Weasley's attack at the Ministry), some fluff, parental love and support (which ALL PARENTS SHOULD BE).

Taglist

@waddles03

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@remussl0vers

________________________________________________________

I was heading upstairs to grab the boys for suppertime.  Walking up the narrow-flights of stairs trying to avoid dear old ‘mummy-in-laws’ portrait, I swear if she lets out one more outbursts about my son or his friends, I’m burning her portrait to ash (I doubt Sirius would have anything to say about that).

That’s when I heard light sobbing from one of the rooms.  I stopped in my tracks and kept as quiet as possible before I heard my son say.

“It’s alright George, you don’t have to be strong now.” It was then George’s light sniffling turned into a broken sob.  My heart went out to the poor boy.  Just recently his father had been attacked by Voldemort’s snake, Nagini and barely escaped with his life.  Had it not been for Harry’s vision, I can’t imagine how the Weasley family would be having lost the most important man of their family.

Sirius and I had allowed the family to once again stay at Grimmauld Place while their father’s in recovery at St. Mungo’s.  But it was the least I could do for them, after all the Weasley’s have done for me in helping me with raising Leo as a single mother.  Even though no one would dare give me a second look because of who my husband was, Molly Weasley saw a struggling mother who needed help and she gave that to me.

And having raised Leo in the Muggle side of London (since I am half-blood) it had Arthur curious and he’d ask me questions in all that I knew about Muggles and how they live.  Spending time with the Weasley family also meant I got to see their children grow up or being born, like I was there the day both Ronald and Ginny were born and got to hold them before being named their Godmother.

Having grown up alongside the Weasley family, Leo became close with almost every one of them (he and Percy had an on and off thing until Percy’s falling out with the family earlier this year) but I began to notice something.

Out of all the Weasley siblings, hell out of anyone in the world, my son seemed closer to George Weasley than anyone else.  I began to notice the slight change in his demeanor around his and the twins 4th year together when I had suggested that he go and spend the rest of the summer over at the Burrow while I dealt with some things with the Ministry in regards to Sirius’ false imprisonment.

He was at first overly excited about wanting to stay there but at the mention of George’s name, he grew a bit quiet.  At first I feared they might’ve had a falling out at school, or did a prank go too far? But soon I began to realize what my son’s true feelings for the second half of the mischievous Weasley twins.

And it truly shined by the time their 5th year came around.  When word about Sirius’ escape was made public and everyone at Hogwarts was giving my son a hard time.  So I sent my brother Remus a letter in hopes that he would keep an eye on Leo in case anything bad would happen and he’d tell me constantly about all the times he’s had to get the Weasley twins out of trouble, especially George who’d sometimes get violently physical towards the bullies of Slytherin.

 The Yule Ball had also began to test my son as he felt anxious and fidgety from the letters he had sent me asking me if it was truly Mandatory for all students to attend the ball with a date.  I told him that it didn’t matter if he had a date or not, so long as he tried to have fun and make the most of it.  It was a rare chance for the other Wizarding schools to come together like the Triwizard tournament and he should at least make friends where he can.

Now I have to address the elephant in the room.  My son is not a bad-looking lad, he is his father’s son after all.  Black, bushy hair that sets in natural curls, a sharp jawline, and blue eyes.  That boy is practically a splitting image of his father when he was in school (how else do you think I fell for the infamous Sirius Black).

However unlike his dad, Leo wasn’t a Ladies man nor a skirt-chaser.  In fact he didn’t seem to have any interest in girls in that way.  Don’t get me wrong, he has female friends and is close with them but he never seems to want to go beyond that.  But when it comes to a cute guy (specifically a particular ginger-headed, brown-eyed lad), my son does a double take and his cheeks start to grow a light shade of pink.

The reason I say all of this is because I wish he could have that Gryffindor courage and come talk to me about this.  He knows that there is nothing in this world that I would change about him but I also see it from his perspective, especially now.  With Voldemort back, it’s only a matter of time before the muggles and—mudbloods (I’M SORRY IT SICKENS ME TO SAY THAT WORD) will be hunted down like before and slaughtered.  Imagine what could happen if they found out about a young male wizard being gay.

I decided to make myself known as I went up to the door and knocked on it.  There I saw my son and George quickly let go of their embrace as George quickly wiped away the tears from his face.

“Just wanted to let you boys know supper’s ready. Better go wash up before you chow down.”

“Yeah, thanks mum.” Leo said as he brushed a strand of his hair aside behind his ear.  George stood up and when he went to walk out, I took hold of his wrist and turned him toward me.  God this boy and his brother both have had quite the growth spurt.

“Your mum just came back with news about your dad. He’s doing much better and they might just let him out before Christmas Eve.” The heartbroken face of George Weasley started to morph back into the happy little boy I once knew him as.  That spark of light returning to his eyes.

“Thank you Mrs. Black.”

“Ah-ah, what have we discussed before Georgie?” his lips quirked up into that infamous grin as he said.

“Thank you (Y/n).”

“That’s my boy, now go on and wash up.” I gave him a reassuring pat on the back before he left the room and I turned to my son.  “You can use your father’s and my jointed bathroom.”

“Mum we’ve practically seen each other in our trousers.”

“No arguments. I think now it’s best we let George have some time alone to take a breath. Trust me. It’s not that he’s not appreciative of what you’ve been doing for him since receiving the news of his father’s attack, but let’s not suffocate him either.”

“But he’s been suffering in silence, mum. While Fred has been extremely vocal about what happened, George is—he’s just been so numb. I can tell he wants to cry but he can’t cause he doesn’t want to seem weak in front of Fred or the rest of his siblings, especially Fred.”

“I know. This hasn’t been easy on all of us, Arthur means so much to everyone, but you also got to let the person you love deal with their emotions their own way.”

“Wha-what? What? Love? Who-who said anything about love? I mean don’t get me wrong George and I are best mates but there’s no way I’m in—so what did you say we were having for dinner?”

“Lancashire hotpot, your favorite.”

“Merlin I love you mum.” He pecked my cheek before racing off towards the bathroom George went.

“Leo, our bedroom is upstairs.”

“Oh, right silly me. Yeah you guys get the top floor to yourselves.” He laughed nervously as he raced in the other direction.  As he disappeared up the last flights of stairs I couldn’t help but shake my head lovingly.

“Now that reminds me of someone.” I heard Sirius’ voice behind me.  I turned to look at him and pondered.

“And just who might that be?” I felt him bring me closer, our chests pressed together.

“Our boy may have gotten my looks but he inherited your personality. Only one girl has ever been that nervous when being caught in a love confession and that is you. The redirection of changing the question, reminds me of the day you finally confessed your feelings to me.”

“By confessed, you mean cornering me in the Common room and threatening me with the Tickling charm which you still used against me either way.”

“Brought us together, didn’t it?” I rolled my eyes and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Yeah it did.” I pet through his long black locks and stared up into the blue eyes that I had missed for 12 years ever since his imprisonment.  “I really missed you Sirius.”

“Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you and Leo. It was you two that kept me sane in that dark, cold prison all those years. The dementors, tried as they did, to wipe out all trace of happiness within me failed. Because you two were kept in a different part of myself, and I vowed that I wouldn’t ever, ever let them find it.” I leaned forward and softly captured his lips with mine before he deepened the kiss.

I felt my back press against the wall of Leo’s room as Sirius’ hands began to wander over my sides but before we could go any further Leo’s voice spoke up.

“I thought the rule was that I couldn’t snog in my room and yet you guys can?” we separated and cleared our throats.

“Hey Leo.”

“Dad.” Leo greeted with a soft nod.  “Now let’s go, I want first dibs at the hotpot before Ron gets all of it.” He then raced down the hall and I turned back to Sirius.

“He got his appetite from you. Next summer, you’re cooking all his meals. And I do mean all of them.”

“I learned from the best, I think I can manage an oven.” I softly scoffed but pecked my husband’s lips before taking hold of his hand and together the two of us walked downstairs to have our supper.

After supper was done and both Ginny and Sirius helped me clear off the table and everyone pretty much scattered off to wherever they wanted to all except for Leo and Geoge who were sitting in the living room together just chatting away.

I don’t mean to be a nosy mother, I never wanted to be those mother’s that just hover over their children as they talk with their friends or—potential partners but I couldn’t help it.  Now I couldn’t hear what was being said between the two of them but I did see as George was presenting a knitted shawl with Arthur’s initials on it.  My son admired the craftsmanship and I could see how George was nervously fidgeting as he and Leo continued to talk.  Could—could George maybe just maybe……

“Don’t you just wish they could grow a pair and say it to each other?” I let out a yelp which soon caught the attention of both George and Leo.

“Mum? Fred? What are you both doing?” asked Leo.

“Seems dear old mum #2 can’t handle an apparition just like our mum. Seems to be jumpier than our own mum, eh Georgie?” Fred teased as he pulled me close to him.

“It’s one thing to prank our mum but I like (Y/n). Go easy on her Freddie.” I felt my cheeks flush as Fred took me aside and the two of us headed up the stairs.  I then took over and lead him into his and George’s room and shut the door before snapping at him.

“What was the meaning of all that Fredrick Gideon Weasley?! I have the right mind to write to your mother to tell her—”

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” if there’s one thing I knew about both Fred and George was that very rarely did they ever speak in a serious tone.

There was no twinkle of mischief in Fred’s eyes as he looked at me while sitting on his bed.  No cheshire grin spread across his face, not even his tone held any trickery to it.  My anger immediately subsided and I covered up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?” Leo was my son and I will fiercely defend him from anyone, including those that’ll turn their backs on him if they find out.

“Oh come off it (Y/n). I see it, Ginny sees it, even Granger sees it. Harry and Ron don’t count because they’re too daft for things like this.”

“Wait you—you know?”

“The world has always seen the two of us together. Fred and George; the Weasley twins. Almost everyone sees us as one person split in two. Even our own mother gets us confused. Well one mum does.” There was the slight twinkle in his eyes as he gave me a soft smile at referring to me as his second mum.  “But George…..he’s always been the more emotionally mature one than me. More sensitive not in a bad way but that he acts more on emotion than logic. Even when he tries to pull me back from going too far, if his heart is pushed too far, he explodes. And our fifth year proved that to me. Never have I seen him get so fiercely protective over someone outside the family.”

“Has he……and you can choose to not say anything since you are his brother but—has he ever said anything to you? About his feelings for my son?”

“I’m his twin brother, he doesn’t need to tell me anything. I just know.” I fiddled with my wedding ring and nodded.

“And you…….” Fred gave me a soft smile and stood in front of me.

“Leo is my best mate. Always has been and always will be. It doesn’t matter who he loves, so long as he’s happy.” Tears immediately fell down my face as I embraced the eldest twin and wept into his chest.  I felt the rumble in his chest as he hugged me back.

“Thank you Fred. Thank you so much for accepting my son.”

“I’ll always have his back. Why else would we make him co-owner of our shop? Although could you maybe ask him something for me?” I looked up at him and he looked down at me, “I mean George is a good-looking chap but c’mon, he knows I’m the better looking one.” We both laughed as I wiped my tears away.

“Cheeky!”

“Is there any reason why I find my wife crying with one of the Weasley sons in a spare bedroom?” Sirius said from the door.

“Nothing you need to be jealous over.” I teased wiping the last remnants of my tears away.  I turned to Fred and reached up to pat his cheek as I mouthed out, ‘thank you.’ He gave me a wink before walking out the door.  “Sirius, we need to talk.” He looked at me worriedly as I lead him away from the twins room to our bedroom.

I sat us down on the bed and took his hands in mine.

“My darling you’re starting to worry me. When Leo had said that Fred had dragged you away after scaring you, I hadn’t expect to see after a potential small prank to see you crying.”

“You and James have scared me to tears in pranks before don’t be a hypocrite.”

“And that’s when I told James to not let our pranks on you go that far ever again.” I lifted his hands up and kissed the back of them.

“I need to talk to you about Leo.”

“What about him? Is he alright? Did something….”

“Sirius, Sirius he’s fine. I just…..need you to know something about him that I never told you about. And I didn’t say it earlier because I needed to be sure of it before I say it. But first I need you to answer me this, what did you promise him the day he was born?” Sirius tightened the grip of our hands.

“You’ve unfortunately had the pleasure of actually meeting my charming mother, but I’m ever thankful to Godric Gryffindor that you didn’t meet my father. He was everything a Pureblooded wizard was. Stern, abrasive, demanding, arrogant, thought he sat higher than everyone else in the room. But he was also abusive, cruel, and manipulative. Molded my little brother to be the Perfect Death Eater while shunning me for not even being sorted into the House our family has been linked with for over 10 centuries. I vowed to myself the day you got pregnant that I would never, ever turn out like him. I would love our child for whoever he or she was. No matter who they were, who they made friends with, what house they be sorted into, and who they would love.” I smiled and patted the back of his hands.

“Our son has grown up into a clever, strong young wizard. If you had seen it, you’d see just how smart and loveable he is. Everyone loves him.”

“I know. And I regret every day that I didn’t get to see that.”

“I know Sirius. But he doesn’t hold that against you. I told him of your innocence and why you did what you did that night. Hell we wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t come after us.”

“I’d do anything for you. Both of you. I couldn’t bear it if I had let Pettigrew taken you to Voldemort or worse Bellatrix.” I shuddered remembering his psychotic cousin and her torturous ways.  I had been long-time friends with Alice Longbottom back in our Hogwarts days, I helped her get together with Frank.  Now when I do see her, she doesn’t even recognize me nor does she speak a word.  Just hands me little trinkets just like she does with her son.

“I know. And you know how you said he gets his personality from me? From how I redirect the question when I feel cornered to how I’m there to lend out a willing hand to anyone who needs help.” He nodded.  “Well there’s another thing he got from me and most would say he shouldn’t have it.” I said the next phrase slowly for Sirius to understand.

He gave me his full attention as he fully turned to face me.

“It seems our son has fallen in love with his best friend.”

“But aren’t his two best friends the Weasley twins?” he asked me.

“Sirius.”

“Yeah?” I just kept my eyes on him.  His brow furrowed confused before it softened and his eyes briefly widened as he began to realize what I was insinuating.  “Oh.” He softly muttered.  “Oh my.”

“Yeah, oh my.” I repeated.  Sirius let go of my hands and turned to face the wall.

“Which one?” he asked.

“George. The slightly taller twin with the bump to his nose and mole on his neck.” Sirius was silent.  The clock in the room was the only thing making a sound as we sat there before I said after a while, “Sirius?”

“I—I’m thinking.” Oh please Godric above Sirius don’t let this change anything about your son.  “And how-how long has he…..”

“I began noticing it his fourth year. It was subtle stuff. Blushes whenever George’s name was mentioned.”

“Reminds me of you. Never have I seen your face go so red at the mention of my name before.” I shoved his arm as he laughed and brought me into his lap.  “I said it 17 years ago and I’ll say it now, I’ll always love our son. No matter who he loves. I’ll be a better father than mine ever was.” I smiled and pressed my forehead to his and he nuzzled our noses together.

We kept quiet about our son’s budding feelings towards his friend and Fred was still his boisterous, jokester self.  He, George and Leo kept working on ideas for their future joke shop; collaborating ideas, designing models and testing them out on themselves (although I wish they didn’t do the third thing. Puking pastilles disaster earlier before school started my poor baby was sick for a week.)

And when Christmas Eve finally arrived, Arthur Weasley was brought to the house and everyone was happy.  The kids were all gathered around the kitchen table observing the old Black family Christmas tree as the enchanted Santa flew around between the table and the tree.

“There we go, daddy’s back.” Molly stated as she rolled Arthur Weasley’s wheelchair to the head of the table.  We all clapped at his return, though beat up and bruised, Arthur Weasley still shone brightly with happiness and Christmas cheer.  “Sit down, everybody sit down. That’s it, now presents.” Soon the gifts were passed out to all the kids.

“A nice big box for Ron.” Arthur praised as a big box wrapped in yellow wrapping paper with a red ribbon tied around it was set in front of him.

“Big box for you!” she then held out the twins gifts but couldn’t remember which color was meant for which twin.  “Oh Fred and George, come on open up. I want to see your faces.” The kids unwrapped their gifts and my son saw his new additional Weasley jumper with his initials and a new beanie.

“Oh Molly, thank you.” My son thanked her.

“You’re very welcome Leo dear. Now then everyone let’s all open up (Y/n)’s presents for you all. Although you shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble (Y/n) dear.”

“What was it that you told me the first few years you started adding my son onto your homemade Weasley jumper list?” I said as I levitated my gifts over to everyone. 

“It’s no trouble at all. One mother to another.” I nodded and set down each gift to everyone.  For Hermione I got her some new advanced spell books that she could actually keep from the actual Hogwarts Library (Madam Pince owed me a favor from my days of helping her). For Ginny I got her a poster of her favorite Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies.  I had given Ron some mittens that I had handstitched myself, the twins I gave matching beanies to match their newly gifted scarves and for my Leo I got him an art supply packet that included paints, markers, colored pencils, everything an artist needs as well as a canvas book to help keep his ideas together.

“Well, well seems there might be some competition in your needle work there Molly.” Teased Arthur.

“Oh no competition at all Arthur. She did very well for her first knitting, everyone say thank you to (Y/n).”

“Thank you Mrs. Black/(Y/n)/Mom.” The kids chorused.

“You’re very welcome kids. Now let’s clear this all up and have our Christmas toast.” The kids all cleared up the wrapping paper and bags from the table and started to pour their Christmas punch.

“Harry.” Molly exclaimed as she went up to him with his present.  I took my wine and his gift and as Molly gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek, I came up and placed my gift next to hers and hugged him close to me.

“Happy Christmas Harry.”

“Happy Christmas (Y/n).” he said to me softly.  He opened up both mine and Molly’s gift to reveal a new Christmas scarf and a new picture of his parents, Sirius and me at our joined wedding.

“Your father and Sirius refused to have their weddings separated. Drove me and your mother nuts. But it turned out to be a beautiful wedding. This happened just a year after Sirius and I had Leo.”

“You and mum look beautiful (Y/n).” I smiled and lovingly stroked Harry’s cheek before I took notice of Sirius standing at the doorway.

“She did indeed.” I smiled at him as he gave me a cheeky wink.

“A Christmas toast then! To Mister Harry Potter.” Arthur Weasley proclaimed.  All of us turned to Harry with our glasses held up in our hands. “Without whom, I would not be here. Harry.” Arthur raised his glass of wine.

“Harry.” Everyone else chorused out.

“Harry.” Both Sirius and I finished before sipping our wine.  “Leo, could your mother and I see you upstairs in your room? There’s one more additional gift we’d like to give you.”

“Yeah sure dad.” He said.  Sirius and I looked at each other before heading upstairs into Leo’s room.  I sat on Leo’s bed holding the small black velvet box in my palm.

“You sure we should be confronting him like this?” I asked.

“It’s not confronting darling, we’re just going to assure him that we love him no matter what. He knows you love him, and I’ve been working every day this past year to prove my love for him, now he needs to know that we support him. In every way he is.” I nodded then we soon heard his footsteps and he peeked inside and said.

“What’s going on here?”

“Come in and close the door behind you son. Family talk only.” Leo raised his brow anxiously but came inside and shut the door.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked slowly.

“No, no trouble at all. Least likely with me. We just wanted to give you this without any questions asked about its significance.” Sirius assured him as he came up to him wrapped an arm around his shoulder walking him towards me.

“Here you are darling.” I told him as I handed him the small black box.  He held it in his palm before opening it up to reveal a small Lego figure of a firefighter with the helmet and jacket.

“Whoa, I hadn’t seen one of these since I was really little.” Leo said as he took the firefighter out.

“That’s because it is the same one you had when you were little. Out of all the Legos we gave up for donations, I held onto that little guy after all these years.” I told him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it really meant something to me. Do you remember when you were five years old and you told me you got this little guy stuck up your nose?”

“Not really no.” I smiled and stood up as I held my son’s hand that held the Lego firefighter.

“Well I do. I remember it like I was yesterday. Godric never had I been so scared in my entire life. I mean you got this little guy way, way up there. I don’t even know nor understand how you got him that far up.” Leo groaned embarrassedly as I booped his nose and the three of us had a laugh.  “Had your father been there he would’ve just laughed his arse off while I took the tweezers and perform muggle surgery. No way was I gonna trust a healer with something like this.”

“You’re making that up.”

“No, no, no I swear on my life.” The two of us laughed.  I looked down at the Lego that was held between my son’s fingers and held that hand between mine.  “You—you always used to come to me for everything when you were younger. Or to just talk, you know. And I feel like now you—you don’t do that anymore. And I get it that there are some things you don’t want to share with your mother but I just—I miss that. I miss talking to you, like I really, really miss it. And I think, right now, we need to talk more than ever. Because things are getting—scary. A lot more scarier than Legos up the nose, you know?” Leo gave a light smile and shook his head as Sirius took over.

“Your mother and I never want you to forget that, okay? You can come to us for anything. And I know I haven’t been around for you, but I would’ve given anything up to have stopped myself so that I could’ve been the father you deserved. But I will tell you this, you won’t have a father like I did. You have a father that has and will always love and accept you for you who are.”

“Because there is nothing in this world, okay? Absolutely nothing that’ll stop your father and I from loving you. You’re our son Leo, nothing can nor will ever change that. You understand?” Leo’s happy mask soon dropped and his true colors shined.

His eyes began to water up and the fake, soft smile he had on plastered on his face since the second he walked in dropped and there was a quiver to his bottom lip.

“Yeah.” Leo choked out.  “An-and I’ll always love you guys too.” Tears slipped down his face as Sirius and I kept our eyes on our son.

“We know, we know you do son. Come here.” Sirius and I sandwiched him into a hug as he wept inbetween us.

I could feel his body trembling as his tears stained my right shoulder but I felt his hand grip onto the back of my shirt just like he used to whenever he was truly afraid when he was little.

None of us said another word, just stayed in each other’s arms and was there for each other as a family.

Now I wouldn’t see it happen but I would receive a letter from Freddie about their grand exit from Hogwarts and how George and Leo really stuck it to the old bitch Umbridge by hovering side by side on their broomsticks and actually kiss each other before the entire fifth years before having one of their dragon fireworks chase Umbridge out.

Never have I been more happier for my son in finding true love with his best friend, and I know his father is proud of him too. 

Even if—the two of us couldn’t live long enough to see their futures fully realized with Sirius dying at the Dept of Mysteries and I at the Battle of Hogwarts.  But we’d continue to watch our son’s life go on with George at his side and us along with Fred would continue to love and support them from beyond the grave.

[luveline]

Hi love, i would love to see more of spencer x stripper!reader. Hope u are doing good <3

hi thank u, u too! ♡ fem

You press the heel of your palm to the shower tiles, head hanging and hair soaked to the scalp. Rivulets of hot water and soap suds slick their way down your front. 

“You okay?” 

Spencer's voice through the door, a better warmth than any luxurious shower. “Sorry, I'm getting out!” 

“No! No, stay in there if you want, I'm just wondering.” 

You force yourself out of the shower and into a towel. “I'm getting out.” 

“I have some clothes for you,” he says, “I can leave them by the door.” 

You wrap the towel tightly around your chest and step to the door. Spencer's startled face is on the other side, smiling nervously, a bundle of clothes held to his chest. 

“They're my friends. My coworker. Penelope? I asked her first and she said she doesn't mind at all. They might not fit, but…” 

“Thank you. You and Penelope.” You hold out one hand. Spencer passes you the clothes through the cracks of the door and you shut it, maybe unnecessarily. 

Spencer's seen you in various states of undress, but it isn't privacy that's worrying you tonight. You can't help looking over your shoulder, wondering if someone's watching you for a split second of madness. 

You pull on your borrowed pyjamas. A little Japanese cat winks up at you from the pants, the shirt a baseball tee with pink sleeves and a white body. Cute, you think. Penelope must be fun. 

Spencer's in the kitchen making two mugs of tea when you emerge. It's the herbal flavour you favour, steam billowing from the rims like clouds in the cold air. Your long walk in the rain is nearly forgotten by your skin if not your pittering pulse. 

“You okay?” 

“I'm fine.” 

“You sure?” He doesn't give you time to answer, carefully placing the two mugs on the coffee table, before tapping a gentle hand to your shoulder. “You wanna sit down?” 

“I'm really fine, handsome, it's … it's not the first time someone's followed me home.” You smile falsely. 

“That's not okay.” 

“I know.” You point at your cup of tea. “Can I?” 

“Of course you can,” he says, sitting beside you on the couch, leaving a more than chivalrous gap between you.

It's not a gap you want nor need, and after a few sips you've warmed enough to sidle closer to him, in touching distance, and then touching. Thigh to thigh, you watch the tops of his cheeks turn a pretty, blurry pink. “I was scared,” —your knuckles touch briefly to his knee— “but nothing happened. So don't worry about me, Dr. Reid, please.” You layer your voice with a sweetness that comes with seduction, a playfulness to mete his sudden regression into timidity. 

“I worry about you all the time.” He smiles, at least, so it isn't a burden. 

“I worry about you, too.” 

“I know you can take care of yourself, I just can't help thinking about the statistics. I know exactly how likely it is that something bad could happen to you, and it's not that you should worry, I don't want you to be scared, but– it's like, it plays on repeat in my head. It's– I'm not trying to–” 

“Hey, handsome,” you murmur, giving his leg a shy squeeze. “I know. It's dangerous and it's unlikely at the same time. And it feels silly talking about it.” 

“But silly not to,” he adds. 

“Yeah. I know, Spencer, I swear.” 

“I know you know,” he murmurs through a smile. 

“I know you know I know,” you joke back, smiling back sunnily. It doesn't take much of him to cheer you up. Ever since the day you met, he's been like a balm for your rampant aching, a brown-eyed, pretty-handed sweetheart. Whether it's sharing a seat on the train, or meeting up for dinner at the Indian restaurant behind his apartment, or just calling each other on the phone, he knows what to say to fix things. You forget your life, and you get to be with him instead. 

Spencer puts his mug of tea down to hug you. You'd known he was going to. It always happens like this, the two of you together, drinking tea and showing each other just the smallest fraction of each other's hearts. He presses his nose to your cheek as his hands run down the length of your back, and all you can think about is how he knows nearly everything about you and he holds you voluntarily.  

“Love you, Spence,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“I love you too. I'm here for you, okay? I don't care how scared I am, I love being your friend.” 

You try not to sigh. Friend isn't necessarily what you want to be, but he'd let you in when you buzzed without asking why you were dropping by, and he'd held your gaze as you explained the man who'd been following you, your dead phone, your superglued shoes fallen apart in the typhoon. Spencer's everything a person could ever need. Dependable, vulnerable, sweet, kind, patient. He's pretty in every facet of the word. 

“Is it really that scary?” 

“Thinking about guys following you home?” he asks, rubbing your back gently. “It's terrifying. Weren't you terrified?” 

You blink back the sudden heat of emotion behind your eyes. “Um,” you say, higher than you mean, “uh, it wasn't–” You shrug, but your hands feel shaky and strange. 

Spencer's voice softens, “Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry.” 

You try not to think about what might've happened. When you realised there was someone following you, you didn't think, oh, he'll hurt me, you thought, I need to be faster. I need to get somewhere they can't. 

You needed safety and Spencer was the first, safest place. 

“I'm sorry for coming here.” 

Spencer pushed you away from him without malice, his hands on your arms. Alarm rings his eyes, eyebrows rising, “What? Why would you say that?” 

Because you didn't sign up for this. Because I'm me, and you're you, and you didn't have a choice, you were too good to let me be without you. 

Because, if you think about it, Spencer is more than safety to you. 

He doesn't baulk at your silence. “Hey,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing into the soft skin inside your elbow sweetly, “you like it here, don't you?” You nod. “Then– then who cares why you're here?” 

Spencer pulls you into his arms again. “You'll feel better in the morning… I'm gonna get you a new phone.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Cos that one's always dead. You need to be able to call me when you need me.” 

You smile into his shoulder. “You're not buying me a phone.” 

“Watch me.” 

You don't cry in his arms, but it's a weirdly close call. 

[avroravia]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ “OH HONEY, HONEY, I COULD BE YOUR BODYGUARD…”

- bodyguard! dallas winston x spoiled!actress! reader

: ̗̀➛ summary. when spoiled!actress! reader makes it as the star of hollywood’s latest blockbuster, her parents are desperate to keep her safe; which is why they hired dallas as her bodyguard. (even if he probably has a longer criminal record than the men her parents are worried about!)

: ̗̀➛ warnings. old married couple bickering, swearing, striptease(?), very flirty.

: ̗̀➛ taglist. @diorgirl444, @r0seb100d, @johnnycadesslut, @twobitsblade, @browneyebby / @isasweetie, @glxsyymads, @mystiqueonfleek007, & @beyondbluess. (send an ask or dm to be added! <3)

you sat facing your vanity, freshly straightened hair neatly tucked in rollers and setting powder patted under your eyes. you were still in your pink silk robe, white fur lining the hems, because you wouldn’t dare to risk ruining your gown.

your hair and makeup team ran around the room to ensure you looked perfect for the big night. from coffee to hairspray, every need of yours was met instantly.

dallas was tucked by your side like always, sitting in the chair beside you. he had been ready hours before you, your team having been on it as soon as possible.

dallas hadn’t been one for a pampered lifestyle. in fact, he applied for the job as a joke, but when your parents read 6’2 and 200 lbs, they decided he was perfect for the job. and who was dallas to deny 6-figures, hanging out with a gorgeous actress, and a free place to stay at night?

he couldn’t complain, however. dallas had every single one of his needs met fully. and he couldn’t lie, it was fun bragging to tim that he got paid to hang out with a hot soc actress all day.

regardless, you can take a greaser out of the grease, but you can’t take the grease out of the greaser. dallas was living proof of this, and despite having walked his fair share of red carpets by now, he never got quite used to the whole fame thing.

he sat in the wooden foldable chair of your dressing room, bad posture, manspreading, and itching for a cigarette. dallas was like a greaser trapped in the body of a soc.

“christ, doll, this fuckin’ tie is choking my neck…” dallas groaned, fingers tugging against the grey satin fabric.

you turned over to look at him, brows furrowing at the sight of him loosening his tie. tugging at his wrist, dallas winced when you slightly dug your fresh pink acrylics into his pale skin.

“will you stop that?” you hissed, arms crossed. “gonna ruin all of my pictures… and will you quit slouching?”

“alright-alright, cool it, doll…” dallas brushed you off, quietly fixing his tie back to your liking

your makeup artist quickly chided you for furrowing your brows and creasing your concealer. she quickly fixed it, before you shut your eyes so she could apply the final touches to your eye makeup.

once she had finished, and your hair stylist had removed your rollers, you were ready for the finishing touches of your look. despite this, dallas had other plans.

“hey- look, give her a little space, yeah?” he told your hairstylist and makeup artist, standing up to meet their gazes when he realised you were almost finished.

the two girls looked at him, confused at his sudden conversation considering he usually ignored them.

“are you sure? we have to make sure she puts it on right-” your makeup artist was quickly cut off by him.

“she’s got it.” dallas assured them, guiding (forcing) them out of your dressing room. “she’s a big girl, she can put on a little dress by herself.”

the two of them didn’t argue, dallas was intimidating after all. when he had shut the door in their faces, and clicked the lock on the room shut, he turned around to look at you.

“well aren’t you going out too, dally?” you teased, looking up at dallas through thick, false lashes.

“nah. see i’m your bodyguard, doll. s’my job to make sure you’re safe.” dallas told you, sitting back down in his designated chair. “who knows what kinda weirdo’ll sneak in if i ain’t around, huh?”

you only sighed, getting up to grab the freshly steamed pink silk dress off of the hanger. as you were about to change, you noticed that dallas was very obviously watching.

“aren’t you gonna turn around?”

“no way. gotta make sure nobody’s sneakin’ up on you, baby.”

despite murmuring something about dallas being a ‘perv,’ you accepted his decision without a fight. he was your bodyguard after all. he only wanted to keep you safe… right?

letting your robe fall to the floor, exposing nearly your entire body to him. dallas watched, eyes wide and grin big. he couldn’t help but admire the sight of you in a little pink thong and matching bra.

in true dallas fashion, he was quick to let out a low whistle and a cheeky remark about your ass. you just rolled your eyes, and slipped your dress on.

“dal,’ you wanna help me zip it up?” you offered, turning your back to him.

“yeah, i gotchu, baby.” dallas hummed, emerging from his seat.

his arm wrapped around your waist, making you giggle. he quickly zipped it up, before accompanying it with a kiss on your neck and a light pat on your ass over the soft fabric of your dress.

“god, i can’t wait to take this off tonight…”

[bunniesanddeer]

Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day or night.

I saw your asks are open and I had an idea. What if it’s a protective Alastor x Reader who is the daughter of a protective Lucifer? Maybe she kept in contact with her dad so they are closer and she is older than Charlie. When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel him and Alastor cause some drama

Thanks!

W.P💚

I hope this is what you were looking for? I am very new to doing things like this!

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Alastor X Lucifer's Daughter! Reader

Tags: Sisterly love, some sexual connotations, spoilers, some angst maybe? idk, swearing, Mimzy.

SPOILERS FOR "DAD BEAT DAD"

Word Count: 1,775

The hotel was eerily quiet when you awoke, so you made your way downstairs to see if anyone was awake. All you could hear as you made your way down the stairs was your quiet footfalls and weird murmuring. As you turned towards the sitting area, you realized the muttering was coming from your younger sister, Charlie.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a pin board covered in colorful papers, and strings. She tugged at her hair, her muttering growing more frantic. As you took in the scene, you realized there were a few people standing and watching her. Niffty was bouncing on the couch, her face full of a strange glee. Husk and Sir Pentious were watching with mixes of bafflement and curiosity.

“Hey, Char Char? Are you ok?” You asked, walking around the couch to get a better view. You saw Angel and Vaggie approach from your peripherals as Charlie whipped around frantically.

“Nope! No. Not really! Haha. Hah…” Her false smile falls as she rips a page off the board. “I have been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working! We’ve done every single trust exercise and arts and crafts project I could find! We’ve talked about our feelings and… nothing is working!”

You frown. You knew that things taking so long would eventually get to her, but it was sad to see just how severely. She needed more help. 

You walk up to your sister, and set your hands on her shoulders. “I think…”

Her expression collapses. “Please don’t say it.”

“We should call dad. And ask for his help.”

She winces. She clearly doesn’t want your dad’s help. You can’t exactly blame her, either. The two of you were raised a little separate, and it had affected her relationship with Lucifer pretty badly. Although, you were older, and it had afforded you time with Lucifer before Lilith had started to separate herself from him. Charlie had only had a handful of years before their relationship went south. It showed in her anxiety with him, and Lucifer’s inability to talk to Charlie openly. It made you sad, but you weren’t sure how to fix that rift.

“He’s the reason the extermination happens to begin with! He just let it happen! He doesn’t even like sinners! Why would he help me?” Charlie hugs herself, looking off to the side. “He’s always preferred you anyway.”

You hear some audible winces from the audience by the couch, but you ignore them. You pull her into a tight hug, her taller frame putting you at her collarbones. “You know I would change that if I could, honey.” You squeeze her tightly and say, “We can at least see if he can get you a meeting. Anything to give you the advantage, Char Char.”

She sighs, and hugs you back. “Yeah. I guess we can at least try.”

You pull back. “I think you should call him. I bet he’s dying to hear from you, even though he sucks at showing it.”

Charlie rubs her arm and nods. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As she struggles to start the phone call, Husk makes comments about her having ‘Daddy Issues’, and you blanch. How rude! (Even if it was true). The others make comments about meeting Lucifer, but you and Vaggie just keep your eyes on Charlie. She seems so nervous, and it makes your stomach twist in knots. 

She finally calls. It rings three times before a faint, “Heyyyy bitch!” rings out on the other end of the line. You facepalm. Good going Dad.

When all is said and done, Lucifer announces he is visiting within the hour, after much cajoling and guilt-tripping on Charlie’s part. Although, from what you could hear, he seemed excited.

Charlie is excited, and so is everyone else in the hotel. You cheer for her, and then the realization hits you. 

Alastor. Fuck.

As the final touches are finished, you sidle up to Alastor with a small grin.

“Please, please don’t start shit. Charlie needs this to work. And I need this to work for Charlie,” you murmur to him. 

He barely glances at you. “Worry not, sweetheart! You know I would never do anything to risk the reputation of the hotel! Charlie will get the help she needs!” His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he squeezes you into his side. For just a moment, his head ducks down, and he whispers into your ear. “Just need to make it clear whose little girl you are now.” Then he perks right back up like nothing happened.

Your face burns hot. How dare he! But you don’t get to do anything in retaliation, because Charlie is opening the door.

“Chaaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaims, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Your sister’s face is full of shock, and you just want to laugh. Ha! You were right! He continues talking to her in the slightest baby voice, and you can’t help but let some giggles escape you. Your dad could be just so silly! “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

He lets go of Charlie as she welcomes him to the hotel. He spots Keekee first, and pets her. Then greets Razzle and Dazzle. You watch from the sidelines with a small smile. It was nice seeing your dad outside the home. He had been holing himself up for so long… You look up at Alastor, who hasn’t moved an inch since your dad came in.

You elbow him gently. “You okay?”

Alasotr’s expression is tight. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, before landing back on your father. He merely hums in response, making you frown. How odd… You knew the two wouldn’t get along, but for Alastor to dislike him already?

 Then your dad spots the bar. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?” 

Alastor immediately shadow-walks to the other side of the room, and you know it’s time to intervene.

“Oh! Just some of the renovations we’ve made.” Alastor gestures with his mic, before continuing. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” 

You wince, and make your way to Alastor’s side. 

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to prevent your dad making any further comments on the decor. That's a good way to piss off Alastor.

“Sweetheart!” Your dad runs up to you, and tries picking you up. You laugh at the tights squeeze. “How’s my girl?” His hands squish your cheeks, making it hard to respond.

You giggle through the ministrations, and finally push his hands back so you can respond. “I’m doing great, Dad. Figured I should introduce you to Alastor here.” You gesture to Alastor, who looks the closest to not smiling that you have ever seen. It makes your stomach feel like lead, as you keep talking. “He’s our facilities' manager, and my…”

Your voice trails off, and you look at Alastor, as if hoping he has the word you are looking for.

“I’m her lover!” Alastor exclaims, quite loudly. His static drops for a moment and then bursts back up in volume, making you wince. Great. He just announced that to everyone in the room. The ‘everyone’ being everyone who didn’t know. You can hear Charlie ‘whoop!’ in the background, and several variations of ‘what the fuck’. “She’s quite the darling. I just couldn’t resist this sweet face!” Alastor grabs at your cheeks, similar to how your dad did, and squishes them. “See?”

You risk a glance at your dad. He looks ready to kill. Fuck. This is absolutely not how you wanted to tell your dad. He nearly killed the last partner you had for ghosting you. You can see your dad’s horns growing, and you push Alastor back.

“Haha! Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I would have told you before now, but we’re kind of new! We were trying to keep it on the down-low for now but…” You glare at Alastor, but he just has this shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he doesn’t care. 

“Right.” Your dad continues glaring at Alastor. You wince, and decide to go over by the snack table. Angel is just giving you this look, and you know he will be asking about Alastor’s dick, which you have not seen, later. Husk seems disappointed in you, and you absolutely know why. You just give him an apologetic shrug, and watch as Alastor and your dad seem to start a pissing match. 

It ends with Alastor in his face saying, “Fuck you,” and your knees nearly give out. Holy shit. 

Charlie finally intervenes, and Lucifer, after some more glaring at Alastor, get her to introduce him to the rest of the residents.

Alastor lays a hand on your shoulder as your dad greets both the guests and the staff. You can feel his thumb rubbing back and forth, and it sends shivers down your spine. You look up at Alastor, but his gaze is still locked on your dad. Annoyed, you roll your eyes with a huff, and look back to the meet-and-greet. Your dad is looking back at you, his frown deep, and a barely audible growl making its way to your ears. Your dad is fucking growling at Alastor. What the Hell?

A rumble builds up in Alastor’s chest, and you can feel it against your back. This one sets heat back up to your face. Gosh, this man needed to get his shit together. No need to start stuff with your dad! Alastor’s hand tightens on your shoulder, before he lets go and stalks back towards Charlie, who is trying to convince your dad to help her. 

And then they’re singing. Because of course. Alastor joins in, saying some things that seem to really piss off your dad, but you can't hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. Sometimes these two could be so embarrassing. When your dad pulls out the golden fiddle, you nearly die laughing. (He still wasn’t over losing that one time!) Everything comes to a head, with the two men yelling insults in each other's faces, when suddenly-

“It’s ME!” A woman barges in through the lobby doors, yelling and calling herself Mimzy. She’s blonde, and dressed like a flapper. Alastor seems to recognize her, so you don’t worry. 

Later that night, when your dad has finally agreed to help your sister get that meeting, you all settle onto the couches, making a game plan. Alastor sits beside you, one foot resting on the other knee. You lean over and ask softly, “What did you say during that song, anyway?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, and he presses his lips near your ear, again. “Charlie calls me dad, and your eldest calls me Daddy.”

If you nearly choke on your own spit, you refuse to admit it. 

[jinkiezzsstuff]

I know you wrote something similar. Can I request Valentino finding an excuse to spank bunny reader who's usually very obedient. She isn't doing anything bad compared to a lot of the other stars. He just reached for an excuse to tell Y/N she's naughty and spank her. She's perfectly fine with being spanked because she secretly loves it.

Smut plz!!

woooot i love bunny reader! thank you so much for this request sorry it took me forever to get to it i have been busy, i hope you enjoy it. also sorry it’s short but it was nice writing something that was short and easy to break the block <3

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering only, spanking kink, valentino, unhealthy relationship dynamics, bunny reader, pet names, val’s a dick but like not always to you, not proofread i’m lazy teehee, i think that’s it? swearing :)

Valentino watched you prancing around the studio, your little tail flickering behind you. He tasked you will setting out some refreshment for the stars as you weren’t currently on the job, just here to watch and sit pretty alongside your Tino.

You were royalty around here and everyone knew it, you were Valentino’s yesman, he asked you did, he beckoned you followed. Lucifer forbid anyone made a mistake around you, you’d go hopping straight to the big boss, snitching to Valentino about what the others did.

You rarely got punished as well, Valentino never really attempted to quell his anger issues or explosive episodes, but when it came to his little bunny, he thought twice. You were a sensitive little demon and though he couldn’t care less about the tears- the fits you threw weren’t worth the short satisfaction of yelling at you. So it came to everybody in the studios surprise when Valentinos wings splayed out wide, scowl on his face as he watched you bend over to pick up the cup you had knocked over.

You looked over your shoulder and up at him, his body cascading shadows over you, wings out and hairs on end. Your lip puckered out as you stood, cup in hand, liquid on the floor. “Aí bunny you know better then this. All these expensive wires and cables. I can’t do my job without them.” Valentino hissed glaring down at your through his glasses, your ears had fallen behind you sad and droopy.

“I’m sorry Val, I won’t do it again.” You squeaked out meekly, not used to being at the receiving end of his anger. “No, you won’t,” Valentino hummed out voice laced with false kindness. “Private room.” The moth cooed at you, wings falling to his side as he turned and walked off toward said private room.

The others in the studio looked at you with little remorse, everyone had to put up with his anger, you weren’t special or getting any pity because you’re finally facing Val on one of his short temper days. Tears clouded your eyes, blurring the room as you walked, thankfully seeing wasn’t needed as you had the studio layout memorized.

You walked into the private room on autopilot thinking of all the mean things Valentino was going to say to you. Opening the door, Valentino sat, your surprise, calmly. Sucking large huffs of hot pink smoke into his lungs he waited, legs and wings splayed out, just for you. Closing the door behind you, you stood stiff by it awaiting to be told what to do.

Valentinos hand lifted, finger beckoning come hither, his gaze fixed in front of him not even looking at you. Frowning, you scuttled over like the prey you were until you reached his stuck out knee. That’s when he looked at you, removing his sunglasses he grinned widely. “You know, I hate to punish such a pretty whore, but ah, that’s how it is~” Everything he said was smooth and sultry, making your legs inadvertently clench. Patting his thighs with one set of arms, the other left arm coming up to the small of your back. “Bend over~ I won’t bite,” As you bent over his thighs, he leaned down and whispered in your hear: “Yet.” Before darkly chuckling.

It started with one wack, but it progressed quickly ending with him kneading your ass with two of his hands, with one stayed attached to his pipe. “Look at’chu baby, you’re a mess~” He sneered at you pulling your skimpy underwear to the side to play with the slick you had accumulated. “All for you, you’re the only one who can get me off without the cams,” You admit breathlessly between whines of pleasure.

Valentino chuckled darkly, slowly and teasingly filling you with two of his long fingers. A groan of pleasure with full timbre echoed within your chest at the feeling of him, not only did he have you off in some room like the whore you were for him, but he wasn’t really mad. He realistically wouldn’t have been so quick and kind with his affections.

“I bet you spilt it on purpose, just to have me spread you out, filthy thing.” Valentino spoke with an amused tone as he watched you squirm agaisnt his slow prodding. “Yes always want your attention,” You whined attempting to back up into the pimps thrusts, but he kissed his teeth disapprovingly at you. “Oh little conejita, you’ve been so good, i’ll give you mercy.” Without another word Valentinos finger’s vigorously thrusted in and out of you, curling to hit that spongey spot inside of you. Gripping his thigh, you cried out and wheezed the last of your breath as your orgasm came rough and fast. Stars twinkled uncomfortably in your vision as your felt his warm fingers leave your body, making you whimper.

Above you Valentino licked his fingers clean, long tongue slithering around his digits like a starved man. With an evil giggle, he pushed you off his lap and stood. “Maybe next time i’ll give you all of me, hmm?” You groaned at his remark, lifting yourself up enough to watch you leave, you’ll definitely have to get him back for this.

[hartleychristopher]

Juno pt. 2

Pt. 1

Pairing: long-term bf!chris x fem!reader

Summary: telling Chris you’re pregnant!

Warnings: pregnancy, fluffy fluffff, Chris being cheesy and in lovvveee <3

A/N: here is the little part two! I hope you enjoy, I really love this idea, like it’s one of my favorite daydream scenarios 🥰

You hear the front door open, then shut gently behind him.

“Baaaabe?” He calls, his voice is sleepy, worn out. “Is it too early to say I’m ready for death? Because if one more guy on my dev team says ‘just push it live and fix it later,’ I’m gonna scream into the void—”

He walks around the corner of the hallway into the living room, backpack slung over one shoulder, shirt a little rumpled, glasses sliding down his nose.

His eyes land on you and he freezes. You’re standing there, waiting, holding the plastic test stick in your hands.

You say nothing at first, you just hold it out with both hands. As if you’re offering him a gift you’re shy to give him.

Chris stares at you, squints and then walks closer. slowly, skeptical, analyzing.

You watch the moment his eyes focus on the tiny digital screen.

One word: Pregnant.

And he just stops completely.

“Wait-waitwaitwait. wait.” His backpack slides off his shoulder and hits the floor with a low thud, fuck his laptop I guess??

His shirt sleeves are all bunched up, his mouth opens, then closes—then opens again.

“Is that—? Are you—?? Is this real?!” He sputters.

You nod, eyes wide and bright. “I didn’t want to wait. I took it like twenty minutes ago.”

He makes a small sound, like a broken exhale and a squeak mixed together.

Then starts laughing—but the kind of laugh that’s overwhelmed in the best way.

“Holy shit, I made a person. I made a person with you. I’m—I’m—oh my god, you’re pregnant???”

You nod again. “Yeah. You did it.”

“I did it?! we did it!! oh God—do you feel okay? Are you gonna throw up? Should I make toast?! Toast is safe when you’re nauseous—fuck, you’re pregnant—” He walks in a circle, literally. like turns a full 360 degrees and grabs his own face.

“I need to sit down—but also stand up…but also hug you—maybe at the same time???” He’s rambling.

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, and he immediately pulls you in, holding you tight—but gentle, reverent, like he’s worried about squeezing you too hard.

“You’re sure?” he mumbles into your hair. “like really sure?”

You nod against his chest.

“I triple-checked. This is the third test and then I googled the chances of three false-positive tests—.”

He laughs, weakly, “that’s my girl.”

He pulls back just enough to cup your cheeks, eyes a little glassy now.

“I’m going to be a dad….” he says, voice cracking a little. “I’m going to teach them so many things…like how to ride a bike and tie their shoes and that the prequel trilogy is severely over-hated—oh my god—can I…?” he asks, nodding toward your tummy.

You lift your shirt just a little and guide his hand there. He lays his palm over your stomach, like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever touched.

There’s no bump yet of course. Just soft, warm skin, but he touches you like he can feel the future under his fingertips.

“There’s a person in there,” he whispers. “half me, half you. Oh my god.” He swallows hard, rubbing slow, tiny circles with his thumb. “I know it’s probably like… a lentil right now. A jelly bean, but I swear I can feel them.”

You grin. “You’re petting my stomach like I’m an egg incubator.”

“You are. My favorite one…I’m gonna talk to them through your belly button.”

“I don’t think they have ears yet?” you point out with a giggle.

“Well they might be able to sense my aura, you don’t know…” he gives a half-shrug, smirking.

You start laughing, and he just smiles at you like he could live in that sound forever.

His hand stays on your stomach, comfortable now. Protective.

You sniff a laugh. “Are you crying?”

“I’m not crying. My eyes are just really watery from all my… winter allergies...”

You both dissolve into laughter, holding each other in the middle of the living room—just two dorks who made a baby and are now so stupidly in love they don’t know what to do with themselves.

Chris pulls you even closer and murmurs against your temple: “this kid’s gonna be really lucky, y’know? Because their mom is you.”

And then, very quietly, he whispers, “We’re having a baby,”

like he still can’t believe it’s real.

like he’ll be saying it every day, over and over, until the moment he’s holding them in his arms.

<3

Chris taglist: @fritzhardt @avwade69 @maiiuelle @avrells @fordthegamelord819 @xoxocher @sweetcalebb @z0mb1epuzzy @dnpo1son

Wanna join my taglist? Click here!

[iwoulddieforher]

Nadel in mein Herz | Alex Cabot × Casey Novak

continuing with the German titles because why not?

Summary: Calex date night! But Alex feels weirdly disoriented and disorganized- what's going on?

This ficlet was written in 1 night and while I was half asleep, so ... don't judge me

Hurt/Comfort, WARNINGS for description of violence and panic attacks, false character death

"Someone looks happy," Casey grinned from across the lavish table, her fork dangling from her hand as she rested her elbows on the white tablecloth. Alex couldn't help but allow the small, affectionate smile from growing under the younger woman's tease.

She was happy, in fact. She was always happy around Casey, but tonight was special- they were at a ritzy steakhouse, the kind with ceiling so high the chandeliers that dangled from them were at least six foot and still meters above the tallest person's grasp, with dim lighting and a menu that came without price marks.

She could feel the silk of her dress against her skin as she shifted under Casey's attention, her face flushing slightly, but oh was it so hard not to feel ridiculously giddy with joy at the knowledge the woman sitting across from her was her's.

And Casey had dressed up, tonight, too- Alex loved any excuse she could drum up to make her girlfriend wear something extravagant.

Pearls hung from a small chain clipped to Casey's gold hoop earrings, standing out against her curled locks- Alex loved when Casey wore her hair with curls, Casey knew this and did it specifically for special occasions- and the white of them contrasted with the black of her satin dress. It was one of Alex's favorites, the one Casey had worn the first time Alex had introduced her to her family, and it clung to her skin in all the right ways to appear modest as Casey always was but still emphasized the curves of her waist- the curves that seemed perfectly made to fit Alex's hands.

The only downside of having dinner with her woman was that from across the table she couldn't touch her, kiss her, but at the very least she could still admire, very openly letting her eyes examine with soft love what was her's.

"I love when you look at me like that," Casey hummed, taking the last bite of the fig cheesecake she had ordered, savoring the taste with flavor before adding, "as if I'm the only woman that exists."

"As far as I'm concerned, you are." Alex replied easily, earning herself a scoff as Casey averted her gaze, her cheekbones tinting red. Casey was quick to tease her could never formulate responses when Alex started mirroring her flirt- and that was so, so cute.

When Casey looked back at her, finding Alex still very unabashedly admiring, her pupils were dilated with love, and Alex knew her own eyes must be reflecting that. Casey smiled, again, and Alex's grin had never left.

"It's ridiculous," Casey started, "the way you make me feel so giddy whenever we're together- I feel like I'm experiencing puppy love for the first time, even though we've been together for months."

"It's not the only thing I can make you feel as though it were the first time," Alex purred smugly, raising her wine glass to take a languished sip, and Casey's eyes rounded.

"Alex!" She chirped reprimandingly, but then with a huff simply rolled her eyes. It was irrefutably true. With bed chemistry like their's, every time felt as heady and exciting as the first.

"I'm glad we finally got to do this," Alex sighed instead of teasing her lover futher, "It feels like the job is eating up my life. I swear I spend more time berating the detectives than time spent kissing you."

"We can fix that tonight." Casey purred in response, her finger tracing a circle around her champagne flute, and Alex felt her heart flutter in her chest.

"I love you," she said softly, breaking out of the banter because the sunshiney-feeling in her heart was growing too much for her to keep inside, and with an amused smile Casey chuffed.

"I love you more, goofball."

"Casey," Alex set her wine glass down with a stern look, folding her hands in her lap and straightening her spine, but Casey could see the playful spark in her blue eyes, "The court has already determined an objection to that nickname of yours. Your comment will, therefore, be stricken from the records."

"Okay, well, I love you more- just to make sure that is on the record-" Casey started, raising an eyebrow, "and you really are something today, counselor. I haven't seen you this laid back in ages- don't let it change, I love seeing you relax, but- is something going on?"

Alex skimmed her mind, and realized- yes, it was unusual that she felt this content. She had grown accustomed to the lingering gnaw of anxiety on her mind, she was diagnosed with general anxiety disorder after all, but right now it was nowhere to be found. Even if she thought about things that normally spurred discontent, this moment was just ... too pure.

"I just ..." Alex shrugged, sighing deeply, "I love being with you, Casey. Even my dark mind can't twist that."

Casey bit back a pleased smile, but the glow she radiated whenever Alex made her happy shone, warming Alex's face and heart as though it was a ray of sunshine.

"I'm glad, Alex."

Her voice seemed louder, and closer to her ear than it should've been, and Alex's sense of kinesthetics wilded for a moment before she snapped back, Casey smiling at her still as though nothing had happened. Nothing had actually happened, in fact, just- something had suddenly felt off. But it was right, now. Everything was alright.

Casey stilled as though she was frozen, and then she stood, long arms pressing on the table for a moment to help her right herself after the hours they had spent languished dining, and she extended a hand out to help Alex up, too.

"Shall we? Make good on your promise to make up all that time wasted not kissing me," She teased, pressing her lips against Alex's cheekbone in a kiss Alex somehow didn't feel. She liked intricately and vividly focusing on the feeling of Casey's plump bottom lip as it pressed against her skin, but it was as though it never connected- was it an air kiss? But Casey was so close, there was no way it hadn't- what? And then Casey was turning away from her, and Alex stood confused, and she didn't remember walking but now they were passing the hostess stand that had been across the room ...

Odd, Alex remarked, but perhaps she had simply had a glass too much wine tonight. She had insisted on getting a bottle, and she wasn't entirely sure how much she had had of it, but it didn't matter. Casey's hand was in her's, so everything was right in the world.

"Are we going to my place tonight, or yours, Alex?" Casey asked, rubbing little circles on Alex's hand with her thumb like she always did, and Alex exhaled through her nose before responding.

"Mine," she decided after a second, with a small smirk and carefully crafted words, "I've got the bigger mattress, after all, and I feel like we could use a little more space for what I want to do with you, starting with-"

She was cut off by Casey's stifled laughter, the way Casey pulled her in and planted a kiss to shut her up.

"Alex! God, you continue with that tone, and I'll be stuck riled up the whole way back-"

"Oh, you've uncovered the conspiracy, dear counselor." Alex chuffed, kissing her again, and then reached for Casey's waist the way she always did, but her hand didn't meet. Casey was still smiling, still looking at her, and she was so close, but- why wasn't her hand connecting?

"How are we getting there?" Casey's voice rang out, but as before it seemed disconnected. Alex chose to keep ignoring it, although her brow furrowed slightly.

"Are you okay, Alex?"

Alex inhaled slowly, trying to blink down at her hands, but she shook the feeling back off quickly. "Yes, I'm- I think I might've drank a little more than I intended. We can walk, my place isn't too far, and I know you're always down for strolling."

"Ah, tonight's the night my girl finally agrees to stretch her legs with me," Casey teased, and that struck Alex as odd, because why shouldn't she? There wasn't any reason she should be uncomfortable being out, she took jogs every morning after all.

She loved walking out at night, especially after days like this when she was tipsy and felt warm inside with companionship, listening to the tap-tap-tap of expensive heels on concrete and the feeling of the stars above her. There was no reason she would ever decline that experience, -?

But before she could ponder it further, they were outside, and Casey was now adorned in her coat with Alex having no recollection of her putting it on- but Alex was also wearing her coat, so she supposed ...

Had she been drugged?

She wanted to tell Casey something was wrong, but the words wouldn't come, and the redhead was facing away from her right now, so she just stopped walking and hoped Casey would turn.

They had been at Mt. Jion's, a high-class steakhouse in a good part of town- not the area in which you'd assume you'd get spiked in, but that didn't make it out of the question. But suddenly the sidewalk didn't seem anywhere near where she thought they'd be in, and it looked familiar in a weirdly sickening way- what had happened?

The concrete beneath her was the same color concrete always was, with a faded brick wall to her right. There was a busy street on her left, and an intersection- somewhere near her, she knew intrinsically, were stairs she had sauntered over. It was well-lit and busy, but there was no one out. No, there were people, weren't there?

The more Alex tried to look, the less she could process, and it seemed like there was a strange silhouette around the figure of Casey before her- was it Casey before her? Who else could it have been? No, it was Casey, and she was turning now. Good, once Casey turned around, she'd realize something was wrong with her, and she'd help. Casey always helped.

She wasn't thinking, the thoughts weren't forming, but something had happened right here and she had no clue what but all of a sudden a wave of panic hit her.

Everything zoned quickly back into focus when she blinked. She was standing there, smelling the cold air of New York, her purse strap weighing on her shoulder. It was real. She wasn't sure what had been happening before, but now as she stared forward everything was perfectly in focus, and she knew she had been here, this had happened, a scene ripped directly from memory. It was real, raw, and nauseating.

The squeal of car tires, loud banging sounds, and she knew where this was, she knew what was happening, but it was too late.

She had gotten a hit put on her, she could remember that now, that's what was wrong, this whole night tonight something had been wrong and this was that- she always had it in the back of her mind, and tonight somehow she had forgotten, and now she'd pay the price for forgetting, for letting herself stop worrying.

A man screaming at someone, and a car flooring it away. The sound of Elliot's heavy footsteps on the ground as he tried to chase a moving car- no, Elliot wasn't here, Olivia wasn't here, who would save her-?

But something was happening directly in front of her, a horrible spectacle, and she couldn't look away, frozen in place with her mouth agape.

The first shot pierced Casey's shoulder in the exact place at which Alex now had a scar, and Alex could see the shock flash over emerald eyes as her nervous system felt and then numbed it, the exact same expression on her face as Alex had had on her's when-

No, this couldn't be happening, she had been the one to get shot here like this. It was happening again, now? It was happening again? The hit on her wasn't done, except this time someone else had gotten hurt instead of her again? They were still out to steal everything worthwhile from her?

They were still out to get her, to steal everything worthwhile from her- her job, her safety, her happiness and her love- and she was standing there stupidly, pathetically, as the second bullet pierced Casey's chest.

Alex didn't know how she knew, but intrinsically her brain realized the second bullet had pierced directly through her woman's heart, blood spattering morbidly on the floor around her, on the walls and on the concrete.

It was everywhere, there was so much blood everywhere, it seemed impossible for someone to bleed so much.

The younger woman's expression looked softly concerned, her brain not having caught up to what was happening, and Alex wasn't moving, wasn't running to her, even though she was trying so desperately too. Her feet stayed still on the ground, her ears suddenly filling with the loud overpowering ringing sound she had experienced the first time the hit had been attempted.

Casey had been standing parallel to her, having just completed the process of turning around, and from the sheer force of taking a bullet from the angle it had impacted it she was staggering backwards, blood spurting from her chest and her shoulder, soaking into her dress and her coat. She was falling, one ankle slipping out from beneath her, falling the same way onto her back the same way Alex had fallen, except-

Except now it was HER, it was Casey, and Alex's stubbornness to keep on this case despite everyone's warning was going to to take the most important thing she knew without giving her the mercy of killing her along with it-

She couldn't move, no matter how hard she tried to force her body to run to Casey she couldn't make her limbs obey her commands, and she couldn't breathe, and her ears were ringing so impossibly loud.

Green eyes fixed on her, but her facial expression was still stuck, iced over, and despite that the sheer frantic emotion in the exchanged stare made Alex's blood run cold.

Casey's face was frozen in perpetual fear and she was frozen in the middle of falling, and Alex felt as though time was stretching on for eternity, fear and adrenaline coursing and hounding in her veins like a pack of wild dogs for hours, because it felt like it was hours of her watching it happen, watching Casey die in front of her, watching Casey watch her and see her be powerless, helpless, and petrified.

She was so fucking powerless, standing there motionless, unable to do anything to help. Casey was DYING, and Alex knew she was dying too, everything was going so vibrant and yet so dull, everything was so much and everything was so fucking loud and she couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't- she couldn't, she couldn't, she could not handle this, not again, not Casey, not Casey dying, please not dying, please not dying please, please, God, please-

Please no, please not again, please not Casey- Casey couldn't be dead, this couldn't have happened, Casey couldn't have left her like that, but-

The ringing went on as she jolted forward, but now her chest was heaving and everything was dark, her vision full of multicolor dots until fading to black entirely, her eyes prickling from the immediate tears. Her hands were tensed into claws, and the command to move that her limbs had disobeyed for what felt like forever all now were acted at once, kicking and meeting strange restraint Alex couldn't identify.

Everything was dark and loud and there was a strange, ragged heaving sound- her breathing, she realized faintly, and there was something hot and warm on her face- tears, she had to assume, but nothing other than that was registered and she was still kicking and trying to lash out but her legs kept meeting something that wasn't letting her rein free over the space around her and God everything was so loud, and she was blind-

No, she wasn't blind, because she recognized the glow of golden light as a lamp flickered on, and it cast the recognizable shape of of her own legs before her, and with another deep strangled breath she could see that what had been keeping her was a blanket which she had now kicked so violently it was barely covering her ankles in her desperate, wild scramble.

And she was sobbing, holding her face in her hands as her face contorted, and someone was trying to talk to her but she couldn't distinguish voice nor words over the overwhelming ringing in her ears.

There was another overpowering sound- screaming. Who was screaming? And her throat was burning- she was the one screaming, but she couldn't stop.

Her body felt like it was on fire, every part of her burning- her eyes, her nose, her throat, and pain was radiating from her shoulder where she was clutching desperately at it, trying to stop the bleeding herself.

She was floating in empty space, nothing was connecting, nothing was registering, fuck- she couldn't feel anything, not the mattress below her, not the pressure of her own hands, she felt like- she was going to die, she was going to die-

Cold jade eyes staring at her, lifeless the second the bullet hit her heart- Casey was dead, she had been dead, and Alex was dying, everything was horrible and everything was on fire, and Alex was going to die-

"Shh," something commanded, and suddenly she felt gravity as something, no, someone settling on top of her, hips pinning her thighs down to the mattress as strong arms wrapped around her shoulders.

She stopped screaming, but she kept sobbing because she couldn't help it, and when she jerked forward again her head met something warm and soft- skin, she registered faintly, someone was trying to hold her, console her.

"I'm going to put something in your mouth and you will swallow, Alex," a voice- the voice, the one that she couldn't fixate on earlier- rasped in her ear, a voice low and scratchy from sleep but still feminine and affectionate.

She felt herself be pushed backwards despite her struggle to hunch herself inward. One soft yet firm hand stayed in the middle of her collar to keep her pinned back, and then there was a slight pause and movement as though the person was reaching for something.

The other hand met her jaw and guided her lips to part, and Alex let it happen. A tablet was placed on her tongue and Alex swallowed, feeling her throat constrict uncomfortably, and she almost choked it back up with the intensity of the sobs wracking her thin frame, but something kept her mouth shut and she kept fighting to force it down. The pill, after a long moment of struggle, eventually slipped through a ring of muscles tight enough that it wouldn't be coughed back up unless she actually did vomit.

A glass of water was guided to her mouth in the same fashion the moment the figure acknowledged she had successfully swallowed and despite the difficulty as she writhed and cried out, she did her best to drink. The liquid must have gotten on the sheets around her and on the lap of the person pinning her down as she squirmed without being able to have any control over her movements, but after three large, desperate swallows the glass was removed and subsequently disappeared from her line of focus.

Her vision halted into focus just long enough to see green eyes blinking down at her before the image was dissipated again by a fresh wave of tears, and this time when she fought to curl forward the figure allowed her too, her forehead pressing against flesh as she hunched her spine inward. Her legs were still trapped beneath the other woman's body, but she wanted to curl her knees to her chest and she was momentarily frustrated by her lack of ability to do so before all emotion was swept away again by a second wave of blinding, sheer panic.

She was going to die- no she wasn't- Casey was dead- how did that happen- no, Casey wasn't dead, no that hadn't- wasn't it safe now, they had told her it was- blood, she was bleeding, but no, her hands were clean and the only liquid was the water she had inadvertently managed to splash down onto her own bare torso.

It felt like an eternity, or maybe it was a few seconds, her sense of time perception was as shot as her shoulder was, until she managed to catch her breath.

The second the ringing in her ears and the fixation on the sound of her ragged, desperate breathing started to fade, the audio was replaced with a soothing, soft hum originating from the woman on top of her.

"Casey," Alex croaked desperately, because that's who she really needed it to be, Casey could not be dead, there was no way Casey was dead.

"Right here, sweetheart. I'm right here," Casey's voice soothed in her ear, warm breath of the side of her face, and Alex nearly started crying again from relief.

"What- what?" She questioned, breathless, and now that she had more control over her form she stopped kicking, let her legs still, and she reached out for a body that readily nestled into her hold and returned the embrace immediately- no, Casey had already been holding her, and probably had been for a while now.

Casey blinked down at her, confused as to what question she should try to answer before kissing Alex's forehead gently.

"I gave you Xanax," she murmured, cupping Alex's face in her palms, and Alex nuzzled her face into Casey's hand, greedy for the comfort it brought.

"You said- it's your on-demand medication for anxiety, right? I read the prescription notes on the bottle ... I didn't really know what to do, I tried to calm you down at first but- after three minutes, I really didn't think you could hear me."

"Couldn't," Alex managed, "you did good," she continued, and then desperately, "hold me?"

Casey exhaled softly as she settled in, making her weight on Alex's body more apparent, letting Alex's arms grip tight around her ribcage and continuing to cradle her head in her hands, moving her thumbs soothingly.

Alex pressed her face against Casey's chest, shifting her head to the side so her ear was pressed against Casey's skin, so she could hear the other woman's heartbeat.

It was a soothing, grounding sound, a strong and steady rhythm she could fixate on, so she did. Each thrum seemed to calm her nerves, coaxing her down from her emotional epitome, the beat of her girl's heart reassuring her that she was there, she was here, Casey was not dying, and Alex wasn't either.

She began to time her breathing by mirroring what the other woman was doing, and Casey must have realized because she started taking deep, intentional breaths, and Alex tried her best to follow suit.

"You're safe, Alex," Casey coaxed gently, "we're together, in your bed in your apartment, and nothing can hurt you. I'm here and I've got you. I'm holding you so tight and I'll never let you go until you want me too."

"I don't think I'll ever want to let you go," Alex sniffled against her skin, drawing her closer, and Casey laughed softly.

"It'll be awkward to pace around in court with a me-shaped lump under your shirt," She hummed, a smile in her voice.

Alex sobbed and giggled simultaneously, a desperate needy sound, and was rewarded with another small shower of kisses on her scalp and to wherever Casey could reach at the awkward angle her neck was craned at.

She began to count each beat of Casey's heart, focusing until the sound and the feeling of the strong body encompassing her was the only thing that seemed to exist, the only thing on her mind the count increasing each second.

Once it reached a hundred, she reset, and then she reached a hundred a second time, and exhaustion finally returned to her body and her arms loosened around Casey's middle. The redhead shifted backwards slightly so she could find Alex's face, and so the blonde could see her gentle smile.

"Xanax kick in?" Casey murmured, and Alex nodded slowly.

She reached up, letting her fingers rest on Casey's cheeks for a long second, before pulling the younger woman in, tear and saliva soaked lips meeting Casey's smooth, dry ones, kissing her until the last bit of residual panic faded from her bones.

"I'm sorry," Alex tried to start when they pulled apart, but Casey flexed her eyebrows in the way she always did when Alex was unnecessarily apologizing and opened her mouth to chide her on that fact, so Alex simply kissed her again. It was quicker, this time, she let Casey pull back after only a second or two, but then Casey returned for a third kiss just for good measure.

"Are you feeling okay?" Casey brushed wet strands of hair from Alex's clammy skin gently, "Can I make you tea, get you more medication, anything?"

"I feel okay," Alex affirmed softly, "because you're with me."

"Oh, sweetheart," Casey cooed, pressing another kiss to her forehead, and Alex closed her eyes and took a deep, soothing breath, drinking in her affection.

"This seems insensitive," the redhead hummed, running her fingers along to the side of Alex's face, using her thumbs to brush away the wet trail tears had left on her pale skin, "but Jesus Christ, you're such a pretty crier. Do you ever not look stunning?"

"Objection on the grounds of bias," Alex muttered under her breath before Casey huffed playfully.

Alex blinked up at Casey greatfully, because God- the way she managed to be simultaneously comforting and still lighthearted was so perfectly suited to Alex's insecurities about being consoled, and Alex knew full well she'd never let anyone else see let alone hold her like this.

She let her eyes roam over the minute details of Casey's face- the way the angle of the lamp cast half of her face in a amber glow, the delicate slope of her jaw, the soft, comforting smile that pulled on the edges of the lips Alex liked kissing so much. Casey was breathing, she was alive and completely safe.

"What happens now, Alex?" Casey asked softly, leaning forward slightly, and Alex could only clench her jaw slightly, shake her head, and sigh.

"If I don't go back to sleep, I won't be able to put myself back down for days." She whispered, "But I- I..."

Casey paused, and Alex heard in the silent room her lover swallow, softly, formulating comfort. "I know it's awful, baby, but you're so strong, and if you wake up again I'll be right here and hold you just the same."

"...I can't object to more of you holding me," Alex muttered, and then used her arms to shift Casey off of her, only just until Casey tipped off to the side and she could curl into the side of her body.

Flat on her back, Casey held Alex as best she could while Alex curled her head on top of Casey's ribcage, letting her head rise and fall slightly with the pattern of Casey's breathing, one hand drifting to rest of the plane of her abdomen.

"Are you okay?" Casey said so quietly Alex could ignore it if she chose too, but she didn't want too, because it was important to her that Casey knew her thought on the matter.

"As long as I'm with you, I will be."

[gh0stsp1d3r]

new to your blog and i have to say every fic is just 🤌🏼 chefs kiss lmao

have a little request !

jj maybank x kook!reader where they’re in a secret relationship and he goes to midsummers with her 🫢

ahhh! welcome!! im so so glad you like my stuff (: <3 i love this request so much

ℳ𝒾𝒹𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂ℯ𝓇𝓈

Masterlist

Your mom swirled the glass in her hand as she laughed with a coworker. She had hosted a dinner party, for all her work friends, and you were hating everything about your life right now.

You internally groaned when one of her coworkers turned to you and began to talk.

“So, uh, y/n, who are you planning on going to midsummers with?” One of them said, flashing a smile at you from across the table.

“Uh, no one… right now.” You lied, giving them a small smile.

“Oh, well, isn’t that perfect? My son- actually doesn’t have a date yet, and me and your mom were just talking about how cute you two would be together! Maybe you’d wanna… meet him?”

Your face fell, but you just gave her a false smile, picking at your food with your fork as you gave her a small nod.

“Wonderful!” She exclaimed, making you bite back a remark and stand up.

“Where are you going?” Your mom asked with a furrowed brow.

“I’m gonna eat in my room. I’m not feeling good.” You told her, picking up the plate and practically running to your room.

You put the plate on your bed, shutting the door and grabbing your phone, immediately opening up JJs contact.

“How would you like to go to midsummers with me?” You asked him, watching the three dots pop up quickly.

“Thought you said that your mom wouldn’t like it.”

You thought about your response for a moment. “I don’t care, Pleaseeeeee?”

“You know damn well I wouldn’t say no to you”

You smiled at that, sighing in relief as you leaned back in your bed and held your phone.

“I know, see you tmr? We can go get you a suit or you can borrow one of my brothers.”

“Sure, and I’ll just borrow your brothers”

“I think I’m gonna go to sleep, goodnight jj.”

“goodnight” he told you, putting his phone down and looking up at the ceiling.

“Who the hells got you smiling like that?” John B asked from the doorway, abruptly stopping.

“Jesus Chr- can’t just sneak up on me like that, dude!” Jj jumped, hiding his phone away as he spoke. John B snickered, laughing as he walked away.

———-

The day of Midsummers, JJ stood at your door, rapping on the door with his headphones hung around his neck, hair disheveled and face surprisingly shaved clean.

He looked around the patio, picking up some decorations he saw, and smiling when he saw a little stone with your name written on it, something you did when you were younger.

“Oh, Jake, she’s just been-“ your mom opened the door, starting to talk before she looked up to see not Jake, but JJ.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she was taken aback at the boy.

“Hello, ma’am.” He said, putting the stone down and looking at your mom. “Is she here?”

She looked him up and down, a slight disgusted look visible. “Sorry, I think you have the wron-“

“JJ!” You shouted, smiling as you stepped down the stairs. His eyes widened at the sight of you, he swears he could feel his heart beating out of its chest.

You smiled and hugged him, pushing your mom and wrapping your arms around him. He smiled, closing his eyes and hugging you back, leaving light kisses on your neck.

“You look…” he started when he pulled away. “Breathtaking.” He spoke, his words making you beam.

“What a romantic.” You teased him. “You look great! I told you it would look good on you, jayj!” You said, putting your hands on his suit jacket and fixing it.

“Thanks. You ready?” He asked you, you nodded and began to turn before your mom spoke up.

“Wait, you’re going to midsummers… with him?” Your mom interrupted the moment, making both of you look at her now.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“It’s… what about Jake?”

“I told Jake that he was a nice guy but I already have a boyfriend.” You shrugged.

She was stunned at this information, her beloved, sweet, daughter was dating a dirty pogue. At least that’s how she saw it.

“It was nice meeting you, Ms. L/n.” He called out as you both turned around, a smug smile on his face as he looked at you.

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m fucking grounded after this. I know it.”

At the actual party, everyone seemed shocked to see you all glammed up, but with a pogue boy hanging on your arm the whole time.

The two of you seemed like opposites, your pink dress flowed around the floor, while he had a baseball cap on, looking like he threw the suit on two minutes before he came. He pretty much did.

“You okay, Jayj?” You asked him quietly when you both sat down.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You looked around, everyone judging him loudly and quietly. You frowned and turned back to him.

“Everyone’s looking. I can understand if-“

“Let them.” He shrugged it off. “I don’t give a fuck about any of their snobby ass opinions,” he said with a small smile, not so subtly flicking one of the couples off.

You let your worries dissolve with his words about the stares and the whispers, especially when you saw JJ looked at you like that. Like you hung the stars themselves, like you were the only girl in the world.

“Do you fancy a dance, milady?” JJ asked you suddenly in a posh accent, holding his hand out.

You gasped, holding your hand to your heart. “Why yes I do, good sir.” You played along, a smile playing on your lips as he kissed your hand and took yours in his.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

I have a labyrinth request of the goblin King X yn, we're the goblin King finds yn hanging out around the bog of eternal stench with all the fairies when he's throwing a tiny goblin in, and yn catches the goblin thinking it's too cute to be smelly, and the goblin King falls in love with yn, you can make it however you want and add whatever

A/n: Thank you for your request 🙏 😊 enjoy

Goblin King x reader✨️🙇‍♀️

The maiden of the bog🧚‍♀️👑

Tragedy. Treason. Sedition.

“No! P-please, your majesty, have mercy!” A tiny creature with pointy ears cried out.

“Shall you say one more word, and I’ll banish you forever in the bog of eternal stench.”  The king wearing a deep fitted jacket with voluminous hair sneered.

“I swear’s it, Your Majesty, fizzbit not know to break crystal ball, fizzbit fix it!” The small goblin wailed.

The bog of eternal stench burst into bubbles that could be described as smelling of rotten meat and fish. The bog spewed out green ooze in bursts of fizzing farts. The goblins of the land and creatures alike feared this swamp of funk; they say once you touch it, you will smell for eternity. A terrible misfortunate for any unlucky soul. The green ooze violently hissed, hungering for it’s next victim. The goblin squirmed around like a chicken caught in hand, muttering spurts of nonsense. As for the king, he hissed in annoyance, “Oh, will you ever shut up.”

“I’m bored of you already; all you ever do is whine.” His thinned lips curved.

Fizzbit, the little goblin, silenced his cries and looked up to his king, doing as he commanded.

“That’s better; now, are you sure you’d like me to let you go.” He asked.

Fizzbit nodded, using muffled sounds, “mm-hmm”.

“Are you sure?” he said mockingly.

Fizzbit nodded furiously, his pointy ears flapping.

The king smiled. He pulled Fizzbit closer by his armoured chest plate, securing him in false hope.

His lips faltered into a frown. Fizzbit’s huge eyes glazed in horror.

“Very well then.” He threw the tiny goblin into the bog of eternal stench.

Fizzbit screamed like a wounded cat. The last thing he saw was the spitting, green, ooze attempting to devour him. Fizzbit opened his eyes, seeing the stench did not smother him in it’s vile brown goop. “hrrh?” he muttered. “Fizzbit flyin’?” the tiny goblin’s pointy ears drooped over his head.

 “Poor thing. You must be dreadfully scared.” A voice as gentle as a summer meadow’s breeze emitted above Fizzbit.

Fizzbit looked up to see a kind-looking creature, far too beautiful to be seen as evil. They gently held the tiny goblin up. “I’m y/n, what’s your name.”

The tiny goblin growled at first but soon settled, seeing he didn’t scare this bigger creature.

“Oy, oy, fizzbit the goblin knight is here, protect n’ serve da king’, mos’ fearsome knight in all o’ goblin city. Fear me trusty steed.” Fizzbit pulls out a sword the size of a pin.

Y/n smiled kindly, and she lightly flopped Fizzbits ears to the side. “You’re a very ferocious creature, aren’t you.”

“No, bugs or trolls get past me, no sir-ee. With me steed in hand, it can hop anyone outta trouble.” Fizzbit held his sword high.

“Really, well, despite your efforts, do take this.” Y/n gifted the tiny little goblin a white and pristine small flower.

Fizzbit looked up with adoration, his wide eyes admiring the creature. Fizzbit had never experienced this before.

A small glitter of sparkly lights appeared from behind the trees. “It’s okay, little ones; this creature has no intention of hurting us.” The small beams of light laughed in high-pitched rhythms.

“Bleh, fairies, ugly creatures, bite an’ scratch, stay away!” Fizzbit swung his sword. The fairies teased him.

The king was flabbergasted. Where did this creature appear from? Who was she?

Y/n. The creature like him had no faults or flaws. He inspected them, the way this mysterious person appeared out of the woods like a unicorn from a fairytale.

The goblin king stared at y/n. Longer than he should have. He was hypnotised. He felt like a foolish schoolboy having a crush on a popular cheerleader. How they carried themselves made him freeze.

Y/n looked over to him, staring with a smile. The king found himself going red as a beet; he played it cool for now. Crossing his arms and acting pompous.

“I do believe you were interrupting our little execution.” His eyes narrowed.

“Oh? Execution, whatever for?” Y/n smiled.

“For treason.” He answered.

“I don’t see how such an innocent creature deserves a terrible fate.”

Fizzbit pointed. “Fizzbit was trusted to guard the precious crystal ball, but Fizzbit dropped it and broke it. And Fizzbit fail to guard creature into kingdom.”

“Aw, so you were showing the creatures around the kingdom, and you broke a crystal ball? Well, it’s not the end of the world, is it?” y/n smiled, placing Fizzbit down.

The king scoffed, “It’s not just any kingdom; it’s my kingdom, and secondly, what that crystal ball offered was far more than what any mortal could have.”

“What did it offer?” y/n asked out of curiosity.

“Magic, worlds, to see beyond what no mere man could see.” The king huffed.

“Dreams.” He grinned.

“How wonderful. Surely, you offer happy dreams.” Y/n perked up.

“Happy, oh please don’t make me laugh; I offer dreams of different realities.” The king smirked.

“Is there a queen?” Y/n asked.

“Queen? No, unfortunately not.” He grew quiet, “However, that’s not to say I don’t have an opening proposition.”

“You see, I wouldn’t offer anyone this opportunity, but I find you…exquisite. Would you like to join in union.” The king stepped forward intimidatingly.

“I, I’ve never thought about—” Y/n flabbergasted, stepped back.

“I could offer you a better world, a throne.” He continued.

“I-I suppose I could give you my hand, on the account, you don’t execute this cute creature.” Y/n pointed.

“very well.” He said pleased.

For once in this goblin’s life, he was spared.

Labryinth requests: open

[ryuzakemo128]

Heart Of Stone Part Three

Pairing: Dbf! Joel Miller x Female Reader

Trope: Enemies 2 Lovers | Age Gap

Content Warnings: Grief, Loss, Drug and Alcohol mentioned heavily, swearing, cussing, vaping is mentioned. Your mother is a bitch. More so than usual. Female reader is getting more unhinged in her anger?

Word Count: 988

"I don't think there is anything you can do to fix this or anything about this. A snake is what you are and the blindfold comes off finally. There is nothing left for you here. Take your leave now and forever." Your lips are curled into a thin lipped snarl. The grow in your throat audible this time.

You are tired of holding back for the sake of your mother’s supposed conformity implaced upon your own heart.

Joel shifts uncomfortable under your gaze. You. The version of you that you always managed to hide beneath the polite facade has no leash. No false sincerity tied to you or your words. 

No heed is taken. Nor do you want to 'take heed' either.

This is her punishment. Every moment now. You are keen to remind her. That she had chosen this path and she must suffer through it all.

A snake with Venom is an apt choice of words to describe you now. All this hate inside you is building.

Building you into a venomous snake.

An incredibly dangerous thing.

Unleashed. Untethered. Unbothered by their feelings.

Facts don't care for the feelings of others. Now you didn't care for their feelings either.

If they couldn't handle it. They were free to leave. You weren't going to tell them or force them to stay. They were more than welcome to leave in a huff anytime.

Dangerously beautiful. Esoteric. Alluring.

For all the right and wrong reasons.

Seductive. Femme Fatale. Wynorrific.

In ways, he will never get close to. Never again.

Never gonna find a love quite like yours.

You haven't been able to sleep well lately. Your mother's presence an unwelcome intrusion to your meticulous routine. The same one you adjusted to your own sense of grieving.

You can't sleep longer than six hours at most before you are already awake again.

It used to be five hours. In the days after your father passed on. The details of his passing etched into your subconscious like a hammer and chisel to the marble surface of your mind.

Tired. So tired of everything.

Willing to hurt everyone and anyone. Perhaps the word willing is too light in this particular context. Or perhaps it wasn't the right word to describe the level of anger trapped inside your soul.

Perhaps you were far too different for them to understand in the ways you wanted to be. Too different. Too unlike your mother in terms of not quite feminine like her or not quite masculine like your father.

An in-between. A merging combination of the two sides.

No miracle came to your door. They never do. Miracles are for those who need comfort in their repulsion.

In the idea that their ideals were the only ones that mattered, and to dam the ones who chose to reject them.

Why should you apologise? What did you have to apologise for?

You weren't going to console the same woman who selfishly tore your entire life apart like it meant nothing to you.

The adults pay no heed when a child suffers through the perils and dismay of a parent's failing marriage. It's always them who gets the backlash for speaking up about how it affects them.

They are told to suffer because dam them. Damn their feelings on the matter. May they suffer in silence. They deserve to be seen and not heard.

Adults should know better than to force their problems onto their offspring. Adults who deny, deny, deny their own issues have no business raising children. To project their own issues onto them selfishly.

To place a mirror in front of their faces is what you have fully intended. They had nothing to hide from you. You have every intention on using that against them both.

Any eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Fair is fair. If they didn't like it? Maybe they should have thought better than to come back to this house again.

You couldn't wait to find a way to slice the proverbial knife inside, splitting the bone of his spine. Oh, the joy you would have to be on the brink of insatiable insanity.

Sure. You were no butcher. Sure, you had your heart set on a fine arts degree. But who are they to deny you this delicious new hobby you wish to partake in?

Can't mean nothing if you were so fucking eager to make sure he learns from his fucking mistakes.

More than a little eager.

The clenched jaw.

The fury in your eyes.

You weren't planning this.

You don't plan how your anger comes out to play either.

You were and always have been a beast wrapped inside the depths of human skin. Starved of affection. Thriving in utter darkness. Proud of the absurd amount of wrath you are about to wrought.

Joel had more of your animosity to contend with in the coming days. You were a far more gracious hostess than he had originally anticipated. Your house rules were the ones your mother had trouble swallowing.

The opportunity to revel in saying 'my house, my rules' were a delight, bring much needed glee. The kind you intent to have all to yourself. You didn’t intend on sharing such a lovely thing.

Joel and your mother are a nuanced nuisance to your inner hunger. The kind that you didn’t anticipate in having in the depths of yourself.

Your mother wasn't given an inch. If you did. She would take more than just your sense of self too. And she had taken more from you than you could ever get back.

There is no point in telling her either. She’ll only deny, deny, deny it all.

The animosity will grow as intended and sooner or later your mother will be forced to confront the kind of monster she really is deep on the inside like you always intended to force her to see.

Part One | Part Two | Part Four | Part Five

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune