#i am such a sucker for found family you have no idea

[fal0n]

Are we getting Swanbite as a father figure to Hibiscuspaw? 👀

Sorry for the wait you reminded me I absolutely HAVE to draw found family fluff omg!! I am such a sucker for adopted family I can't lie and the kitties aren't safe from it either. I am kinda leaning towards the idea of Hibiscuspaw becoming a medicine cat bc he also has a sibling kinda bond with Callamoon and he's not very proficient as a moor runner OR tunnel digger, but him and Swanbite still hang out a ton and Hibiscusbloom likes to help him out and stuff!

Also sorry for the Jargon jumpscare but I thought it was funny

[dyne-osaur]

NOT enough people draw unit 919 THEY ARE MY BABIES AND I WOULD DIE FOR THEM

so anyways, some food

sketch under the cut

there was no room for my babies francis and mahir </3

[veveisveryuncool]

HEYHEY GIVE ME KIRBY DREAM TEAM FOUND FAMILY HCS AND I WILL DRAW THEM!!!

[illdothehotvoice]

I think ignoring the uh. problems with Spirit of Justice, I've come to the conclusion that I think my biggest issue with it is it really just kind of went "Oh! You want more focus on Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney and it's characters? Sure, here you go! *retcons like. The entire game*"

Anyways I am about to complain a LOT about Spirit of Justice in the tags.

[kkvqwrites]

Bedside Manner

Reader goes into labor while Simon's away and calls the first person she can think of. The task force (and some other friends in high places) rally around the couple on the most important day of their lives.

Word Count: 2,587

Characters (in order of appearance): fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Capt. John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kate Laswell

CW: childbirth, hospital setting, medical procedures

A/N: Am I a Ghost girlie? Absolutely. Am I also a sucker for the found family trope? Til I die. This idea wouldn't leave me alone and I'm so glad I stuck with it. I love the way this came out and hope you like it!

"Dear? Everything okay?"

The captain's voice on the other end of the line sounded worried. Both he and Simon had drilled it into you to never hesitate to call Price if you needed anything while your husband was away, but you couldn't help feeling a bit guilty.

"Um, I think so," you began, willing your voice to stay level and upbeat. "I think I just - oof.." Another contraction hit, stealing the air from your lungs. They were coming more consistently now, and hard enough to stop you in your tracks.

This could not be happening.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" You could hear movement in the background, him gathering his things to be out the door and on his way to you.

"I'm fine, John. I just didn't know who else to call. I think the baby might be coming?" The words came out pinched as you worked through the tail end of the contraction. The captain swore loudly.

"Stay put, love. I'm on the way - everything will be alright. Want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No, no, that's fine. Stay safe and I'll see you when you get here." You hung up before he could argue and fuss like a mother hen.

______________________________________________________________

The knock at the door startled you. You looked at the clock - surely that couldn't be John already. The man lived across town. Not trusting yourself to make it to the door, you called out.

"It's open!"

Turns out it wasn't Price, but Gaz, who stepped into your living room and began taking in the scene. It was a sight to be sure: you, doubled over sitting on your yoga ball, rocking back and forth to try to alleviate some of the pressure in your hips, towel around your neck because you were sweating like a pig, ambient white noise filtering through the bluetooth speaker to keep you calm. For all his usual swagger and poise, Gaz looked a bit frightened.

"Kyle, did John call you? I'm so sorry - I'm sure you were busy-"

"Not at all, I rushed over as soon as I got word." The sergeant came to your side and knelt until he was eye level. "The captain's on his way but I was closer. We didn't want you to be alone any longer than necessary."

"You and your task force are worse than a quilting circle." The jab came with a joking smile, but the smile was cut short by the stab of another contraction. At the sight of your face screwing up in pain, Kyle's eyes got big.

"Can I do something? Do you need anything?" He wrung his hands as he fussed, seemingly unsure whether to touch you or whether you'd bite him if he tried. Admittedly, you weren't too sure yourself.

"Need you to reset - the timer." The words came out through clenched teeth as your muscles tensed and screamed. "Contractions - need to time them."

"The timer - right." He sprung into action, undoubtedly happy to have a defined task to accomplish. As he was fiddling with the device, Price stormed through the door, his demeanor all-business.

"Gaz? What's the situation?" The sergeant hopped to attention as if he was at roll call.

"Got here not long ago myself, Cap. Just reset the timer for contractions."

"Where are we at?"

"Thirteen minutes, sir."

The captain turned to you, assessing you from top to bottom. His expression and his voice softened considerably as he spoke.

"Ready to get to the hospital, love?"

"Can't - they told me to wait until they're five minutes apart." The man looked bewildered.

"And just let you sit here and suffer? Not on my watch. Gaz, grab my keys - "

"John," you interrupted. "I already called. They won't admit me yet. We just need to wait it out."

"Nonsense, love. You wait til I get someone's ear over there. Five minutes my arse." He moved to help you stand, but stopped in his tracks as he took in your face, your lip trembling. "Is there something else?" As if on cue, a fat tear rolled down your cheek, the first of its kind since the pains began.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," you squeaked out. "Not for a few more weeks. Simon's supposed to be here."

The men shared a glance, looking stricken. Price leaned down next to you, a broad hand gently squeezing your shoulder. His voice was soft when he spoke, a renewed slowness replacing his prior rushed pace.

"I know, love. I know it's not ideal, and I know you're scared. I know Simon would give anything to be here, that he'd split heaven and earth to be with you right now. But I also know he'd want you and your little one taken care of, yeah? He wouldn't want you to wait."

You nodded, despite more tears threatening. "Doesn't change the fact they won't admit me yet."

The captain's mouth quirked defiantly. "You let me worry about that. Gaz, help her up. I'll drive."

______________________________________________________________

Simon was tired down to his bones, feeling like a wrung out rag after the most recent mission. Despite that, the man was a ball of energy as he hopped off the plane, desperate to get back to you.

"Someone's antsy," Soap drawled, taking a more leisurely pace. He slid his sunglasses on as Simon switched on his cell phone anxiously. "Got somewhere to be, LT?"

"'Matter of fact I do - home." Simon impatiently hiked his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "See my wife, eat a real meal. Finally build that godforsaken changing table. Who knew a baby needs so much furniture?"

Soap barked a laugh, but Simon tuned him out as he put his phone to his ear. He'd gotten a voicemail from you, and everything else ceased to matter.

"Hey babe, it's me. I'm not sure when you'll get this, and I hate to worry you. I'm sure it's fine. It's just... I've been feeling some contractions-"

Simon didn't hear the rest, nearly dropping his phone as he broke into a run.

______________________________________________________________

True to his word, Price argued with the hospital staff until you were taken up to a room. You were sure he must have pulled rank, threatened to call people, but he refused to let you worry about it.

The ride had been smooth, despite John driving like a bat out of hell. Gaz stayed in the back seat with you, clinging to your hand and fussing. Later, you'd think it was funny how he seemed to need more encouragement and support than he offered, but at that moment very little was funny.

You had been able to stay in denial for an admirably long time. The past few days, you were able to tell yourself it was just Braxton-Hicks contractions, not the real thing. That even when it became evident the real thing was starting, that it wouldn't progress quickly. That even though it was progressing, that Simon would walk in the door just at the right moment and sweep you into the car and off to the hospital and all would be well. Even when your gut told you to pick up the phone and call the captain, you had managed to make yourself believe that you were wrong, that it was a false alarm, that you still had more time.

Now, here you were, connected to monitors and being poked and prodded by nurses. Medical history, allergies, birth plan, you felt like you were in interrogation rather than a patient receiving care. And if it wasn't the nurses it was the two men standing off to the side, one wringing his hands in worry and one watching the nurses like a hawk and barking questions. The contractions were closer to eight minutes apart now, progressing quickly. Now the situation was very real, and as thankful as you were from the support from Price and Gaz, your heart threatened to shatter at the absence of the one person who mattered most.

______________________________________________________________

"Bloody fuckin' hell, no one will answer their phone!" Ghost barked, ready to throw his out the window. He'd had radio silence other than a second voicemail, this one from the Captain:

"Simon, Price here. Just got word from the missus that the baby's on the way. I'm headed there now. I don't want you to worry about a thing, I won't leave her side. I'll update you as I'm able."

"She knew to call the captain; he's probably with her now," Soap offered from the driver's seat. He'd practically had to arm wrestle Simon for the keys, but ended up convincing him that he'd be able to call for updates if he wasn't worried about driving. Silently, he thanked the saints Simon had agreed; who knows what carnage he'd unleash on the roads as worked up as he was.

"He better be, or I'll - not now, Laswell!" Simon rejected the third call from the station chief since landing and tried Price again. He was sure he'd hear about it for skipping debrief and jumping in the car, but right now he couldn't bring himself to give a shit. When Price's phone again went to voicemail, he was about to go nuclear when the car's Bluetooth lit up with Laswell's number.

"Shite; let me answer it LT." Soap pushed the button. "Laswell, it's Soap. Here with Ghost."

"I know," she said impatiently, her voice filling the space. "I've been trying to call all afternoon. I know what's happening and I'm here to help."

"What? How do you know?"

"Price called me as soon as he got word, asked me to find you. Anyway, you're wasting time heading in that direction; there's a lane closure ahead and you're about to be neck deep in traffic. I've mapped an alternate route for you. Take the next left."

The two men looked at each other in confusion before both starting to speak at the same time.

"Left? That takes us the wrong way-" "How do you know where we're at?"

"Boys! Boys, listen," she continued, exasperated. "Don't worry about how I know, just do as I say. We're gonna get you there as fast as possible. Now turn left!"

Soap cut the car to the left, ignoring the indignant honks of other drivers as he began to cut through the city under Laswell's watchful eye.

______________________________________________________________

"The doctor says you'll be ready to start pushing soon. How are you feeling?" The nurse was genuinely trying to be nice, so you bit back on your retort of how the fuck does it look like I'm feeling? My insides are exploding! and instead chose a weak smile and a head nod.

Once the nurse whisked away, Price was back at your side. You could tell by his expression he wanted to give you a pep talk like you were one of his soldiers about to head into battle, but he was searching for the right thing to say. You broke the silence first.

"I'm scared." Your voice sounded small, the words escaping almost of their own volition. The captain took your hand, blessedly avoiding sugarcoating the situation.

"I know. But you're doing great - a real trooper. Even with the needle in the back! Simon's gonna be so proud of you, love. And Gaz and I are gonna be right here. Right Gaz?"

"Right, Cap." The sergeant slid back into the room, cup of ice in hand. While the captain had taken point and begun advocating for you with the hospital staff and asking a million questions, Gaz had been dutifully making sure you were comfortable. Anything from getting you an extra pillow for your back, to helping you tie your hair back, to getting you ice chips since you couldn't have food or drink during labor, he was on it. If either man was uneasy about what was about to happen, they dutifully kept it under wraps and maintained their game faces.

One by one, the care team took up positions around you to get started. Price and Gaz got next to you, each taking one of your hands, ready to offer what support they could. You shamed yourself, one last time, for being ungrateful for their presence. A lot of people give birth with less, you tried to tell yourself. He’d be here if he could. 

 The doctor walked in, donning gloves and getting a quick status update from one of the nurses before meeting your eyes. “Evening, ma’am. We’re going to-” 

Her words were cut off by a commotion in the hall, a door slamming and what sounded like some raised voices. Everyone in the room exchanged confused glances, and Price motioned for Gaz to go investigate. He poked his head out into the hall for only a moment before returning with a big grin.

“You’re not gonna believe who’s here."

Then your husband was in the doorway, and then he was at your side, and suddenly those honey brown eyes drowned out every ounce of pain and fear you’d been holding onto, and that warm, calloused hand took yours, and you were ready.

______________________________________________________________

You would have thought it would be difficult to fall asleep under fluorescent lights, with monitors beeping and staff bustling around. But you had never known tiredness like this, and wanted to take the nurse’s advice and rest while the pain meds were still working their magic. The delivery had been uneventful once the show was on the road, and Simon never left your side, his steady presence grounding and his voice in your ear keeping you calm. Then there she was, a baby girl, the most precious tiny thing you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d stared at her and cried for hours, stroking her tiny hand and welcoming her to the world until you could barely keep your eyes open. And so, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss on your forehead from Simon, you found yourself drifting off. You were aware, as you floated off, of his slow pacing back and forth with your newborn daughter in his arms, of his whispers to her that were too low for you to hear. Of the guys popping in, as unobtrusively as possible lest the lieutenant tear them limb from limb for disturbing you and the baby, bringing him food and coffee and admiring the bundle of joy.

“Doesn’t look a thing like you, Simon,” said Soap.

“Thank God for that,” he replied.

“You should have seen it, Simon really - needle this long, right in the spine!” Price remarked, not for the first time. “She didn’t even flinch.”

“I’m just glad you made it for the gross stuff,” mumbled Gaz.

“Kyle, you’re in the military. You’ve seen arms and legs blown off.”

“Completely different, Johnny. Not the same at all.”

On and on they bantered, brothers in arms stepping into their role as uncles for your baby girl with delight. One of the last things you heard was Simon, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, all of you, for being here. For today.”

“Oh come off it Simon,” replied the Captain. “These girls mean something to you, so they mean something to us. That’s what a family is. Now quit hogging her and let Uncle John have a turn.”

You wouldn’t remember this conversation when you woke up, wouldn’t be able to articulate where it came from, but you’d carry with you the bone-deep feeling of connection with this little makeshift family forever.

[reidmotif]

Coffee and Consequences

Summary: Reader joins the BAU, and Spencer seems insistent on being a problem for her.

Request: pls i am such a sucker for angst/smut, can you do one where spencer is closed off and cold to a new recruit, and it upsets her, so she tries to get him to like her, which leads to an argument and confession, with soft smut?

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Light Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, little shit Spencer, oral sex (f recieveing), gunshot wound/typical canon violence, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.1k

Upon starting at the BAU, I believed there was no question about me, especially when it came to my skills and ability to perform my job. From stellar recommendations from my superiors at the Academy, to general demeanor and tact, there was no question about whether or not my success was imminent. Most of the team were more than elated to welcome me to the small family they’d built over the years, despite my younger age than most of them, which I was eternally grateful for. 

Most, being the keyword in that sentence. Since I’d begun, there’d been one thorn in my roses, the bane of my existence, you might say. Spencer fucking Reid. I’m aware of the fact that not everyone could like me, that was a given. I'm an FBI agent, for god’s sake. To expect warmth and friendship from everyone would be naive and lead to disappointment in any given scenario. 

But Jesus Christ, this was getting absolutely ridiculous. 

I consistently replayed the events of our first meeting. In an attempt to make a good first impression, (which seems stupid, in hindsight) I brought coffee to each of my new co-workers, hoping to establish myself as a friendly, non-threatening presence in their lives. I’d covertly asked Emily for help, as within the interviews and background checks required to even be considered for a position in the BAU, there was a certain camaraderie and friendship forged through the continued exposure to each other. 

Emily advised me carefully, understanding the intentions behind the act, and being more than happy to help.  “JJ likes vanilla lattes, nothing too fancy. Rossi is a little simpler, a Caffe Americano.” I spoke, and continued to go through my team’s regular orders, until there was hesitation on a somewhat infamous name, one that I myself was already intrigued by. “Spencer’s an easy order to remember, but you have to make sure you get it right.” 

I found myself nodding, the seriousness of Emily’s words striking me- momentarily finding myself forgetting that they were speaking about something as mundane as coffee. "Emily spoke slowly, as if I was advising a child. 'Reid likes black coffee, but you have to make sure to add extra sugar.'" I nodded quickly, "Alright, black coffee with extra sugar, got it-" Emily interrupted me abruptly. "No, no. You're not hearing me, extra sugar. I mean a lot, okay? Otherwise, he quite literally won't drink it."

I found myself chuckling a little bit, thinking about the image of Spencer Reid I’d built up in my head before I’d even met him. I knew he had been framed and had endured a considerable time in prison. I was also aware of his intelligence, a natural by-product of all the papers he’d written, and how many of his own techniques in geographic profiling were referenced during my time in the Academy. Working with him seemed like a dream come true. The idea of a grown man needing as much sugar in his coffee as Emily made it seem added just a bit of charm to the already positive perception I’d had of him. 

In the coffee shop, I carefully recited the orders of my new teammates, taking extra caution in advising the barista that the black coffee needed extra sugar. I could tell the patrons behind me were definitely annoyed, but it didn’t matter. First impressions matter more. Even after my incessant requests about sugar, I took the time to open the lid of the steaming black coffee to add in 3 extra packets of brown sugar provided at the customization station in the back of the coffee shop. I could tell the barista was boring holes into the back of my head, and I honestly wasn’t surprised or could blame her. At this point, the sugar had to be more than the coffee itself. I gave a satisfied grin to myself, knowing I’d followed Emily’s directions and the possibility of friendship with someone I’d already come to admire wasn’t something far-off to wish for. 

God, was I wrong. 

I approached the bullpen cautiously, being greeted by an assortment of new faces. I quickly matched names to descriptors that had been given to me from Emily. I then noticed one face that hadn’t greeted me yet, sat alone in the back with his nose in a book. I couldn’t discern the title, which I quickly figured was due to the fact that the book appeared to be some European language I’d most likely never even heard of. The man had a mess of brown hair on his head, and even from across the room I could tell it was curling softly near the nape of his neck. He was handsome. More handsome than I had pegged him for. I knew almost immediately that this had to have been the infamous Spencer Reid, and I cautiously approached him, flashing a small smile. 

He heard me a mile away, looking up quickly and putting away his book. His eyes seemed to size me up, and he didn’t seem to return my smile. I knew better than to shake hands with him, being predisposed to his germaphobe nature and instead held out the coffee, almost as if it was a peace offering. 

“Hi, uh. I’m the new recruit, I believe Emily warned you all about me and I just wanted to introduce myself. (Y/N). That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, a little dumbly, still holding the coffee out. I quickly realized I hadn’t explained the reasoning behind the coffee cup and quickly added, “Coffee. I asked Emily about how you liked it. And brought it. So, yeah.” I said. I was aware of how awkward this conversation was becoming, considering I was still holding out the cup, like an idiot, and he hadn’t said a word to me yet. He nodded, taking the coffee cup from me and placing it on his desk. “Dr Reid. Welcome.” His greeting was short, but I tried not to let it bother me. Perhaps he wasn’t as forthcoming to strangers, nevermind that. The coffee was enough. I smiled, again, hoping to make my intentions clear. “Nice to meet you, Dr Reid.” 

I turned back, feeling satisfied. I’d done what I’d come there to do. Except a sound from behind me alerted me that maybe I was a bit early to assume that, because when I’d turned around, an incredibly displeased Dr Reid was throwing away his coffee- the coffee I had brought! That I’d waited for in a morning rush for, that I’d taken the time to add even more sugar to- that coffee! In the trash! His eyes met mine as he dropped it into the trashcan near his desk, shuddering a bit as he did so. He didn’t even look apologetic. 

I approached him, a bit upset and sad, but there was caution in my tone, not wanting to offend him before he even had a chance to know me. “Dr Reid, I’m sorry was the coffee-” Dr Reid quickly interrupted me. “Did Emily not tell you my order?” He asked, a little bit of sharpness to his tone. 

Okay, so this guy took his coffee seriously. Emily was not kidding around. 

“Um, yes-” He interrupted again. “Yes? Are you sure?” He said, a bit of condescension in his tone. Okay, holy shit. All this over coffee? “Very sure.” I responded, confidently. “Black, with extra sugar- I even put extra at the counter.” I added this, trying to convey that while I was sorry it wasn’t to his liking, it’s not like I didn’t try. That had to count for something, right? 

Wrong. Spencer Reid did not seem like the type of man who cared about trying. He retorted with, “Well, it wasn’t enough.” And with that, he shuffled to the breakroom, seemingly to make his own coffee. 

It seemed like from there, things only got worse. In one of my first cases, I quickly made a quip about the statistics on suburban murders, hoping to add some valuable information to the conversation. I tried hard not to overpower anyone and stay in my lane as the resident newbie, but Spencer seemed to take personal offense to it, going out of his way to argue that it meant nothing. I fired back, hoping to affront my point but Reid quickly cut me off.

 “You’re new, alright? And young. It’s granted that you should be clueless when it comes to some of these things.” His words, although somewhat true, were accompanied by a harsh tone and a coldness in his voice. What could’ve been well-meaning advice from a senior agent on the team was clearly not that at all. All signs pointed to one thing: He absolutely hated me. 

For all I tried, it seemed like he only disliked me more. It wasn’t unnoticed by my teammates, how he’d dismiss me. I was aware of my newness, of my inexperience, how this team had had years to grow around each other before I was ever even considered for this position, but it seemed with the more time I spent at the BAU, Spencer’s disdain only increased. He seemed to go out of his way to not sit by me on the jet, or how he seemed absolutely uninterested in anything involving me. I understood that not everyone would like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. I didn’t need friendship, just his tolerance, and even that seemed out of reach for Dr Spencer Reid. 

Eventually, this led to the dynamic  we harbored now. A year into the BAU, and instead of a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, it was constant bickering. It’s not like I wanted to argue- he just made it impossible for me to find footing within the BAU. I obviously stood up for myself, but was met with resistance from the doctor, and so the cycle continued. 

Still, despite the obvious dislike Reid harbored for me, it wasn’t like that magically made him dumb, or any less attractive to me. His intelligence was as impressive as I’d expected it to be, if not even moreso. I watched in real-time as the cogs in his mind turned, his slender fingers finding a point on the side of his mouth to tap, before stopping and sharing what he’d just thought of. He was brilliant, and no one could take that away from him

 However, in this particular case we were currently dealing with, it seemed that brilliance simply didn’t matter, because how could someone like him be so absolutely stupid? 

The hostage situation we were dealing with was tricky, to say the least. Multiple civilians, and a trigger happy unsub. Any experienced agent would be at a loss when handling something like this, but Spencer seemed confident. He’d been pushing to storm the building, citing that more people would get hurt the longer they allowed the unsub to continue making demands. I found myself  wholeheartedly disagreeing, attempting to put my foot down and be heard. I found that perhaps, through negotiations, we could not only save the civilians, but walk away with zero people hurt. Naturally, this caused commotion between the senior agent and myself. 

“Reid, I’ve told you for the millionth time that this unsub can’t be approached like this!” I whisper-yelled, clearly fed up with Spencer by this point. He questioned every decision of mine, and it's gotten to me. 

“(Y/N), you’ve dealt with maybe 3 hostage situations in your life. This isn’t something for you to take point on. We have civilians in there, and it’s more important we save them.” He responded, in his own hiss. 

“You’re being ridiculous!” I retorted. 

“You’re naive!” He shot back. 

We’d clearly reached a head when it came to this. Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m using my seniority here. We’re going to give the go-ahead to SWAT and make our way into the building.” 

I found myself returning the gesture. “Spencer- '' I began, only to be interrupted.

 “Dr Reid.” He corrected, venom in his voice. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I replied, furrowing my brows. 

“What?” He countered, seeming calm, but his eyes gave away simply how determined he was to win this. 

“This is a terrible idea.” I said, firmly. “Someone’s going to get hurt.” 

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Spencer quipped. “Is it your years of experience in the field? Or your time spent as an FBI agent?” He said, sarcastically. 

“I understand I don’t have as much experience as you, but-” I started, but I found myself cut off by him again. Bastard. He never let me finish my sentences. “Exactly.” He responded, calmly. “You don’t have as much experience. I know what I’m doing. Let’s go.” And with that, he walked, leaving me to simply follow. God, I fucking hated that guy. Forget the intelligence, none of that mattered when he was such a dick. 

As they entered the warehouse doors behind SWAT, I  knew that it was wrong. Something was off. We’d profiled this unsub as the dominant type, and an egotistical personality that wouldn’t allow for a partner. It was a part of the profile that they were sure of. It was part of the reason why Spencer was so confident of going in. 

Upon entering though, the SWAT team had a clear shot of the unsub, but in a split second, there were shots heard from an entirely different part of the warehouse. From the direction in which Spencer was directly in line of. 

It wasn’t like I thought about it, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. It was based on pure instinct. I found myself in front of Spencer Reid, the man who’d questioned my every decision since I’d begun my job, taking a bullet for him. Maybe he was right, maybe I was an idiot. 

I heard the gunshot first, then felt the cold floor pressing into my cheek where I’d been knocked down. Then a tight pressure in my arm. I finally looked down, seeing a bloom of red appear under my dress shirt where a bullet had struck, away from the vest I wore to prevent this sort of thing. I took in a sharp breath of air, eyes widening as my breathing began to quicken. I rolled onto my back, only to be met with Spencer’s concerned and frightened expression above me. I heard ins and outs of his speech into his receiver, as I faded in and out of consciousness. 

“Yes! We have an agent down. We need medic, now!” He yelled. I watched him in fascination, his face currently seeming to be the only thing I could focus on besides the overwhelming burning that I felt. I heard him speak to me, calmly. “Y/N? Stay with me, okay? You need to stay conscious. Okay?” He spoke to me calmly, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable. I found my eyelids growing heavier as I nodded. 

It wasn’t long until I came to, groggily opening my eyes to see Spencer’s concerned face looking back at me. I heard his voice, soft and distant. 

“(Y/N)..?” Spencer said, cautiously. 

“Dr Reid?” was my response. I was still a bit dizzy, and a bit confused about my whereabouts. 

“You were shot.” He replied, immediately. “In your arm.” He added, as if that wasn’t already obvious. 

I found myself chuckling, “Yeah, I can tell.” I said, my eyes meeting his. His expression was a bit unreadable, a mix between sternness and apprehension. I watched him, as his gaze shifted and he bit his lip. “You took it for me.” He said, suddenly. “The bullet, I mean.” He continued. “It would’ve hit me if you hadn’t gotten in the way.” 

“Gotten in the way?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Gotten in the way.” He repeated back to me, his face hard. 

“Are you upset I took a bullet for you?” I said, furrowing my brows, my lips parting in shock. Was this guy serious? 

“Yes.” He said, his voice angry. “What were you thinking?” His voice wavered with anger and another emotion I couldn’t quite discern in that moment. 

“I wasn’t thinking, I just-” 

“Exactly.” He responded, harshly. “You weren’t thinking.” He said, his voice reaching a volume I’d never heard before, granted, it was still collected, but I’d never seen this side of him. 

I contemplated how to respond to this, actually not being able to believe that he could be mad at me for something like this. Yes, it was brash but- he didn’t get shot! Isn’t that a plus? His voice broke my thoughts, now a bit more shaky, softer. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? If you’d been hurt worse, what that would mean for me?” He said, looking right at my face, into my eyes with a blaze. “What you mean to me?” 

I found myself unable to respond, still not being able to grapple with what he was saying. What he was implying. “Sorry?” I asked, softly. 

“(Y/N)..” He said, softly. His own expression mirrored my confusion mixed with longing I’d never seen before on him. Especially when he looked at me. His hand brushed across my face, moving some hair that had drifted near my eye. I held my breath as he did so, watching as his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, still watching intently. I felt my lips slightly part as he came closer, unsure what was going to happen in this moment, but regardless, my gaze was intently trained on his. 

In a split second though, the sounds of the rest of the BAU filtered into the hospital room. They jumped away from each other, Spencer now 4 feet away from me. Emily came up to my bedside, looking at the wound. 

The typical chastisement came, and the general choruses of appreciation that I was still alive. The diagnosis revealed that (Y/N) would be just fine, given I remembered to clean my wound liberally and change the bandages.

In about a week, I found myself discharged. I was given about 2 more weeks to rest at my apartment. I assumed the time would be enough to forget the strange moment I’d had in the hospital room. At some points, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it hadn’t happened at all. The tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze drifted to my lips, so subtle it could’ve as easily been a figment of imagination. I shook my head, as if I could rid myself of all the feelings I’d harbored about that specific moment. I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a fresh-set of bandages to apply on the recovering wound, wincing as I peeled away the layers of gauze to reveal the injury. As I began to apply the anti-septic, I began to wrap the gauze, until I heard a knock at my apartment door. 

I put down the gauze, looking through the peephole and being surprised to see the senior agent that had been haunting my thoughts for the past few weeks. I opened the door quickly, meeting his pensive gaze. 

“Can I come in?” He said, quickly, almost if he didn’t say the words fast enough, he’d bolt the other direction. I sensed the confusion about his own actions, and opened the door wider, allowing him to push past me into my apartment. He noticed the gauze, and the open wound, and raised an eyebrow. 

“I was changing the gauze, sorry.” I said, explaining the sight on my kitchen table. He immediately took a step towards the table, picking up the bandages. “Let me help.” He said, quietly, motioning for me to sit down. 

I found myself sitting, out of pure habit of obeying him, but still shook my head. 

 “Dr Reid, no, it’s fine.” He quickly shook his head, mirroring my previous actions,  already beginning to take my arm, his light touches on my bare skin shooting a shiver up my spine. This was noticeable to him, him immediately retracting his hand. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, softly. 

I found myself shaking my head. “No, no. Sorry. Just. Continue.” I said, trying to get the words out without looking at him. I suddenly remembered the strangeness of this situation, and forced myself to calm down as he began to carefully wrap the bandages around my injury, swallowing and looking up. 

“Dr Reid, why are you here?” I asked, carefully. I made sure that my tone was neutral, not trying to express displeasement, but still a bit confused about his intentions here. 

“You took a bullet for me.” He replied, simply, as if that explained why he was in my apartment, looming over me as he tenderly wrapped gauze over my arm, looking at me with the gentlest gaze I’d ever seen on him. I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I know, but-” He interrupted. “No, (Y/N), you don’t know.” 

Immediately, the rage returned to my eyes, the months of dismissal I’d faced from him flooding back in a moment, and those emotions came to full light in that moment. my brows furrowed, my face turning sour. “Oh, I don’t know, Spencer?” I said, sneering at him. “Am I too young, too stupid, too inexperienced for you?” I question, sarcastically. “Am I so dumb, that I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I stepped in front of you?!” I say, my voice practically yelling at him now. 

“Yes.” He whispered, dangerously close. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yes. You weren’t aware.” He says, repeats, softer this time. “It’s the only way any of this makes sense. That.. that you were so unaware, so blinded that you weren’t thinking when you stepped in front of me.” He said, quietly, remaining just as close as before. 

“I wasn’t.” I said, firmly, my brows still furrowed but the tension slowly left my face, being replaced with a softness. 

“Why did you do it then?” He said, dropping his gaze as he began to focus more on the bandages. “I haven’t been very forthcoming with you since you’ve begun your time at the BAU.” 

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I said, trying to make humor of the situation, but it came out a bit more breathless and dry. I was aware of the intimacy of the situation, and it seemed my body was catching up. I could physically feel the way my cheeks were heating up, and how they were close enough that I could see every breath that exhaled from his lips. How, despite everything, I still desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment. 

I couldn’t be crazy, when he secured the bandages and slowly trailed his eyes over my figure, sitting in front of him. I saw the same desire I felt, reflected in his eyes, and I found myself biting my lip. What the fuck was going on?

“So why’d you do it?” He repeated, still looking at me. 

“It felt natural, I..” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I had felt in that split-second, but instead went with the simplest retelling my brain could manage, considering how close he was. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I said, looking at him. “I.. I care about you.” 

I felt stupidly vulnerable. His breath fanned over my face, and I bit my lip. I waited for him to say something, anything, staring anxiously at his face. 

“I’m a good profiler, you know.” He says, softly. 

I  chuckle a little at this, moving away so the tension can be relieved. “Trust me, I’m reminded of that every day.” I said, feeling like the distance between them was now more manageable, allowing me to talk.

But in a moment, he closed that distance to its predecessor, just as close as they were a moment ago. “You learn a lot about body language. Not just by learning to profile, but through years of experience. It just comes naturally, reading people. You can’t really turn it off. It’s like trying to forget how to breathe.” I hung onto his every word, and found my breath hitching when he directed his monologue to me. 

He gently inquires, “Do you understand?” 

I nod, looking up at him, as he inches closer. 

“So I hope you’ll understand and not take offense when I say I’ve been profiling you.” He pauses.  “Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” He says, looking right into my eyes at this point. 

My brain is screaming at me to say no, to not take the bait that he was dangling right in front of me, and to not cross that line tonight. Because, surely, that’s where this was going. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man in front of me was going to ruin me, if I let him. 

Instead, I ignore the instinct and intuition I normally rely on, and nod. “What did you find out, Dr Reid?” I responded, a bit shakier than I wanted to sound. 

“Your pupils dilate when I come near you. It’s an involuntary response, but I notice it every time. I’ve seen it in low and heavy lighting, the only commonality in both those situations being that we were in some proximity to each other.” His voice was low, and seductive, something I’d never heard from him before. 

“Your heart rate.” He murmurs, slowly picking up my wrist and pressing a thumb to the pulse point. “This isn’t exactly the best way to measure heart rate.” He explains, “My thumb. It carries its own pulse that can make it hard to distinguish between mine and yours. But right now, (Y/N)?” He mumbles. “I can tell. Because your pulse is going crazy right now. It’d be hard to miss.”  He said, with a low chuckle.

And he’s right, I can feel my heart getting faster with every second he speaks to me, in that hushed tone that seems to be driving me crazy. 

“It’s not just tonight. I’ve noticed it since the day you walked in.” He whispers, getting closer to my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Since you brought that terrible coffee, actually.” 

I pulled back, letting out a noise that was both composed of surprise and amusement. “Oh come on, it was not that bad.” 

“It was, but I can tell you tried.” He said, a small smirk playing on his face. “It was cute.” He said, now taking the time to brush some hair out of my face. It all happened quickly, his gaze tender and soft, before he captured my lips in a swoon-worthy kiss, pressing himself against me. I quickly melted into the kiss, letting out a satisfied sigh as I gripped his forearm, before rising from the chair as he slowly guided me to my couch. I let out a nervous laugh as my knees hit the cushions, tumbling a bit as I fell onto the soft pillows. He immediately pulled back, breathless, looking at me worriedly. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured softly, kissing me again, a bit more gentle so I could murmur a soft “no” against his lips. 

“Good.” He growled, positioning himself above me on the couch,  beginning to press hot kisses down my neck, eventually reaching my exposed sternum, and looking up at me through hooded lids for implicit consent to continue, to which I nodded, feverishly. 

“Please.” I whispered, hoarsely. 

He took no time in obliging my request, rising a bit to remove the fabric of my shirt in one, clean swoop and continuing his assault on my chest, leaving open-mouthed kissed, eventually switching to nips and playful bites, as he sucked marks into the swell of my breasts, leaving me letting out delighted sighs and soft moans, which only seemed to encourage him to go lower. I arched my back, screwing my eyes shut, until he felt him stop, and come back to my neck. 

He murmured against me, close to my ear. I could feel his lips slowly brush the sensitive skin between my ear and neck, barely giving me any real stimulation, but it was enough to drive me crazy anyway. 

“Keep your eyes open, baby.” He whispers. “I want to see every part of your pretty face when I do this.” He says, returning lower again, leaving little kisses everywhere he could possibly go with his lips. I opened my eyes on command, watching as he went lower and lower, before finding the button on my jeans, slowly undoing them with nimble fingers and moving them off  my legs. I could imagine them so vividly inside me, expertly guiding me to pleasure in a way that mine couldn’t. But right now, if I wasn’t fucked senseless by him right now, I’d just about lose my mind. 

“Spencer.” I whispered, breathlessly. “I need you.” I breathed out. “Please.” 

“You need me to do what?” He asked, smirking as he already began to undo his own belt. 

“Spencer.” I repeated, firmly, not wanting to say the words. 

“Say it.” He says, in a much more commanding tone. 

“Spencer..” I repeat, breathing out again. “Fuck. I need-” I waver on the words, biting my lip. “I need you to fuck me. Now.” 

His smirk turns into a grin of satisfaction and pride, capturing my lips in yet another passionate kiss. “Mm. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says, cockily. I whined against his lips, tacitly begging him to just get on with it and he chuckles, moving off of my mouth. 

“Alright. I get it.” He says, moving his lips downwards again, his lips brushing against my underwear, as he began to remove that fabric as well. He nearly moaned when he saw just how wet I really was. It was a bit embarrassing, just from a few touches and words, but it was hard to care when I felt his tongue right on my core, beginning to lap at the hot flesh, reducing me to moans as I knotted my fingers into his hair, arching my back and bucking my hips to feel more of his ministrations. He seemed to understand, hooking his strong arms under my thighs, firmly planting me to the couch we were currently on, continuing. I could feel his moans against me, sending vibrations that only heightened my arousal in that moment. As if that was even possible. 

And then it was, because I heard him murmur against me.“You taste-” he paused, using his tongue to lap up more of my arousal. “So fucking good.” He finished, beginning to now harshly flick at my clit, which caused an entirely new slew of sensations. I recognized my end was fast approaching, and I tugged on his hair, unable to form the words as the white-hot pleasure overtook me quickly, he seemed to understand this without a word, nursing me through my orgasm as my thighs shook around him and he held my hips down. Even then, he didn’t stop, continuing to flick his tongue, lapping up my arousal until I had to physically push him away with a soft groan. “Spencer.. It’s too much.” Even then, he continued, reducing me to nothing but moans, and I heard him whisper. “Come on. One more. Please.” The words unintentionally caused a flutter in my stomach, and in record time I was being pushed towards my second orgasm in a matter of 5 minutes.

His mouth was clearly so much better at this than arguing. 

I felt him lap up the last bit of my arousal, looking up at me with a glistening chin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most erotic sight in the world at that moment. The man that had questioned me at every turn, now in between my legs. He gave a smirk, moving up and giving me a rough kiss, and I didn’t hesitate to moan in his mouth when I could taste myself on his tongue. He smiled as he broke the kiss, caressing my cheek with one of his hands. His thumb moved along the smooth expanse of my cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently, concern in his eyes. 

I couldn’t help but break out into a dazed smile, nodding, a thin cover of sheen over my body, where I was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. I’m good.” 

“Good.” He breathed out. “I’m not stopping.” 

“I don’t want you to stop,” was my response, his shirt coming off before I’d even finished my sentence. 

I watched in fascination as he undid his belt, the very sound of it filling me with anticipation and desire. I could feel myself getting more aroused by the second, despite my previous two orgasms. I wanted him, I wanted this so badly. 

I felt him position himself over me, and feeling the head of his arousal run through my folds. I let out a breathy groan, as I felt him push into me. He let out a moan of his own, shutting his eyes. “You feel.. So fucking good.” 

I whimpered slightly as my body adjusted to him and his size. He was so big, and I’d never felt full like this before. He noticed this and placed a gentle kiss against my lips, watching my face as it contorted in pleasure and pain. As the pain began to subside, I looked up at him nodding. 

“Move, please.” I begged, the desperation evident in my voice.

He took no time in obeying my request, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me. I moaned, feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up in a way I had never been full before. A pleasant sensation bloomed through my lower abdomen, and I could feel him bury his head into my shoulder as he pushed into me, my walls clenching on his length with every movement he gave. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, and I moaned happily at the feeling. In an instant, I could feel him fucking me desperately, placing both of his hands on either side of my face. I could feel my jaw drop, and no sound came out. I was being hurdled towards my third orgasm of the night and it was all at the behest of the man in front of me, plowing into me like it was his job. 

I moaned loudly, my legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried in my deepest point, feeling my release creeping up on me. 

“Sp-Spencer..” I groaned, attempting to alert him of my impending orgasm, but he simply swooped down, kissing me roughly, which only caused me to moan into his mouth. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered, in a deliciously dark tone. “Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over my cock.” 

It took no more provocation from there, as I felt my hips buck up once more and my thighs shake. I came with a loud moan of his name, my free hand gripping onto him and leaving scratches I knew wouldn’t go away for a while. 

My release seemed to spur him on, the wetness allowing him to fuck into me harder. I watched the man above me lose all control, and it was beautiful. He grunted a bit, and I could feel his hips stutter, chasing after his orgasm. 

“Please, Spencer.” I begged. “Fill me up, I need to feel you come inside me.” I whispered. 

It didn’t take long after that, after a particularly hard thrust, a warmness filled me at my hilt and Spencer nearly collapsed over me. He gave me a kiss, murmuring into the skin of my neck. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.” 

I smiled at the praise, biting my lip. I let my hand traverse over his back, drawing figures into the warm skin. I looked at the man laying on my sternum, looking absolutely fucked out despite being the one to give me three orgasms tonight. “Perfect, you say?” I teased. 

He looked up at me, kissing my lips softly, before mumbling against them, “Mm. Perfect.” 

I had a sneaking suspicion the next time we were at work, and he’d have something to say about my work, (because he always did), it wouldn’t take long to have him whispering sweet nothings to me in an instant, just like he was now. At least I could do something right on the first try.

hi!! this is my first fanfiction i've written since i was literally in middle school. spoiler. far from middle school right now. leave a comment, reblog, like, whatever! i had fun writing this. my ask box should be open for more requests? if anyone would like. anyway! hope u enjoyed!! :3

[realtalkswithfinn]

Christmas at the Compound

Avengers x reader

Summary: Avengers x reader Christmas head cannons because I am a sucker for the found family trope.

a/n: I tried to get this up before christmas but totally spaced it, so… tale it as a christmas morning gift! I tried to make it as age neutral as possible, so it could totally be teen!reader or not.

The holidays are a tough time for the Avengers.

Most of them have lost family members or friends, and the idea of celebrating anything is extremely difficult.

Tony especially - he always gets gloomy around the Holidays.

He always says something along the lines of, "I don't actually care about this, but its social convention."

But secretly he cares a lot.

He overcompensates for his lack of affection throughout the year by buying everyone the expensive gifts he knows they want but could never justify spending on themselves.

At surface level, it just seems like “oh rich guy is spending rich guy money”

But they’re actually really thoughtful gifts

Like last year, he got Peter a new laptop for school.

He bought Bucky new and thick clothes since all of his were old and worn.

He upgraded Clints cellular data so he could talk to his family anywhere.

Things like that.

Sam and Rhodey take one for the team and string the christmas lights on the tower

“It’s too cold for this.” Sam would complain, the sharp wind nipping at his cheeks as he flew from one end of the building to the other, lights in tow.

“Come one man, where’s your christmas spirit?” Rhodey would laugh

“I’m just doing this so stark’s power bill goes up.”

it really was worth it seeing the tower lit up top to bottom though

Wanda LIVES for commercialized American Christmas

"We have to make gingerbread houses and go to Rockefeller to see the Christmas tree and we have to go out to the snow and go sledding-"

She demands family Christmas photos be taken, even though you don't really have anyone to send them to.

This years theme was christmas pjs

Which lead to a few very interesting viral videos of the avengers in an Old Navy

“Tony come on the reindeer ones are cute!”

“Bruce. A man can not hold onto his masculinity while wearing pjs with dancing reindeer.”

Natasha gets tired of the bellyaching and bickering and makes the final decision

She grabs everyone’s size in the Reindeer pjs and marches to the front of the store

After snagging Tony’s credit card, of course.

Actually taking the picture is a whole other ball game, but that’s a story for another day

Thor has a hard time with the idea of Santa

You try to explain it to him, but it doesn’t seem to help

“So a fat man breaks into the safety of your home late into the night… and you let it happen because he comes baring gifts?”

“Well… yeah.”

“But only to nice children. That he stalks throughout the year.”

“He doesn’t stalk the children he just…”

“Hm.” He squints. “what about the naughty children?”

“They don’t get any presents.”

“OR,” Wanda interjects, “Krampus comes to get them.”

“Is that another fat man in a red disguise?”

“No. He’s a demon sent from hell to eat them.”

Thor nods in approval. “Ah. That’s much more asgardian. A fair reward system for the youth!”

You stare at him. “So… you’re okay with Krampus but not Santa?”

“Well I think they work together well, like a team. Like us!”

“I… I guess…”

Decorating the tree was an all night event

You would help happy bring up what felt like hundreds of boxes of christmas decorations

The tree itself was about 15 feet tall, because it wouldn’t be a holiday at the compound if you guys weren’t extra

It was placed in the living space, right next to a huge wall of windows so all of New York could see your festivity

it had to be decorated to the nines to pass Wanda’s inspection

Not a bare branch

Theres tinsel, ribbons, colorful lights, and hundreds of ornaments

But of course, ladders were a no go

You guys liked a challenge

To reach the higher branches, you and Natasha would stand on Steve and Buckys shoulders

And I mean stand

Not sit

It was a thrilling balancing game

You trusted them to catch you if you fell, but you still had to try to avoid it at all costs to save the tree from certain destruction

Peter would dangle from the ceiling, crawling around to hang ornaments toward the very top

Both of these acts nearly gave Bruce and Vision a heart attack

“CAP, you’re moving to fast shes gunna lose balance-“

“Bruce, please take a breath.”

Meanwhile Thor is getting distracted by all the ornaments and forgetting to actually hang them up

“This one’s a little man of snow! How silly!”

Speaking of ornaments

You all have an ornament of yourself on the tree

Or, your super hero alias at least

There’s a tiny black widow, a little iron man, a bity baby hulk, so on and so forth

Tony always demands his be the highest up on the tree to fuel his god complex

Drawing names out of a hat to see who got to put the star on top of the tree

(except you guys would always rig it behind Wanda’s back, only putting her name in the hat)

She would always protest, insisting to let someone else do it this year, but you guys never relented

So with a big cheesy grin on her face, she would use her magic to delicately place the star on the tippy top

You would think Natasha wouldn’t want to see the Nutcracker Ballet after her time in the red room

But it makes her so happy to see dancing as an art form instead of a way to brainwash young girls

She drags you, Clint, Wanda, and whoever else wants to tag along every year

She even splurges on front row seats

You look over and see her eyes glittering while she watches every turn, leap, and stunt intently

Leaving the theater, she’ll walk on her toes and do a few turns, encouraging you to try as well.

She ends up cackling watching you trip and stumble

“We’ll work on it.”

Can you IMAGINE the ginger bread making contest???

You’re all huddled around the long dining room table with christmas music playing

Theres Clint and Natasha, who just make the classic gingerbread house, no fancy bells or whistles.

Then there’s Bruce,Tony, and Peter who are going absolutely wild building gingerbread sky scrapers and gingerbread hotels.

“Mr. Stark look, I made a working elevator!”

Bruce puts an electric system (fairy lights) through his

Steve and Bucky rebuild their childhood homes

Wanda is going all out, delicately hand placing every candy and covering the whole thing in edible glitter

Visions is pretty similar, but more sleek and modern than Wanda’s

And then there’s Thor, who’s totally missing the point and just DUMPING everything on top

“Hey Peter, I think yours is missing something.”

You string a long thread of white rope candy from his structure to yours.

“Webs!”

“You know… we can probably make a web-like consistency with some starch and frosting…”

That becomes a whole sticky project, but you eventually get it to work, connecting everyone’s gingerbread houses with icing webs

Steve and Bucky are TOTALLY participating in the classic christmas traditions they grew up on.

They sit quietly together in the living room, making paper chains and stringing popcorn

“Do you mind if I join you guys?”

they smile gently. “Of course not.”

You sit crisscross in front of the couch while they teach you

They tell you stories of christmases long, long ago, which feels kinda silly considering they’re talking like grandpas while not appearing much older than you

On Christmas eve, you’re all there except for Clint, who went home to his family

Youre all dressed in your pajamas from the christmas card

You make hot coco and cider

Wanda pops in some old vhs tapes and you watch the classics late into the night

“Alright you nutcrackers,” tony would say around midnight. “I know you want to stay up and catch Santa, but he’s not coming if you all stay awake.”

he really just wanted to go to bed

He sauntered off, calling for lights out.

Most of the boys wandered away to their rooms, leaving you, Wanda, Nat and Thor not quite ready for sleep.

“So,” you ask, taking a sip of coco, “Do you guys think we’re on the naughty list?”

Natasha Chuckled. “I’m not sure. Does beating people up count as naughty if you’re taking down the bad guys?”

Thor set his mug down on the coffee table, the bells on his sweater jingling. “Do not fear ladies, I will catch that nasty Krampus if he comes in to devour your soul. I believe you were doing the right thing.”

You all laughed, thinking he was joking. But he just stared at you.

“Thor… you realize Krampus and Santa aren’t… real?” Wanda asked.

He had a hard time swallowing that.

He ended up sleeping on the couch “just in case”

you woke up at 3 am to a loud clattering coming from the living room

You decided to check it out against your better judgement

There was Thor. Hammer in one hand, cookie in another.

Down the hall toward the elevator was a completely destroyed life-size nutcracker.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought I heard something by the elevator.”

“Congratulations. You murdered the Nutcracker.”

“I feared he was an accomplice of the holiday demon.”

“He’s been there for weeks!”

“He could have been a spy. Or possessed.”

“Goodnight Thor.”

Christmas Morning finally arrived

Everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds

Until Sam decided to be a little shit and wake everyone up at 7 am

He pounded on every. single. bedroom door.

“Y/NNNN. SANTA CAME TO TOWNNNNN.” he sing-songed

“No he didn’t.” You grumbled. “Thor killed him.”

“… I don’t know what that means.”

You all stumble out into the living room

Natasha took the time to actually run a brush through her hair and do her morning skincare

You and wanda were far too excited and skipped over that completely, barely remembering to brush your teeth

Tony looked the roughest - he had a silk robe draped over his pjs and looked like he was just awakened from a coma

Essentially, everyone was a little disheveled

Vision made everyone coffee before you started the gift exchange

You all sat around the coffee table in a circle so everyone could see each other

Bruce and Steve passed out the gifts from under the tree

it took a solid few minutes, there was a MOUNTAIN of presents

You went one at a time opening gifts

Some people think this is awkward, but you felt it was more genuine

this way, everyone can see the gift and the joy on the receivers face

as well as a million “thank you”s

It also gave time for the giver to explain why they chose the gift they did, whether it be something they remembered you said you wanted, something they knew you needed, or even just a simple “this made me think of you”

In the end, you loved all your gifts

And everyone loved what you got for them

But mostly, you were just happy to spend the holiday with your family

[saltandfire-blog]

All Time Favorite Lucemond Fics

Thought I’d post some baddies to help us heal from this last season.

ñuhon - When Lucerys lives and wakes up to oblivion, Aemond decides that—more than an eye for an eye—Lucerys in his entirety would be for Aemond to completely own.

In other words: Omega Lucerys survives yet loses his memories, and Alpha Aemond takes his revenge on him creatively.

Holy fuck, this might actually be one my favorite fics of all time. INCREDIBLY well written and perhaps one of the most tragic/romantic lucemond pieces I’ve ever read. I also find myself adoring the Daeron/Joffrey dynamic that is unexpectedly thrown in that I didn’t know I wanted.

all I had to give - Lucerys has waited for Aemond to find him again since his fall. He is only surprised it took this long.

I think this was technically my first a/b/o lucemond verse fic that blew my heart away. Aemond and Luke’s portrayal in this might actually be my favorite. And the added Alysmond is a +❤️

real gods require blood - Before King Viserys I Targaryen draws his last breath, the Greens make their move. Rhaenyra Targaryen and her family find themselves prisoners in the Red Keep, cut off from their dragons and at the mercy of a new king.

Terrified of what fate awaits his family, Lucerys Velaryon turns to the only person at court willing to help him, no matter the price he has to pay.

Or: Lucerys offers himself in exchange for his family’s safety. Aemond could never refuse.

Not only is this fucking incredible to read, it might be my favorite smutty fic out there. The dialogue between Aemond and Luke just hits sooooo amazingly, this is one of those fics I go back to regularly to reread. I await the authors part 2 of this with baited breath!

Consanguinity - When the bastard Addam of Hull claims Seasmoke, it throws House Velaryon into disarray. All except Corlys, who spies the perfect opportunity to help his heir out of the delicate situation he has found himself in with an impromptu suggestion.

Though quite why Prince Aemond seems so affronted by the match is anyone’s guess.

Speaking of fics I go back to reread - this is definitely another one!! @nashiriel is an absolutely incredible writer and I can’t wait to see where she goes with this! I don’t like to spoil other people’s work…but I love a pregnant Lucerys a/b/o verse with a deliciously angsty twist ❤️

Divenire - Lucerys survives Storm's End however now he needs to survive Aemond, his obsession over a debt paid and the Dance of the Dragons.

This is one of the first Lucerys/Aemond fics that blew my mind. Is it insanely demented and toxic? Yes. Is it amazingly well written? YES! You decide if it’s your cup of tea, but I always return back to this one every once in a while when I want a pure hate no happy ending fic.

Heir of the Tides series - In 120 AC, Aemond Targaryen lost an eye to his nephew. In 129 AC, he demands the price to be paid.

Later on, Lucerys Velaryon will tell his mother that it was a fair exchange. (or, the author went out and wrote the eye fic she so wanted to read).

I admit, I am an absolute sucker for the idea of Luke taking his own eye out. Add on top of that a Luke who takes more of a role in his Velaryon inheritance - and can’t forget the battle of the Gullet 🤌🏻 !! Definitely a series to invest in.

Life for life, eye for eye - Aemond finds his nephew, somehow surviving the death of his dragon over Shipbreaker Bay, washed ashore, an empty socket where his right eye should be. The message, to Aemond, is obvious: the gods have given Luke to him, to do with him as he sees fit.

Meanwhile, when Luke wakes up, prisoner to his uncle, his world quickly narrows to one thing and one thing alone: surviving, so he can return to his mother, and the rest of his family, alive.

--

In which Aemond surpasses Daemon for title of 'worst uncle' by several miles and Luke suffers.

Ok so please beware, this is about as dark as it gets. If you’re triggered easily, this isn’t the fic for you. It explores extreme Lima and Stockholm syndrome forsure, but if you’re into this ship I’m sure you must know it consists of a broad spectrum of very dark, toxic fics, and this is one that just so happens is amazingly well written. Please keep in mind, if you don’t like, don’t fucking read.

Portrait of a Prince on Fire - Ser Luke Strong, legitimised bastard of the lord of Harrenhal, has found favour at the sumptuous court of Viserys I as a court painter. But he is also Lucerys Waters, unacknowledged bastard of Princess Rhaenyra of Dragonstone. The secret of his true parentage and the life he could’ve had eats him up, and he drowns his regrets in drink and brawling.

Prince Aemond hasn’t been seen outside court since he lost his eye, over a decade ago. Now he is about to be wed — and the king commissions Luke to paint the portrait that will be sent to Aemond’s betrothed.

They hate each other at first sight — but as Viserys lies dying, the portrait sets them on a collision course that will send them spiralling inexorably together. And as the realm descends into war, they will have to decide whether to hold on to each other as the world they knew begins to shatter.

Another fic I am completely obsessed with! @fruitageoforanges has probably written one of my all time favorite portrayals of Aemond and I love the refreshing take on Lucerys I’ve never seen done before in this ship. A 17th century AU that has an awesome amount of fashion I adore and is an absolute must read 😉❤️

Star-Crossed - Lucerys is taken captive by the Greens after his fall. When Aemond is assigned as his constant guard, and so constant companion, the romance that blooms between them spins the Dance of the Dragons on its head.

Or: two young lovers from rival factions of the royal family come together in a violent world.

I can’t list off lucemond fics without giving this one an honorable mention.

Dirección de la Luz - A decade had passed since Hwa Yeong was exiled from Yin. He had traveled through the entire empire three times and still had not found his death.

Until one day he met the dragon prince.

Or: Pregnant and solely with the company of his dragon Arrax, Lucerys Velaryon travels to the Yi Ti Empire and begins a new life away from his family and Aemond Targaryen.

A fic published in Spanish, but there is a translated version linked or you can translate yourself as I found myself doing because this story drew me in SO hard I couldn’t wait for the translator to update lol. This is such an original idea and SO fascinating to read with the authors portrayal of Yi Ti culture with such amazing detail!! I can’t give this author enough praise and encouragement to keep going!

the beast you’ve made of me - Lucerys Velaryon is no coward. He is frightened. He is alone. He is a bastard. He is a prisoner of a war he would do anything to stop. But he is no coward.

Lucerys survives Shipbreaker Bay. Aemond is baptised in the storm. This is the aftermath.

If you want Team Green Lucerys, this is your story. When you have to join the enemy to save your family with long term goals, Luke really goes through it in this one, but the political seesaw between his love for Aemond and his family is fabulous to read unfold 🤌🏻

Hope I’ve given you guys some beauties to read if you haven’t already 💎🗡️🩸

Lucemond is a beautiful, terrible place 😉

(Tried to @ as many as I could that are here on tumblr)

[ohnoitstbskyen]

let's spend an hour and a half enjoying the Heartsteel himbos | PARANOIA animation analysis

I have decidedly mixed feelings on the Heartsteel band splash art, which are intensified by the degree to which their 3 minute music video was able to near-instantly endear me to every one of these idiot himboyband doofuses.

Heartsteel is a project that suffers a lot in being compared to True Damage and K/DA, which are the most obvious points of comparison to draw, especially since Riot seems (at least to me) to have committed rather fewer resources to their virtual band project this go around. Wisely, thus, the Hearsteel project decided to attempt a very different narrative and emotional vibe with its characters from previous efforts. Where K/DA and True Damage both presented their characters as untouchable pop-gods at the top of their game, bragging about their accomplishments, Heartsteel comes from almost exactly the opposite place.

PARANOIA is a fearful, defensive, defiant song composed and performed like a triumphal power-anthem, coming from the perspective of a group of industry outsiders who have all been devalued or burned by the mainstream.

Ezreal is a one-hit-wonder whose image got run into the ground by controlling management, Yone a legendary producer burned out on industry conformity. Kayn is a pop music bad boy whose spiteful arrogance broke up his last band, K'Sante an ambitious vocal powerhouse who could never find creative partners, and Sett a disgraced rapper who lost his contract for punching a paparazzo.

These, then, are not pop-gods gracing the mortal realm with images of their brilliance, but a bunch of down-and-out losers and untapped talents trying to claw back their careers with nothing but found-family dynamics, the power of friendship, and Jackass-style promotional stunts in their arsenal. The music video depicts them running a night-time raid on a film studio, stealing props and causing god knows how much property damage trying to film their own comeback music video.

It doesn't.... quite nail the grunge independent vibe that it seems to want to go for, it has a rather inconsistent diegesis, and trying to cram character moments for six characters into a three minute song compresses the pace of the video to an almost manic emotional experience. I found that most of its setpieces and ideas did not land with me at all until a third or fourth re-watch, and going through the video frame-by-frame so I could actually take in what the video was trying to say.

Once I did, I enjoyed it a LOT. The character animation is expressive, dynamic and immensely charming. There's a ton of great texture work going on, interesting lighting, extremely creative effects, and the emotional heart of the video - the genuine affection between the band members as expressed through boyish shenanigans - hits brilliantly... once you slow the video down enough to really see it. There is also a truly astonishing amount of work put into flash frames and scribbly visual effects, and an absolute embarrassment of screenshots that could be wallpapers.

Anyway, I spent an hour and a half talking about a three-minute music video because I am the world's easiest sucker for charming character animation. Care to join me?

[shadowdaddies]

I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA‼️

Can you have the reader (summer court with the wings) tell Az that she doesn't want kids? She feels really bad and guilty about it but she doesn't want them because she knows she wouldn't be able to shoulder the burden of them and taking care of them?

AH YOUR IDEAS ARE ALWAYS SO GOOD! I'm such a sucker for Az x summer court reader, I could write a whole series on them, they're too cute🥹💜

Family of Two

Azriel x Reader

Nyx’s contagious giggle echoed through the dining room as he pierced a carrot with his fork, plopping into Azriel’s lap with a contented hum. His sister cooed across the table, hand reached towards her father’s face as her violet eyes locked with his own.

Feyre leaned her head affectionately on her mate’s shoulder, watching the scene play out as you smiled at her with admiration.

“I wonder if your children will have wings like yours or Azriel’s,” Mor noted, a mischievous grin on her face as Emerie playfully swatted her arm. Soft laughter rang throughout the table at her jest, but Azriel did not miss how your arm tensed, hand tightening slightly against his own at the conversation.

His knowing look was subtle enough to evade the notice of your family, but you picked up on his worry as hazel eyes bored into you, watching carefully through the rest of dinner.

As you wished a good night to the rest of the Inner Circle, your mate’s grip tightened around your waist, scarred hands stroking your hip in a silent tell of eagerness that he was ready to be home.

Shadows whisked you away the moment you said your last goodbyes, a dizzying version of your bedroom coming into vision as Azriel stepped away from you. “You seemed bothered tonight,” he noted, the spymaster nonchalance lacing his tone.

Azriel knew how you hated when he hid his feelings from you, tension building as you glared at your mate from across the room. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Az,” you demanded, hands on your hips.

You noted the tick in his jaw as Azriel turned to face you, assessing as he spoke. “The moment that Mor brought up children, you were on edge. Care to discuss what that is about?” he questioned, face unreadable save the slightly narrowed hazel eyes directed at you.

You had never felt weak or nervous under Azriel’s gaze until now. Looking up at the Illyrian male, you found your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as he stared at you. “I.... I don’t know what to say, Az. Maybe we rushed into this too fast.” 

He visibly drew back at your words, a slight gasp leaving your mate’s lips at such a statement. “What do you mean?” he gritted out.

“I just mean... I don’t want to disappoint you,” you managed, eyes flicking nervously between Azriel’s face and the ground. “I feel like we rushed into this so quickly, and I didn’t think to search whether we want the same things.” The last words barely made it out above a whisper, the embarrassment stifling the strength to voice your feelings to Azriel.

You felt the warmth of a soft breath as Azriel pulled you close to him, his deep voice rumbling as he spoke. “All I want, is you,” he swore, and while it was not a binding oath, it felt like one, seared beneath your skin in a burning promise. 

You dared to look up at Azriel - your new mate, the male you never dreamed of - and let your guard down completely. The regret, the guilt, the hope, the love shone on your face as you risked the topic further. “Don’t you want a family, Azriel?” you eked out, hardly a whisper.

A wry chuckle escaped his lips, wings flaring behind him as your own flared in response. “You are my family,” he spoke - swore - simply, like an oath. 

Looking up at him, the gold shone against the deep green of his eyes, and you found yourself lost within his gaze. “Don’t you... Are you sure, Az?” you pressed, thoughts eddying in your mind of the life you could be taking away from your mate.

Azriel simply smiled in response, a knowing glint in his eye as he tucked a finger beneath your chin, tilting you to look at him. “I am sure about you. We are a family, and you are my mate. I feel more whole than I have in my entire existence,” he swore. “I want you. All of you. Children or no - you are my home until the end of time, and I promise to love you through whatever the future holds for us.”

[contentloadinggg]

Hiii! I had an idea for a Hozier fic :) I am an absolute sucker for friends to lovers and I wanna read a friends to lovers of Andrew. (No angst, I'm too sensitive for that, and then smut if you want) I just love the idea of him panicking to his friends about how much he likes you and how worried he is that you can tell. I also think it'd be funny if they were totally over it, telling him to grow up and what not. Just having him act like he isn't a fully grown man with how nervous you make him :) sorry for this being so long!!

Have a lovely day/night 🧡🧡

You’re so real for being too sensitive for angst, me to babe. That’s why I write smut instead. I might add more to this one. But here’s what I’ve got for now, I hope you like it and a lovely day/night to you too.

Little fic under the cut🩷

Andrew stared off at the spot you disappeared, as if he was waiting for the moment you would appear back out of the hall. Counting each second you were gone. His mind is just as much somewhere else.

“Andy! Hey, knobhead!”

The man in question jolted as he felt a beer bottle tapped on his knee. The call of his name rips him nearly painfully out of his daydreams.

“What?”

It meant to come out more harshly than that. But Andrew found himself breathless and weak. If Alex could’ve rolled his eyes any harder, he would’ve. 

“Jesus Christ, Andy. We lose you every time they’re around and every time they’re not here. When are you gonna tell them?”

Alex said, sounding just about as fed up as all of Andrew’s friends, family, anyone he told or could see his very blatant affections were. Everyone except you. Andrew felt a blush come to his cheeks, warming them a pink color. Whether it was Alex’s words or the thought of you, he wasn’t sure.

“I— I don’t know, I’m not sure if they like me like that.”

He answered, the same excuse he’s used a thousand times over. Alex scoffs, rubbing his hands over his face. As much as he loves Andrew, his intense pinning can get a bit annoying at times.

“It’s obvious! You are a grown man, Andrew! Just go for it. Or are you that fearful of rejection?”

Andrew huffs, perhaps a bit embarrassed at his very school boy like attitude. Looking back once more into the hallway you disappeared into and shrugs.

“I don’t want to lose them. If I confess and they don’t feel the same, how can we be friends after that?”

He asks, gaze falling onto his feet. Luckily, Alex seems to take some pity on him.

“I’m telling you, they do. I promise. You know I’d never lie about that.”

“Never lie about what?”

Andrew’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. His already present flush deepening at the vulnerable conversation being interrupted. 

“Erm-“

He stutters for a moment, his tongue stuck to the roof of his dried out mouth and looks back at Alex. Who merely gestures at him to leave. Get it over with already. 

Andrew nods and stands. He can hear his own heart beating in his ears, a tremble in his knees. But he manages to get his voice to work. It sounds distant, like he’s not saying it at all.

“Actually, can I talk to you?”

Your agreement and smile stave off his nervousness. He can’t help, but smile back.

-Thad💚

[ivymarquis]

Hi loves 💕💕 I saw requests are open so I figured I'd send one in! I absolutely love your work you're so talented and I binge read all of your fics!!

I would like to request fem reader x soap where Soaps wife adopted a dog she found on the streets and keeps her even though he hates the idea.( he has a cannon fear of dogs which I find a little funny) slowly but surely he warms up to the dog but not fully. While he's out on a mission there's a robbery and the dog protects the reader and scares off the intruder. Soap hears about this and is instantly is best friends with the dog because even though he hates dogs he loves that the pup will protect his wife (I also hc that mabey it's not a street dog but a retired k9 reader adopted to feel safe while he was gone and she just didn't tell him until he comes home and sees a dog. it's up to you what you pick💓)

Hello anon I appreciate your patience!! I did pick and choose a wee bit to make the fic make sense for me, I hope you like it!

The Exception to the Rule

Pairing| Soap x Reader Rating| T Word Count| 1.9K Content/Warnings| Housekeeping first- this fic is SFW so if you find it in the tags I won’t be bothered about minors reading it but I am an MDNI blog and I will block any minors or ageless blogs who follow me. Got it? Cool. The author is an American attempting to write a Scottish accent, likely inaccuracies about how military dogs in general or bomb dogs in specific work. Allusions to prior animal injury, allusion to potential dog choking (in the context of choking off a working dog who won’t release its quarry), allusion to home invasion, dog bites, Johnny is not happy, the author does not condone getting animals you know your partner has issues with (but the plot necessitates it so on we go!)

Soap knows his wife well enough to know when she’s taken a “ask for forgiveness rather than permission” course of action. It’s written all over her face when she accepts his FaceTime call and answers his greeting of “What did ya dae, hen?“ with a “Please don’t be mad.”

Now certain men might have to worry about their brides stepping out on them on deployment. Soap knows her well enough to not even entertain that notion, so the wheels start turning for what exactly she could have done that has her looking this guilty out the gate.

The answer comes very suddenly in the form of a bark on the other end of the screen.

John Soap MacTavish sputters, something he is not often inclined to do, “Is that a fuckin’ dog?” And not just a dog. That wasn’t a little yappy fluffball who can be picked up with two fingers if need be. It sounds like one of the damn bomb dogs always yapping over in the kennels.

“Please don’t be mad!” She pleads again.

“Well a’m not happy, that’s for sure. Where and why did ye git that thing?”

This is completely out of character for her. Soap’s disdain for dogs (and why) is well known. She bloody well knows. So what the hell?

“It’s not permanent! You said this deployment would be a long one, and there’s been break ins in the neighborhood and I got nervous and my friend told me about this rescue group that helps rehome retired military dogs.” Her explanation is all in one breath. “They approved us” (Us??) ”as a foster family. He’s already got applications in for a permanent home. It just feels,” she pauses to catch her breath, and Soap can feel himself softening ever so minisculely to the dog- as long as he’s on the other side of the world, away from it, “safer here, with him here since you’re gone. The break ins have been really scary, they haven’t caught the guy yet.”

Fucking hell how is he supposed to argue with that? Especially if there’s some prick on the loose breaking into houses.

“Cujo better nae be oan th’ bed wi’ ye,” he grouses, acquiescing while still making his displeasure known.

“His name is Kabar and I’ll have the bed freshly stripped when you’re due back I promise.”

Soap is a god damn sucker for those pleading doe eyes, giving a big exasperated sigh to signal he’s letting her off the hook. “Fine. Bit he better be gaen by th’ time I pull intae th’ driveway. Let’s see th’ damn thing then,” Christ he hopes it’s not a Belgian Malinois. He knows they’re popular for military dogs but his darling is not built to handle a maligator, retired or not.

“Okay hang on,” she replies, notably cheerier as she taps the screen.

It’s a German Shepherd, thank fuck (Johnny must be having a stroke to be grateful for the sight of a German Shepherd in his bed)

He knows as well as anyone else they can be intense, but they’re a step down from the Malinois at least.

The coloring is traditional, but Soap’s brain starts nudging him that something is wrong with the dog. It takes a moment to click before he realizes the problem.

The damn dog only has three legs. “Is he a tripod?” The question is out before he can stop himself because no he is not inquiring about the damn dog. It was just a thought that escaped.

“He is a disabled veteran!” His bride corrects cheekily, before much more solemnly adding “He was a bomb dog.”

Oh Christ. He did not need to know that. Doesn’t need to think about the damn animal waking up one day with four legs and clocking in to work with his handler before boom.

“A’m only entertaining this because of the break ins, hen, am ah clear?”

Maybe having that booming bark rattling the windows will keep any would-be intruders at bay. This is the worst part of the job- being stuck on what might as well be the other side of the world when she’s got something to deal with.

“Absolutely crystal clear!” She’s all too agreeable, pleased as hell to have her cake (the dog) and eat it too (Johnny tolerating it).

Somehow this is going to blow up in his face and he’s going to permanently end up with a fucking military dog he doesn’t want, he just knows it.

But there’s no fucking way he can tell her No. Absolutely not. He goes back today, with a potential threat lurking around the neighborhood. He’d never forgive himself.

The rest of the conversation is much more in line with what he usually anticipates with their phone calls being- He doesn’t much like talking about work off the clock although lets her know of any interesting shenanigans around the base, and listening with baited breath as she regails him of tales both extraordinary and, well, extra ordinary.

Usually their phone calls end when she passes out in bed, and they’re perfectly poised to continue that habit tonight also.

“Ye made sure all th’ doors and windows are locked, hen?” He asks as she starts snuggling into the bedding underneath her.

“Yeah Johnny, I,” she cuts herself off with a big yawn “-I double checked them.”

It’s a few minutes later that the phone slips from her hand, camera pointing at the ceiling as she drifts off.

Johnny can almost imagine he’s at home laying on his back, watching the rhythmic movements of the ceiling fan in time with his lovely girl snoring slightly in his ear (despite her verbose protests that no she doesn’t snore- okay. Whatever you say, gorgeous.)

It’s an incredibly comforting moment that lets him feel a bit closer to home that is ruined by the sound of snuffling by the speaker.

The dog’s nose appears on screen, the angle making him look like an aardvark as he sniffs the phone before laying down, presumably relishing in the fact there’s not a damn thing Soap can do about this situation.

“Ye better keep an eye oan my girl, Cujo.” Soap grumbles as he begrudgingly hangs up the phone.

The mission ends quicker than expected- substantially quicker- and as content as Soap is with getting home he also is annoyed.

The mission got cut so short, and it’s so damn late by the time Soap is driving home that he knows the fucking dog is still there. The agreed upon date has not yet passed, which means that fuck is lazing about on his side of the bed.

Not to mention the mere obstacle of convincing a former military dog he’s never met, in the middle of the night, that yes this is his fucking house and he’s the one paying the bills around here and yes that actually is his spot on the bed so kindly fuck off.

At a point during his drive home, a police car flies by him. Then another. Then another.

Must be the fucker that’s been breaking into homes. Hopefully he gets caught and that’s one less thing to worry about when Johnny leaves again.

Except the red and blue lights seem to be fucking honed in from the spot that he’s steadily driving to, and Johnny’s convinving himself that he’s seeing things. There is no way that those lights and sirens are stemming from his house, thank you very much.

Even still, he feels himself driving faster. The sooner to quiet his anxiety that’s brewing.

The anxiety doesn’t dissipate as he makes each turn to his home. If anything it gets worse.

Because all that noise and the flashing lights are stemming from his own fucking home. Johnny can barely get the thing in park before he’s flying out of the vehicle. He can hear screams and specifically her crying and in an instant Johnny’s beyond being keyed up.

One of the officers attempts to intercept Johnny- thinks he’s just some nosy fuck from who knows where- and it takes everything in him not to blow his top entirely as he cuts the man off with a stern “This is mah house ‘n she’s mah wife!”

The sound of his voice booming into the night is enough to catch her attention and bring her running to him. Johnny embraces her as she flings herself at him, crying into his shirt as he strokes her back and soothes her.

He can piece together the general what happened, although he’s completely unaware of the details.

One piece begins to fit into place as he starts to hear what all the screaming is. His initial attention completely fixated on ensuring his wife is whole and hale, now he can check that off the mental list he now has the bandwidth to listen to the bellowing.

“Git it aff me! Och Jesus, someone git it aff o' me!”

“Cannae git th’ damn thing tae release him,” Johnny hears one of the officers comment dryly.

“Can always choke him off if the owners can’t git him tae let go,” the other one supplies.

“Eh, ah guess,” the first one responds in a bored tone that makes it clear he has a this guy fucked around and now he’s finding out, and I don’t see a reason to hurry- the dog looks happy anyway, stance to the situation.

On the side of the house, face down in the grass is the man who presumably broke inside.

He is so incredibly lucky there are witnesses and a sobbing wife to curtail the dark, angry thoughts swirling around in Johnny’s brain. Otherwise all it would take would be one phone call to Laswell and this prick disappears forever.

Attached to the calf of that man is Cujo, happily laying on the ground with his tail wagging slowly like his teeth aren’t sunk inside a man’s flesh. If the dog gets too annoyed with the man’s wiggling he shakes him like a chew toy, starting up a fresh round of someone git this fucking dog aff o’ me! until he lays still.

The mention of choking the dog off the would-be intruder doesn’t slip past his darling in the slightest, looking up at him with wet, pleading eyes.

Damn it all, he’s always a sucker for that look.

“Johnny, do you know how to make him let go? I don’t want him choked!”

He decides she’s probably better off not being told how often that ends up having to happen, and that Cujo will be just fine minus a few brain cells if push comes to shove.

But he has spent enough time (against his will, mind) around the dogs that he’s learned the basic commands over the years through repeated exposure.

“No promises, hen, bit we’ll see.” The dog has never met him a day in his life- there’s no guarantee he’s going to listen to a man that’s a stranger barking orders at him, but Johnny gives the sharp German command anyway.

To his surprise, the dog lets go immediately and turns towards them, giving the skipping lope that a 3 legged dog does before placing himself in a heel at Soap’s side, eyes wide and head tilted.

Johnny doesn’t want to think about what could have happened tonight if it wasn’t for Cujo- Kabar- taking such an involved roll in apprehending the man stupid enough to break into his home.

And he’s most assuredly not magically over his aversion to dogs- especially military dogs- but he might be able to tolerate an exception if it means having some peace of mind that his wife is safe at home.

[diientedegato]

I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what Ben Paul would look like if he was alive years after S1 of TWDG :> I honestly prefer to imagine both him & Kenny going off on their own adventures after S1, because Idk if I'd've had Kenny as part of S2, it felt like when he returned it became less Clem's story & more his. That might be controversial among fans but it's how I feel :s I like to imagine Ben, Kenny & Sarita forming their own little family in fact <3 I'd expect Ben would end up with shaggier hair after a while but I wouldn't mind knowing what he'd look like with short, spiked up hair ;>

IM SORRY BOTH THE ASK AND DRAWING ARE OLD- but I came across the sketch I had eugeugeh. I do not have many headcanons but behind the cut is just a rant about. Kenny mostly. Too much should I warn? But yah I'm sorry it took me like 5 months lol

The only headcanon (regarding Ben's appearance) is that he'd keep his school jacket for as long as possible. Until it thorns apart. Or until he dies.

I'm big fan of Ben lives possibility btw I've gotta draw sum about that sometime (I say, about every twdg character i like,)

And dude, do I agree about Kenny. Man doesn't belong in season 2. The character they made him to be in the second season is not Kenny, it's just a nostalgia element. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, I'm biased as hell, I break that hug choice every time. But it made the character development in the first season just.... pointless. "For some reason, I saved that piece of shit Ben", man, that quote just disappoints me. Kenny lost everything. Father and husband of none no more, which was pretty much the arc of Kenny on the first season?? I think? . Everything he loved and he had he lost, and he killed the person responsible for it. But not as revenge, he killed a kid out of mercy. He saved the boy from suffering a painful death, and that was forgiveness, to the reason he hadn't any. He took a decision he would be fully responsible of, when it was time for him to go. And he was perfect.

Hell, if he had appeared during season 2, I do prefer the Kenny as Carver idea. Clementine wasn't even that close to Kenny in the past, the player was, so even then it feels... off, off to be forced to care about a man that says so much he wants to protect you. (They're not really family, but is as if Kenny tries to protect and have Clem on his side, to have Clem's loyalty through and through. Though he does let her go and is proud of her on her individuality... hm.) But still, I mean, second season Kenny is not first season Kenny, and it isn't even a change that made sense. If he had been antagonist (which pretty much feels like it in the Canon story already), he should have had some other background story, no Sarita or company. Maybe then the cynical view he has would have mattered. The violence and anger and whatever else. For him to change that way was a consequence of him losing what he represented, protection of family? Wasn't failure and grief and acceptance meant to be important after all?

But otherwise yea I think it would've been pretty cool if Ben survived :3 I am a sucker for tales of redemption, forgiveness, and found family. And I hadn't thought about Kenny, Ben, and Sarita, but hell yeah. Man, even if they appeared in the second season, it would've been interesting if the choice wasn't between two individuals, but between two families. Ben already had a relationship with Clem! He appreciated her and calls her his only friend during season 1, he did leave her behind during that scene, -but the point of Ben was that- He was a coward all the season, until when he wasn't. He wanted to help Lee help Clem. They would've had an interesting sibling relationship-? also Ben had a young sister before the apocalypse so ooooh projection and parallels and shi. And if Ben had lived, he would've completed his development to something close to bravery-?

Well, I don't know, at least I think that'd be one interesting way to bring back old characters. Otherwise, Kenny should only be mentioned on dialogue maximum. The way I see it.

(I repeat the same thing over and over when I talk about something I'm sorry

(I've developed no language skills whatsoever in my life

(Yippee

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Guurll I saw your requests are open and 1. I LOVE YOUR STUFF (esp. Aemond related but I sort of became an Aegon girlie thx to u). and 2. I love me some Aemond angst so here's my idea, I know is not original and probably there is something similar out there but hey, it is original in my head and I'm sure your talented hands will turn it into a bomb as always :)) - Aemond is married to this badass, sarcastic but super loving woman who loved him from the first glance and would do anything for him. Problem is, the war came, he left for Harrenhal and while he's away she finds out she pregnant; but what she also finds is about his whereabouts with Alys and she literally turns crazy heartbroken and angry, loses the child (if you're not ok with this please leave it out) but still informs her family they need to support him and this is how he survives the "dance". Aemond finds out about the shit he caused and feels shitty to say the least. He comes back home, his wife doesn't want to have anything to do with him and he tries to make amends and put the pieces back together. So basically angst lvl 9000 with slight fluff at the end. Please feel free to play with this as you see fit and remember I just gave you my heart for giving me the chance to send this in!!:X:X

The Spoils of Lies

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers [implied]

WORDS: 1,863.

WARNINGS: mentions of adultery, mentions of pregnancy/miscarriage, mentions of grief/mourning, brief reference to suicidal thoughts.

A/N - ugh I am a sucker for angst, nonnie!!! this concept makes me so wild for Aemond, cause he’s always presenting himself as a dutiful, loyal being. but he fucked up big time here 👀 also thank you x my agenda is to make people feral over both Targ boys! and thank you for the kind words nonnie, hope I did your request justice ♥️

If there was an earthly possibility you could rewind the clock, turn back time itself with your bare hands, to a moment you were the happiest, you would in a heartbeat. A moment in time where you found yourself in the warm, familiar embrace of your devoted husband, Aemond Targaryen, the intense feeling of your heart being full of sheer affection and love.

Although, many would agree, mixed with the fate of the Targaryens, good things could never truly last… And that was no exception to your marriage with the Prince Regent.

Aemond made no hesitation in deciding to fight the resistance against his elder brother’s throne, often declaring and meeting such treachery, punishable by death. With much inevitability, Aemond would be absent, gone for months on end, away from your company with nothing but lengthy distance separating you both.

And much to your luck, a few months prior to Aemond having to leave, the Gods had blessed you dearly with the heartfelt news that you were with child... Aemond had always been eager to start his own family, especially after being betrothed to you.

"Our child shall be blessed with his or her father's resilience and its mother's grace and wit... Rest assured, my love, I shall return for the birth. What kind of a father would I be to miss the birth of their firstborn, let alone not be present to hold you?"

Aemond had you strategically relocated and confined under secure protection of some desolate keep in the Reach, not even your relatives being aware of your whereabouts.

Yet as the arduous days lingered on, the small talk of warfare that would often waft into your listening ear, began to dissolve with soft wisps of a young Prince taking the favour of some woman began to stir. Initially, you presumed the Prince in discussion could practically be anyone… Prince Daemon, Prince Jacerys, mayhaps even Prince Daeron. Aemond’s involvement was the least of your concern, that was until someone had mentioned in conjunction to such gossip, that the woman in reference, had resided in Harrenhal.

Harrenhal, where Aemond himself, as far as you had been informed, was his current whereabouts, where he was supposed to find himself undertaking decree over the hostage traitors.

Such rumours, the vile accusations [or so you had naively convinced yourself to believe] had spread to the concerned ears of your immediate relatives. Immediately you were determined to set the record straight, sending ravens with letters, adamant on reassuring your relatives, that your solid stance as well as theirs was to remain faithful to Aemond and the succession of his elder.

"Do not to indulge in the horrendous lies, spread about by the foes, themselves."

Little did you know, your words would come to haunt you with the terrible truth, and consequences with it...

"Just tell me the truth of it, Aemond. You need not deny what others have confirmed."

Sighing, Aemond shook his head incessantly, looking down at his shuffling feet against the solid concrete, leaning himself defeatedly over the creaking, wooden chair.

"Just have the decency to speak the truth!" Infuriated and exhausted, one hand resting over the slight curve of your once prominent, rounded belly, now aching with a dull pain, the other slamming against the oak desk of some private, council chamber.

"I-I... I cannot."

The swell of hot tears begin to cloud your clear vision, as your face grimaces in a fusion of rage, sorrow and grief... As the gossip began to churn from whispers to outright concern, many lords and ladies in calling, had reluctantly granted your persistent questioning with their own testimonies. Each testimony, aligned with the other, and you spared yourself knowing any further beyond the truth that Aemond had bedded a strange woman, by the name Alys... That he had fallen for her, sparring her from death, only to remain by her side, than yours...

You found yourself, constantly enraged and stricken with the raw agony of heartache, clutching at your breast, and another at your belly, where your once growing babe was protected inside. Constant tears falling across your cheek, as you struggled to breath, incompetent to find rest. Your body grew weaker without the slumber, your appetite diminished or repressed, you could not say, yet you found yourself scarcely replenished. That was until the dreadful night, you felt a hot ooze, pooling from between your inner thighs. Hiking your modest gown up, only to find your fingers glazed with a crimson red, a sharp lightening of pain shooting from your stomach towards your bloodied entrance.

"Th-The baby-"

That night was a gruesome one indeed, that only ended with greater devastation. You did not think your heart could take any more anguish, hoping that the torturous labour would end your own meaningless life in the process. Yet, the Gods willing, you found yourself awake by dawn. With only having spent a day to recover and recuperate, you made the sole decision to seek Aemond out for yourself. Against the wise advice of the maesters and your ladies, they had succumbed to your wishes, only implying they arrange the travels for you, as means to lessen the burden.

During the journey, you found yourself soaked in your own thoughts, with moments of silence and numbness in between, to spare you from the hurt. In time, you had safely arrived, only to be met with Aemond's shock and false excitement.

Sparing no time for him to devise a plan, you spat of what you knew, with Aemond harshly ushering you to where you stood now.

"Ahh- So the husband who spoke of honour and duty, seems to have his tongue tied, just as a coward would incline to denial..."

"Y/N- m-my love, ñ-ñuha ōños [my light]-" Aemond's blatant stutter on his low words, was a sight you had never witnessed before, plucking at your heartstrings.

"Sh-She is a renowned witch. One that had deceived me so. I-I did what I did, not out of love but of craft... Deceit. M-My true love, Y/N-"

He strides over to you with a swiftness that caught you off-guard, too late to back away in defence. His calloused hand reaches over, gripping your soft palm tightly, his thumb stroking your skin.

"It has always been you, ābrazȳrys [wife]. I need you to believe me, just this once, even if it is against the world, I ask too much of you, I know."

"A-Aem please, you have no idea-"

"You came all this way in your condition to see me, to hear the truth... This is my truth, Y/N."

Aemond promptly fell to his knees, tugging your arm towards him, you weakly tried to resist, yet failed to pull away. His defined lips instinctively kissed over your tender skin, trailing up your arm ever so slowly, sending chills to coarse through your spine.

"Aem-"

"Please Y/N... I wouldn't dare to live with myself if it meant you alone in the world, you alone hating me for the troubles I have done untoward you and our precious babe."

The babe... Your mind caught in a haste with Aemond's overwhelming presence, drifted from the fact you were no longer with child.

"I-I lost the babe, Aem... Last night. I-I bled-"

Halting in his affections, Aemond's viable eye remained fixated onto your stomach, as your hand instinctively planted itself against the silk fabric, rubbing at your empty womb. Silence drowned the room, only the faint depth of Aemond's staggering, dense breath could be heard.

"A-Aemond-" You breathlessly whimper, pulling your hand away from his loosened grip, as your fingers reassuringly comb through his delicate, neat strands.

"Y-You lost the babe... W-Was it because of- Me?"

You took a few sparing seconds to decipher whether to respond truthfully or to sugar-coat your response. In the moment of hearing the cold, hard truth, you wanted nothing more than to rid yourself free of Aemond and his cruelty. At one point in your trek, you felt the slightest temptation to disappear, bribing the driver to take the wrong turn only to cease your existence in Aemond's life altogether. Although considering the rawness of the situation, the truth was what you came for, and was what you intended to speak of.

"Th-The maesters believe, it was the-ugh- strain of the spoils of the war. They believe that I-I was under great stress, the babe simply could not cope."

Aemond's handsome face fell towards the floor, the swaying of his hair in motion to the shaking of his head, in utter disbelief. The stinging tears once more existent, streaked across your flustered face.

No further words echoed through Aemond, nor could you endorse the courage in yourself to speak. His lean arms snaked around your waist firmly, pulling your feeble frame closer towards him, burying his face against you.

Although muffled, you could discern the sobbing cries of Aemond's pain, triggering your own mournful cries once more. A few minutes passed, until he could gather himself, persistently pleading his apology to you, over and over again.

"It is all my fault. I-I had neglected you for far too long, failing my duty to devote myself to you, Y/N as a husband and as a father. I failed to uphold the vows I spoke of to you. Because of my weak mind, I killed our child."

The brutality in his words, his whimpering tone, and shaken hands as you released his embrace, cupping his wet cheeks, as you leaned towards him.

"You did not kill our child, Aem... The Gods can be cruel, just as they can be merciful... I, too, can be merciless. I could ask that you bid me free from the clutches of duty as your wife. And yet... I can be just as forgiving-"

"Tell me the truth of it, Aemond... Do you wish to keep me as your wife? To never again leave me to ponder and suffer in the whirlpool of vicious lies and gossip."

Aemond's doeful eye eagerly gazes up towards, a fleeting shimmer of yearning glistened across his blackened pupil.

"Yes, yes, of course, ābrazȳrys [wife]. You bless me once again with your everlasting kindness. A kindness that I am undeserving of. Ride with me on dragon-back. I want to go home, I want to be with you now."

"And what of the witch? What if she tempts you again? I cannot bear to go through this again, Aemond. Spare me that."

Proudly standing once more to his sturdy feet, his fingers now interlocked with yours lovingly.

"I shall have her head, if it pleases you my dearest. Punishment by death on the account that she con a royal Prince into adultery."

The familiar, stern tone that would adorn your ears like sweet honey to your lips, finally returned, subtly easing the ache in your heart. Earning a faint, warm smile scorned across your pretty face, Aemond lowered his head towards your height, planting a soft kiss across your forehead.

"I promised my sword to you, I promised my love to you, I promised my life to you. I intend to keep those promises till the end of my days."

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

[peachymilkandcream]

My Husband, My Monster|Part 1|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: So this is the fandom that won the poll! I'll try and keep these and Break Me Slowly regular, but still feel free to give me requests for both in my inbox, I do oneshots and headcanons as well as I'll answer your questions and comments! (Please just read the rules first) I think I have a general timeline and idea of the lore [It's FNAF lore it's complicated as fuck] so I'm going with my best guess on things. Hope you guys enjoy!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William's a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

Who knew that a bit of twisted words and cash made all of your problems go away? William had struggled to stay open with Henry Emily's company showing such strides in mechanical technology. He was still wearing homemade cloth suits while his rival had dancing puppets that children adored. His dreams and ideas were being stolen right out from under him in his eyes, rolling in mountains of debt and the threat of closing down looming over his head. They were his characters, his dream, his business idea, and the bastard had to steal it and make it better. Even though he had bought William out of debt all those years back, it didn't change the sting of defeat when the two businesses merged.

Now he didn't regret it, Fredbear's Family Diner was just starting out but it was already projected to be a success. His characters took centre stage and had never been more alive, delighting young and old alike, his legacy started now.

Which is when he noticed the girl sitting at a table with her friend, they were giggling and laughing together over some inside joke. William had always had a soft spot for pretty girls, his more reckless years spent taking what women offered him freely, now he didn't have the time.

However for this girl he might just be able to make the time.

Casually he walks over, pretending to just be passing by, when he spies the job application she's filling out on the table and catching snippets of their conversation.

"I'm just saying, you're not going to have time for school while getting even a part time job." The friend was saying this, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "And now offence, you're not the brightest bulb, you need all the time to study that you can get."

"Well thanks." She mutters, giggling slightly. "But I can't afford college with my situation now. Mom and Dad agreed to pay for most of it, but-" She hesitates with a blush. "I want the full college experience."

"Ooh~" Her friend seems intrigued. "My best friend finally loosing her innocence? Scandalous."

She scoffs. "Look I just haven't found the right guy yet, it'll happen when it happens."

At this William can't help but interject. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but glance over your shoulder and see you're applying for a job here."

She meets his eyes, and man was he a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah I am, are you a manager here?"

He chuckles a little. "No actually, I'm the owner." While co-owner was technically true he liked to tell people he owned it solely to give himself an ego boost. "If you wanted, I could do the interview right here."

"Wait really?"

"Actually, she's fine, thanks, she's going to get a job with my mom or something. Come on let's go-" Her friend slides out of the booth, trying to drag the woman with her.

"Well I'm going to be brutally honest with you here ma'am, for a girl your age your options are going to be extremely limited. And even though the pay isn't great it's a great experience."

She stops, considering his words before waving off her friend. "Go ahead, I think I'll still fill it out, never hurts."

"If you'd like I can interview you right now, save some time."

"Oh wow that would be awesome-"

"Seriously? Listen, this guy gives me a weird feeling, let's just go okay? And I'll find you something better." The friend again reaches for her to come along, but the girl refuses.

"I'm serious, go on and I'll tell you how it went later."

With a huff her friend leaves, a clearly annoyed expression evident on her face.

William regains his composure before sitting across from her. "So, a job. Tell me what you can do." He crosses his hands on the table in front of her, a smile easily coming to his face.

"Well, I was thinking I would be a good server, I'm good with people, especially kids, and I love to clean. I can cook pretty well too but I think something at this scale would be too much for me." She laughs a little, clearly trying to ease a little nervousness.

He joins in on her laughter, hoping to make her comfortable around him, since that's what he wanted. "I suppose that's fair. Out of curiosity, why is it you want this job?" She was hired already, that he knew, a pretty face with a nice ass? What more could you want from an employee?

"Well I'm in college, and I want to be able to afford just some extras to really experience that life before it's too late."

"College?" He feigns interest, in his opinion all she was doing was wasting her most fertile years and her money. If she's halfway decent at any of her qualifications then she'd easily find a rich enough man like him, pop out a few kids and have a truly fulfilling life. "Can I ask what for?"

"Psychology, the human mind has always fascinated me."

"Oh yes definitely." He suppresses an eye roll, even more of a useless degree, maybe he could help this girl from throwing her life away because she thinks deep thoughts will make her money. "Then I should ask for your class schedule for hours."

"Right, I always keep it with me because I'm always forgetting." She giggles again, pulling it out of her purse and handing it to him. "I cannot work these times but anything else I'm there."

Wanting these hours to know when not to schedule this girl was the last thing on William's mind. "Well I'll do what I can, but it's not that easy, you have to be flexible in the real world."

"Of course, I understand that sir."

"William, call me William. My grandfather was sir and my father was Mr. Afton, so I'm just William." He flashes another smile, coaxing one from her lips as well.

"Alright, William." She tests his name out on her tongue with a soft smile and a subtle blush, the poor girl clearly hasn't been within five feet of a man before.

"Now Miss, have you had any work experience prior to this?"

"No, I haven't, this sounds entitled but I've never really had the need to up until now?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, although I'll need to teach you the proper dynamic between employee and employer. But I trust that won't be a problem, right?"

"Not at all sir-er-William. I'm more than happy to learn."

"Good, all you need to know is that I'm your friend, but I have authority over you so you need to follow what I say without question."

"Why without question?"

Oh she was so naive. "Insubordination, it's grounds with which you can be fired. So best not to stray too far towards that right?" He winks.

"Absolutely-" She shivers slightly.

"Then if that's it..." He draws the moment out for it to seem authentic. "Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner and we're happy to have you on the team." He extends a hand to shake, which she grasps eagerly, her rows of white teeth on full display.

"Oh thank you so much! When do I start?"

"We'll have you start next week, let's say, Monday."

"That's perfect, that's so perfect-" She glances at the door. "I really should go, I think I've pissed her off enough as it is, thank you for your time." She shakes his hand and hurries out the door.

"Oh trust me, don't worry about it." He watches her go, a small smile coming to his face.

This was just the beginning.

[merylstreepsworld]

Thanksgiving Preparations

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are Miranda's wife, and it's your first Thanksgiving as a married couple. As the two of you navigate, the chaos of holiday preparations with Miranda's twin daughters, laughter, love, and playful banter ensue. Showcasing the beauty of unexpected connections and the joy found in the simplest moments.

Word count: 1,496

Authors Note: Turns out... I'm a sucker for holiday romances. I started out writing Christmas oneshots and imagines... but as I went to post one, I quickly realized it's too early for that. So, to fill my nagging itch for posting a holiday story... I decidedly set my mind on writing for Thanksgiving! So enough of my blabbing, I hope you enjoy! Happy reading! ♡

You stand side by side with Miranda Priestly in the spacious kitchen of your shared townhouse, the warm aroma of Thanksgiving filling the air. The gentle hum of laughter echoes as you and Miranda prepare a feast for the special day. Miranda, elegant as always, expertly handles the turkey while you focus on the side dishes.

As the two of you work in tandem, Miranda glances at you with a soft smile. "You know, darling, I never thought I'd find such joy in preparing a meal. Especially with you."

The twins, Caroline and Cassidy, burst into the kitchen, their excitement palpable. "Mom! Mama! Can we help?" they chorus, eyes sparkling.

You look at Miranda, who nods with a bemused smile. "Of course, my darlings. Your mama and I could use some skilled assistants."

The mention of "mama" and "mom" is a sweet reminder of the unique family dynamic you've all created. The girls, and now Miranda, referring to you as "mama," have seamlessly woven you into their lives. It's a title that carries love and acceptance, surpassing any conventional labels.

Caroline, always the more adventurous of the two, eagerly grabs a mixing bowl. "I call dibs on making mashed potatoes!"

Cassidy, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, reaches for the cranberries. "And I'll handle these. Watch out, world, Cassidy Priestly is a cranberry master!"

You share a knowing look with Miranda, appreciating the liveliness the twins bring to the kitchen. The banter flows seamlessly, filled with laughter and playful teasing. Miranda, usually composed, even allows herself to be the target of a well-placed joke.

"Mom, remember that time you tried to make stuffing and forgot the stuffing part?" Cassidy grins, stirring the cranberries.

Miranda raises an eyebrow, a rare amused expression on her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Caroline chimes in, "Oh, come on, Mom. The infamous 'bread casserole' incident? Classic."

You join the teasing, "Well, Miranda, I'm just glad you have me to save you from any future culinary mishaps."

Miranda smirks, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Indeed, I am truly fortunate."

Seeing the twins eager to help, you pause the bustling kitchen activity. "Alright, my little chefs, let's make sure we don't ruin those lovely outfits of yours." With a gentle smile, you reach for two aprons, each adorned with playful patterns.

Caroline and Cassidy giggle as you slip the aprons over their heads. "Now, my culinary wonders, you're officially ready for action."

The girls exchange excited glances, apron strings trailing behind them like little tails. They return to their tasks with renewed enthusiasm, focused on creating their culinary masterpieces.

Turning your attention to Miranda, you approach her with an apron in hand. "Even the queen of fashion needs a touch of practicality in the kitchen," you jest, a playful glint in your eyes.

As you position the apron over Miranda's head, she turns to face you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Before she can say anything, you lean in, capturing her lips in a soft and tender kiss. The warmth of the moment lingers as you break the kiss, both of you sharing a knowing smile.

Miranda smirks, "I wasn't aware apron application involved such a delightful distraction."

You playfully respond, "Consider it my secret technique. Now, let me just tie this securely." Your hands deftly work to fasten the apron strings, the closeness between you and Miranda adding an extra layer of intimacy to the festive atmosphere.

With the apron securely tied, you give Miranda a gentle pat on the back. "There you go, ready to conquer the culinary world."

Miranda smirks again, a rare twinkle of playfulness in her eyes. "With you by my side, I believe I can handle anything, even in the kitchen."

With the heavenly aroma of the Thanksgiving feast now wafting from the oven, the twins, Caroline and Cassidy, abandon their kitchen duties with a burst of giggles. Aprons discarded on the floor like little breadcrumbs, they scamper off to enjoy their playtime.

Seizing the opportunity for a moment of tranquility, you and Miranda find yourselves alone in the kitchen, still clad in aprons. The air is filled with a quiet anticipation as the oven does its work.

Miranda turns to you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Alone at last."

You share a knowing glance, and with a gentle touch, Miranda pulls you closer. The warmth of the aprons contrasts with the cool grace of the kitchen surroundings as you share a tender kiss.

As you hold each other, Miranda murmurs, "I am thankful for moments like these, away from the chaos, just you and me."

You reciprocate, "I feel the same, Miranda. Grateful for the life we're building together, especially moments like this."

The quietude of the kitchen allows for whispered confessions, and you take turns expressing your gratitude. Miranda's eyes soften as she admits, "I never thought I'd have a family like this. Your love has brought something extraordinary into my life."

You respond with heartfelt sincerity, "And I'm thankful for the laughter, the warmth, and the love we share. It's more than I could have ever dreamed."

The sound of muffled laughter from the twins playing in the next room adds a joyful background melody to your intimate moment. Miranda's fingers trace circles on the fabric of your apron as she leans in to whisper, "They truly adore you, you know. It's evident in every 'mama' they say."

You smile, the warmth of her words settling in your heart. "And I adore them. I never knew family could feel like this."

Miranda tilts her head, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and affection. "Nor did I. You've brought a kind of love into our lives that I didn't think possible."

As the timer on the oven ticks away, the two of you linger in the kitchen, enjoying the rare solitude. The scent of the roasting turkey and the simmering side dishes becomes a backdrop to your whispered conversation.

"I'm thankful for you, Miranda, for the unexpected joy you've given me," you confess, your voice carrying the weight of sincere appreciation.

Miranda's gaze softens, and she responds, "And I, in turn, am thankful for your unwavering support, for the love that has made my world richer than I could have imagined."

The twins' laughter grows louder, a testament to the happiness that fills the home you've created together. Miranda places a gentle kiss on your forehead, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that transcends titles and roles.

As the oven continues to work its magic, you and Miranda stand in the kitchen, wrapped in each other's arms and aprons, grateful for the love that has blended your lives into a beautiful tapestry of shared moments and genuine affection.

As you make a move to join the twins, Miranda surprises you by smoothly backing you against the counter, a playful glint in her eyes. "Leaving so soon?" she quips, her tone filled with mock disappointment.

You chuckle, unable to resist her charm. "Well, someone has to supervise the post-cooking activities. Can't let the kitchen turn into a battlefield."

Miranda smirks, her fingers tracing light patterns on the countertop. "Supervision is overrated, darling. I much prefer a bit of chaos."

You play along, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you thrived on control. Are you admitting to a love for chaos?"

Her lips curve into a sly smile. "Only when it involves you, my dear."

You laugh, teasingly responding, "Smooth as always, Miranda. I should have known you'd have a plan to keep me right where you want me."

Miranda leans in, her breath warm against your ear. "Oh, you have no idea how much I enjoy having you right where I want you."

The banter between you takes on a loving and playful rhythm, each remark laced with affection. As Miranda continues to playfully corner you against the counter, you can't help but marvel at the unexpected and delightful turns your day has taken.

"So, do you have any more smooth moves up your sleeve, or is this the grand finale?" you quip, your tone filled with a playful challenge.

Miranda smirks, leaning back slightly. "Darling, with you, every moment is a grand finale."

Your laughter fills the kitchen, blending with the sounds of the twins' joyous play in the background. The playful banter between you and Miranda weaves a thread of intimacy that adds a layer of sweetness to the Thanksgiving celebration. As the banter continues, you realize that in this unscripted dance of words and affections, you've found a home within the heart of your uniquely loving family.

As the playful banter subsides, you find comfort in the warmth of each other's presence. The kitchen, once a hub of activity, now holds the quiet promise of shared moments and the enduring bond you've created. Hand in hand, you leave the playful banter behind, ready to join the twins and savor the Thanksgiving feast that awaits.