#i need to run errands before i really dive in but

[dismantlingherosociety]

let's get this party started

[eomayas]

distracted • hjs

pairing: husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! fluff, parent au, non-idol au

synopsis: reader is literally just feral for joshua

warnings: pwp, p in v, oral (m receiving), riding, praise, dirty talk, soft!dom!josh, breeding, josh calls reader a ‘slut’ (lovingly) once, reader & josh are parents, reader losing her mind over josh mainly. JOSHUA ARMS. unedited ;)))

a/n: i’ve experienced extreme joshua brainrot lately then did an extreme deep dive of jarms (joshua arms) until 2 in the morning. i am unwell and need him like a fish needs water

joshua pushes the shopping cart that holds groceries, and your daughter in the front of the basket, down the aisle. you trail a step or two behind them, mind a bit foggy and… distracted. you don’t know what it is, he’s just wearing a plain, white tshirt and blue jeans—he’s worn it before—and you’re running errands together like you always do. but today is different, and you can’t seem to comprehend a single thing going on around you, or really look at your husband without feeling mild insanity.

first, you’d wandered into the store in a daze, forgetting that joshua was grabbing the shopping cart with your daughter, after having sat in the front seat watching him drive for twenty minutes. his hand sat steady at ten and two, ever the safe driver when your daughter was present, though at stop lights he would sometimes grab your hand or settle his palm on your leg. you felt lost since the morning, woke up with your mind cloudy and your brain foggy just at the mere sight of him.

then, you couldn’t remember a single thing on your grocery list. in your clouded state, you must’ve forgotten the list in the kitchen; it wasn’t a big deal, except for the fact that you literally couldn’t think about a single thing that you needed to buy, and you are usually the one leading the pack around the store. so the three of you have been wandering around the grocery store for longer than you want to be, circling back to the same aisles you’ve already been on because you can’t remember what it is you need to buy.

now you’re back in the dairy aisle, unsure of why you’re back because youve already grabbed milk and cream cheese, so you’re just standing in front of the cold, double doors without a single thought in your head. “yogurt, maybe?” joshua tries, pausing his conversation with your child to help you out. you blink once, twice before mumbling out a ‘right’ and pulling the doors open and grabbing a container.

“mommy, that’s not the right one!” your daughter whines when you drop it in the basket. she’s frowning at you, eyebrows crinkled the same way joshua’s do. god. you make the mistake of looking up at him, and your entire body flushes you meet his gaze. his eyes are soft but questioning, asking if you if you’re alright without actually saying it. no, i’m not, you think to yourself, discreetly sweeping your hand up your neck to check your pulse. it’s fast, and you’re definitely still alive.

joshua watches you with mild concern; he’s noticed your strange, avoidant behavior since this morning when he got back from the gym. you had looked almost surprised when he walked into your bedroom, like you weren’t expecting him back. your eyes widened, and your lips parted like you were going to say something but nothing came out. he beat you to words, anyway, giving you a soft ‘good morning’ that made you blush—he’d ignored it because you seemed… off—and kissed you on the lips. he thought he really smelled with the way you rushed your lips off of his and rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over your own feet. joshua grabbed you so you wouldn’t fall, and he felt you tense in his hold, a frown etching on his features. he brushed it off and asked if you wanted to shower with him, expecting a ‘yes’ from the look that flashed through your eyes, but you instead mumbled something about having to make breakfast before hurrying out of the bedroom all together. you basically avoided him all day since then, never really looking at him or talking to him directly—none of which you do on a constant basis.

the yogurt was, in fact, incorrect down to the brand and flavor. “i’m sorry, baby,” you say to your daughter, running a hand over her hair before grabbing the yogurt to swap it out for the correct one, this time taking a few seconds to scan everything in the fridge. you appreciate the cold air from the refrigerator, as it cools you down from the rush of heat you feel along your face and neck. you take a breath and tell yourself to get a fucking grip before dropping the correct item into the cart.

“daddy, can i get ice cream?” your daughter asks joshua as you start ambling through the grocery store. you cut your eyes at your daughter for not asking you, but you know it’s because joshua never says no to her.

“of course, princess,” and you watch with pure adoration as he places a kiss on her forehead and she just giggles, scrunching her shoulders up to her ears. joshua is a good husband, but he’s an even better father, and you love watching him interact with your daughter. they have a special connection that you love to witness, a secret language just between the two of them. it’s moment like this where you want another kid—or maybe it’s part of the hazy mess you’re in because of his sheer existence.

you follow behind joshua towards the ice cream aisle. the shirt he wears is tight on him, straining against his biceps and shoulders. you can make out his back muscles depending on how the light hits the fabric, and you feel even crazier than before. his muscles have been the source of your you distracted state today. joshua has always been muscular, and he’s always worked out, but something about him recently has flipped a switch in your brain that has made you feel absolutely feral every time you catch a mere glimpse of his arms—which is quite literally every day. this morning it was too overwhelming, him coming home and shedding his jacket to reveal himself in a simple black tank top that looked a size too small, and gray sweats that made you feel like you needed to go to confessional.

another rush of cold air pulls you out of your lustful daze and you stand at the back of the shopping cart as joshua shuffles through the cartons of ice cream, asking your daughter her input. you try to keep your eyes focused on your daughter, anything else, but cant help when they drift over to your husband, his arms flexing each time he grabs a pint and displays it to your daughter. joshua casts a glance at you, a smile that says can you believe this? when you daughter shakes her head for the fourth time, despite not asking to look for herself. you blush under his gaze, heat spreading down your neck and chest before settling in your stomach.

"i thought you liked the oreo one?" you say to your daughter, voice slightly hoarse. you smooth a hand over her hair to give yourself something to do, hands a little clammy from all of your nerves working overtime.

"i do..." she trails off, turning to look at you with a tiny pout on her lips.

"tell daddy before he freezes," you say, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. just the mere reference to joshua feels heavy in your mouth, makes your stomach flutter for reasons you can't really explain.

joshua places the pint of oreo ice cream into the cart, circling around to the front and playfully ticking your daughter under her chin. she giggles loudly and you smile as you watch her become a spitting image of her father. arms cage you between the carts handlebar and a firm chest, and suddenly your eyes are no longer on your kid but on the strong, veiny forearms that belong to your husband. “excuse me,” he murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice like he knows that you’re losing your mind at the simple sight of him.

wordlessly, you gently grab his right arm to remove yourself from his entrapment. “hey,” joshua says softly, reaching out for your wrist as you move swiftly to get away from him. turning, goosebumps arise on your skin, and you tell yourself that it’s because his hands are ice cold. “you okay, honey?” your stomach flips and you press your lips into a small smile, nodding.

joshua stares at you for a beat before leaning down a few inches, silently begging for a kiss. you nearly combust at the thought, not trustworthy of yourself to behave normally in public. but his eyes are fond, and you love him so much and want him so bad that you raise up on your toes and brace yourself on his shoulders before delivering a soft, quick peck to his lips. you’re proud of yourself for holding back, but joshua isn’t satisfied because he stays leaned over in the spot you kissed him in for a few seconds after the fact that you’ve pulled away. if you were at home, he’d yank you back to him but because you’re in public he files that grievance away and straightens up.

“i want a kiss,” your daughter pouts, cutely crossing her arms over her chest. since she doesn’t specify from whom, both of you lean in and press kisses to her cheeks. her giggle ripples through you, filling your stomach with butterflies and your chest with a type of love reserved only for her. you’re momentarily pulled away from your joshua shaped daze, until his hand is settling on your lower back. it chilling, his touch, and it’s not because his hands are ice cold from standing in the grocery store freezer for two minutes.

a shiver runs up your spine and you slip out of his grasp, not paying attention to where or what you’re walking into until joshua is pulling you back into him, his hand splayed across your stomach and your back colliding with his chest. ���babe, watch out,” a woman pushing a cart stops short, a look of remorse on her face.

“oh my god, did i hit you?” she asks, and you figure you must look injured or something, because she looks genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. the flush on your face is not due to the fact that you were almost ran over, but because joshua hasn’t moved his hand from your stomach and hasn’t put any distance between your back and his front. he stays pressed against you, holding you firmly in front of him, his hold tightening ever so slightly.

“n-no, i’m alright,” you manage, lips tingling. “i swear.” you add when her eyebrows don’t drop from her hairline. at that, she seems to believe you enough snd offers you a smile and a curt nod before hurrying down the aisle.

“are you alright, honey? you’re trembling,” joshua says, his deep voice like melted wax running down your back. you make the mistake of looking up and over your shoulder at him, his palm pressing into your lower belly.

he peers down at you with soft eyes, ready to question you again until your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you tuck your bottom lip under your top one and nod. he knows the look in your eyes all too well—hunger, but not for food—and heat pools in his chest. joshua is much better at hiding his desire for you, especially in public and in front of your child, and he’s able to keep his expression the same, pretending he never saw that look in your eye. “i’m fine,” you’re shuffling away from him again, this time checking to make sure you’re not seconds away from being ran over with a shopping cart.

somehow, you three mange to finish your shopping trip without anymore mishaps. it requires circling back to the same aisles more than once because neither you nor josh can remember what you wanted to buy, but at least you can say you’re done. joshua loads the groceries into the trunk while you buckle your daughter into the backseat. she yawns, stretching her little arms up and out. “sleepy?” you ask her, a small smile on your face.

“no,” she says, vehemently shaking her head. you chuckle hum a sound of disbelief before dropping a kiss on her forehead and going to the front seat. the trunk closes and you suck in a breath as you watch him in the rearview mirror. he brushes his hand through his hair, and even through the mirror and the tint of the trunk window, you can make out his bicep muscle flexing with the motion.

it’s nearly pathetic how horny you feel just looking at him—like an overgrown teenager who just got into their first relationship. except you’re an adult, married to this man, and this behavior is no longer considered ‘cute’.

joshua gets into the front seat and smiles at you, leaning over the console to give you a kiss. his hand rests on the side of your neck, and you wonder if he’s trying to check your pulse, to mess with you. you keep your hands to yourself, because if you touch him, you might never stop.

pulling back from your mouth, he looks into your eyes before flicking them back down to your lips. joshua starts to lean in but seems to remember you’re not alone, and sits back in his seat, his hand lingering on your neck for a moment before he starts the car and asks your daughter if she’s ready to go.

the car ride is quiet, save for your daughters yawns and insistence that she is not tired. she makes most of the noise, talking about random things that you and joshua entertain with ease. he watches her in the review mirror with real, unconditional love in his eyes. it does nothing to help your situation, and just makes you want to give him another baby.

when you arrive back at your house, you quickly get out of the car, grateful to get out of the stuffy, suffocating feeling of being in the front seat. you walk around the back and help your daughter out, ready to carry her inside until she exclaims, “i want to help!”

you ser her down on the ground and she runs over to joshua. you watch him give her two of the lighter bags of groceries, and raises her arms to show you, a big smile on her face. you smile back and press in the garage code and tell her to go inside of the house, seemingly leaving you and joshua alone. you sidle up next to him, and joshua lightly bumps his hip into yours. “hmm?” you question without looking up from the numerous bags in the back of the car.

“why are you avoiding me?” he asks, and the directness makes your hands clam up.

“i’m not avoiding you,” you say, taking a few grocery bags and backing up from him.

“you quite literally are.”

you stare up at him, his eyebrows knitted together in slight irritation. “i still love you, if that’s what you’re asking,” you clarify. his features soften and his shoulders relax a bit. those shoulders. your eyes drifts down his figure, lingering on his flexed forearms, veins bulging out from the tension of carrying the grocery bags.

joshua watches you obviously ogle and check him out, his entire figure relaxing at his realization. “oh, i get it now,” he teases, a slow smirk sliding across his lips.

“get what?” you play dumb, taking a tentative step backwards before turning around and trying to keep your walk casual as you walk through the garage. it’s so obvious you’re trying to keep space between the two of you, putting anything in the way to keep you off of him.

“that you wan-“ joshua cuts himself off because you push open the door that leads you into the house. he clears his throat and closes the garage door before following behind you into the kitchen. your daughter is standing on her tippy toes trying to reach a cupboard that’s way to high for her, concentration etched on her face. “need help, bub?” he asks, setting his bags down on the counter.

“i can’t reach,” she whines, yawning immediately after. joshua lifts her up into his arms and opens the cupboard for her abd allows her to put the item away. “i’m tired, daddy.” she rests her head on his shoulder, tiny arms encircling around his neck.

you watch them and you feel your heart grow three times in size, like the grinch. joshua coos at her and pats her head before agreeing to put her down for a nap. you busy yourself with unloading the groceries, stomach flipping at the thought of having at least an hour alone with your husband. you can’t believe how depraved you feel.

joshua comes back downstairs a few minutes later, right when you’re putting the last thing into the fridge. “you finished?” he asks. you nod, heart hammering in your chest as he walks over to you. his hands drop onto your hips, pulling you flush against him. you keep your eyes straight ahead, leveled wirh his chest, and joshua dips his head down to meet your eyes. “see: you’re avoiding me.”

hear creeps up your neck and you shake your head. “i’m not.”

“don’t try to gaslight me,” he teases, making you roll your eyes and finally look up at him. “there she is.” he murmurs, leaning down a few centimeters to connect your lips. your hands flatten against his chest, and he walks your backwards into one of the kitchen counters. joshua leans over you, trying to press you flat against the surface despite the lack of space.

“shua,” you breathe once you pull away when he unbuttons your jeans.

“what, you’ve got somewhere better to be?” he asks, arching one of his eyebrows.

“i… i have to do laundry…” you say halfheartedly. joshua laughs at this, dropping his forehead against yours. “i’m serious!” you say, but you’re smiling too. “i want to go back to avoiding you.”

joshua pulls back to look down at you, making a face that says for what? “i thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“yeah, i’m afraid nothing will keep me off of you if we start,” you say honestly. joshua blushes deeply, a boyish grin on his face. “i want you so bad—i think i might be ovulating? i don’t know. i just want you so. bad.” you punctuate the last part with the press of your knuckles into his chest.

“you’re ovulating?” it’s like bells went off in his head.

“maybe, i don’t know. i don’t keep track of that shit. i just need an explanation for how i feel,” you say, hands sliding along his chest absentmindedly.

joshua raises both of his eyebrows at you, fake shock on his face. “maybe because you have a super hot and sexy husband who is also a really good father? just a hunch.”

“no, i don’t think that’s it,” he rolls his eyes at you and you giggle, balling his shirt up into your fists and pulling him down to you. joshua grips onto the counter to steady himself, his hold tight enough to turn his knuckles white. he presses his pelvis into yours, his his erection pressing against your leg.

joshua wraps an arm around you and splays his hand across the small of your back. he presses you down onto the counter and you grip his shoulders tightly, craning your mouth away from his to breathe out, “not here.” he pulls you up from the counter and looks down at you, his chest moving up and down quickly. you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he thinks about a place to fuck you that won’t bring attention to the two of you. “laund-ah!” he swoops you up into his arms easily, already carrying you in the direction of your laundry room before you can even get the entire word out.

you wrap your legs around his waist as you buzz with need and anticipation. you let yourself revel at being carried by him after lusting over his arms all day. he carries you like you’re weightless, with his his hands resting under your ass for support. “god,” you whisper to yourself, pressing a kiss into his neck.

“i love you,” he rasps as he enters the laundry room. he shuts and locks the door behind him before dropping you onto the washing machine. his hands are flying to undo the buttons of your blouse and you pull him closer using your ankles that are still wrapped around him.

“love you more,” you murmur, helping him with removing your top. “your turn.” your urge, pulling the hem of his shirt.

“sure you can handle it?” he teases. you flush and lightly push at his abdomen. “don’t wanna make you pass out or anything.” he smirks at you, loving to watch you squirm.

“i can handle it,” you say, feeling so embarrassed to even be in this position. luckily, joshua is sweet to you above all and draws you in for a kiss. you skate your hands up underneath his shirt, nails lightly scratching against his torso. “take it off.” you mumble against his lips, hands pushing up the material of his shirt. you feel like you could rip him out of the fabric.

joshua pulls back and makes an entire show of getting undressed. he runs a hand through his hair and purposefully flexes his bicep as he does so. if this was any other time, you’d roll your eyes and call him annoying. but today, all you can do is watch and try not to drool.

he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into an empty laundry basket nearby. you waste no time leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. you move to kiss his jaw and then his neck, your hands sliding down his body. you kiss across his chest, going lower until the position becomes uncomfortable. lightly shoving him, you hop off of the washing machine and drop to your knees in front of him.

joshua watches you with dark eyes, holding onto the edge of the machine. you fumble with his belt, hands shaking with anticipation of finally having him, and he makes no effort to help you out. your hands work too fast, and you mess up when you try to pull the buckle open for the second time. “i’ve got all day,” he say smugly. you ignore him, and finally pull his belt free. you work his pants down to his ankles, leaving. him in just his briefs. you let out a breath and look up at him with pure lust. “as pretty as you look right now, you’d look much better with my cock in your mouth.”

quickly, you pull his underwear down and let them pool together with his pants, hands flying to grab ahold of his member. you pump him a few times, flicking your eyes to look up at him. joshua gives you a slight nod, signaling you to start sucking, and you eagerly oblige. sticking your tongue out, you lick up the precum that dribbles out of the tip before you wrap your lips around the head and push him into your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you go. a groan escapes joshua’s mouth and he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you drag him into your mouth inch by inch, your eyes never once leaving his. his chest heaves up and down, moving faster and faster the closer you get to taking him all the way. tears prick in your eyes when he hits the back of your throat, but you keep going until your nose nearly presses into his hips. “shit,” he whispers, leaning more of his weight into the washing machine.

you bob your head up and down, pulling back and stroking what doesn’t fit. you swirl your tongue around the tip, cheeks hollowing to create more suction when you suck on the tip. joshua moans lowly above you and tells you how good you’re doing. his eyes flutter shut, squeezed shut in pleasure and his chin drops down to his mouth. you want his eyes on you, want him to watch you as you make him feel good, so you purposefully scrape your teach against his dick to get his attention.

his eyes fly open as he jerks back from you, glaring at you when you smile around him. “brat,” he spits and tightens his grip on your hair. you sigh through your nose and press your thighs together, cunt throbbing with need. you keep bobbing your head, speeding up slightly and taking more of him into your mouth. when joshua presses your head down, you relax your throat and let him take control, hands moving to hold onto his thighs. “good girl.” he grunts, holding your head down on his dick for a few seconds until you gag, and then he pulls you off of him.

he does this a few more times, his cock twitching against your tongue. tears gather in your eyes but you power through, determined to make him cum. he pulls you down onto him, cursing each time he hits the back of your throat. “fuck, you take me so well. i’m c-close,” tears slip down your cheeks and mix in with the spit and cum. your face is a mess, but neither of you care.

joshua fucks his cock into your mouth, holding your head steady in his hands. you dig your nails his thighs to combat the ache in your jaw. he thrusts into your mouth until he can’t take the feeling of your warm mouth around him anymore, his cum shooting into the back of your throat. you keep your mouth open to catch all of his seed, some of it gathering around the corner of your lips. “s-swallow,” he demands when he pulls his cock away from your mouth.

you obediently swallow, and he whines in the back of his throat. “goddamn, i love you,” he holds his hands out to you and helps you up onto his feet. he wipes the corners of you lips with his thumb and shoves it into your mouth, lips parting when you suck on his thumb like you just did his cock. “youre such a slut.” he murmurs, a loving gaze in his eyes.

a trail of saliva connects your lips to his thumb when you pull it out of your mouth. “promise?” you ask.

joshua smiles and pulls you into a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. his hands make use of unbuttoning your jeans and shoving his hands down your pants. your panties are damp, and he’s a bit shocked and honored that you’re this wet for him. “i need you,” you whine, peppering kisses down his neck. you don’t even want his fingers, just want him inside of you.

“i know,” he rasps, slipping a finger between your folds. you shudder when he touches you, his finger playing with your arousal and brushing over your clit, just to make you jump. you clench around nothing, and it’s nearly painful how turned on you are.

“joshua!” you whine, nipping at his neck. his hand immediately grabs onto your hair and yanks, a hiss emitting from your lips followed by a smirk.

“needy brat,” he grumbles, walking the two of you over to the work bench in the room. he drops onto it and spreads his legs invitingly. you quickly step out of your jeans and underwear, his eyes roaming over your body. “you’re a beautiful, y/n.”joshua says sincerely; at the end of the day, he is simply a lover boy.

you smile at him and quickly drop yourself onto his lap, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck. you reach between the two of you and position yourself over his cock. his hands grip onto your hips tightly and guide you down onto him, bottom lip drawing in between his teeth.

“ah-fuck!” you cry when you sink onto the tip, the initial stretch rippling through you.

“you’ve got it, baby,” he encourages, thumbs rubbing sift circles into your hips. you bite down on your bottom lip, hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders as you sink lower and lower onto him. “goddamn, girl.” he grunts, hips bucking when you clench around him.

when you manage to take all of him, you sit still and catch your breath, head resting on his shoulder. joshua unhooks your bra and you lean back to slide it off your arms. “you okay?” he asks, hands groping your chest.

“uh huh,” you rasp, taking it as a sign to start fuckign him, licking your lips and raising your hips before dropping onto his lap. “fuck, shua.” whimpers leave you lips as you fuck yourself onto him, using his shoulders as leverage to move yourself up and down. joshua relaxes into the wall, his grip on your hips loosening as you gain momentum and find a rhythm.

“you’re so tight,” he groans, one of his thumbs finding your clit and rubbing slow circles around the sensitive nub. “been thinking about fucking you all day.” joshua sighs and rubs your clit quicker, eyes peering up to watch your facial expressions. “you need me as bad as i needed you?” he mumbles, voice low and husky.

“more,” you pant, still bouncing up and down on him. your cunt clamps around him like it’s trying to keep him there. “shuaaa!” you whine, thighs burning. you sit on his lap, rolling your hips into his.

he chuckles breathlessly, rolling his other thumb over one of your nipples. “yeah? tell me,” he grins at you devilishly, this side of him only coming out in your intimate moments.

“so bad,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. “w-wanna give you a-another baby.” you squeeze around him involuntarily, a knot forming in your stomach. joshua twitches inside of you at the mention of having another child.

“yeah? want me to fill you up?” you whimper and nod, legs starting to shake. “want me to fuck you full of my cum until you’re pregnant again?” he lets go of you breast to place both hands underneath your ass. he lifts you up and drops you down, a show of his strength as he fucks you up an down onto him.

joshua grumbles filthy things into your ear; tells you that he’s gonna fuck you until you can’t walk, that he’s gonna stuff you full, that’s he’s going to give you another baby tonight. “f-fuck! i-im gonna cum,” you cry, throwing your head back in pleasure. he bucks his hips up into you, hitting that spongy spot inside of you repeatedly.

spots blur your vision and your cunt spasms around him as you reach your climax. it hits you like a thousand bricks, and you’re shaking in his arm and crying out his name. you expect him to stop, but he keeps thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm further. you can hardly think through the waves of pleasure, which is why you hardly register that he’s lifted you up until you’re placed on a cold surface.

joshua drags you to the edge of the washing machine and slams his cock into you, nearly knocking the wind out of you. “o-oh my god,” you gasp, tears brimming in your eyes for the second time tonight. “you feel so good!”

he drives his hips into you brutally, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. “f-fuck, i’m not gonna last,” he groans, dropping his head into your neck. he kisses your skin and lightly bites, though not hard enough to leave marks. you cling to him, arms secured around his shoulders like you may fall if you dont hold on.

his thrusts get sloppier by the second, indicative of his nearing climax. “i love you,” you breathe, nails clawing at his back. he grunts, whining out curses as he cums inside of you, his dick twitching between your walls. he stills, fingers applying bruising pressure to your hips.

after a few moments, he lifts his head from your shoulder and looks at you, a tender smile on his face. he presses his lips to your gently, sighing against you as he goes soft. “shit,” he pants, followed by a light chuckle.

you can’t help but giggle back, running a hand through his hair. he doesn’t want to pull out, not yet at least, wanting to make sure his cum stays inside of you as long as possible. he lets go of your thighs and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. you kiss the column of his throat, right on his adam’s apple and rubs soft circles into your back.

“we should clean up,” he murmurs, starting to draw back from you. you make a sound of disagreement and squeeze around him on purpose. “b-brat.” he stammers, curling away from you.

he pulls out of you with a lewd squelch, both of you turning light shades of pink at the noise. he helps you off of the washer and you lean against it. he finds a random towel and comes back to wipe between your legs before cleaning himself off and tossing it in the same basket he threw his shirt in. “i guess i could start a load,” you say, looking at all of the discarded clothes, making joshua laugh.

he helps you gather them up and drop them into the washer. you add in the detergent and slam the top closed. except, when you go to start the washer, joshua places a hand on your back and presses you flat against the washer and slots his knee between your legs to spread them open. you don’t get a chance to prepare yourself because he’s pushing into you again, a strong arm wrapping around your middle to hold you steady as he fucks into you from behind, determined to get you pregnant tonight.

[suunani]

baby, i’m sorry ( kim mingyu )

▍ mingyu desperately begs for your forgiveness after a fight with you.

content : 1500 words, male reader, boyfriend!mingyu, desperate!mingyu, angst & fluff (?), kinda suggestive at the end, reader is very stubborn, mingyu calls reader 'baby'

note : honestly i just needed to write a desperate, pathetic mingyu after seeing this hihi so here we are

it was mingyu’s fault. completely, undeniably his fault, and you were furious.

the two of you had very different approaches to life.

mingyu was messy, chaotic, and impulsive — a human golden retriever in every sense of the word. you, on the other hand, were meticulous, methodical, and fiercely independent.

mingyu loved to dive headfirst into things without a plan, and while it was part of what made him so endearing, it was also what drove you insane.

you’d warned him countless times not to mess with your work things.

your desk was your sanctuary, carefully organized and always under control. but mingyu, in his eternal optimism, thought he was helping by trying to 'tidy up' while you were out running errands.

when you returned, it was chaos.

important documents were stacked in the wrong order, your laptop had been moved, and your notes, your precious notes, were nowhere to be found.

“gyu!” you snapped, storming into the living room where he sat on the couch, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just wreaked havoc on your world. “what the hell did you do to my desk?”

mingyu blinked up at you, startled, his mouth slightly open. “uh, i just… organized it? it looked like a mess, so i thought i’d help.”

“help?” you repeated, your voice rising. “mingyu, i told you not to touch my stuff!”

his face fell, his usual sunshine-like demeanor dimming.

“i was just trying to make things easier for you,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“by making everything harder?” you shot back. “i can’t find anything i need now! why can’t you just listen to me for once?”

the argument escalated from there.

mingyu, frustrated and defensive, argued that he was just trying to help, while you doubled down on how his recklessness always made things worse.

“you never think before you act,” you snapped, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “you just do whatever you want and leave me to clean up the mess.”

“well, sorry for trying to help,” mingyu shot back, his voice louder than usual. “maybe if you weren’t such a control freak all the time, i wouldn’t feel like i have to do something to make your life easier!”

that was the breaking point.

your eyes narrowed, your jaw clenched, and without another word, you turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind you.

now, you sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, staring at the floor.

you were furious — not just at mingyu but at yourself for letting him get under your skin.

in the living room, mingyu was spiraling.

he hated fighting with you. the thought of you being angry at him, being disappointed in him, made his chest tighten painfully.

you were his everything, his whole world, and the idea of you shutting him out was unbearable.

“okay,” he muttered to himself, pacing the room. “i can fix this. i just need to apologize. i need to—”

he stopped mid-step, his hands raking through his hair.

“god, i’m such an idiot.”

finally, unable to take the silence any longer, mingyu made his way to the bedroom.

“baby?” he called softly as he pushed the door open.

you didn’t respond to him, your gaze fixed stubbornly on the floor.

mingyu hesitated for a moment, his heart sinking at the sight of you sitting there, closed off and angry.

“can we talk?” he tried, his voice tentative.

you didn’t even look at him.

“baby, please,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “i’m so sorry. i messed up. i wasn’t thinking. i just wanted to help you.”

still, you didn’t respond.

mingyu’s chest tightened, and a wave of panic washing over him.

“you’re not really gonna ignore me all night, are you?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

when you still didn’t say anything, mingyu’s breath hitched. he couldn’t take it.

the silence, the distance — it was too much.

in one swift motion, he crossed the room and crouched in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees.

“baby, look at me,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

you finally lifted your gaze, meeting his eyes with a cold, unforgiving glare.

“mingyu, i told you—”

“i know,” he interrupted, his voice desperate. “i know, baby. i screwed up. i’m an idiot. but please don’t do this. don’t shut me out.”

when you tried to look away again, mingyu panicked.

he grabbed your hands, pulling you up and into his lap as he sat back on the bed.

“mingyu, what the—”

“no,” he said firmly, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place. “you’re not running away from me. not this time.”

you glared at him, your voice icy. “let me go.”

“no,” mingyu said again.

his hands moving to cup your face. his dark eyes were wide and glassy, his lips trembling as he spoke.

“you’re my everything. i can’t— i can’t take it when you’re mad at me like this. i’ll do anything. just… please forgive me.”

“mingyu—”

“please,” he begged, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke.

his hands slid down to your sides, his touch warm and trembling.

“i hate this, baby. i hate it so much.”

“you should’ve thought of that before you—”

“i know,” he interrupted again, his voice cracking. “i know, baby. i’m so stupid. i’ll fix it. i’ll do whatever you want. just— don’t be mad anymore.”

his lips found the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then lower, along the curve of your neck.

his hands roamed your body instinctively, tracing the curve of your back, the line of your hips, as if he couldn’t bear to let a single inch of you go untouched.

you sucked in a breath as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, the heat of his mouth against your skin making your body react in ways you hated right now. your arms tightened around him, not wanting him to pull away, but still angry, so angry, that he’d done this to you.

“mingyu,” you muttered , your words almost lost in the haze of desire.

“please,” he whispered again , his lips moving with urgency as they traveled lower, brushing against your collarbone. “baby, let me show you. let me show you how sorry i am.”

your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you found your hands in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips.

his kiss was feverish, deep, and you responded in kind, your body instinctively shifting closer to him.

“mingyu…” you breathed out his name, but it was a whisper — one filled with heat.

his hands roamed lower, groping at your waist, his fingers brushing against the waistband of your pants. his chest was heaving against yours, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours, making your pulse race.

“please, i need you,” he pleaded.

his hands was now tugging at your shirt, trying to peel it off your body as his lips trailed down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath.

you couldn’t hold back any longer. you leaned into him, your hands moving to push his shirt off, desperate to feel more of him. you were angry, you were hurt, but the ache inside of you — the one that had been growing the entire time he apologized — was too strong to ignore.

mingyu wasn’t backing down now. his lips found yours again, his kiss all fire and heat, and you melted into him, your body finally giving in.

he growled softly, his hands tracing every inch of you, pulling you closer, the desperation clear in his every movement.

“god, baby,” he groaned, his hands slipping beneath your pants now, gripping your hips as he ground himself against you. “i need you. i need you to forgive me. i can’t stand being like this… i can’t…”

his voice trailed off as he kissed you harder, his tongue sweeping past your lips.

you responded with equal fervor, your hands tugging at his pants now, wanting him, needing him, feeling that familiar tension bubbling to the surface.

“say it,” he muttered, his lips grazing against your ear as his hands explored, “say you forgive me… say you’re mine.”

you shivered, caught in the heat of the moment.

“you are mine,” you whispered back instead, the words slipping from your mouth without a second thought.

mingyu groaned at that, his body pressing into yours as he claimed your lips again.

“always,” he muttered between kisses, his hands now pulling you impossibly closer, desperate to feel all of you.

and before either of you could stop it, the tension exploded, everything finally falling into place as the passion took over.

[tateypots]

Sunrise

18+ MDNI

Summary: You love the sunrise, but it’s even better with Joel.

A/N: The wonderful @baronessvonglitter made me this beautiful moodboard as part of her 1000 follower milestone celebration and it’s so beautiful it finally gave me the kick I needed to write this little thing that has been sitting in my idea folder forever. So here’s some soft Joel just because.

I wrote this on my phone (and deleted it once by mistake 🤦🏻‍♀️) so there’s probably loads of mistakes!

Warnings: smut, soft Joel, established relationship, unprotected piv, lots of praise.

Sunrise had always been your favourite time of day. A natural early riser, you loved to watch the inky hues of night surrender to the golden yellows and oranges of the dawn as light filtered across the sky. You loved the way the quiet stillness is broken by gentle birdsong, soft and lilting before the bustle of daily life takes over. Another day broken, fresh and full of possibilities.

And ever since you’d met Joel Miller, you’d loved the sunrise even more.

You loved him more than you’d ever thought possible. He was firm and steady, strong but also playful and gentle. You loved his quiet dedication, to his work, his family, to you. He worked ceaselessly to ensure you were all taken care of, and you worked just as hard to make sure he was as well.

Mornings were spent in a rush of preparing breakfasts and lunches, making sure Sarah was washed and dressed, bag packed for school or soccer practice. Quick kisses and I love yous exchanged before rushing out the door. Days spent working or running errands before reuniting for family dinners and movie nights often interrupted by calls about his latest work project.

Even at night Joel was never off duty, often awoken by the patter of small feet, a little voice crying over a nightmare, needing cuddles from her dad to make the fear recede. At other times woken by a phone call, Tommy needing rescuing from whatever risky situation he’d found himself in, or on the really bad nights, bailing out of jail.

But at sunrise, he was just yours. No one’s boss, no one’s brother, no one’s dad. For that brief window you didn’t have to share him and you cherished it.

You got to see him peacefully sleeping as the golden light crept over his prone body, illuminating him in a glow that seemed to emanate from within. You got to take in his features, the beautiful face that you loved so dearly, his brow smoothed, the furrowed lines of his frequent frowns and scowls mere ghosts of themselves. The beautiful lines by the sides of his eyes that crinkled whenever he smiled. His strong aquiline nose that gave him a wise, regal bearing. The plush lips that were soft and plump and felt like heaven against your body. His strong neck, that one freckle you love to kiss and the vein you loved to nuzzle against and feel his pulse, strong and steadying. His strong arms and chest, sculpted by years of hard labour. You’d never wake him, knowing how precious his sleep was.

Yes, you loved to watch him, peaceful and content. The only thing you loved more were the days he awoke himself, pulling you into him with a sleepy groan and a rumbling ‘morning’ beautiful.” When he’d slot those beautiful lips against yours and kiss you like he’d never get another chance. When he’d roll you onto your back and kiss his way down your body, divesting you of clothes and spreading your legs as he went. When he’d rest his head against your thigh for a moment and admire your core like it was a renaissance painting, eyes full of wonder, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy I ever saw, gets prettier every fuckin’ day,” before diving in with his tongue, lapping at you in broad strokes until your hips bucked and you stifled your moans with a pillow. When he’d tease your clit, circling with the tip of his tongue, not enough pressure to get you where you so desperately needed, enjoying the keening and whines you let escape, knowing full well how to get you to abandon your pride and have you begging for him.

“Please Joel - oh fuck! Please!”

“Hmmm, what was that darlin’, I couldn’t quite hear?”

“Joel! Fuck, please baby, I need more, please!!”

“Oh there she is, my good girl asking for what she wants,” he’d respond before sucking your clit hard and laving his tongue over it perfectly, slipping one finger, then another inside you, the pressure of them entering you along with his sucking of your clit enough to launch you into orbit and have you clenching and spilling around his fingers.

You loved the way he’d push down his boxers, the sight of him rock hard and leaking, just for you. You loved the way he’d crawl back up your body and settle between your thighs. The way he’d capture your lips in another desperate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped his throbbing cock into the welcoming heat of your body. You loved the way he’d moan into your ear as he sank further and further inside you, savouring every second.

You loved the slow drag of his cock in and out as he languidly fucked you, eyes never leaving yours, enjoying the way the world fell away when he had you like this, like you were the only 2 people in the world.

“That’s it baby, just like that. Gona take my time with you, gona fuck you nice and slow, just like you deserve.”

You loved the deep rumble of his voice in your ear, the way the vibrations made your whole body tingle with delight and he loved the sweet, soft moans you gave him with every plunge of his cock.

“My perfect girl, makin’ such pretty noises for me. Take my cock like a fuckin’ dream baby, like you were made just for me.”

You relish it. These times where he takes you slowly, passionately, no reason to rush. Not a panicked railing, chasing your highs quickly whenever you have a minute to yourselves before someone needs him. Not that you didn’t love that too. The thrill of knowing you could be interrupted at any time. The way his hips batter into yours, the strength of him blowing your mind every damn time. The desperate edge to his voice as he tells you he needs you to come for him, that he needs to feel it.

But like this it feels special. He makes you feel special. The way he moves you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you up, it feels as though he’s igniting every single nerve of your pussy, the slow build up to something absolutely devastating.

And he never falters, his hips keep pumping in their slow steady rhythm, his stamina almost otherworldly as he soaks in the vision of you, spread open in ecstasy beneath him. It’s a vision that will burn itself onto his retinas until the next time he has you like this. Tucked away and treasured in his mind every time he closes his eyes.

“That’s it baby, doin’ so good for me.”

He loved the way you whine and cling to him, completely lost to the pleasure, to him. The way you look at him as though he is your everything, your whole world. Loved the way you pull him down to you, pushing your lips against his, messy, uncoordinated, desperate as your pussy pulses and drools on him.

“Can feel it comin’ baby, feel it buildin’. Gona be a big one, I can tell.”

And he’d be right. He’d make sure it was a big one. Big enough to have the memory last until the next time, make sure you feel how much he loves you.

And when he dropped his hand between you to rub those perfect circles on your clit, perfected in moments just like this it’s a foregone conclusion. He’d clamp a hand over your mouth to quiet the moans you’d no longer have control of as your body reaches the cataclysmic peak. It’s his favourite thing, the way you clench down on him, the way you shake underneath him, the way your arms wrap even tighter around him, the feel of your scream of pleasure being soaked up by his palm.

And still his hips would pump in that maddening slow rhythm, prolonging your high as long as he can, until you suck in a huge breath and he sees the clouds part from your eyes as you come back to yourself. Only then would he pick up his pace, chasing his own high now that he’d taken care of you. Putting you first, just like he wishes he always could.

His groans are like music to your ears, this is for him. Just for him and you loved the sounds of him losing himself in you.

You’d plant kisses on the side of his face you have access to.

“So good baby, always make me feel so good, always take care of me, I love you so much Joel.”

He’d groan extra loud for you at that and it has your pussy clenching again. You know just how to get him. Hearing you acknowledge how much you appreciate all he does, how much you love him, it’s his Achilles heel. You’d revel in it as his thrusts get erratic.

“Give it to me baby, I need your cum. Please baby, please!”

And he’d be done for. He’d give you anything you asked for. You’d feel it deep inside as his hips finally still. That delicious pulsing heat spreading throughout your core and it pushes you over once more, a smaller, quieter high but no less special.

You loved the way he’d slump on top of you. His energy spent. You loved the quiet moments where you’d just hold each other, no words needed. Peaceful in the golden glow of the morning.

Yes you loved the sunrise. But sunrises with Joel Miller hit different.

Tagging a few people who might be interested, no pressure to read, let me know if you want to be removed. @baronessvonglitter @magpiepills @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @itwasntimethatdidit40 @lilac-boo @evolnoomym @lamartell @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows

[aothotties]

Telling Nanami you want a baby

Warnings: MNDI, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. recieving), creampie, unprotected sex, fluff at the end

You and your husband were happily married. You had the house , the cars, the perfect life, the only thing that was missing was all the children you wanted. 

You and Nanami had talked about having kids before but never really made good on it and after 3 years, you were ready.

You paced around the kitchen unsure what to say to him. What if he wasn't ready yet? You were on edge just thinking about it.

“You look nervous, what's wrong” he said as he walked up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist 

“Oh nothing Kento it's just that…i think im ready” you said nervously 

“For?” he asked in response 

“A baby” you choked out 

He didn't say anything, just held you there. He placed a kiss on your temple and said,

“Let's do it then, let's have a baby”

You were beyond excited, you were so ready to have a baby and start this new chapter with him. Nanami downloaded an app on yours and his phone to track your cycle and ovulation. He wanted to make sure you were doing it at the best time with the best chances. 

Every ovulation week, like clockwork, Nanami was dicking you down making sure to pump you full of his seed 

This week in particular was hell for you. You couldn't understand why you were so horny, you neglected the app but anyone could have told you that it was ovulation week from the way you were practically humping anything.

Your husband was running errands and you were home alone going crazy, you needed him so badly. As soon as he walked through the door you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his neck and got on your tip-toes to kiss him. He dropped the grocery bags on the floor and wrapped his large arms around your waist and kissed you back 

You pulled back from the kiss and looked him in the eyes 

“I missed you, Ken” you said seductively 

Something about him had you in a trance. A fresh haircut, a tight white tee, and gray sweatpants, the combo had you dizzy and you needed him bad.

Nanami then pulled out his phone to check something then nodded with a smirk on his face 

“Yeah, let's go” he said and lifted you so your legs were around his waist. He brought you to your shared bedroom and laid you on the bed and wasted no time getting to action 

He slid your already soaked panties to the side and dived in like a starved man. He lapped at your folds while you moaned and your thighs trapped his head in place. He inserted a finger and curled it upward 

“Ken, just like that” you whined

He hummed in response and continued drinking you like cold lemonade on a hot day. His finger bullied into you while his lips were latched onto your clit. You were on a high and you didn't want to come down. He coaxed your orgasm out of you and you spilled your juices onto his face and he lapped up every drop. 

He stood up and removed his sweatpants and briefs. He turned you around and lined himself up at your entrance. His tip teased at you slit a few times before he slid in, a moan falling from your lips as he bottomed out. 

He was fucking you at a mad pace, hitting your cervix, tip continually hitting your g-spot. Your back arched and you bucked your hips against his trust and the sound of skin slapping filled your bedroom. His thick balls were slapping at your clit adding more pleasure. 

You could feel yourself about to reach the edge and looked back at him 

“I'm about to Cum, Ken” you 

You heard him groan and pick up the pace. You were gripping at the sheets below you and started to pull away as it was too much. Nanami grabbed your hair and pulled you back making sure you couldn't run 

“Mm, better take it mama” he said 

“C-cant, ‘ts to much” you whimpered 

But he was having none of it. He released your hair and grabbed both of your hips to hold you in place. He was mesmerized by the way your ass was bouncing with each harsh thrust.

Your back arched even more and tears ran down your face from the stimulation. He was fucking you sooo good and was determined to knock you up 

You release spilled on his thighs and the bed and he groaned from how you were squeezing him.

He hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled your body to his chest, manhandling you into a full nelson 

He bounced your body up and down on his cock reaching deep inside your cunt

“Kent-o fuck thats so good” you screamed 

You could feel every vein and even the mushroom head of his dick sliding in and out of you. This was his favorite position 

“Gonna cum inside that pretty pussy of yours” he hummed 

You felt his dick twitch inside you and after a few more pumps you felt him shoot his warm cum fill you to the brim. He held you in place until he was completely emptied inside you 

He laid you down on the bed and you crawled over to put your feet on the headboard. He laid next to you and placed his hand on your tummy 

“Can't wait to be a dad” he whispered 

You smiled at him and placed your hand over his hoping this would be the time that you actually got pregnant 

4 months later..

“Okay you ready?” your best friend asked while holding up her phone to record 

Today was the day you found out the gender of your twins. You were excited and nervous at the same time 

“Yes!” you said with a smile on your face

You and Nanami took your champagne glasses and hovered them over the beautiful cake that your mom had made for this moment. 

“Okay, on three” he said 

One…two..three

You shoved the glasses into the cake and pulled them out to reveal a bright pink center 

You jumped up down and Nanami had tears in his eyes 

“Girls! We’re having girls!” you yelled as you hugged your husband 

He held you in his arms and cried on your shoulder, overwhelmed with joy 

“You're going to be the best mommy and daddy ever” your best friend said 

You and Nanami were so happy and excited for your girls to come. 

Rachel

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Yooo. Amazing Gambit writing. 💕 Sooooo I was thinking. I’m feral for the new movie Gambit, especially that VOICE, and can’t stop thinking on this.

Soft non-mutant reader who doesn’t deal with violence and blood very well, like sick or panicky because they were so protected growing up, while Remy is trying to protect them during a fight (could be anywhere). Like, bad time bad place thing. But the reader wants to help, by throwing a shoe when they were about to hurt Remy. Chaos ensures when they turn toward the reader.

So as I was writing this, I was thinking "EXCUSE ME THIS IS A GREAT STORY CONCEPT,". Also, Am I able to use this prompt to possibly, maybe add to my 'I need to write this into a multi chap story' Gambit x reader file? But I hope you enjoy :)

The air crackled with tension as the fight erupted around you. It was supposed to be a simple errand, just a quick stop in a small town that had seemed peaceful enough to get a few hours sleep in. But then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, things went south, and it went south fast. The sudden ambush, the flash of weapons, and Remy pushing you behind him—everything happened too quickly to process.

You had never been good with violence. The sight of blood made your stomach churn, and the sound of gunfire was enough to send your heart racing in sheer panic. But Remy was so much more different that you, complete polar opposites. He moved through the chaos with a deadly grace, cards charged and ready, every motion calculated and precise. It was like watching a storm unfold, fierce and unstoppable.

You tried to stay out of the way, pressed against a wall, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But then you saw it—one of the attackers sneaking up behind Remy, a blade glinting in the dim light. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, just acted on pure instinct.

You looked around, hands still pressed against the red brick wall, trying to find something, anything, that would help. You let out a small huff, reaching down and grabbing the closest thing within reach—your dark coloured shoe—and flung it with all your might. It sailed through the air, smacking into the man’s head with a dull thud. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him stumble, giving Remy just enough time to turn and disarm him with a swift, brutal strike.

But then the man's eyes snapped towards you, fury burning in them as he realized where the attack had come from. You froze, heart hammering in your chest, as he took a menacing step toward you. "Shit," You whispered to yourself.

Remy, still engaged with another opponent, glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the man advancing on you. "What exactly did you think that would achieve?!" he shouted over the noise, his Cajun accent thick with frustration.

You blinked, caught between terror and a strange sort of defiance. "I don't really think about things before doing them, you know?" you shot back, voice trembling but determined. "It's how I ended up here with you to begin with, remember?"

The irony of your words wasn’t lost on you. You’d never been the type to seek out trouble, to dive headfirst into danger. In fact you, thrived staying away from it. Spending most days either inside or at your job. But meeting Remy had changed everything. He was chaos wrapped in charm, a magnet for the kind of trouble you had always been shielded from. And yet, somehow, you’d found yourself dragged into his world, into the madness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

It had all started so innocently. You’d met him by chance, a twist of fate that had brought the two of you together. He was on the run, tangled up in something that you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t walk away from. Before you knew it, you were caught up in his orbit, swept along by his easy smile and the thrill of something you’d never felt before—excitement, danger, a sense of purpose.

And now, here you were, in the middle of a fight you had no business being in, your shoe—of all things—your only weapon. The absurdity of it might have made you laugh if you weren’t so scared.

The man lunged toward you, but before he could reach you, Remy was there, faster than you could have imagined. He moved like lightning, his bo staff connecting with the man’s side in a sickening crunch that made you wince. The man crumpled to the ground, and Remy turned to you, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and exasperation.

"When I said stay behind me, ," he stated, his tone showing his annoyance at you, "It wasn't an optional request chère'".

You nodded, swallowing hard as you clung to the remnants of your composure. This wasn’t your world—this world of violence and bloodshed—but it was his, and as long as you were with him, you’d have to find a way to survive it.

Remy’s order to stay behind him was clear, but the chaos around you made it hard to follow. Every sound seemed amplified—the clash of metal, the shouts of your enemies, the pounding of your own heart in your ears. You stumbled back, trying to keep your distance, but the room felt like it was closing in on you, suffocating you with every breath.

Remy was a blur of motion, a dangerous dance of power and precision. You marveled at how he seemed to anticipate every move, every attack, as if the world around him was moving in slow motion. But despite his skill, you could see the strain in his eyes, the worry that flickered every time he glanced back at you.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You knew that much. But there wasn’t time to think about the ‘what ifs’ or the ‘should haves.’ Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of this alive.

Another assailant broke away from the fight, making a beeline for you. You instinctively took a step back, your hands trembling as you searched for something—anything—you could use to defend yourself. But there was nothing. No more shoes to throw, no weapons within reach. Just you and the growing dread in your chest.

Before you could react, the man was on you, his hand grabbing your arm with a painful grip. You let out a small cry, the fear surging up, threatening to overwhelm you. His grip tightened, and you could see the cold, calculating look in his eyes—a predator sizing up his prey.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Remy was there, moving like a shadow. He wrenched the man away from you, his eyes blazing with a fury you had never seen before. "I said stay behind me!" he snapped, his accent thick and his voice laced with an edge of desperation.

You didn’t have time to respond before Remy shoved you back, his attention already turning to the next threat. The man who had grabbed you was on the ground, groaning in pain, but Remy didn’t linger. He was already moving, his staff whirling as he took down the next attacker with a brutal efficiency.

You pressed yourself against the wall, your heart still racing, your body trembling with the adrenaline coursing through you. This was too much. The sights, the sounds, the raw violence of it all—it was overwhelming, like you were drowning in a sea of chaos with no way to escape.

But then you saw it—a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. One of the attackers, a woman with a cruel sneer and a gun raised, aimed directly at Remy. Your breath caught in your throat, your blood running cold as you realized what was about to happen.

There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. Without a weapon, without a plan, you did the only thing you could think of. You threw yourself at her, arms flailing, a wild, desperate attempt to stop her before she could pull the trigger.

The impact surprised her, but it surprised you even more. The two of you tumbled to the ground, her gun skidding across the floor. She cursed, scrambling to get up, but you were already on her, holding her down with a strength you didn’t know you had.

For a moment, everything was a blur. You didn’t think, didn’t feel—just acted, driven by pure instinct and the overwhelming need to protect Remy. But you weren’t a fighter, and it didn’t take long for her to get the upper hand. She rolled you off her, slamming you against the floor with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

Pain radiated through your body, sharp and overwhelming, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t. You had to hold on, had to keep fighting, because if you didn’t, if you let her win, she would kill Remy. And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

But you were no match for her. She was stronger, more experienced, and it wasn’t long before she overpowered you. Her hand closed around your throat, squeezing, cutting off your air. You struggled, panic rising as your vision started to blur, dark spots dancing at the edges.

And then, just when you thought it was over, the pressure was gone. You sucked in a desperate breath, gasping for air, as you saw Remy standing over you, the woman unconscious at his feet. He knelt beside you, his face a mask of concern and something else—something raw and unspoken.

“Chère,” he whispered, his voice tight as he reached out to help you up. “You alright?”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if it was true. Your body hurt, your mind was spinning, and you felt like you might be sick. But you were alive, and so was he. That was all that mattered.

He pulled you to your feet, steadying you as you wobbled, your legs weak beneath you. “I told you t’stay back,” he muttered, though there was no anger in his voice now, only worry.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. “I just… I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he usually kept up start to crumble. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand still on your arm, grounding you. “But you gotta trust me t’protect you, alright? This ain’t your fight.”

You nodded again, tears stinging your eyes as the reality of the situation finally started to sink in. You weren’t made for this—for the violence, the blood, the fear. You were out of your depth, dragged into a world you didn’t understand and couldn’t handle. But you couldn’t leave him, either. Not when he needed you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, feeling the weight of your own inadequacy pressing down on you. “I’m not… I’m not like you, Remy. I can’t do this.”

He shook his head, pulling you into a tight embrace, holding you close against him. “You don’t gotta be like me, chère,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You just gotta be you. And that’s enough.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally started to fall. The fight was over, the danger passed, but the fear and the adrenaline still pulsed through you, leaving you shaky and exhausted.

Remy held you, his presence warm and comforting, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For a long moment, neither of you moved, just stayed there, holding on to each other in the aftermath of the chaos.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands gently cupping your face. “We’re gonna get outta here, alright?” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “An’ I’m gonna make sure you’re safe. Always.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but stronger than before. “Okay.”

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else—something warm and tender that you didn’t quite know how to name.

“Good,” he said simply, “Let’s get moving.”

You followed him, your hand in his, allowing him to pull you into the street, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. The fight, the fear, the realization that you were in over your head—it all hung heavy in the air. But there was also something else, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could handle this after all.

[artdcnaldson]

In the polycule, you being pregnant and Tashi saying it's your choice... but it's not because you want to be good for her and you have no idea how she feels about you being pregnant. And you know art will be ecstatic. He's born to be a dad. Patric will run for the hills. (Or so you think, youre not really sure, he has matured, but enough to be a dad?)

And you don't know what to do bc you done even know if you want this baby. So you start to isolate yourself. Pull away from everyone at the same time. And Art and Patrick start to catch on with what is going on...

Art goes to Tashi first. He just needs to know if you’re okay. You’ve been disappearing and running errands together a lot, he just wants to make sure there’s no family emergencies or anything!

Tashi hates having to lie to him, she really does, but it’s not her news to tell, and she can’t bear imagining telling Art you’re pregnant if you don’t want to keep it. It would fucking kill him. He’d say he understood, that he wants whatever is best for you, and maybe he’d even mean it. But she knows he’d fucking mourn the chance to be a dad again.

Patrick doesn’t pick up on very much. But he notices the small things. He notices that you’re snappier with everyone, that your patience is worn thin at the edges. He knows your tits are sore, because you frown and rub at them whenever you think no one’s looking. He’s always looking at you, you just haven’t figured that out yet.

You spend a lot of time on your room, and Art and Patrick both know that Tashi knows what’s going on, but she won’t tell them. It causes contention. Of course it does— they all want to be the one to fix things for you, but the only one who can is you.

It slips in the evening, when you’re all sitting on the couch. For once you’re laying between Art and Patrick— feet in Art’s lap so he can rub them, head resting against Patrick’s thighs so he can pet your hair. Tashi’s leaning on Art’s shoulder, occasionally reaching over to graze her fingers along the soft skin of your calf.

The cooking show Tashi turned on goes to commercial, and for some reason your brain decides that’s the only time you can tell them.

“I’m pregnant, by the way,” you say, as casually as you can muster. Patrick and Art’s hands freeze the second it registers. “I wanted to decide what I wanted to do before I told you. And I decided I want it.”

It’s only a second before Art’s practically diving for you, peppering sweet kisses all over your face until a giddy smile breaks across your lips. You let yourself look up at Patrick, at the funny expression he wears. Unquantifiable, distant.

“Pat, are you okay?” You ask softly.

He nods, runs a gentle hand through your hair. “Just thinking,” he says. “Good thoughts, I promise.” But you’re not sure.

Art’s kissing you again, pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips, hands wandering beneath your top. He loves this, he loves the thought of you being a mom, of him being a dad again. Of a baby in the house.

You want that. You want him happy. But you know you’re ruining Tashi’s plans, the conversations about the future you’d had together. And Patrick… Patrick’s new, Patrick’s hard to read. But you know he didn’t want it either.

But Art’s moaning onto your mouth, Tashi’s easing his shirt off, you’re in Patrick’s lap looking up at him like you want to swallow him whole.

You’re not talking through anything tonight.

[florhibiscus]

i. Pilot.

No longer writing for TIME atm, check out my KEANUVERSE post here

Time Masterlist Next Previous

Pairing - John Wick x fem!reader

Summary - The first chapter of Time an overview or simply a start to learning more about Mrs. Wick as you, the reader, dives into the John Wick world and what it has in store.

Word Count - 662

Warnings - None really just mild language and whatnot

i. Пилот

6:22 a.m

The recollection of how you ended up here is hazy. Outside, it's dark and rain pours relentlessly, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder. As you gradually awaken, you notice the cold, unoccupied space on your bed. "John," you think, "he must be up by now." You slowly get up, the floor cool beneath your feet, as you make your way out of the bedroom. The hallway is silent, except for the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the windows.

"John?" you call out softly as you descend the stairs to the kitchen. There he is, at ease and focused, appearing more revitalized than ever. He's at the stove, expertly preparing breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and crispy bacon. Daisy is at his side, munching on a bowl of cereal. You make a mental note: groceries are needed soon.

John glances up from his task, offering a soft smile. "Morning," he mumbles, his voice still rough from sleep. You return the smile, appreciating these moments of genuine connection and grounding. Stepping further into the kitchen, you decide to lend a hand. "Let me help," you say, taking out a few plates and utensils. John acknowledges you with a quick look and assists in helping with breakfast.

7:23 a.m

The soothing melodies fill John's Mustang, enveloping you both in its tunes as you drive through the city. There are errands to run, and the conversation flows naturally between looking out at the passing scenery. John is normally reserved and thoughtful, calculated in speech with others, but with you, he's more open, full of smiles and sideways glances. This past month has been a new chapter of peace—John's post-retirement life is more peaceful, and you've adopted Daisy to bring him companionship.

The car stops at a gas station, and as John refuels, you notice a group of-Russian speaking men to your side, engrossed in conversation and smoking. They seem familiar, but you shift your focus to Daisy and John. You barely register the approach of one man.

"Nice ride," the blond man comments to John, exhaling a puff of smoke. "Mustang, Boss 429. Is it a '70 model?" he inquires curiously.

John replies with serene composure, "'69."

"Beautiful car." The man continues, tapping the hood of the car, "how much?" He meets your gaze with a sense of familiarity. John's reply is resolved though the man seems to get upset with John's reply

as he returns to the car, bending down the man glances at you before looking at the dog.

"Oh I love dogs..." the man pauses reaching out to pet Daisy adding under his breath, "у всего есть цена, сука." (Everything's got a price, bitch). Shocked, you look to John for his reaction. His response was gruff.

"Не эта сука." (Not this bitch). John muttered, before tensions ascend a man in a grey suit pulls the man off of the car.

Confused and concerned, you offer John a reassuring touch. "John...?" you question. He meets your gaze briefly, his grip on the steering wheel firm but calm.

"I think groceries can wait," you suggest, offering a comforting smile. "We have enough for now. Maybe we can order in and enjoy a quiet evening, relaxing?"

John gives a slight nod, softening with your suggestion. "Are you hinting at something, dear?"

You tease gently, glancing out the window. "Not at all," you reply, giving his hand another reassuring squeeze, just as your home's driveway comes into view.

10:56 p.m

It's late, and you find yourself staring at the ceiling in tranquility. Daisy nestles in between you and John, her presence a comforting weight. As your fingers absentmindedly stroke her fur, sleep begins to reclaim you.

[catladywriter]

Inotan Fanfic: Love Bugs

Synopsis: Nezuko's impromptu hair cut session for Inosuke and Tanjirou turns into a wild chase when she discovers curious welts on their necks. These weren't the usual training scars. These were shaped like crescent moons or bruised circles, tinged with a faint reddish hue that deepened when the boys stammered excuses. Zenitsu's flippant story about "love bugs" only fueled Nezuko's worries and determination to get to the bottom of things.

Pairing: Inotan (Inosuke x Tanjirou)

Secondary Pairing: ZenNezu (Zenitsu x Nezuko)

Setting: Canon AU, 3 years after the main story ends

Wordcount: ~6000 words

Status: Complete One-shot.

This is the 8th story in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom and can be enjoyed on its own. But if you read the previous installments in the series, you may appreciate certain references and throwbacks as well as the character development throughout the series. If you have the time, I suggest reading the earlier stories in consecutive order before diving into this one.

To recap, our main characters and their birds live together in the Kamado family household, and they run an eatery in the neighboring town called the Wisteria Garden. In this installment, Inosuke and Tanjirou are 19 years old, Zenitsu is 20, and Nezuko is 18.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Three years had elapsed since the final battle, and the Kamado siblings, along with their loud but lovable companion Inosuke, and Zenitsu, her now-boyfriend, had infused new life into the Wisteria Garden, a cosy eatery they had inherited from a family friend. It was a legacy of hospitality, a sanctuary for smiles and piping hot dishes of comfort food, and Nezuko treasured this peaceful chapter of their lives. Today, however, the usual morning banter was muted. Tanjirou and Zenitsu had left early to do some errands, leaving Nezuko and Inosuke to handle the morning preparations.

A friendly silence enveloped them as they worked. They aimed to finish most of the work before Tanjirou and Zenitsu came back, but their quiet harmony was soon interrupted by Inosuke's incessant annoyed grunts and tsks. Nezuko peeked at him, noticing how he kept trying to scratch his back and flick his hair away with a restless hand. His hair had grown longer than he was used to, falling below his shoulders and grazing his bare skin. She knew Inosuke's senses were razor-sharp, and his hair must be bothering him.

"Need a trim?" she suggested, though she knew Inosuke usually relied on Tanjirou to tame his mane. After all, Tanjirou wasn't here, and it wouldn't take long. But Inosuke hesitated, his brow creased.

"Tanjirou said not to let you touch my hair," he said.

Nezuko's jaw dropped. "Why on earth not?!" she blurted, incredulity lacing her voice.

Inosuke scrunched his face, brows furrowing in concentration as if trying to unearth a forgotten memory. "Dunno," he finally admitted with a shrug. "Just remember him saying it, so I'm gonna wait for him." He switched gears, a smug grin replacing the confusion. "Besides, he's my number one underling, right? Cutting my hair is his duty!"

Nezuko usually found Inosuke's "underling" shtick hilarious. But this time, the humour died on her lips. Tanjirou trusted her with his hair, as did Zenitsu. Why would he tell Inosuke something so different? Was it a misunderstanding? Did Inosuke misinterpret his words? Or maybe Tanjirou just didn't want to bother her? That made no sense at all. Inosuke's mane was the easiest haircut of the bunch!

Pulling herself together, she said gently, "It's really simple and fast. Let me help you, or you'll be scratching all morning because of your hair. I always cut nii-chan 's and Zenitsu's hair. And you know how hard it is to keep Zenitsu's hairstyle in order."

Inosuke chewed his lip, unable to find a counterargument. He perched himself on a stool as Nezuko sat a mirror on the kitchen counter in front of him. But as she lifted his hair, her eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze landed on a curious constellation of marks, shaped like crescent moons or bruised circles, scattered across his nape. Some were a deep red or bruised purple, others pale pink or yellowish-brown alongside the deeper shades.

Had he gotten into a scuffle? But with who? Their days of demon slaying were long gone, where the only clashes he faced were lively spars with Tanjirou and Zenitsu during their training sessions, meant for staying fit rather than fighting. Curiosity gnawed at her as she examined his neck, her gaze then flicking to his bare torso. Why only on his neck? What a strange place for such injuries.

"What are these marks on your neck?" Nezuko asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

"Huh? What marks?" Inosuke turned around to face her, his brows knitting in confusion.

Nezuko held up the mirror in an angle so that the marks were visible to him.

"Oh!" He smacked his forehead, letting out a colourful curse he'd picked up from less polite company. It was something he did whenever he thought he had messed up big time, and Tanjirou always scolded him whenever he let loose the swear word in front of Nezuko. Not that she really cared. It’s not like her ears were made of porcelain and couldn’t handle a rude word.

"What is it?" Nezuko pressed, her curiosity bubbling.

"Uhh… Um… Erm…" He stammered, his cheeks and neck erupting in a flush that seemed to mirror the deepening of the reddish hue around the marks. His usual bravado crumbled, replaced by nervous fidgeting like a squirrel caught stealing nuts.

"Do they hurt? Can I see?", she asked, reaching out with a gentle hand. Some of the redder ones were slightly swollen, while the lighter ones lay smooth against his skin.

"Hands off!" Inosuke barked, leaping from the chair so fast Nezuko almost jumped herself.

Her shock must have been obvious because Inosuke's expression softened slightly, a trace of regret flashing across his features. "Uh... don't worry, it's nothing. Doesn't hurt at all," he placated her.

"How did you get them?" Nezuko persisted, her concern surpassing curiosity now.

"Dunno. Probably an insect bite," Inosuke mumbled, turning his head away to evade her gaze. 

Nezuko couldn't help but notice the unease that seemed to emanate from him, a stark contrast to his usual frank demeanour. A lie, clumsy and transparent, written across his face. While Inosuke did not make a terrible lying face like Tanjirou, he rarely lied, and when he did, it was like watching a fish out of water, flailing helplessly. Why was Inosuke lying? He wasn't one to sugarcoat things, usually opting for blunt honesty over elaborate fibs. The rarity of his deception made Nezuko's brow furrow in worry. Was there more to this than met the eye?

"It... looks more like a bruise," Nezuko ventured, breaking the tense silence between them, determined to dig deeper into the matter without spooking Inosuke. Unfortunately, her attempt to solve the mystery only seemed to agitate him further.

"Uh, gotta go!" he blurted, bolting out of the house like a frightened boar. Nezuko stood there, scissors dangling uselessly, the unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air.

*

Left to herself, Nezuko had no option but to push Inosuke's odd behaviour to the back of her mind and concentrate on the lunch preparations; half the town's bellies now depended on her culinary skills.

The strange marks on Inosuke's neck had almost faded from her memory when Tanjirou returned, greeting her cheerfully. 

"Welcome back!" Nezuko beamed at him over a gigantic pile of freshly rolled udon, a task she had just accomplished by hand all by herself.

Tanjirou acknowledged her with a wider grin and a wave before heading straight for the counter, where Nezuko's mirror and scissors lay. 

"Just in time! How did you know I wanted to trim my hair?" he remarked cheerily, adjusting the mirror and grabbing the scissors. 

Tanjirou grew out his hair and tied it up as a high ponytail, but it occasionally needed a trim to prevent it from getting too long and interfering with his work.

"Eh?" Nezuko thought, surprised. Of course, she hadn't expected Tanjirou's wish to trim his hair, and Inosuke's morning antics suddenly did a dramatic replay in her mind. 

Nevertheless, she decided to put aside her worries for the moment. "Here, let me help you. I'm done with the udon; it just needs to rest."

"Sounds good!" Tanjirou chirped, settling happily into a chair and handing the scissors to her. "By the way, where's Inosuke?"

As Nezuko carefully snipped away at Tanjirou's locks, she related to him her observations of Inosuke's cryptic neck markings. But instead of his usual interest, Tanjirou's face performed an impressive disappearing act, turning the colour of a perfectly ripe tomato. 

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about those marks, would you?" Nezuko asked, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

“No, I don’t,” Tanjirou replied, a tad too quickly, his cheeks deepening a shade. An even more interesting expression followed, like a flustered cat trying to swallow a goldfish.

Alarm bells went off in Nezuko's head. Tanjirou’s expression screamed that he was lying. Besides, given his relationship with Inosuke, there was no way he hadn't noticed those marks, nor tried to find out what they were.

Tanjirou cleared his throat awkwardly. "Shouldn't we get back to work? We won't be able to open on time otherwise." 

"Fine, I'm almost done. I'll just tie up your hair," Nezuko said, annoyed and worried by Tanjirou's obvious decision to keep information from her. As she gathered his hair and pulled his collar back to check for loose strands, her heart skipped a beat. Similar, mysterious marks bloomed on Tanjirou's neck, mirroring Inosuke's puzzling constellation.

"Not you too," she gasped, the brush in her hand clattering to the floor.

Tanjirou blinked, genuine confusion etching his features. "What is it, Nezuko?"

"You have the same strange welts as Inosuke on your neck! Come clean, what are they?"

The flush that had begun fading from his cheeks earlier returned with a vengeance. 

"I... I do?” He stammered. “Uh, it must be as he said. They must be insect bites. That's it!"  His voice wobbled a touch too high.

Nezuko held her tongue. Grabbing him by the collar and demanding the truth was tempting, but she knew her brother. He wouldn't lie without good reason. This secret needed a gentler touch, not brute force. Inosuke had slipped through her fingers, but Tanjirou, oh no, he wouldn't escape her questioning so easily.

She carefully tied up Tanjirou's hair, subtly steering the conversation towards his errand. His usual chatter returned, peppered with stories about the supplier's delightful new radishes and their generous discount.

"We can share the savings with our customers!" he beamed.

"That's great," Nezuko smiled as she put the finishing touches on his hair. "Nii-chan, you’ve got hair on your shirt. Mind if I give it a quick shake? It'll be terrible if the hair gets into the customer's food."

"Sure," Tanjirou said, removing his haori and unbuttoning his shirt without a second thought. Then, like a deer caught in the headlights, he froze. He quickly pulled the haori back over his chest but Nezuko had already seen what he'd tried to hide.

"Nii-chan! Those marks…!"

His denial sputtered out. "It's nothing!"

"What do you mean it's nothing? You’ve got so many of them! All over your chest and even on your stomach!"

“It’s nothing… really!” he mumbled, looking almost on the brink of tears as he clutched his haori around him protectively.

Nezuko examined his face. The signs of lying were obvious, but she couldn’t read his mind. She couldn't figure out why he insisted on lying. But she was certain it must be to cover something significant. Something dreadful. Tanjirou was always over-protective, and shielded her from matters which he deemed too “complex”, like she was too immature or weak to handle it. The thought prickled her like a stray bamboo splinter.

"Tell me what it is!"

"I don't know, maybe I tripped and injured myself and I don’t remember it. But it’s nothing, really!"

Nezuko narrowed her eyes at him. Then she tightened her fist over his haori, determined to uncover the truth.

*

Moments later, after a wild chase resembling a desperate cat and mouse game, Tanjirou lay sprawled face-down on the floor, his shirt riding up slightly and revealing more marks on his back to Nezuko’s horror.  As he flailed his limbs fruitlessly, Nezuko sat firmly on him, determined to extract an answer from him, ignoring his panicked pleas echoing through the room.

"Nezuko-chan!"

"Let me see!"

"No! Please stop it!"

"I'll stop if you let me see!"

"Nezuko-chan!"

Amidst the commotion, a familiar voice sliced through Nezuko's persistent demands. Only one person in the house addressed her with that endearment.

She paused, mid-struggle, and looked up to see Zenitsu's stunned face, his wary stance betraying his nervousness. In that moment, Nezuko was keenly aware of how she must look – like a crazed, furious woman – and quickly scrambled to her feet, smoothing out her ruffled clothes in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Tanjirou swiftly scrambled aside, hastily buttoning up his shirt and muttering under his breath “thank goodness”.

"Uh... Nezuko-chan, what's going on?" Zenitsu asked, his face marked with a mix of concern and confusion.

"Nii-chan has these weird marks all over his back, his neck and torso, and who knows where else! He won't tell me what they are, and he won't let me see them either!" Nezuko cried, her voice quivering with worry.

"Really?" Zenitsu turned to Tanjirou, seeking confirmation.

Tanjirou, now on his feet with his shirt fully buttoned up, nodded reluctantly. "I... yes... but as I said, it's nothing."

"How can it be nothing?" Nezuko retorted, her eyes wide. “No one just gets red and pink marks all over for no reason! Don't you agree?" Nezuko implored, turning to Zenitsu for support.

"Yeah," Zenitsu agreed, eager to show solidarity with Nezuko. He approached Tanjirou, his expression grave. "Even if you don't want to let Nezuko-chan see them, you can show them to me. Don't make her worry."

At that moment, a cacophony of door slamming and stomping announced Inosuke's imminent return.

"Oh, Inosuke has the same marks too!” Nezuko exclaimed, pointing at him as he barreled in like a rouge boar. “On his neck. Inosuke, show them to Zenitsu."

Inosuke skidded to a halt. "What? Are you still harping on that?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"Huh? Is it contagious?" Zenitsu instinctively recoiled from Tanjirou.

"Who knows. Better keep your distance, scaredy-cat," Inosuke snarked.

Unfazed, Nezuko marched over to Inosuke and, with a swift movement, lifted his hair, revealing the telltale bruises. "See, Zenitsu!"

“Hey!” Inosuke squawked and tried to escape, but Zenitsu seized him by the arms to make him stay still.

Ignoring Inosuke’s thrashing and cursing, Nezuko and Zenitsu took a closer look at Inosuke's marks. Nezuko still had no further clue, but she observed that Zenitsu’s expression had changed from one of confusion, to concern, to a deep frown. Casting a sharp glare at Tanjirou, who returned it with an instantly sheepish look, Zenitsu snorted in annoyance. He let go of Inosuke, who darted behind Tanjirou and clung to his haori sleeve.

"So, that's the story, huh?" Zenitsu drawled, rolling his eyes.

Nezuko, all business, stepped between him and Tanjirou, blocking Tanjirou's pleading gaze. "What story? Tell me now, Zenitsu!" Her hand tightened on his arm in urgency. He winced in pain and she loosened her grip, apologising. 

“You will tell me, won’t you?” she pressed, her fists balled at her sides.

"Yes, of course! You're my girlfriend, I would never dream of not telling you," Zenitsu gulped, while Nezuko noticed Tanjirou looking dejected from the corner of her eye.

"So, what is it?" she nagged.

"It's probably love bugs," Zenitsu said.

"Huh?"

"There are two love bugs here, and they're very big."

"Love bugs?" Nezuko echoed, unable to shake the feeling that Zenitsu's tone carried unnecessary sarcasm.

"Yeah, it's a kind of creature that sucks on the skin and makes it bruise."

"I've never heard of it. So, is it really an insect bite? Wouldn't they bite exposed skin? Why are the marks hidden?" 

“Love bugs, fascinating creatures with city origins," Zenitsu stated. He stole a quick glance at Inosuke and Tanjirou before adding, "They're not just passionate," he said, emphasising the word "passionate" with a flourish that made Nezuko raise an eyebrow, "They're considerate too, targeting only hidden areas. This particular bug, it seems, knew Inosuke's aversion to shirts like it lives among us and studies his habits."

Nezuko saw Tanjirou visibly relax, even as Zenitsu shot him a smug smirk. Their shared response and Zenitsu’s odd choice of words only fueled her confusion.

"Do you have any?" she asked, eyes narrowed like a wary cat.

"Of course not!" Zenitsu sputtered, a touch too defensively. "Why would I?"

Her lips pursed in disbelief. “Then why only Inosuke, and nii-chan? And nii-chan has so many!"

“Maybe it's like how some blood types are more attractive to mosquitoes? The bug that attacked Tanjirou must be particularly voracious, and unstoppable. Like a wild boar.” Zenitsu offered, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Nezuko, despite the absurdity of it all, felt a pang of worry. “Will they be ok? Are the bites serious? Will they go away?”

“Of course they'll go away. Don't get yourself worked up over nothing,” Zenitsu's voice dropped the sarcastic lilt and took on a soothing sincerity.

Nezuko relaxed slightly, worry replaced by a nagging suspicion. But before she could press further, Zenitsu switched topics entirely.

"Only half an hour left until opening. Is everything ready?" he quipped, surveying their messier-than-usual surroundings, where half-prepared ingredients lay neglected and furniture were knocked out of place from the chase earlier.

Nezuko groaned. "I haven't even…"

As they dove back to work, she couldn't help but overhear Zenitsu's harsh whispering at Tanjirou and Inosuke: "You two owe me big time."

*

Nezuko may have temporarily dropped the matter, but that didn't mean she trusted the boys entirely. Sure, she lacked their extraordinary senses of smell, hearing, or touch, but she had something that trumped them all - a woman's intuition.

Despite her ignorance about city biodiversity and her desperation to believe Zenitsu, a jagged doubt gnawed at her. His story felt half-baked, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Despite countless life-threatening battles fought alongside them, a nagging feeling persisted for Nezuko: she'd never truly be "one of the boys." Tanjirou's protectiveness, born of his brotherly love, was understandable, but even Zenitsu mirrored it, and Inosuke, influenced by their dynamic, followed suit. Their treatment, while well-meaning, was patronising, made her feel infantilised.

This rankled especially coming from Tanjirou. He, who pushed his limits recklessly, neglecting his own well-being while fussing over others. Had he gotten himself into trouble again? Perhaps helping a neighbour exterminate pests without proper gear, his usual selflessness leading to his own harm. And Inosuke, despite his unwavering loyalty, couldn't be counted on for restraint or common sense.

Blackmailing Zenitsu with a month-long silent treatment crossed her mind, but it felt beneath her. No, she'd unearth the truth herself, pry it from their lips on her own terms.

Armed with resolve, Nezuko spent the week grilling Inosuke and Tanjirou. Daily interrogations about the marks, punctuated by persistent pleas to visit a doctor, met stubborn refusals. With their eatery attracting a constant flow of customers and the importance of hygiene in the food business, surely it was only responsible to address the presence of those love bugs, if they did indeed exist?

Exasperated, Nezuko took matters into her own hands. Pest control arrived, much to the boys' chagrin. The inspector, armed with a huge array of paraphernalia, scoured every nook and cranny of their premises. He even apprehended Kuro-chan, their resident cat, subjecting him to a flea inspection met with hisses and outraged swats, claws thankfully blunted by the inspector's protective garb. Finally, he declared that even without his intervention, both their eatery and resident home were spotless, insect-free.

Nezuko, dumbfounded, erupted in an uncharacteristic argument. 

"Love bugs," she insisted, voice sharp as a butcher's knife. "Show him the marks on your neck, Inosuke!"

"No way I'm sticking out my neck to some dude!" Inosuke roared.

Tanjirou swiftly paid the inspector and escorted him out of the house, and the boys watched him leave, relief etched on their faces. But Nezuko, eyes burning with suspicion, promised this wouldn't be the end. The mystery wasn’t resolved yet, but she was one step closer to unravelling it.

*

Nezuko's stomach churned with each sunrise, the bitter taste of deception lingering on her tongue. Had she, Kamado Nezuko, been outwitted? She felt a pang of regret for questioning the expertise of the inspector, arguing with him instead of seizing the opportunity to ask him more about those mysterious love bugs. It hadn’t been easy to get the appointment with him in the first place, and all her attempts to reconnect were now met by the weary drone of his assistant who knew nothing of the creatures.

The key to the mystery, she concluded, resided in Inosuke and Tanjirou's guarded silence. Unlike her stoic brother, Inosuke, impulsive and easily swayed, seemed the weaker link. He became her target. She felt guilty about taking advantage of his weakness, but this was all stemming from a place of concern. Whenever they were alone, Nezuko would pepper him with questions, her voice a relentless sparrow's chirp. Promises of extra tempura, dangled like glittering bait, were met with grunts and frustrated scowls.

"Shut up! You nagging hag!" Inosuke finally exploded one day, his frustration spilling over.

Nezuko flinched. Inosuke's brusqueness was one thing, but "hag"? The sting of the insult pricked her eyes, hot tears threatening to spill. Maybe he had picked it up from those rough kids in the alley, just a casual barb. Or he’d learnt it from Yushirou-san, who considered most women who weren’t Tamayo-san as hags.  Regardless, it landed like a punch to the gut.

Zenitsu, his keen hearing picking up her distress, materialised beside her. Inosuke, wide-eyed panic replacing his anger, stammered apologies as Zenitsu put a comforting arm around Nezuko and ushered her to sit down.

"Wait till Tanjirou hears you made her cry!" Zenitsu hissed at Inosuke, his tone and glare venomous. Turning to Nezuko, he softened, his eyes filled with concern. 

"Nezuko-chan, you're an angel, not a hag. The most beautiful, kindest angel ever! Don't listen to that boar-brained baboon!"

"Don't say that about Inosuke," Nezuko hiccupped, wiping her tears with Zenitsu’s handkerchief.

Inosuke, uncharacteristically subdued, shuffled closer. "L-listen," he stammered, "I know you're worried, and you're mad, because you care. I didn't mean… I’m really s-s-sorry… and I’m not saying this because of Tanjirou. I just… I hate seeing you sad. So please, don't cry anymore."

Nezuko saw the flicker of genuine concern in his eyes, a rare glimpse beneath his bluster. She knew he meant it, even if his words stumbled. Despite this consolation, the desperation for truth continued to fuel her frustration.

“So just tell me the truth!” she cried, her voice cracking. "Why won't any of you tell me?"

Zenitsu and Inosuke exchanged furtive glances and hand gestures, a silent conversation playing out before Nezuko's eyes. They were excluding her, again, treating her like a child who couldn't handle the truth.

"Ahem!" Nezuko cleared her throat, demanding their attention.

"Nezuko-chan," Zenitsu began, his voice laced with evasion, "they're grown men. They’ve been through a lot, and they can handle themselves." Nezuko noted that Zenitsu’s response was non-committal, his earlier lie abandoned.

"I know they've been through a lot. Haven’t we all? And that’s exactly why I worry they don't know their limits! Zenitsu, do you think I'm a nag too?" Nezuko snapped, her frustration boiling over.

Zenitsu wilted and fell silent. Nezuko knew pushing him wouldn't help. He wouldn’t betray his friends. Sure, he was whiny sometimes, but loyal to the core, a rock she could depend on. That's why she chose him, wasn't it? 

*

Nezuko had doubted Tanjirou's willingness to broach the subject unprompted, but during that evening's dinner, he surprised her. With a serious tone cutting through the usual dinner chatter, Tanjirou addressed Nezuko directly. "I heard what happened, and I'm sorry that Inosuke upset you, but you have to stop what you're doing, Nezuko. You're making Inosuke uneasy."

Nezuko's initial surprise morphed into controlled disbelief. "Uneasy?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper above a stunned gasp. "The ones making me uneasy are you two! I'm worried! Why won't you just tell me the truth?" she pressed, her eyes boring into his.

Tanjirou's expression shifted, the earlier concern replaced by a profound regret that tugged at Nezuko's heart. "I'm so sorry I caused you worry, Nezuko," he confessed, his voice heavy with remorse. “But trust me. It's really nothing to worry about.” 

Tanjirou’s face was re-adorned with his characteristic lying expression as he dished up the old story. “It's as Zenitsu said, they're love bugs, and they're not harmful.” 

Nezuko cast a glance at Zenitsu. Guilt flickered across his features as he avoided Nezuko's gaze, as though he regretted ever mentioning the story.

That's a lie," Nezuko declared, her voice firm and unwavering. The accusation hung heavy in the air, challenging Tanjirou's fabricated reality. He opened his mouth, ready to stammer another excuse, but before he could utter a word, Inosuke interrupted, setting down his rice bowl with a determined thud. 

"I’m telling her the truth." 

Tanjirou stuttered in disbelief, "W-what...? But we agreed..."

Inosuke pressed on, disregarding Tanjirou's protests. "Hiding like this, dodging her questions... It's just so dumb. You're always teaching me to treat others with kindness. Isn't it selfish to lie and get her all worked up and upset?" His words prompted a stunned silence from Tanjirou.

Nezuko's heart raced with anticipation. Finally, she was on the brink of uncovering the truth. How serious was it? How bad was it? Her mind raced with conflicting emotions, torn between the satisfaction of getting them to open up and the fear of what she might discover.

Inosuke blurted, "It was me, okay? Got a little carried away with the kisses, left some marks. He kissed me back, fair's fair. But blame me if you want." He puffed out his chest.

Tanjirou choked on his own saliva, his face turning beetroot red. "Nezuko, it's not… well, kinda, but please, don't blame him! It's my fault—"

Nezuko blinked, jaw slack. Love bites, not love bugs? The revelation struck her like a slapstick punchline, leaving her momentarily stunned by its absurdity. Why go through elaborate charades for something so simple? Surely, this wasn't another lie? 

Memories flickered, accusingly bright: Zenitsu's mocking tone during the "love bug" charade, the odd location of the marks... Tanjirou, with his insistence on propriety, might very well kiss Inosuke's neck if he thought the marks would remain hidden beneath his hair. And Inosuke, with his boisterous and unabashed affection for Tanjirou... Zenitsu's comparison of the “love bug” to a voracious and unstoppable wild boar suddenly made perfect sense, painting a picture of Inosuke that she couldn't unsee.

As the pieces clicked into place, a blush crept up her cheeks, burning like a brand. How could she have missed it? It wasn't like she was clueless. Novels, whispered stories from friends, even Zenitsu's not-so-subtle hints... her mind simply refused to make the connection.

But worse, a gnawing realisation dawned – her own overreaction. Calling in pest control, her relentless questioning, chasing Tanjirou around the kitchen trying to take his shirt off, even shoving Inosuke's marks in Zenitsu's face... all for something so intimate, so intensely personal. No wonder Inosuke snapped. She buried her burning face in her hands, trying to extinguish the heat.

Yet, why shroud it in secrecy, push her to such frantic measures for the truth? A simple explanation at the beginning might have brought a blush, but likely nothing more. Why bother dropping hints but spin this elaborate yarn of nonexistent bugs, a story she, in her desperate wish to trust, readily swallowed? Did they truly see her as so sheltered – naive, innocent, a child to be amused? Was this a prank? Did they laugh at her behind her back while she fretted and lost sleep?

Her introspective turmoil shattered with Zenitsu's exclamation, "Well, it’s just as I said, nothing to worry about! Let’s get back to dinner! I'm starving, and Nezuko-chan's cooking is legendary!" He beamed at her, a nervous smile, aware of the storm brewing beneath the surface, but making a valiant, if clumsy, attempt to dispel it.

Nezuko rose to her feet, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. "No love bugs, huh? Anxious days, sleepless nights, and calling in pest control, all for a silly prank! You played me for a fool!" she shot a piercing glare at Zenitsu.

Zenitsu squeaked, his voice high-pitched like a frightened mouse. "No! It wasn't a prank! We just... didn't know what to tell you!" 

Nezuko spun on her heel, face stormy with hurt and anger. Without a word, she stormed out of the kitchen, the clatter of the slammed door echoing her frustration. Tanjirou's helpless apologies hung heavy in the air, drowned out by the shrill echoes of Zenitsu's panicked cries.

"What was I thinking, getting involved?" Zenitsu wailed. "If she stays mad at me because of you, I'll never forgive you!"

*

Tanjirou caught hold of her arm, Zenitsu and Inosuke trailing awkwardly behind. "Nezuko, wait!,” he pleaded, voice filled with desperation. “Please, listen to me! It's all my fault, this mess. Don't blame Zenitsu and Inosuke for anything, I beg you!"

Nezuko stopped abruptly, her back rigid and shoulders tense. She didn't turn around, but her voice, when it came, crackled with barely suppressed frustration. "What exactly are you babbling about, nii-chan? What are you apologising for?"

Tanjirou took a deep, shaky breath. "It's... that matter between me and Inosuke. It caused everyone trouble, and made Zenitsu tell a ridiculous lie to cover for me..." He stammered, his face flushing crimson with a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

Nezuko finally spun around, her brows furrowed in a deep frown. "Nii-chan," she said, "that makes no sense at all! Why are you taking the blame for that? What trouble are you talking about? Why do you think you need to apologise?"

Tanjirou's gaze flickered away from hers, his voice filled with doubt and insecurity. "Do you think... maybe it was inappropriate? What we did?" he mumbled, avoiding her eyes.

Nezuko shook her head in exasperation. "No! It's just... I wish you had told me the truth from the beginning, nii-chan. You made me feel like a child. But I'm not a little girl anymore. I already know about you and Inosuke. So what you did is natural, and honestly, I'm happy for you," she said, her voice softening with sincerity.

Tanjirou's shoulders slumped, his gaze falling to the ground. "I messed up, Nezuko. I should have been honest from the start. Seeing you so worried… it hurt. I never thought you'd be so relentless in your search for the truth. Not that I thought it wasn’t your place to know. But you're… well, younger. And…a girl." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "It felt strange burdening you with something like this."

Nezuko stepped closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "First of all, I'm 18 now, nii-chan. Not exactly a child anymore. Second, remember what we are? We're family, and you can tell me anything. We share everything, joys and sorrows, as a team since always. Don't underestimate me, or hide things from me. I'm stronger than you think, and I can handle more than you give me credit for." Her gaze met his, filled with unwavering determination and a touch of playful defiance.

Tanjirou finally looked up, meeting her gaze with eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of awe. "Nezuko, I never would underestimate you," he said sincerely. "I know what you've endured, the strength you possess. But you'll always be my little sister, no matter how grown-up you get. I'll remember this, though, what you said."

Nezuko's smile reached her eyes, warmth radiating from her gaze. They fell into each other's arms, a tangle of limbs and laughter. Inosuke's boisterous whoop echoed through the room, a joyful punctuation to the quiet tension as he wrapped his arms around them both. Zenitsu joined the huddle, his trembling fading with each shared heartbeat.

*

The morning sun bathed the house in a warm glow as Inosuke dashed into the kitchen, his sights set firmly on the rice pot. Tanjirou followed behind him, a knitted scarf wrapped curiously around his neck, a strange sight for the summer heat.

Zenitsu eyed him with concern. “Isn't that a bit warm, Tanjirou?"

Tanjirou offered a noncommittal shrug. "It’s cosy."

Nezuko scrutinised him with a hint of worry in her eyes. "Feeling under the weather, nii-chan? Did you catch a chill?"

"Of course not, Nezuko! I'm perfectly fine," Tanjirou assured her, a hint of pink blossoming on his cheeks under her watchful eyes.

Nezuko tilted her head, her voice firm but gentle. "Remember what we discussed yesterday, nii-chan? No more secrets."

Tanjirou hesitated, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "Alright, you got me," he conceded with a sheepish grin. Gingerly, he peeled back the woolly fabric, revealing a scattering of reddish crescents etched across his neck. Then he quickly wound it back, blushing furiously. 

Nezuko felt a mixture of amusement and embarrassment flood her cheeks. "Seems you and Inosuke have been busy," she giggled.

Zenitsu gaped, his jaw dropping in mock horror. "Whoa there, hold your horses, lovebirds! Nezuko-chan may not mind it, but at least show some restraint!"

Inosuke scoffed, swallowing a mouthful of rice with a gulp. "Jealous, are you? You and I could have a contest, see who gives the most love bites! Bet I win, you wimp!" He pointed a triumphant finger at Zenitsu.

Tanjirou shot him a withering glare, his blush deepening to a fiery crimson. "That's a terrible idea, Inosuke!" he snapped, his voice tight with protectiveness. "Think about who Zenitsu's supposed to... well... you know..." He stammered, flustered. "Do you honestly think that's appropriate?!"

Inosuke blinked, confused. Then realisation dawned on him, accompanied by a faint blush creeping up his own neck. "Uh... right. Maybe not such a good idea then."

Zenitsu, having caught on much faster, protested, "What is that supposed to mean?!" His gaze darted to Nezuko, a mix of excitement and nervousness sparking in his eyes. "He's right, we should get busy too, and win the contest, hm?"

Nezuko blinked, surprised by his sudden suggestion. "Win the contest?" 

Zenitsu, his voice tinged with anxious nervousness, continued, "Well, we are a couple too, aren't we? If they can get all lovey-dovey, so can we!"

Tanjirou's eyes widened in alarm. "Don't even think about it, Zenitsu!"

"Double standards much, Tanjirou?" he countered indignantly, his face now a vibrant crimson.

Nezuko intervened, her voice filled with playful authority. "Zenitsu's right. Remember, I'm not a child. I'm capable of making my own decisions about such things."

Tanjirou's face fell. "Oh, right... sorry about that," he mumbled. "Guess we'll just, uh, give you some privacy then."

"So the contest is on then?" Inosuke quipped, oblivious to the tension. Catching Tanjirou's scathing glare, he quickly shovelled more rice into his mouth.

Zenitsu's eyes lit up like fireworks, tiny pink hearts seemingly shimmering around him. "Really?! Now?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with childlike excitement.

Nezuko stifled a laugh at his theatrics. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Zenitsu," she warned, wagging a finger at him with mock sternness. "I never said I’d agree to it.”

Zenitsu's smile plummeted like a fallen star. "What?! But why?!"

A sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I haven't gotten even with you for your lie. Let's just say you're lucky I'm even speaking to you."

Zenitsu turned to Tanjirou with a dramatic pout. "This is all your fault, Tanjiroooou!"

Tanjirou, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, tried to hide a small, satisfied grin. He mirrored Inosuke and shovelled rice into his mouth with gusto. 

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

Author's Notes: Finally finished this fic, and let me tell you, the relief is real! Three months without writing had definitely created some inertia. It didn't help that doubts kept creeping in, whispering questions like "Is this premise too lame", "will anyone care about Nezuko's POV?". But the plot bunny gnawed persistently, and I'm glad I didn't abandon it. The story took some unexpected turns, deviating from my initial outline in ways I'm truly happy with. I discovered a newfound appreciation for crafting a sassy Nezuko who just wants to prove that she can hold her own. I remember one of the biggest complaints about this series was Nezuko being sidelined at the end, so I kind of wanted to put her in the spotlight for a bit. Hope you enjoyed my interpretation of her! But the most challenging part wasn't crafting the story – it was finding the numerous ways to describe blushing and embarrassment! So much blushing going on! I should have named this fic fifty shades of blushing. Maybe we can make a drinking game out of this eh? Take a swig each time someone blushes or stammers or makes a weird face lol This was a short fic but incredibly rewarding to write. I had fun exploring Nezuko’s interactions and relationships with the other characters, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you in the next adventure! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my fic, it’d really make my day if you could drop a like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know! This story is also published on AO3 where you can comment anonymously! Although I mostly write for myself, your encouragement keeps me motivated to post and share my work.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

HELLO NEMO!

First of all, let me give you coffee and second of all, long time not written so buckle up for my usual novel.

I absolutely adore the “you are my peace” kind of trope(?) it just hit the spot and I love how you fitted it with Mephistea (and I think it also fits especially well the assassin’s creed franchise main protagonists (and some maybe more than others but I digress) but of course every traumatized/tragic backstory bbg blorbo also fits well within this trope) But omg do I love the way Mephisto looks at Aranea in that post!

For that epiphany of yours : it was brilliant.

For the Hellion Family idea : it’s perfectly chaotic and do you think there would be as much chaos when Cleric!Dottie is first introduced to them ? (I’m talking about everything is on fire in the room and that one guy arriving with pizza level of chaos if you understand the image I’m referring to) Also, can we say that Jacob pestering could also be linked to being the middle child and this seeking more attention ? And is everyone in the Hellion Family comfortable being/going along their day naked ? (And how did Jacob even convinced(seduced really) poor poor Cleric!Dottie to even join the chaos) Maybe someday Jacob would somehow notice how exhausting and taxing his family energy is for Dottie (who was just so trying to escape/hide from some of the chaos) and maybe built a calm safe space just for her (and also hoping to butter her up more to his case lol) I’m also really happy that you could finally tie the quote that inspired the monicker “morning star” to Dottie !

and listen telenovela Hellions Family would be something I would watch religiously cause the chaos is unmatched lol

I also feel that Mephisto would need a really stiff drink to even try to counterbalance the headache his children induced and maybe(hopefully) let him keep his glorious mane intact for a couple of hours before he inevitably needs to spend another eternity on his hair care routine. Oh ! And Do you think that haircare could be something Mephistea do together to unwind ?

And I’m really excited to meet Ravenna (and to know from what corner of the virtual universe Lucanis comes from too)

And I also thought about Mathias and Dottie while listening to the song “Je l’aime à mourrir” by Francis Cabrel and I just thought the lyrics fitted them so well with all the trauma and torment both went through. I can just imagine Dorothea learning guitar in secret and then singing this sweet sweet of a potato Mathias and maybe this could become a song he (and she) could then sing to their children to describe how much love they have form them and each other. (Here is a link to the song with English translation of the lyrics : https://youtu.be/iXPJA_3zNZE)

I also had a thought about Fedelucia, since she likes to read so much, I thought that Lucia could transmit her love for reading to Petruccio so he could then discover the world in his own way through books. As for the feathers, maybe Lucia helped Petruccio make something out of the feathers Ezio brought him in order to gift them to Maria. If Federico hears about it, he might gift his youngest brother something with an eagle feather, maybe just an eagle feather tailored to write and some paper with a note saying something along the lines “so you can board on your own adventures” and thus maybe inspire Petruccio to write his own stories.

Hope you have a good day xx

HELLO THERE, "HELLO NONNIE"!!

(so many hellos to give around!!)

FIRST OF ALL, DEAR GODS, THANK YOU FOR THE COFFEE (goddamnit, I truly needed it so much. Woke up far too early to run all errands, and now I got one heck of a headache, so this coffee is HEAVEN SENT)

lemme reciprocate with a good croissant

SECOND OF ALL, IT'S SO LOVELY TO SEE YOU BACK, omg lemme just dive into this poststopper of a ask (my favourites lololol)

Lemme answer you paragraph by paragraph (so buckle up, this is going to be an equally long answer!!!! like, truly long olololol)

I absolutely adore the “you are my peace” kind of trope(?) it just hit the spot and I love how you fitted it with Mephistea (and I think it also fits especially well the assassin’s creed franchise main protagonists (and some maybe more than others but I digress) but of course every traumatized/tragic backstory bbg blorbo also fits well within this trope) But omg do I love the way Mephisto looks at Aranea in that post!

Ngl, the whole "You are my peace" trope, combined with an artwork of my favourite couple soundly asleep in each other's arms is probably, without doubt, my most favourite thing to draw AND write. Combine that with the soothing atmosphere of a nearby lagoon, with the light reflecting onto the water and scattering around, and you got my personal Paradise and safe space, because it honestly helps me calming down a lot, especially during my bout of anxiety, when I cannot keep it under control When I drew that for Mephisto and Aranea ( but truly, for Jottie, Mottie, Ardynia etc. etc.), I just loved to imagine all sort of tender emotions that their black hearts could still feel, at least for one another, because they truly are each other's peace and safe space, when the world outside is just too much to face. And you are right, it fits SO MANY characters from AC as well!

For that epiphany of yours : it was brilliant. For the Hellion Family idea : it’s perfectly chaotic and do you think there would be as much chaos when Cleric!Dottie is first introduced to them ? (I’m talking about everything is on fire in the room and that one guy arriving with pizza level of chaos if you understand the image I’m referring to) Also, can we say that Jacob pestering could also be linked to being the middle child and this seeking more attention ? And is everyone in the Hellion Family comfortable being/going along their day naked ? (And how did Jacob even convinced(seduced really) poor poor Cleric!Dottie to even join the chaos) Maybe someday Jacob would somehow notice how exhausting and taxing his family energy is for Dottie (who was just so trying to escape/hide from some of the chaos) and maybe built a calm safe space just for her (and also hoping to butter her up more to his case lol) I’m also really happy that you could finally tie the quote that inspired the monicker “morning star” to Dottie !

I KNOW, RIGHT??? Like, my brain birth all kind of ideas all the time, but this one actually STRUCK ME LIKE A FREAKING LIGHTINING, BECAUSE HOLY HELL (no pun intended), HOW DID I NOT THINK ABOUT IT FIRST???? Jacob and Dorothea as Cambion and Cleric????

I am still reeling into the thought of it, because it opens up to so many fun/sensual/soft possible scenarios for them! And also, I get to *FINALLY* play Dorothea's more impish and straightforward side - aka, how she would be had she not received a very strict Victorian education from her mama and papa - and let me tell you, she is a toughie. Like, her and Jacob in this whole BG3/DnD AU are the true definition of "Looks like he could kill you: it's a cinnamon roll" (Jacob). "Looks like a cinnamon roll: she could kill you" (Dottie).

And omggg YES.

IT WOULD BE PANDEMONIOUM, WHEN DOTTIE IS BROUGHT DOWN TO CANIA. A WHOLE ASS PANDEMONIOUM. Precisely as the image you were describing lololol, which is why, I think, Jacob would try to steer clear of his family knowing about Dorothea for as long as he could, because OH GODS, he would never hear the end of it, especially from Zaynab and Raphael (to say nothing of Mephisto, though he would be more amused by the fact that his own son is actually following in his steps more than he likes to admit lolol).

AND YES. Nudity is not that big of a deal among the Hellions (the reason being because sometimes I am just too tired to draw them clothed tbh. If I draw them all naked it's because I don't have the energy to draw their overlycomplicated garments lol) but there are varied degrees of nudity they are willing to show, so to speak. Like, Mephisto and Aranea usually are naked when together, but they do not go around Mephistar stark naked all the time. In general, they are all big on seduction and temptation, so they all live up to whatever they imagine would elicit a reaction into the object of their obsession.

BUT YES, IN GENERAL THE HELLIONS' FAMILY IS NOT BIG ON CLOTHING LOL. (expect when they have special occasion. Then they go the opposite direction and POMPOSITY BECOMES THE KEY WORD). So, yes, I like to imagine that poor Dottie, while equipped with the divine blessing of Lathander, has a hard time actually withstanding all the chaos in Cania, and Jacob would take notice of this and try to create a safe abode for her (which, I like to imagine, was suggested to him by Aranea herself, since it was exactly what Mephisto did for her when he brought her to Cania after she signed his contract), where she can just rest away (and be the victim of Jacob's clumsy attempts to actually seduce her into signing his contract - gods, the man is persistent lol).

AND OMG YES: Jacob's own pestering behaviour DEFINITELY stem (in this AU) from the fact that he literally is the middle child, so he was kinda overseen, what with Raphael's theatrical personality, and Zaynab and Karim being the only children born out of the love Mephisto harboured for Aranea. (good gods, my poor bebe Jacob, I need to draw him a sad cambion blorbo and Dorothea comforting him😭😭😭)

AND YES. I HAD THAT QUOTE HANGING ON MY HEAD EVER SINCE I CREATED THE NOIR!AU (where Dottie is actually a fallen angel), BUT I NEVER GOT THE CHANCE TO USE IT ON SOMETHING THAT I SHARED HERE!! so when I drew the artwork, the other day, I was like OMG YES. THIS WILL BE PERFECT.

P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

and listen telenovela Hellions Family would be something I would watch religiously cause the chaos is unmatched lol I also feel that Mephisto would need a really stiff drink to even try to counterbalance the headache his children induced and maybe(hopefully) let him keep his glorious mane intact for a couple of hours before he inevitably needs to spend another eternity on his hair care routine. Oh ! And Do you think that haircare could be something Mephistea do together to unwind ?

HONESTLY. I wish I was faster/the day had more hours/I had more hands/was a better artist to be able to bring more artworks about the Hellions. HECK, I WISH I WAS ABLE TO DO ANIMATION, SO THAT I WOULD MAKE CINEMATIC OF SOME SORTS.

OMG THAT STIFF DRINK, YES.

Poor Mephisto, whenever I think of him, all I can think about is that gif of Scar from the Lion King, because that's his default face whenever his children are around lol

Because despite his children being all adults by now, they are all very childish between themselves, especially the youngest three ( I do headcanon that, while Raphael is supposedely around 5000 years old, given or take, Jacob, Zaynab and Karim (and Azriel as well, if I settle to make her the youngest of Mephistea's children) are much younger and comparatively closer in age (like, I hc that Jacob is around 300 years old, while Zaynab and Karim are around 150 years old), which means that they are the more prone to actually cause trouble. Also, Jacob and Raphael do have a sort of rivarly in terms of who will succeed their father - if ever- so they are constantly stuck in constant competition.

Regarding Mephisto and Aranea sharing their hair care routine to unwind, the answer is YES.

I can definitely imagine Mephisto just sinking into his mattress, while massagging his temples because THE PERSISTENT HEADACHE WON'T LEAVE HIM ALONE.

Cue to Aranea just coming into the room with soft pace and humming and old Zakharan song, bringing all that she needs to just take care of her husband's glorious leonine mane.

And she would gently brush his curls, sometimes humming, sometimes chatting with low voice about all things related to the two of them, so that Mephisto can just unwind and ride out the whole sensory overload that his progeny has caused him with their shenanigans (because between the two of them, I do think that Aranea has a higher threshold of tollerance, compared to Mephisto, so I think she is the one that usually initiate the unwind for him, and once he is anchored back into tranquillity, he takes care of her with naked cuddles and soft love making).

And I’m really excited to meet Ravenna (and to know from what corner of the virtual universe Lucanis comes from too)

I am still in the process of learning Dragon Age lore and whatnot, so for now all I have is just some initial ideas for both Ravenna and Lucanis. BUT. for what I am envisioning for now, she is a spitfire, he is on the quieter side and he is very much his wife lololol Like, I am leaning toward much more sweetness and smluffness, so to speak! I kinda need it, to counterbalance the angst (which, I am sure, will be plentiful once Dragon Age The Veilguard comes out lolol).

And I also thought about Mathias and Dottie while listening to the song “Je l’aime à mourrir” by Francis Cabrel and I just thought the lyrics fitted them so well with all the trauma and torment both went through. I can just imagine Dorothea learning guitar in secret and then singing this sweet sweet of a potato Mathias and maybe this could become a song he (and she) could then sing to their children to describe how much love they have form them and each other. (Here is a link to the song with English translation of the lyrics : https://youtu.be/iXPJA_3zNZE)

HOW DID YOU FIND THIS SONG????? IT'S PERFECT.

PERFECT FOR THEM. OMG I HAVE BEEN LISTENING TO IT WHILE ANSWERING THIS ASK, AND IT'S JUST SO PERFECT????? THE LYRICS FIT THEM TO A T, and dear gods, the thought of Dorothea learning how to play guitar just so that she could serenade Mathias (WHO WILL MELT FROM ALL THE LOVE HE HAS FOR HER FML)....

AND THEN, THEM SINGING IT TO THEIR CHILDREN, SO THAT THEY TOO WOULD KNOW HOW MUCH THEIR PARENTS LOVE ONE ANOTHER???

oh my heart.

MY HEAAAAAART.

Like, Sophie, Valerie, Rosaline and Sebastién would ABSOLUTELY be sitting there and drowning Papa Mathias and Mama Dorothea with questions and whatnot, while I can so imagine Léonie and Lucien just rolling their eyes and saying EWW LOVE COOTIES NOOOO. PAPA MATHIAS, TELL US STORIES ABOUT KILLING TEMPLARS IN PARIS.

Absolutely adore this whole concept, omg it melted my heart, THANK YOU FOR SUGGESTING IT.

I also had a thought about Fedelucia, since she likes to read so much, I thought that Lucia could transmit her love for reading to Petruccio so he could then discover the world in his own way through books. As for the feathers, maybe Lucia helped Petruccio make something out of the feathers Ezio brought him in order to gift them to Maria. If Federico hears about it, he might gift his youngest brother something with an eagle feather, maybe just an eagle feather tailored to write and some paper with a note saying something along the lines “so you can board on your own adventures” and thus maybe inspire Petruccio to write his own stories.

OK, FIRST OF ALL YES.

YES. YES. TO EVERYTHING.

OMG I READ "PETRUCCIO" AND MY WHOLE HEART JUST WENT OUT OF THE WINDOW.

THAT SWEET KID. I ADORE.

You know, in my version of the story, he ends up marrying Fiammetta, Lucia's own sister? Like, the Auditores in my AU cannot seem to resist the Barbarigos' daughters lololol. Now we need to combine a matrimony between Francesco and Claudia, and they are all settled!

BUT I AM DIGRESSING. BACK ON TRACK.

BECAUSE OMG YES. YES. I CAN SO IMAGINE LUCIA READING TO PETRUCCIO, DISCUSSING STORIES WITH HIM, BRAINSTORMING AND WHATNOT, AND ENCOURAGING HIM TO ACTUALLY WRITE DOWN ALL THAT HIS IMAGINATION ALLOWS HIM TO.

And I am just melting at the idea that Lucia would help him create something out of the feathers Ezio brought him, and Federico would take note of it and of the fact that books have become a passion for Petruccio, and he would gift him an eagle feather to write his own adventures.

Gods, Petruccio would actually cherish it for all time, and I imagine him being so hesitant to use it, because it would become such precious gift and memory of his eldest brother. And I imagine that, when eventually Lucia and Federico get married, he would compose something for them to read on their wedding day, as a thank you for all the love they showered him with.

GODS I LOVE THIS. APPROVED. IT'S CANON NOW.

Nonnie, thank you SO MUCH for this ask! I had so much fun answering to all your point, and truly, thank you for allowing me to blabber about it all and infodump.

It made me so insanely happy, it felt like the best cup of coffee in the world <3

THANK YOU SO MUCH.

TRULY THANK YOU! <3

[a-confused-patata]

Viktor headcanons... Pt 3??

(y'all enjoy this? Idk how to label them)

· Viktor is not a morning person. And when i say this, not that he can't wake up early, i bet his quality of sleep doesn't allow him to have a deep dive into slumber, making him wake up at the lightest flinch... What i mean to say is, he's not a morning person.

· Can't move a limb out of bed until some five to ten minutes staring at the ceiling. Can't muster a sound out to even say good morning. Can't wipe out that assassin's expression off his face until 2 to 3 hours after waking up. Needs coffee (everyone around him tries to ban it from his house–), some fresh air, staring into the void, God-knows-what thought process his launching system runs in his mind to fully start... and there you go, you can welcome Viktor into reality now.

· Still, take it easy, approcah him with a gradual level of energy. Otherwise he'll shutdown again– or you will be shut out of his house–

· Shopping, to Viktor, is a chore. Something that has to be done and that's it. That's why he has a specific day(s) in the month for running such errands; of groceries, taxes, bills, fixing something here and there... And for showering too because it is a chore.

· You know, taking off braces and back corset thingy, going slowly but steadily step by step so not to stand too long on his leg or strain it with a wrong position.

· He has to cover himself really well coming out of the bathroom, since he showers with boiling hot water, and is sensitive to cold, can easily catch a cold if he doesn't dry his hair.

· Opportunity for you to pamper him. He never knew showering can become such a task to look forward to. Especially if you, after he leaves the bathroom, wrap him well in a blanket and make him some hot chamomile and orange flowers tea, drying his hair while leaning back into your chest, your finger tips in his scalp slowly massaging him now and then while gentle heat of the blow-dryer tickling him.

· He doesn't like to admit it neither to himself or anyone else, but he has one lazy day per week where he allows himself to... Not achieve much. By this i mean he probably still doing researches and studying... Just not with the same pace, nor the same purpose.

· On that day, it's for personal enjoyment. He allows to lose himself in the details of his studies, to explore fun theories and what if's, maybe create a trinket, sketch a prototype that is never gonna see the light but just for the heck of it.

· Maybe hard to take a nap or fall asleep, but he tries to lay down and think of nothing. (Why is it so hard to do?)

· Sad, but he's learned to do this the hard way when his mind felt like it's collapsing just as his body was. He knew his body wasn't what was gonna stop him from achieving great things, however he didn't expect his mind to run out of fuel someday. (He better stop taking lack of sleep as lightly as he does).

· When math isn't mathing, when he forgets where he put his cane while still holding it, zoning out at the simplest physics equation because 'where tf did this come from?', and wondering why he ran out of coffee when he had just one-three- actually four cups last... Day? Week? When? He started recognizing this pattern. Brain is now scrambled eggs.

· Of course, his close people had warned him many times before this happening. Their words must have been sinking deeper each time until he finally understood the assignment; TAKE CARE OF YOUR BODY AND MIND, EQUALLY.

[jasonscaramel]

i guess only the stars would know the truth - chapter four - jason todd x reader

series summary: there's something going on in gotham. you transfer into gotham university's journalism program. simultaneously, people are going missing in gotham at record rates. it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the best of you.

words: 2.9k

ao3 | series masterlist

You were right about Gotham being a hub for activity to report on. This goldmine, however, makes it a bit difficult to find the specifics of what you’re looking for. Truly needle in a haystack territory, you think. Your morning had started early, you brewed a large pot of coffee to prepare yourself for the day ahead, and once it was ready, you began your research.

It had taken several hours straight of research and ignoring your homework to get to where you are now. You’d nailed down every article written about each of the attacks. Some were more thorough than others, but there was a throughline in each that you were able to pin down.

No matter the article, each eyewitness said there was at least a group of three people kidnapping the one person. That’s pretty standard, you assume. But there is something you find that’s a bit less standard.

Of the fourteen articles you found, only three mentioned what the kidnappers were wearing. And because of what was described, you’re not so sure how much weight to put into it, as it sounded a bit ridiculous.

These witnesses described the kidnappers as wearing owl masks.

Which, at first, you thought was a bit fucking absurd. Owls? But when you thought about it for more than thirty seconds, you remembered that’s probably the least absurd thing you’ve seen around Gotham. With that thought in mind, you began a long deep dive into Google to find out more about the owl masks.

And unfortunately for you, owl masks gotham city wasn’t exactly yielding the results you were looking for. At one point in your research, you had to get another cup of coffee and pace around your apartment to keep from blowing a gasket.

So, here you are, several hours later, reading through old Gotham town records trying to find some mention of owl masks. You’d combed to the 1800s before you found anything you felt was remotely relevant.

The Court of Owls.

Huh. In your (limited) research into Gotham, you hadn’t heard of them before. A few searches into academic databases didn’t yield anything worth wasting time over. When you put it into Google, the only thing you found worthwhile was a book available at Gotham City Library.

Well, time to get a library card.

As you’re packing up a tote bag to go, you wonder if this is just a wild goose chase. If those witnesses were traumatized, they saw an owl nearby, and their brains created a weird connection. But now the issue is you need to know. That little voice in the back of your head isn’t letting this one go, and you can’t lie and say you don’t want to know what the hell is going on around here.

As you’re getting your shoes on, you hear your phone ding.

Tim: Hey, are you free to come over and work on the project later?

You: Yes! I have a couple errands to run, I can text you when I’m done

Tim: Sounds great.

//

The building in front of you looked more like an old church than a library. You idly wonder if it’s considered a landmark as you heave open one of the heavy double doors and enter the ornate space. As you approach the front desk, you’re met with an older woman in bright red glasses with a smile on her face. You think that this is the first time you’ve seen some southern hospitality up here.

“Hi, dear. What can I do for you?”

“Hi. Just a library card.”

It’s a quick, easy process. You hand over your ID, and a few moments later, she hands it back along with a fresh library card. You feel like an official Gothamite as you look it over. Everything feels so… official now. Set in stone. You really live here now.

“Anything else I can do for you?” She asks, and as much as you hate asking for anything, this place is way too large for you to find anything you’re looking for in a reasonable amount of time.

“Actually, I’m looking for a book, but I’m not sure where I’d find it. It’s, um,” you open your phone to make sure you get the name right. “Gotham Secret Societies Volume Two.”

You watch as her face contorts into confusion as she thinks for a moment before she nods. “We actually have an entire Gotham History section, I’m sure it’s in there. Follow me.”

She makes her way around the desk and leads you around the opulent, labyrinthian hallways. You wonder if you’ll be able to make it out of here without a guide. It’s hard to pay attention to the route when you’re distracted by stained glass windows and antique light fixtures.

She stops after entering a doorless entryway to a small room packed wall to wall with bookshelves.

“If we have any book related to Gotham, it’ll be here. Can I do anything else for you?”

You shake your head. “That’s it. Thank you so much.”

You take a deep breath before starting at the left-hand wall. You’ve got quite a bit to look through, but your spirits lift when you realize the books are in alphabetical order. Upon that realization, it doesn’t take you long to get where you need to be. You skip a few bookshelves to get to the Gs, and you’re able to find it pretty quickly after that.

As you pull it from the shelf, you flip it around to give it a once-over. It’s clearly pretty old, but still in good shape for a library book. You decide to flip open to the table of contents to see what’s in store for you, when you hear your name being stage whispered from behind you. Your head snaps up, and you look around to find the source of the sound.

There, at the entryway, you see Jason with two books in one of his hands. He’s got a grin on his face, and he waves slightly before he makes his way over to you. “Hey. Fancy running into you here. What d’you have there?”

Your face goes warm before you respond. “Hi. Good to see you. It’s, um, for a research project.” You flash him the cover, and he chuckles.

“Volume two, huh? Sounds riveting. Hey, I know a couple in the free masons if you need a source.”

Your brow quirks. Money, connections—what does this family not have? “I’m not sure if I do, but I’ll definitely let you know.” You pause, looking down and trying to figure out what books are in his hand. “What’d you get? I figured you had all the books you wanted at home.”

Jason laughed, a haughty sound that you couldn’t help but smile at. “I wish. I got the demon an anime book, and I got this for me.” He turns the book around, giving you a good look at the cover of Brave New World.

“You ever read anything from this century?”

A look of mock offense takes over Jason’s face as he struggles to stifle his smile. “You little—I’m not letting you get away with that.”

“What are you gonna do? Bore me to death by reading me one of your books?”

“Oh, that’s it, get over here.”

You let out a quiet yelp before bolting to the other side of the room. You weave in between bookshelves, hoping to lose him. As you look back to see if you can spot him, you run into something solid. You can’t help the surprised sound that leaves your mouth, and you drop the book and your phone to the ground.

“Gotcha.” Jason’s grinning as he leans down to grab your stuff. When he stands to his full height to hand them to you, he speaks again. “I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but your phone keeps vibrating.”

You smile. “Thanks.”

Tim: What’s up?

You: All done. I can head your way now

Tim: Need me to send a car?

You: Don’t worry about it

You look up at Jason, an attempt at puppy dog eyes covering your expression. He rolls his eyes expectantly. “Can I get a ride?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re lucky I didn’t take the bike today. Follow me.”

//

When you arrive at the manor, Jason opens the car door for you before you even realize he has gotten out. With a shy smile, you tell him thank you. He gives you a shy smile in return. Your face heats up, and you look at your shoes.

He opens the front door for you, and there stands Tim, an amused expression on his face.

“I guess that’s why you didn’t need a car.” He says. You give him an apologetic smile and he shakes his head. “Come on, let’s go finish this thing.” Tim turns around, expecting you to follow. You do, only you turn around to get one last look at Jason. He’s staring right back at you, a small smile on his face the whole time. You finally have to look away when you get to the stairs.

As you stare at Tim’s back, following him to the library, you can’t help but think about how kind Jason has been to you. He’s sweet, a quality you’re not used to seeing in men. Of course, you’ve only really spoken to him at surface level, but you really do like him so far. And his family seems to adore him, and that says a lot, too, you think. Despite how… chaotic they may seem on the outside, you can tell they all have a strong bond that’s very important to them. Seeing all fifty (exaggeration, you’re aware, but sometimes it feels like it) family members each regard Jason with the same reverence makes it easy to feel the same way about him.

You’re literally snapped out of your reverie by Tim’s hand in your face, as you’ve come to a full stop in front of the table in the library. Your face feels warm as you unload your bag and plop into a chair. Tim chuckles.

“What?” You ask, confused by his prying eyes as you open your laptop.

“Oh, come on. You showed up here with Jason and you’re just not gonna tell me what happened?” His eyes are alight with excitement. You hate to burst his bubble. (And your own.)

“It wasn’t like that. We ran into each other at the library and I asked him for a ride.” You tell him, loading up the project document on your laptop. He rolls his eyes.

“But you want it to be like that, right?”

“I mean…” You can feel your face go hot. “How could I not?” You put your elbows on the table and bury your face in your hands. Muffled, you say, “can we change the subject now?”

“Yeah, let’s finish this so you can go hang out with Jason more.”

You groan, Tim chuckles. After a brief pause, he speaks again.

“Seriously, though?” He says, and you sober up out of your embarrassment for a moment to pay attention. “He’s a great person, and he doesn’t… take interest in other people that often. I just think, whatever it is, it’d be good for the both of you.”

It was finally about 7 p.m. when the project came to a close and you were both satisfied with the finished product. It was exhausting, a lot of back and forth and finding sources for everything, but you were glad to have it completed so you could dedicate your time to other projects.

Like those fucking owls. As much as you’ve tried to stay focused while working on this project with Tim, there’s a part of your brain just itching to go home and crack open this book. This was the only tangible mention of The Court of Owls, and you were determined to follow this trail. Even if it leads to a dead end.

“You staying for dinner?” Tim asks, breaking you from your (obsessive) thoughts. You let out a sigh before you could control it—as great as dinner at the manor would be, you also neglected all your other schoolwork today.

“As much as I’d love to, I’ve got four billion assignments due by Sunday, and if I don’t start making a dent in them now, they’ll never get finished.”

Tim shakes his head, waving off your apologetic tone. “I get it. It’s like they purposely overload us this time of year. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

After loading your stuff back into your tote, you follow Tim out of the library and down the stairs. You perk up when you hear Jason’s voice in the foyer. Tim notices, ever the watchful eye, and you try to ignore the knowing smirk on his face by focusing on Jason’s voice.

“…think they’d follow us the whole—hey sweetheart. You staying for dinner?” Jason’s attention so quickly goes from his conversation with Alfred to you that you worry he’s given himself whiplash. The amused smile on Alfred’s face tells you he doesn’t mind.

“Hi to you too,” Tim says, poking Jason in the shoulder as he walks past him, and Jason retaliates by slapping him upside the head.

“I see you all the time.” The sour look on Jason’s face leaves immediately as he turns his attention back to you. “Dinner? It’s homemade pizza.”

You groan. “You’re making this so hard for me, I really need to go home.”

Alfred chimes in this time, “You’re sure we can’t convince you?”

With a sigh, you say, “Unfortunately, no. Believe me, if I had the time, I’d much prefer to be here.”

“At least let me drive you then,” Jason says, already fishing around in his pocket for his keys. You begin to shake your head, already writing that idea off.

“No, you don’t have to—”

“I insist, come on.” You give him a look, and he gives you one back, to the point where you both have a mini standoff to see who will break first. It still doesn’t look like you’re going to budge, so he says, “Just let me do this for you. Please?”

And fuck, how can you say no to that?

You just nod and follow his cues to say goodbye to Tim and Alfred. You ignore the sly smile on Tim’s face as you give them your goodbyes. You and Jason make your way to the garage, and get into the same flashy red sports car he put you in at the library. When you buckle in, he asks for your address, and you easily give it to him.

“Oh, Roy’s place. Cool.” He says as he begins pulling out of the never-ending driveway.

“Y’know, Tim said the same thing, but I’ve still yet to meet this Roy.”

“I’ll introduce you, don’t worry. Oh, hey, did you guys finish that project?”

You fall into easy conversation with him about school work and weather and just about anything else that pops into your mind. It just flows with him, you think, as you can’t help but stare at him while his attention is on the road. He’s so easy to talk to that you don’t even realize you’ve made it to your apartment building until he parallel parks the car and absolutely books it to make sure you don’t have to open your own door.

It’s sweet, and you can’t help your face heating up as you give him a small thank you. He shuts the car door behind you and walks with you to the door of your building.

“Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it.” You smile up at him, unable to contain it even if you wanted to.

“It’s no problem, really, I wanted to make sure you got home safe.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and looking at his feet before returning to look in your eyes. “I also wanted to ask if you would maybe… want to go to dinner tomorrow night? There’s this Italian place that’s really good, but if you—”

“I’d love to go to dinner with you, Jason.” You’re grinning, one of those cheek-splitting smiles you just can’t help. He smiles back, and the look in his eye gives you butterflies. Everything about him gives you butterflies.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, if that works?”

“That’s perfect.”

His smile, if possible, grows even wider. “Perfect.”

“Goodnight, Jason.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You turn to scan your key, and he’s there to open the door for you. As it shuts, you give him a wave goodbye. He returns it as he walks backward toward his car, a matching grin on his face.

And when he finally can’t see you anymore, you break out into a happy dance. Dance might be a generous word for it, as you were far too excited to put any thought into what you were doing. You’re too busy jumping up and down to notice the elevator beeping to signal its arrival, or the man hopping off the elevator and stopping in the hallway to watch you with an amused look on his face.

“You good?”

You jump, startled, turning to face the voice. With his red hair, trucker hat, and tank top combo, he reminds you of the kind of men you saw back home. The familiarity puts you at ease. “Hi. Very good. Sorry.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Good.”

When he exits through the front door, you continue your happy dance.

[dewedup]

satanic wiles (rain ghoul!reader)

She thought the water ghoul was to be her saviour, but maybe he was just the devil in disguise.

-

Or the band's assistant gets into a sticky situation and Rain comes to her rescue, but not before taking advantage of her predicament.

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Rain x reader

Fandom: The Band Ghost

Words: 2,770

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Ghouls are not human, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Nameless Ghouls, Restraints, kind of?, Reader is stuck, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, no beta we die like Nihil, Dewdrop Is A Little Shit (Ghost Sweden Band), Praise Kink

Read below the cut or AO3 link

“Fucking Dewdrop,” She muttered for the third time as she tried in vain to free herself from the amp that was currently holding her hostage. If Dew didn’t spend the majority of rehearsal tossing picks at Swiss and Phantom, she wouldn’t have had to run backstage to a crowded storage room for more, because he couldn't possibly use the perfectly acceptable picks Rain had offered.

Brat.

After diving headfirst over the backup amp, she found the discarded pick bag underneath some extra cables. It was just within reach, her fingers brushing the velvet sack containing the answer to her errand. Being a newly assigned assistant to the band had many perks, like getting to hang out with the ghouls whom she had gotten to know quite well back at the Abbey, and the opportunity to travel the world with the band as they performed rituals wherever the clergy wanted. But it also meant being sent on scavenger hunts for things that should really have been placed in a more convenient location, perhaps beside the stage? Instead, she’s stuck here in a dusty storage room that everything without a home got tossed into when they arrived yesterday with the tour bus.

In hindsight, maybe she should have opted for a t-shirt and jeans to run around and perform her endless tasks, instead of the skirt and corset that called her name this morning. The corset was currently caught in a mounting mechanism attached to the 3-foot-tall amp she was precariously teetering over, her feet dangling uselessly over the edge. If she tried hard enough, she could stretch so the tips of her boots brushed the cement floor beneath her. Not nearly enough leverage to try and free herself.

She flinched at the sound of the door opening behind her, cutting through her thoughts as it swiftly swung shut. She heard the sound of a lock being thrown into place.

“Who’s there?” She raised her voice slightly to be heard from behind the equipment she leaned over. A deep chuckle hit her ears; her eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried to place its owner. “I’m so glad you can find the humour in this situation. How about helping a girl out?” She tried, wiggling ineffectively.

“I came to see if I could offer you a hand, but it looks like you’ll need a bit more assistance," She smiled slightly at the playful tone in Rain’s voice. Of all the ghouls that could come to her rescue, he would be the lesser of evils. If Dew saw her now, she wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks, probably the entirety of the tour, no doubt with pictures to add to her embarrassment.

“I found the picks, but the amp wanted to get acquainted with my top,” She explained dejectedly, her feet kicking slightly to further her struggle. An involuntary shiver ran down her back as Rain’s hand ghosted along her exposed thigh, resting at the top of her leg. His touch burned her skin, igniting a fire in the pit of her stomach at the way his fingers felt against her flesh.

“Satan himself has graced me today,” Rain mumbled, growling softly as his fingers splayed across her pale skin. She swallowed hard, a damp patch forming shamelessly in her underwear at the tone of his voice. Rain sniffed the air, groaning at the scent of her arousal. Damn if this isn’t the hottest thing to happen to me, she thought as her body reacted pathetically to the ghoul behind her. She squirmed as his fingers moved under her skirt to flirt along the edge of her panties. Thank Lucifer she had the inclination to wear something with lace this morning.

“Colour?” Rain demanded abruptly. Fuck. She jolted as his fingers danced atop the thin fabric separating him from her embarrassingly wet entrance. She whined pathetically as his hand pulled away from her and he repeated his question again, the word pushing through his gritted teeth.

“Green,” She begged pathetically, trying in vain to raise her hips up, desperate for more contact. Rain wasn’t cruel, as soon as the word left her lips his hand was back, immediately pushing past the annoying barrier to run over her slit. He collected her wetness as he circled the edge of her clit. The seconds it took for him to move a finger back over her entrance were agonizing, pulling another embarrassingly needy whine from her lips. He chittered sympathetically as he pushed a single digit in, curling it once he’d gotten down to the knuckle, making her clench around it hungrily.

“So fucking good for me,” Rain praised as he started to move his finger, letting a second digit join to stretch her open further. She moaned as his hand moved with vigour, caressing her from the inside.

“Rain,” She gasped at the feel of a third finger, a pair of lips attaching themselves to her neck. His hand continued its mission to reduce her to a pile of whimpers and cries. She couldn’t recall him taking his helmet off, but the brush of stubble on her bare neck burned her skin sweetly. His scent invaded her nose, petrichor and salt, filling her head with images of what the ghoul behind her looked like behind the mask. She wondered briefly if she begged enough would he flip her over and fuck her while she drank in his features and committed them to memory, able to glimpse exactly what she could do to him, as if his rough voice wasn’t indication enough.

The sound of a zipper sent a tingle of excitement down her spine, the electricity of the feeling fraying her already high-strung body. Rain’s belt buckle clinked as it met the same fate. His pants were no longer a hindrance. She longed to get down on her knees and take him into her mouth. She wanted to see the look on his face as she used her mouth and tongue to take him apart. But the only sight greeting her eyes was the traitorous and long-forgotten velvet pick bag. Would the other ghouls come looking? Surely Dew had reached the end of his current supply of picks and was probably wondering where she had run off to, nearing the storage room only to catch her needy moans and whines as Rain undid her with his skilled fingers.

The thought of being caught was enough to send her over the edge she was already so close to, her orgasm taking her by surprise as she cried out and clenched hard. Rain cursed under his breath as he pulled his hand back, smacking her dripping center lightly. Her depraved mind imagined his fingers coated in her slick wrapping around his cock, sliding and spreading it so that he glistened with her fluid. She could almost come again at the thought of him raising his hand to his face, his tongue darting out to sneak a taste.

A sudden presence at her entrance ripped her from the images her mind had conjured. Rain teased her, rubbing his cock up and down her slit, pressing slightly into the sensitive bundle of nerves above.

“Colour?” His voice was like syrup, sliding over her ears and sweet on the tongue. She bucked her hips slightly, trying to put him exactly where she wanted, earning her a slap to the ass. “Words darling, I need to hear you say it." His mouth was back to her neck, peppering light kisses along the exposed skin, pausing at the junction of her shoulder to nip playfully. Just a phantom touch of his teeth, sharp fangs grazing the skin slightly. Fuck, she wished he would bite down with force, leaving her with a mark to memorialize this scandalous moment. Her silence wore thin on Rain’s patience, his teeth coming to bite a little more forcefully, a sweet, little cry falling from her lips.

“I could always just leave you like this,” Rain threatened softly, his hand wrapping carefully around her throat to pull her head up, creating an uncomfortable but not unwelcome position with how her upper body was still attached to the amp. “Dripping and needy, begging for my cock. I wonder who’d find you next, if they’d fuck you as good as I would." He paused his rambling as she squirmed under him, a pool of warmth flooding from her at the thought of another ghoul taking advantage of her current circumstances. His hips jerked slightly, surprised at the scent of her fresh arousal. “Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He hissed. Another pass over her slit had her seeing stars.

“Green,” The plea barely left her lips before he pushed in completely, bottoming out inside of her.

“Good girl,” The praise fell from Rain’s lips with a groan. He brought his face to her neck, running his tongue over the overheated skin as he stilled, giving her time to adjust to his size. He was bigger than she expected, filling her with a slight burn that soon turned pleasurable as she got used to the stretch.

“Shit Rain, please fuck me,” She moaned as he listened to her plead, slowly starting to move within her, dragging back, almost pulling completely out, before slamming back in. The edge of the amp dug into her waist with every powerful thrust, pushing the air out of her lungs and creating a dull throb of pain. Rain seemed to acknowledge this, his hands leaving her neck to grip her hips tightly, lifting her slightly up to match his movements and avoid the amp. The angle this created had Rain brushing against the spot that made her see stars with every thrust. If she had use of her legs, they would fail her instantly from the amount of pleasure she was being given.

Rain kept a steady pace, relentlessly pounding into her as her hands roamed desperately to find purchase somewhere. Her nails dug uselessly on the surface of the amp, most likely leaving some incriminating scratch marks. Like he had a direct link to her train of thought, Rain shifted positions, pushing in until he was flush against her, hands leaving her hips to grab both of her wrists and yank them behind her back. Her walls squeezed around him as he transferred both of her wrists to one hand, using the other to snake between her and the amp. A chuckle came from deep in his throat as it found its intended destination.

He teased her clit as he ground into her, circulating his hips in tandem with his fingers and pushing her over the edge of another mind-blowing orgasm. Rain groaned as he fucked her through it, her cries completely unmuffled and announcing their activities to anyone in the immediate vicinity. She wouldn’t be surprised if the fans waiting outside for the front of the pit could hear their favourite bassist bringing her to another climax.

Rain’s hips stuttered as his growing knot began to push against her entrance. She’d never needed something more in her life than to be stuffed full of his cock and knot. She pushed back eagerly but Rain’s hands moved to grip her hips hard, stilling her movement.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, you’ve never taken a knot before,” Rain let out a soft groan as she tried once again to impale herself on him.

“Ask me for a colour,” She demanded breathlessly, clenching down on him with anticipation.

“W-what?” Rain stuttered, his head swimming in the sensation as she squeezed around him again.

“I said ask me for a fucking colour,” She spat, not even having the decency to be ashamed of how badly she needed this, something she’d never experienced.

“Colour?” Rain breathed out, his grip on her hips tightening to an almost painful level.

“Green, holy mother of Satan fucking green, Rain. Please knot me, fill me up, I need you." She begged, and Rain really didn’t need any more convincing. He proceeded to fuck into her, slow and shallow at first, before he began to pick up speed. He brutally thrust until his knot pushed its way in, her opening stretching to an almost painful width to accommodate him. Rain released a primal growl as he spilled his seed deep within her, hitting places she was sure no other man had managed to reach. The pleasure from the overstimulation and pain wrenched another climax from her, a strangled cry leaving her lips at the assault on her senses.

Rain slumped against her, pushing her body into the amplifier. He leaned up to kiss and nibble at her neck as he waited for the swelling of his knot to go down. She melted into him as he moved his hands over her body. They stayed like that, connected in the moment, until Rain chuckled softly.

"What?" She questioned, turning her head to look at him but was met with his hand on her chin, keeping her gaze firmly away. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple in apology, but didn't allow her to see his face.

"I won the bet." He spoke the words like a coveted secret, and she supposes it is, since she had no idea what he was talking about. The confusion must have been evident in her body language, as Rain elabortated. "Dew bet the band that he'd be the first to taste you, see you unravel beneath him, to hear the sounds of your pleasure..." He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.

"So that's all this was? Some stupid bet between you guys?" She couldn't deny the pang of hurt that echoed in her chest. Here she was, having one of the best sexual experiences in her life all because Rain wanted to brag to the band. She felt like a pawn in their game. All her feelings of passion and pleasure were nothing more than a way for them to prove their manhood. She felt traitorous tears pooling her eyes. Rain once again read her like a book, his head pushing into her neck as he purred softly.

"Don't be absurd," He admonished gently. "I've been drawn to you since the moment I laid eyes on you. But while this is has been a fantasy come to life, I admit I will get some sick pleasure in seeing the look on Dew's face when he catches a sniff of my scent all over you." She blushed at the thought, now knowing the ghouls would be able to smell exactly what had taken place in this storage room. It sent a thrill of excitement down her spine, and she had to agree that she was interested in the reactions of his fellow band members.

"I don't suppose you'll make good on your threat from earlier and leave me for the next unsuspecting victim to stumble upon this room?" She still felt slight arousal at the thought of being used by another ghoul, but she was tired and would love to not be stuck in this position any longer. A quick shower and a small nap before the show tonight sounded ideal.

"I think you deserve a reward," Rain chuckled, pulling back and stepping away from her completely. She whined at the loss of his touch, the sound of his belt buckle clinking back into place echoing through the quiet room. Within a few seconds his hands were back around her, lifting her up with one arm. His other hand came underneath to detach her corset from where it was snagged on the amp. He continued to raise her up and over the amp, her hand snatching out quickly to grab the velvet bag that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

When she turned around in his arms she was slightly disappointed to see his helmet back in place. But the black mouth covering was bunched around his neck, exposing the lower half of his face. Her free hand lifted to run over his stubble-covered cheek. Rain moved a hand under her chin, tilting her face up so he could lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips, his helmet clumsily bumping her nose. They both pulled back chuckling.

"Shall we return those to their rightful owner?" Rain questioned as he moved to open the door for her, motioning down the hallway as a mischievous smirk spread across his lips before he put his mouth cover back in its intended position.

"I'd love to," She replied, stepping out of the room with anticipation of a certain fire ghoul's reaction.

[lyfe-of-rose]

My Snow Day

There’s something so magical about waking up to a blanket of white outside your window, especially when it’s been years since we’ve seen this much snow. As beautiful as it is, my snow days can also bring their own kind of stress. Today is one of those days where everything that could go wrong felt like it would, and yet, there were some silver linings to be found today.

The day started with the daunting task of running errands. I should have known better and done all my shopping before the snowstorm hit. Walking anywhere was a challenge, with icy sidewalks and snow piles making every step feel like a mini workout. The traffic? Let’s just say it was out of this world—cars crawling along, horns blaring, and everyone seemingly as frustrated as I was. But, surprisingly, the one thing that worked in my favor was parking. Everywhere I needed to go had plenty of parking, and the stores were blissfully quiet. It felt almost eerie, like the calm in the eye of a storm. At least I could get in and out quickly, which was a small victory in an otherwise chaotic outing.

By the time I got home, I was determined to make the most of the snow day for my kids. My 9-year-old was thrilled to bundle up and head outside. Watching him dive into the snow, building forts and throwing snowballs, brought back so many memories of my own childhood. I remember how snow days used to be—the streets and yards filled with kids laughing, sledding, and making snow angels. Now, it feels so different. I hardly see any children outside anymore, and it’s hard not to feel a little sad about that. Maybe it’s just the way things have changed, or maybe it’s a sign of the times. Either way, it’s a stark contrast to what I grew up with.

As for my younger son, who’s autistic, the snow didn’t hold the same appeal. He had no interest in playing outside, and that’s okay. Every child experiences things differently, and I’ve learned to embrace his unique way of engaging with the world. Instead, we spent some quiet time indoors, which he seemed to enjoy much more. It’s all about finding what works for each of them and making the best of the moment.

I couldn’t help but think about how rare these snow days might become. With global warming and the way our winters seem to be changing, I wonder if my kids will grow up with the same snowy memories I had. That thought pushed me to make sure we soaked it all in, just in case these days really are numbered.

Lately, I’ve been contemplating a move to Florida. The idea of leaving Ohio—and all the baggage that comes with it—is tempting. Being far from my ex and the circle of people who seem to know everything about everyone here feels like a fresh start I desperately need. But it’s a big decision, and I haven’t made up my mind yet. For now, I’m just taking it one day at a time, trying to navigate the chaos and find the beauty in the little moments—like a quiet store, an open parking spot, or a snowball fight with my son.

Snow days may not be as simple or carefree as they once were, but they still hold a bit of magic, even amidst the stress. Here’s to making the most of them while they last.

[niallerspayno]

Moments - Chapter Thirteen

Masterlist

June 7th - September 13th, 2015

The first few days after you left the tour feel like a blur. You’re wrapped in a cocoon of calm and solitude, far away from the chaos of the band, the media, and the constant emotional turmoil. Zayn has been a constant presence since you arrived in London, and his calm demeanor has been exactly what you need.

He checks in on you every day, making sure you're taking care of yourself. He’s surprisingly attentive, despite the fact that he’s still working on his own music. You help him where you can, using your expertise to give him advice on how to handle the business side of things, line up some events, and even bounce around some creative ideas for his new music.

"You're good at this," Zayn tells you one afternoon as you sift through a pile of emails and work on contracts. "I didn't know you'd be so... well, good at this. You should do it more often."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "It’s just a matter of organization. Anyone can do it, really."

But Zayn isn’t convinced. “You have an eye for it. Ever thought about managing artists? I could use someone like you.”

The idea catches you off guard. You hadn’t thought about it before, but as you think about it, something about the prospect of diving into the music industry again stirs something inside you. It would be different than working with the boys—less personal, more business-focused. And you can’t deny the pull to stay involved in music, to do something you’re good at, something that excites you.

Over the next few weeks, you spend your days with Zayn, working on his music and keeping your mind occupied. The idea of being his manager sits on the back burner, and you don’t want to make any rash decisions yet. But you’re starting to seriously consider it, especially with how much it’s made you feel alive again. You don’t have to be a part of One Direction to continue being a part of the music world. And Zayn is supportive, offering encouragement every step of the way.

By the end of the first month, you’ve settled into a rhythm with Zayn, and you’ve had ample time to rest and reset. Your pregnancy is progressing steadily, and you feel like you’re starting to finally catch your breath. The constant whirlwind of emotions, the stress, the pressure of being involved with both Liam and Niall—it all feels so far away now. You’ve embraced a new sense of peace, a calm that you’ve never quite experienced before.

Zayn, ever the quiet support, has kept you grounded. There are some days when you feel a little too tired to do much, but Zayn makes sure you’re well taken care of—ordering your favorite food, picking up groceries, and even running errands for you.

The boys continue to check in every so often, but it’s clear that things have settled. They understand your decision to step back, and while they’re eager to have you back, they respect the space you need. You keep in touch with them, texting or calling, but you keep the details of your personal life—especially regarding Liam and Niall—brief.

Zayn has become your safe space. You’ve started helping him more and more with his music, and you’re seriously thinking about the offer he made. The idea of stepping into a managerial role, especially for an artist you care about, feels like a perfect fit. It would give you a sense of purpose and keep you engaged in the music industry, while still allowing you to take care of yourself and the baby.

By the time two months have passed, you're officially 30 weeks pregnant. Your belly is round and unmistakable now, and you’re starting to feel the weight of it as you go about your day. Zayn has continued to work hard, and you’ve done your best to keep up with him, even if you have to take more breaks to rest. Zayn has insisted on making sure you’re comfortable at all times—no long hours in the studio, no heavy lifting, nothing too strenuous.

One afternoon, as you sit in his studio listening to a new track he’s working on, you feel a sense of accomplishment. You’ve spent these two months recharging, rediscovering who you are outside of the band, and now you're helping Zayn build something fresh and exciting. Your decision to take time away from the band feels right.

"How about we take a break tonight?" Zayn suggests one evening. "You and me, just relax. No music, no work. Let’s go out for dinner, get some fresh air."

You smile at him, grateful for his understanding. "Sounds perfect."

As the weeks pass, the boys continue their tour in the States, wrapping up their American leg by September 12th. You’ve been in touch with Paul, who’s given his approval for you to take the full three months off—though you know he’s eager for you to return. But at 37 weeks pregnant, there’s no way you can fly back to the States. You’re stuck in London, but you’ve made peace with it. You’re exactly where you need to be, surrounded by supportive friends and focusing on the baby.

...

September 13th, 2015

The quiet of your flat has been your refuge these past couple of months, but today, the energy feels different. Today, everything’s about to change. The boys are coming back from their American leg of the tour, and while part of you has been looking forward to seeing them, another part is unsure. Things have been complicated—especially with Zayn having left the band and the unresolved tension between Liam and Niall. But here they are, back in London, and you're about to face it all head-on.

You hear the sounds of chatter and laughter just outside your door. You feel your pulse quicken as the door opens, revealing Paul first, followed by the boys. There’s something in the way they walk into your space—almost like they’re treading carefully, sensing the heaviness in the air.

They stop for a second when they see you, and despite everything, you can’t help but smile.

Louis is the first to break the silence, rushing over with his usual boisterous energy. “There she is!” he says, sweeping you into a bear hug, careful not to jostle you too much. He places dramatic kisses on both your cheeks, squeezing you tightly. “I missed you so much, girl. You’ve been holding down the fort without us?”

“Yeah, Lou, it’s been all quiet around here without you,” you reply with a small laugh, feeling a warmth fill your chest.

Harry steps in next, his smile softening when he sees you. He’s more measured than Louis, but just as affectionate. He wraps his arms around you gently, pulling you close for a brief, heartfelt hug. “It’s good to see you,” he says quietly, his voice warm. “How’s the little one?”

“Good,” you say, a hand automatically going to your bump. “Not long left. We’re getting there.”

Liam and Niall, both a little more reserved, come in last. There’s something unspoken between them now—an understanding, a peace. They look at you, both with a mix of relief and uncertainty, but they’re careful not to crowd you. Liam, his face softer than it’s been in months, steps forward first.

He opens his arms, and when you step into his embrace, you feel the old familiarity. There’s no more tension—just warmth, the kind you’ve missed. He pulls you in slowly, as though he’s afraid of hurting you or the baby, but you pull back just enough to look him in the eye. “I’ve missed you,” you say softly. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Liam replies, his voice quiet but sincere. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”

You nod, understanding that the weight of everything that happened between you both is still there, but that it’s moving into the past. “It’s okay, Liam.”

Then it’s Niall’s turn. He moves in closer, his usual cocky demeanor tempered by a quiet concern. As he wraps his arms around you, you’re aware of the way he adjusts his touch, careful around your growing bump. There’s a tenderness in his gaze, and when he whispers, “You okay?” you feel like the world has slowed down for just a moment.

“I’m good,” you reply, smiling up at him. “Better now that you’re here.”

Louis, still holding onto his over-the-top energy, breaks the moment with a loud laugh. “Alright, alright, I think we’ve had enough of the mushy stuff. Let’s get to the real business—food, right? I’m starving!”

Before anyone can respond, the door shifts slightly, and Zayn steps into the room, looking a little out of place. There’s a hesitation in his eyes as he surveys the group, the tension palpable. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the air is thick with unspoken words. He’s been gone for so long, and though he’s here, it’s clear there’s still some distance to be crossed.

You take a step toward him, and despite everything that’s happened, there’s a comfort in his presence. “Zayn,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He steps forward cautiously, and you’re both aware of the silent understanding that now lies between you two.

The boys stand back, watching the moment between you two. There’s a shared understanding now that Zayn was a big part of your healing, and while things between him and the others are still a little strained, there’s an unspoken gratitude toward him for being there when no one else could be.

Louis steps forward first, his usual chaotic energy breaking the tension. “I’m glad you’re here, Zayn,” he says, reaching forward to give him a half hug, slapping him on the back. “But don’t think you’re off the hook for not being here when we needed you.”

Zayn offers a small, apologetic smile, but the weight of his absence seems to hang in the air. “I know,” he says, his voice quiet but sincere. “I’m sorry for that.”

The group falls into an awkward silence for a moment before Paul, who’s been quietly observing the reunion, steps in. “Alright, everyone. Let’s not make this too complicated. We’re all here now. Let’s just focus on the good.”

The boys nod in agreement, and you feel a collective sense of relief as the energy in the room starts to shift. Despite the awkwardness, despite everything that’s happened, you’re all back together in this moment.

As the hugs and greetings continue, you notice that Liam and Niall are still careful around your bump, their hands hovering gently over your belly when they give you a quick squeeze or touch. There’s a soft understanding in their eyes, a silent promise that they’re there for you.

“You’ve got this, yeah?” Louis says with a grin, winking as he looks at you. “We’ll take care of you. You’re not getting away from us that easily.”

You smile at him, feeling a bit of the weight lift from your shoulders. “I’m glad to have all of you back,” you say, your hand resting over your bump. “We’ve made it this far. Together.”

And as you stand there, surrounded by the band, Paul, and Zayn, you can’t help but feel a quiet sense of peace settle over you. There’s still much to figure out, but in this moment, with everyone here, you know you don’t have to do it alone.

...

September 14th, 2015

You wake up early, the soft morning light filtering in through the curtains. Your pregnancy is heavy now, and you find yourself shifting and adjusting in bed to find a comfortable position. You haven’t been able to sleep well the last few nights, your thoughts keeping you awake long into the quiet hours.

The clock reads just after seven when you finally decide to get up, your body craving something to do to distract from the pressure building around you. You stretch slowly, trying to ease the discomfort in your lower back. The boys have plans to meet up for rehearsals later, and though you’re tempted to keep your distance today, you know they’ll be checking in on you constantly—just as they’ve been doing ever since you’ve gotten back.

You make your way to the kitchen, letting the quiet of your flat wrap around you as you prepare your morning coffee. You can’t help but notice that, for the first time in a while, the house feels empty. Zayn’s offer still lingers in your thoughts, and with so much going on in your life, the decision feels so heavy.

As you're sipping your tea, there's a knock at the door. You know immediately who it is. Without hesitation, you open the door to find Niall standing there, his usual grin softened by a look of concern.

"Morning," he says, stepping in without waiting for an invitation. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine," you say, but you can tell he doesn't buy it. He’s been hovering around you since you got back, though not quite as openly as before. It’s clear he’s trying to give you space, but you both know he’s struggling to stay away.

“Anything I can do to help?” Niall asks, glancing over to the couch, where he clearly expects to be parked for a few hours.

You consider his question for a moment, knowing he’s not asking just about today’s comfort but something deeper. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken to him alone, and his presence feels oddly grounding. But the weight of the silence that’s been between the two of you since the confrontation with Liam is still lingering.

“No, I’m okay,” you reply, offering a small, tight smile. “Just... thinking.”

"About what?" Niall asks, taking a step closer. “If you need to talk about anything, I’m here. You know that.”

You bite your lip, unsure whether to open up about the decision you’re facing with Zayn. You’ve been keeping it to yourself, not ready to share your thoughts with anyone just yet. But something in Niall’s eyes makes you reconsider. He’s not the one you’re afraid of talking to—it’s Liam. But here, now, with Niall standing in front of you, you can’t ignore the need to get the weight off your chest.

“I—” you start, and then pause. It’s harder than you thought to say it aloud. “Zayn offered me a job. To be his manager. And... I’m just not sure what to do. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It’s just... so much to take in, and I don’t know what it means for the baby, for the band, for everything.”

Niall looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, processing your words. “I think Zayn’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s not the same guy he was when he left. If you’re happy with it, then I don’t see why not. But... I can tell you’re conflicted, and I get it. It’s a big change.”

“Exactly,” you agree, your hand resting on your bump. “But I don’t want to just throw everything away. The band... it’s been my whole life. But at the same time, I need to think about what’s best for me and the baby.”

There’s a pause before Niall speaks again, his voice quieter now, but with an unmistakable sincerity. “You need to do what’s best for you. And if you feel like this is it... then go for it. I’ll support you no matter what. And so will Liam.”

You look up at him in surprise. "Liam? You think he'd be okay with it?"

He gives a small shrug. "He’s been quieter, more... reflective lately. But you know he cares. He’s just trying to figure it out too. The three of us, we’ve all got our own stuff we’re working through."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. It’s been a while since you’ve had a proper conversation with Liam—since everything happened. You can feel the tension between you both, but the idea that he might still care, still want what’s best for you, even if it’s in a different way now, brings a small spark of hope.

Before you can say more, there’s a knock at the door again. This time, it’s Louis, popping his head in with a mischievous grin.

“Morning!” he announces, clearly oblivious to the serious conversation that’s just unfolded. "We’re all meeting up for lunch. Paul says we should have a group sit-down to figure out tour stuff, but he also mentioned you might be joining us. Is that still happening?”

You glance at Niall, who gives you an encouraging smile. “Sure,” you say, giving a small nod. "I’ll be there."

Niall leans back against the doorframe, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he speaks again. “We’ll figure it out, yeah? Whatever you decide, you’re not alone in this.”

You meet his gaze, the moment hanging in the air before Louis, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, starts up again. "Alright, let's get moving. I’m starving, and Harry's been complaining about the lack of food for hours."

As they both head off to join the others, you feel a small but significant shift inside you. The decision still looms large, but there’s a comfort in knowing that, no matter what, you’re not doing it alone.

...

The lunch is held in one of the quieter rooms of the hotel, away from the usual bustle of tour preparations. The long table is covered with an assortment of foods, but you barely notice it, your focus on the conversation unfolding in front of you. Niall, Louis, and Harry are already chatting animatedly as you take a seat next to Liam, who looks up at you with a mixture of curiosity and care. There’s an air of nervous anticipation between the group—everyone’s senses heightened, knowing today is the day you’ll finally share what’s been weighing on your mind.

As you settle into your seat, Paul steps in last, taking his place at the head of the table with an air of calm authority. There’s a moment of silence before you finally speak up, your voice slightly wobbly as you look around at the familiar faces—faces that have been with you through everything.

“I—uh, I need to tell you all something,” you begin, hesitating for a split second as you glance down at your bump. "Zayn... he’s offered me a job. To be his manager. He wants me to help him with his music and, well... a lot of things. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now."

The table goes still for a moment, and the silence stretches out just long enough for you to feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Niall’s eyebrows furrow in surprise, Liam looks contemplative, and Harry shifts in his seat, clearly processing the news. Louis is the first to speak, his voice tinged with excitement.

“Wait, what?” Louis blurts out. “Zayn? Our Zayn? He wants you to manage him? That’s huge, mate!”

You nod slowly, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. It is. It’s just... a big decision. And with everything going on, I’m not sure what to do. I’m still processing it all.”

There’s a beat of silence again, and Paul is the next one to speak, his tone calm and measured as always. “It’s a great opportunity for you, but let’s not pretend it’s without its challenges. Being Zayn’s manager could be amazing for your career—it could really set you up. But that’s a big responsibility, especially now, with the baby coming. You’ll be on your own for most of it, and that’s something to think about. Who will be there to support you when you need it? You’ll have a newborn, and you might feel a bit isolated.”

You chew on Paul’s words, his voice steady and reassuring despite the gravity of what he’s saying. It’s true—becoming Zayn’s manager would be a huge leap forward, but it would mean stepping away from the safety net you’ve had with the band.

Liam finally breaks his silence, his voice soft but honest. “I think it’s a great opportunity too, but I get where Paul’s coming from. You’d be taking on a lot, especially so soon after the baby arrives. It’s a huge responsibility. And I just... I don’t want you to feel like you’re in over your head. We’ll be here for you, obviously, but I think you need to consider if you’ll be able to juggle everything. Not just the job, but being a mom, and everything else.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and though he’s speaking with care, you can feel the underlying concern, especially after everything that’s happened between the two of you. Niall, always the supportive one, chimes in quickly, his tone gentle.

“You don’t have to make the decision today,” he reminds you. “We’re all here for you no matter what. If you want to go for it, we’ll support you. But like Paul said, there’s a lot to think about. You don’t have to rush it.”

You nod, grateful for their understanding. It’s clear they’re all a bit shocked by Zayn’s offer, but they want what’s best for you. You feel a warmth in your chest knowing that they’re all looking out for you, even if you haven’t spoken to them about it much since your return.

The conversation shifts slightly, and Louis, ever the one to lighten the mood, grins at you.

“Well, we can’t let you go without some more important baby talk!” he says. “We need to start planning names, right?”

A small chuckle escapes you, and you nod, grateful for the change in tone. It’s like a collective exhale fills the room as the focus shifts. Harry jumps in next.

“Have you guys thought about names yet?” he asks, leaning forward with genuine interest. “I bet you’ve got a list a mile long.”

You pull out your phone and scroll through the ultrasound photos you’ve been meaning to share with them. As you show the first image to the group, there’s an immediate wave of excitement from the band.

“Look at that,” Niall says, his eyes softening. “She’s already got a little personality in there, doesn’t she?”

Liam leans in closer to look at the photo, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on your arm. “She’s going to be so beautiful,” he murmurs, the quiet sentiment unmistakable. His eyes flicker to yours for a brief moment, but the tension is there again, an unspoken understanding between you two.

Louis nudges Harry and grins. “She’s going to have our musical talent, obviously,” he teases. “We’ll have to teach her the ropes. Maybe she’ll join the band when she’s a bit older.”

You laugh softly, feeling the warmth of their presence around you. The room is filled with light chatter, and for the first time in what feels like a long time, there’s no tension. Just the comfort of being with people who care.

As the conversation drifts to possible baby names, you feel the weight of your decision pull back just a little. Zayn’s offer is still in the back of your mind, but right now, it’s easy to forget everything else and focus on the small things—the future, the baby, and the sense of home you have with these people.

"Have you thought about any names yet?" Paul asks, breaking into the conversation again, his voice steady.

You shake your head slightly, not yet sure. “Nothing solid yet. I’m thinking something classic... but I haven’t settled on anything. Maybe a name that reflects both of their cultures,” you add, looking at Liam and Niall.

Liam smiles softly, giving a nod of approval. “I like that idea.”

“We should definitely have a little list for you to pick from,” Louis pipes up. “Maybe we’ll help you out with suggestions!”

You feel a warmth in your chest as the banter continues, and for the first time in a while, you can just relax. The decision about Zayn’s offer will come later. For now, it’s about being here in the moment, surrounded by the people who matter the most.

Next chapter

[bhsiwoo]

without hesitation, i dive into you the golden flower, present time. triggers. minor mentions of injuries @xiaoli-bh

under rare occasions would siwoo find himself needing to run an errand for a few remedies and herbs. his destination for today had been the well known golden flower where one of his close executive employee had told him about a few days back. aside the goods she sells, the employee himself could not keep his lips shut in gushing about the beauty that is the owner. not that it would matter for the owner of eternity since he really needed a few healing balm for himself to tend the wound that he had not realize had festered on his arm that was inflicted from the chase some masked strangers had given him the night before.

to his fortune, there hadn't been a queue in particular so it would save his time mostly of just getting what he needs, paying for it and heading home straight so he could continue reviewing the overdue documentations before the pain from the wound had warned him of its existence. arriving at the stall, the man scans around thought most of it comes off foreign to him since it may be more handmade than anything so he turns to the owner and ask, "do you have any recommendations for a healing balm, specifically to heal cut wounds?" he keeps his request simple and direct to waste neither of their time. however siwoo can't seem to notice the changing expression of the lady whom seemed excited to see him....?