#it would be a home and we’d be a family and we’d all be happy and love each other

[ofpowerwarrior]

Jo’s thing was she had a home, a person that was comfort, safety for her. For years Jo brought that warm sensation she felt in her stomach. How when she wasn’t around Alex she wanted to be. And she easily fell in love with him; and we mapped out a future; we were solid when he suddenly disappeared and left on her. We had talked about starting a family; it turns out I wasn’t the family he wanted. It stung like hell, Jo felt sick, she cried a lot. She felt wobbly on her feet, any ounce of food she smelt she ended up vomiting up. And Now it made sense, it wasn’t because of depression of being left behind. It wasn’t sadness, it was because the last thing Alex before he left me for a new life with a woman who never deserved him, he got me pregnant. And Jo felt joy, because she knew how deeply she loved him, and a memory of him was enough. She felt sad, and upset all the time. But she also felt grateful to be a mom. Our paths didn’t line up; and it was okay. But Jo didn’t want to be the gossip mill, she didn’t want to be stared at, the whispers that Karev left because of her. Jo needed an escape until the baby came, and she trusted Arizona, she trusted she’d be taken care the health of her unborn child, her own health. Which as crazy as it sounds Jo jumped at the chance to go to New York away from prying eyes. 

It was a comfort that stopped her nerves. Jo was nervous about being in a place that was unfamiliar to her. But seeing Arizona, she felt a wave of relief. Because she was a friendly face, someone she felt comfortable with. All that to say; she just felt awful that knot in her stomach because Alex was her boy, the guy she trained to take over her unit at the hospital, he disappointed me but I could only imagine how the blonde was feeling now. So out of habit I owned up to feeling awful now, it was probably the cloudy emotions whipping through my system right now. A soft smile slowly came to my lips as my eyes met hers. “ I’m excited to see her too.” Purposely avoiding the mention of my ex husband now. I didn’t want to cry in an airport, because despite it all I know how much Alex loved me, and I loved him he made me believe I was worthy of love, our paths just didn’t work. 

Jo was grasping at straws. Was she fine? Was she okay? No she was a hot mess who couldn’t even indulge in a glass of wine for her pain anymore. She had to stick to cravings food, it as kinda depressing if you asked her. But Jo was strong she’s gonna rise so high to where Alex would feel like a fool for ever leaving her. And Yeah I didn’t want to stand here pretend I was happy, but I also couldn’t deny a part of me hoped Alex may show up, he may be the guy I assumed he was. I didn’t tell him to feel guilty, I just couldn’t sit and be Izzie who kept him in the dark for years. I wasn't cynical like that, I had heart, and I cared about his happiness. “ A part of me wished I couldn’t be the bitch and didn’t tell him.. But I couldn’t be her..” Izzie, the pain in my ass; who took Alex from me, but it was also on him because instead of being an honest man he left, tossed papers on me on his way and was done. Alex was a grown man who made his own decisions. And that was the sad truth. 

A part of Jo wanted Arizona to be right. Give it time, years, but Jo didn’t want Alex to want her based upon our child. He was all talk and no action. Actions spoke louder for Jo; if that made sense. All that to say she got comfortable in the seat, her head comfortably leaned against the window as she took in the road to the city, a new place of home. “ Someday.” Someday we’d talke figure us out for our baby, but Jo didn’t trust him, and right now that’s all she could believe. At the mention of pizza, oh did that sound delicious. “ Thank you for taking me in, I promise I will find my own place I don’t want to burden you or your family.” Gracious is what Jo was; she appreciated the effort shown, but if New York was the move; she’d stable herself in a long run.

Someone to Lean on

@anunstablepast

Changes; for Jo it was normal to move from place to place. To form a new version of yourself. She had renamed herself; she had run from situations that felt haunting. A change of pace; a new place to settle down in felt normal. Jo never saw herself leaving Seattle; she never thought she’d have to. That was until her husband left her for an ex wife and a family he apparently always wanted. And Jo found herself pregnant and alone. She had Link who was her best friend; he’s been an angle in the last month. He’s ensured she ate, and took her to the few doctor appointments she had to go to. Especially if this move was to go as planned. Arizona had requested her scans; requested a last appointment with Carina before she board her flight. It was discrete, it was a need to know basis. Only a select few knew about the brunette’s condition. Jo didn’t want to be the talk of the hospital.

It took weeks for the whispers to stop. For the stares to stop after Alex left. After he abandoned her. Jo wanted to be okay; wanted to be happy. After a month of knowing; of starting to take care of herself she was adjusting. Carina promised not to tell; and Bailey understood her choice to leave town. Meredith was in the dark; she had manage to hide a pregnancy, she managed to still low until after she gave birth. That’s what she wanted; a place where she wasn’t the girl who got left. She wasn’t the girl with a crazy ex, Jo hated being spied on; being the talk of the hospital. The stars had lined up to where she was able to leave; go under the grid, with Bailey’s support; and having a place to stay with Arizona and Callie. She was lucky; to have a way out. It took a month given how awful her morning sickness had been. Jo had finally packed; the necessary items she needed; she was a light backer. Only a suitcase; and a carry on. She might be crazy; but the way the female looked at it was.. Her body was growing; she’s gonna be growing out of her cloths in a few months; and if she forgot anything that was required; she could pick it up in New York. 

She decided not to drive herself crazy; the hardest part was saying goodbye to Link. After much pleading; her friend understood why she needed to go for herself. It wasn’t about running; because Jo knew her home was Seattle; but in order for her to have her baby on her terms; she had to escape. Alex did a number on her; he ghosted her until he felt remorse; felt the need to own up to his mistakes. Jo wasn’t intending on sharing this news with him. But he reached out a few weeks ago; and he apologized; and one heat of the moment text ended with her uttering the words. In a single text; her good heart now had her attempting at a co-parenting arrangement with him; even if it hurt her. 

She was expected to inform him she landed when her plane landed in New York. Although the jury was out on that one. She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard the intercom; the announcement that the plane was landing. Fingers gripped hold of the armrest as she felt the right landing; luckily her stomach was playing nice with her today. Within minutes people were getting up. Jo was only about 3 months so she wasn’t showing yet; and decided to take the time to shoot the blonde a quick text. 

[ Text] Arizona. 

“ Just wanted to let you know I landed okay.” 

With a quick press of a send the brunette slowly lifted herself up to her feet. Lines of people exiting; she’d patiently wait. Jo wasn’t expecting Arizona to get her; she had an uber app set in, in case she had to call for a car. One problem at a time.

[ca-d]

I like when you love something so much and you can remember where it stems from 🕯️

[f1nneas]

Me when I realise I’m not happy and full of love living in a cute homey cottage wearing cute dresses and baking cookies and working as an early years teacher with my 2 pet bunnies, a girly car, my loving partner and my future children ☹️☹️☹️

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

[auroralwriting]

the gun

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, they both reached for the gun, the gun, the gun…

"you just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius."

word count: 2.3k

warnings: cm violence, blood, enemies to lovers, kinda rushed im sorryyyy, fem reader slightly mentioned

a continuation of this story can be found here

Spencer and you always competed. He had an eidetic memory, you had a photographic.

The difference between you two was anything you ever saw, read, you held in long-term memory. Spencer’s, though, resided in short term. However, Spencer was also an autodidact, meaning he could teach himself anything. You also had a vast emotional intelligence. You had such strong empathy, you could detect any micro-detail anyone displayed, making you the perfect lie-detector one that even Hotch couldn’t evade.

Spencer was Jason Gideon’s special boy. Gideon helped Spencer make his way in the BAU. You were David Rossi’s special girl, him noticing your skills from a young age when he met you during a case. He guided you to make all the best choices, leading you to the BAU as well. It took a few years, timing and all, but you got there.

When Dave transferred to Quantico’s BAU, he requested your transfer as well. He thought you would mesh well with the team. More specifically, he assumed you and Spencer would become a genius duo; totally unstoppable.

Oh, how wrong he was. It was from the moment you’d corrected Spencer on some statistic he spewed, you both became enemies forced to co-exist on the same team. There was never a civil moment, always some fight. It was sad, too. You remembered the first time you saw him, you were struck by how cute he was. Too bad he decided to hate you before you got a chance.

Vividly, you remembered the most intense fight you both had.

“So someone with a medical degree,” Hotch muttered. “That’s got to be impossible.”

“It’s more likely that have a nursing degree.” Spencer replied. “We’d be looking at around one hundred eighty thousand people a year. If our unsub is a new graduate, that’s the numbers we’d be looking through.”

You shook your head, “It’s actually one hundred fifty seven thousand. Also, narrow it down to nursing degrees in New York, and you get around eight thousand. Eleven percent were men, so around six hundred. Lower it even more to those who don’t have any family members, most likely from group homes, you can get maybe seventy?”

oh, yes

Garcia clacked away at her keyboard, “My baby’s got it! Seventy two people. If we’re looking at NYU specifically, thirteen.”

Pride filled your system. It was fulfilling when you were able to get things right. Spencer, on the other hand, wasn’t too happy about that.

“You know, nobody asked your opinion.” He scoffed.

“It isn’t opinion, Reid. It’s purely fact, ones you should probably get right.” Your reply had Spencer clenching his fists.

How dare you insult his intelligence? His IQ was much larger than yours, you weren’t one to speak on that. “Maybe you should focus on the case instead of trying to be a people pleaser,” Spencer sneered your way.

His reply made you roll your eyes, “At least I can tell what people want. You’re oblivious, Reid.”

oh, yes

Slowly, the two of you began to go back and forth, your voices raising. Before the situation blew up, Hotch stepped in, trying to mediate. However, Spencer mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t just let go. It hurt, stung like a bee, and you weren’t going to let him walk away feeling victorious.

“At least my mentor didn’t up and leave me.” you snapped. “He’s still with me, he didn’t just vanish with a stupid little note as a dingy goodbye.”

Spencer had paused, face dropping. You read him like a book, you’d gone too far. He showed minuscule signs of distress, grief, sadness. The room was silent, no one quite knew what to say.

oh, yes

“Reid, I-”

“Save it.”

Spencer had walked away, leaving you to feel shameful of your words. Rossi just squeezed your shoulder. The man knew you didn’t mean it.

they both

Since then, it was like the two of you were on each other’s cases, constantly bickering and arguing. Now, you were almost subconsciously battling each other for the genius role of the team. Was there any need to? No, not at all, but your fights had become not a battle, but a war.

You stood outside the bank with your team. “They have hostages,” You identified, attempting to peer inside. “There’s no way we can go in. It’s a suicide-murder mission.”

oh, yes

“There’s gotta be a way,” JJ shook her head. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Derek sighed.

After a few hours, Will made the decision to go inside. You had to help hold back JJ as he walked in. Hearing the bullets made you sick. You physically had to double over, holding back the tears. It suddenly hit you how dire the situation was. You went back to the van with the team. No one really knew what to say.

"Did you see where he was shot?" JJ asked. "Is he alive or dead, Garcia?"

Penelope's breath was shaky, "I don't know."

"He was wearing a vest." Emily reasoned. "He might be okay."

JJ gave a smile, but it was one of disbelief. "Might be," She muttered, shaking her head in reply.

It was then that the team decided to go in. You shoved your gun in your holster, "I'll take first point," You offered. "Check and see if Will's okay. I'll try and manipulate them into letting me go to him." Hotch nodded. With your knowledge of psychology and your emotional intelligence, Hotch knew you could do it.

they both

"L/n, it's too dangerous." You heard Spencer say over the phone. "Just wait for me to tell you where to go in."

You rolled your eyes, "Reid, I'm not stupid. I've handled multiple hostage situations."

Spencer didn't reply. You liked that. This was the first time you'd be able to prove yourself without Spencer's help. This was honestly just a way for you to prove you were the better of the two. Your actions were motivated by the desire to be the best; a classic narcissistic move. You weren't a narcissist, though. You just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius.

Oddly enough, hostages flooded out of the bank as you made your way back outside. Maybe Will was alive and managed to get them all out. Once none more came out, you and two other cops began to make your way inside stealthily.

Right as you got in the middle of the bank, you heard Rossi's panicked voice over your comms, "Abort, abort!"

oh, yes

There was no time to reply. It all happened so suddenly. You heard the explosion before you felt it. It was hard to breathe. You couldn't see, hear. It slowly registered that there was a bomb, and it went off.

they both reached for

You had no clue where you had been thrown to. Everything felt cold, really cold. A loud ringing filled your ears as you slowly sat up. You touched your head, pulling back to feel stickiness on your fingers. Your vision was blurry, but you knew it was blood. You had to get out of the building. You needed help, medics, your team. Was anyone else in your team inside yet?

they both reached for the gun

A grunt left your lips as you stood up. You felt your legs give out under you, and you went down again. The desire to live was stronger than your physical weakness, and you stood up again. It was so dusty and hazy that you couldn't see. You leaned on the nearest wall for support, slowly using it to try and find your way out of the building. All that you heard in your head was get out, survive, get out, survive.

After what felt like ages, you felt a breeze against your skin. You followed it, hoping it would lead out, and it did. The light was harsh on your eyes as you tried to scan the area. It was then you saw Spencer and Hotch-- what was Spencer doing here? He was still at the BAU last you'd checked. Maybe the blast knocked you out cold.

Trudging your way over, you weakly called out. "Aaron, Spencer,"

the gun

Spencer knew he heard his name. He looked up from the blueprints of the building to see you, blood covering different parts of your body, your skin covered in debris and dust. You had limp, and your eyes were blown out. "Oh my god," he muttered, running over to you.

the gun

The genius took your in his arms as you fell into him, "How'd you get here?" you asked. "What's for dinner?"

Spencer took notice of your confusion as he allowed you to lean on him. He took your face in his hands, "Y/n, look at me. Focus on me,"

the gun

You couldn't directly look at him. Your eyes darted all over the place. "Where's Rossi? Did he go in?"

"No, Rossi's okay." Spencer leaned over his shoulder, "We need a medic!" He yelled, quickly turning his attention back to you. "It's okay, you're okay."

oh, yes

"I can't feel anything," you breathed out, "That can't be normal. Is that normal? Spencer, am I dying?"

oh, yes

Spencer shook his head, "You're okay, it's okay."

"I can't die," You softly whimpered. "I'm sorry, Spencer. 'M so mean to you, I don't mean to be."

Deep down, Spencer knew you meant what you were saying. The fear of dying without getting your true feelings out always lead to admissions of the truth. "I know, I know," Spencer smoothed your hair. "I don't hate you, I don't. You're going to be okay." Spencer slowly became anxious as he noticed the amount of blood seeping from your head. "Look at me, please, keep talking to me."

"'M sorry," You muttered, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Spencer's face began to fade as you collapsed in his arms.

Spencer felt his breathing grow heavy as he held you tightly. "Medic! She's-- oh, god, Help!"

they both reached for the gun.

A steady beeping was the first thing you heard as you woke up. The light was a blinding white, and you let out a groan at it. Your body hurt like hell, and your head was pounding.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, here, let me just--"

The white lights went out and all that was left was the stream of daylight coming through the windows, along with a lamp that was a warmer light. It was much more comfortable that way. You quickly guessed you were in a hospital. The beeping, white lights, smell of rubbing alcohol that you just identified.

"How do you feel?"

Spencer. You turned your head to look at him. His face held deep concern. He was holding your hand. "I--" You paused, considering his question. "I feel like shit."

He let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah. You kind of got exploded." That's right, the bomb.

"Oh, Will, the team, are they okay?" You softly asked.

Spencer nodded, "Everyone's okay, we got the unsubs. It's all okay now."

You remembered Spencer's words. You should have waited to go in. If you had waited, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation right now. "I should've listened to you." You stated weakly. "You were right. I was being stupid."

"Hey, no," Spencer quickly interrupted. "You were doing your job."

"I wasn't," you shook your head. "I wanted to prove myself. I-I wanted.. to show that I didn't just do victimology and simple hostage relief situations. I wanted to prove myself like you have." You stopped, sucking in a pained breath. You felt your eyes become glassy. "I wanted to prove to everyone I was just as good as you."

Spencer felt his heart break at your words. You both knew overall, he was smarter. It never occurred to him that your constant bickering was to prove yourself, and not to prove him wrong. "You're better." Spencer decided to say. "I mean, I can't relate to our victims, hell, our unsubs the way you can."

"Spencer,"

"I'm serious." He continued. "You're so important to this team. You-you push us to be better." Spencer cleared his throat, "You push me to be better."

You stared at Spencer blankly for a moment, "I never told you that I like this haircut."

Spencer gave you a slightly surprised look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You hummed. "It makes you look, I don't know, less like Einstein and more like, uh, a really smart James Dean."

"James Dean," Spencer repeated, "I've never gotten that one before. Are those meds talking right now?"

You shook your head slowly, "Probably the clearest I've thought in a while." You replied, causing Spencer to smile. "Why did you stay with me?"

Spencer paused for a moment, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know we bicker a lot. Well, more than a lot. Probably several times a day, but I still care about you. I-I was.. really scared for you. I don't think I could forgive myself if I let you walk in there and you'd died."

"It wouldn't have been your fault," You tried. Spencer just shook his head.

"It would have been. I should've rationalized it with you. When I saw you, I just thought, 'What have I been doing this whole time? Have I really been wasting my breath arguing with you when we could've made the best team'? I remember when Rossi first introduced you, I was like, 'No way someone this pretty is doing this', when you should've been some model or something." Spencer rambled. He did that, paired with hand fidgeting, when he was nervous. He rambled as he played with your fingers.

You took a breath in, hoping for the best. "Hey, maybe we could, uh, go to one of those team based trivia nights at O'Keefe's?"

"Are-are you asking me out?" Spencer asked.

"Only if you're saying yes." You responded. "I, uh, maybe thought we could start over."

Spencer gave a chuckle, "Yeah, trivia night sounds good. I'd like a retry at this. Maybe we're, uh, meant to be more than just a team."

You smiled at him, knowing that a simple friendship wouldn't be highest point of your new relationship with the genius.

[luveline]

For KBD asks. Maybe pregnant! Reader and Steve are able to have a little babymoon with just the two of them and he’s just super sweet and lovey dovey with reader 😊😊 love your writing!!

KBD —you and Steve spend some rare time alone. mom!reader

You thought going on vacation three weeks before your due date was one, misguided, and two, more pain than it was worth, but Steve insisted it would be relaxing and you’d figured why not. He deserves a vacation. 

You wished you’d done this for every baby, now. 

“What a beautifully huge bump.” 

You don’t feel beautiful, huge is allowed. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You and Steve lay lakeside, just a couple hours from home. He passes you a glass wet with condensation, a drink you’re sharing, your turn to sip at the slushy insides. 

“It really is ginormous,” you say after a sip. It’s not horrifying or alien or anything people love to say of big baby bumps, but it is heavy. Perhaps not as beautiful as you wish, but doing a good job. You hold your stomach. In half a moment, the baby stirs. 

“Any further along for names?”

With three girls at home and a fourth drawing near, you’ve not thought about it much. There are other urgent matters to attend to, dance classes, crayons, a new bassinet, a new rocker, a new everything that Steve had to build. You’ve been trying to make sure everybody in the family is happy, including Steve, which hasn’t left much time just for you. 

The babymoon was a great idea. Steve is a genius, ten times as thoughtful as he thinks he is.

“Not one,” you say. 

“Well, you’ll think of something.” 

“Can you come and kiss me?” You turn your face to point at the soft skin under your jaw. “Right here?” 

Steve lays like a dead body in his chair. Boneless, he turns his head away from you, then slowly back. “Oh, sorry, are you talking to me? You wouldn’t really make your gorgeous husband get up again when he’s only just laid down, right?” 

“As opposed to what, gorgeous husband?” you ask mildly. “You want me to get up?” 

You’re lucky you can still move. Bump is huge and hurting. Every step you take hurts both your ankles and your spine. 

Steve sighs like he’s in pain, but he gets up. He crosses the step to your lounger, and kneels down beside it. “Where did you want it?” he asks, his breaths throwing goosebumps down your arms. 

“Wherever you wanna put it.” 

“I could kiss all over you,” he says, bringing his turned hand to your cheek, flat of his nail caressing your cheek. “Don’t tempt me.” 

He moves his hand to the other cheek, furthest from him, and holds your face, giving you a firm squeeze. It’s not intimidating, the opposite, like a silent I got you as he turns your face away and leans in. 

“Here?” he asks against the place you’d pointed. 

You laugh, taking a fistful of his soft hair. “Stop, you’re tickling me.” 

“You asked for this.” 

“I asked for a kiss.” 

“Right.” He kisses you in the place you’d pointed originally. 

“This is really nice.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Not just the kiss. This vacation.” You brush your fingers through his hair. 

“I wish we’d known about it before. I love our girls, but…” 

But this is the first time you and Steve have been alone together for a long, long time, the first time you’ve ever been completely alone with your new baby. You can’t forget how much you love Steve, but it’s a great reassurance to be here and remember that you’re good together. You’re a family unit, but you’re also just Y/N and Steve. 

“I miss spending time with you,” Steve says. “I know this is the worst time to say it, but we need to spend more time together, just you and me.” 

You turn into his hand. “No, I get it,” you whisper.

It doesn’t need to be said how much you love your kids, isn’t that what you’re thinking day in and day out? You love them, you take care of them, it’s a full time job. And yet this time without them feels rare and priceless at once. It’s not a great time to realise it when you’re about to have a newborn and absolutely no free time, but it’s okay. You can make it work. 

Steve wraps his arms around you, forcing you forward to embrace you tightly. You're quick to hug back. 

“I’ll never get over you,” he says. 

“‘Magine we never met.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“I can’t think about it without you… doesn’t make any sense.” 

“It doesn’t make sense, we’re the only right way.” He smiles into your cheek. 

“I really can’t picture my life without you.” 

Steve draws back. He can’t look at you with any more softness than he does then, even as his lips turn into a smirky grin. “You don’t need to. And let’s not! It’s exhausting, I just wanna lay in the sun with you, listen to the sound of the lake.” 

“Are your knees hurting?” 

You’ve just remembered he’s kneeling in shorts on the wooden dock. Steve laughs. “Who cares about my knees? Come on, I’m having another kiss.” 

“Says who?” you ask. 

He tips your chin up. 

[obae-me]

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

[hotpinkstars]

BORDER COLLIE - boothill x reader

- you, boothill, and your daughter spend a nice morning together, allthewhile you and your husband converse about a dog.

- i don't know why i made this i just thought it would be a fun little thing idk lol. i just had to add that little bit of jazz to the end bc like yk... idk anyways i'm trynna set myself on a better posting schedule and i think im starting off strong mmm enjoy

- all fluff, tiny mention of pregnancy at the very end, pre-cyborg boothill, his daughter is still alive here and everything is normal, wc 714

You were looking out the window, out at the vast amount of farmland you and your husband, Boothill, had decided to buy when he brought home the little girl you’re now able to call your daughter.

It was a nice, big place, suitable for animals of all kinds, and very family-friendly. You were currently watching your daughter play around with a baby goat that her father decided to bring out, a smile on all three of your faces. 

She seemed so happy, waddling around the goat, clapping her chubby little hands when the goat gave a soft little lick to her cheek. She had just learned how to walk, and had been able to say a few words for the past few months now. 

You walked out the back door, waving at Boothill before he waved his hand as a gesture to have you over by them. While you were walking over, you could hear your daughter shout “Goat! Goat! Cute goat!” While bobbing up and down with her legs and clapping her hands. It made you laugh a little bit before leaning into your husband's side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your arm up and down while supervising your daughter. 

“Dada!” She squealed, giggling. Boothill ruffled her hair before leaning down to give her a kiss on her forehead, making her giggle even more. “Dada and mama!”

You smiled wider than you thought you ever could have. You were so blessed to have Boothill as a husband, and such a special, precious girl as a daughter. 

“Well, we can’t really bring a goat in th’ house, n’ she seems to enjoy playin’ around with it a bunch…” Boothill said, standing next to you with his arms crossed. “What if we got a dog?”

“Really? A dog?” You looked up at him, and he nodded. “We have horses, goats, sheep, cows, and probably some reptiles living in the bushes. Do we really need more?”

He hummed. “The thing is, dogs can be domestic, hun. I got lucky this lil’ goat is so docile, good enough for her to be able to hang ‘round it without me having to worry ‘bout it taking her face off.”

“True. But we’d need a dog that can handle farmlife, not just any old dog. A boujee dog would not do very well in this type of setting. Keep that in mind.” 

He laughed before shaking his head. “Nah. I was thinkin’ more like a Border Collie or somethin’. I’d rather have one that's gonna make use of all this land.”

Your daughter came up to the both of you, lightly slapping at your legs to get your attention. You picked her up, giving Boothill a signal to go put the goat back in its respective area before meeting the two of you back inside.

A few moments later, when Boothill arrived back inside, you had lunch started, greeting him before he washed his hands and helping your daughter wash hers, too. He explained to her that she’s always to wash her hands before and after touching an ‘outside animal’ (as he calls it, so her itty bitty brain can comprehend it) otherwise she could get sick. He does the same, too. 

You set the table for lunch, putting some leftover salad and chicken on you and Boothills plates from last night. You gave your daughter some chicken too, but cut into very small squares, and strawberries instead of salad. 

The three of you sat down to eat, occasionally conversing about random things. She was too busy picking at her strawberries to notice your conversation, but you both still kept a close eye on her. 

“About the dog idea, are you sure?” You asked, your voice laced with some uncertainty. ‘I feel like we already have so much on our plate. Are you really willing to walk it every morning?”

“Well, o’course I am. I know what havin’ a dog is like, my dads always had one. I grew up around ‘em.” He takes another forkful of salad before going on. “But why’re ya so concerned? What else is stoppin’ ya from sayin’ yes?”

You smiled before laughing to yourself, leaving him temporarily confused. 

“Well, I want to hold off on the dog, because…

…I’m pregnant.”

[suuuupernovaaa]

kavuk si

kavuk si [English] vin. betray

Neteyam has chosen a woman, and you know it isn’t you.

1,471 words

Fishing was supposed to clear my mind and calm my nerves, but I was throwing my spear too forcefully, and it was making the fish almost unusable. Plus, I was missing a lot, and that was only serving to further fuel my anger and frustration.

“It’s just a rumor,” my sister said again as I huffed and pulled my spear from the sandy riverbed.

“It is not,” I replied. “His own mother is said to have confirmed it. He has chosen.”

Even without looking at her, I knew Kawti was rolling her eyes behind me. It had been my wish to come fishing alone, but there wasn’t much I had truly done alone since Kawti was born 13 years ago. Despite our seven year age difference, she was my best friend, and I was usually happy to have her along.

Just - not today. All morning, all anyone at home could talk about was how the eldest son of Toruk Makto was finally going to choose a woman, and he was going to make his declaration soon. I knew, in my heart, that Neteyam would have told me already if I was his choice. Just last night we had gone hunting together, and I had eaten the evening meal with his family - he had plenty of opportunity to tell me himself.

Even though we hadn’t exactly expressed how we’d felt, I thought I had been pretty clear in my affections and desires, and I’d thought Neteyam was just shy. Now I felt like a fool. He had not stolen any kisses, or any other affections, and I had been leading myself on. He simply wasn’t interested.

“Come, Y/N. Mom will be expecting us back soon.” Kawti hopped down from her seat atop a tree branch, and extended her small hand to mine.

I grabbed my meager bag of mangled fish, and followed her back to Home Tree.

--

When the rest of my family went to dinner, I stayed back. I wasn’t hungry, in fact I was feeling a little ill, and really did need a little bit of time alone. 

Kawti was annoyed, but her optimism was childish. Not only did she think it was just a rumor, but she claimed to be sure Neteyam was ‘completely in love’ with me.

As if she knew anything about love. She was just a kid.

I could only sit in our little alcove of Home Tree for so long before becoming restless. I was feeling ridiculous, too. If Neteyam did not want me, and had chosen another, then I would have to grow up and move on. There were many fine men in our village, and I knew one would choose me - and I would choose them in return.

I could only barely lie to myself, as dread gripped my chest at the thought of mating with anyone else. So I stood up, trying to shake the thoughts from my head, and walked outside. It was quiet, as most were gathered for the evening meal, and the quietness left me too much to my dark, depressing thoughts.

Without direction, I began walking towards the forest.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called, and I hesitated before turning.

“Teyam,” I said through gritted teeth. I looked over my shoulder to see him jogging to catch up, a wooden bowl full of food in his hands.

He looked handsome, I thought before I could stop myself. Neteyam always looked handsome, but there was something different... he was wearing a large necklace made of leather that was reserved for special occasions, and his face was painted as if for battle or a ceremony.

“Your mother said you were ill. I brought you this.” He extended it to me, and something about the gesture turned my sadness to rage.

He could choose another woman, ask her to be his mate, and still pretend to be concerned about me? To bring me food? How dare he!

“Bah!” I said, waving my hand. “Leave me, Neteyam.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion and tilted his head to the side, his ears flicking back and forth. “Do you need the healer?”

“No. I need to be alone.” I stepped back, but he stepped forward to follow.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice firm, and extended his hand to me.

I looked at him skeptically, tilting my head to the side, and sighed. It had always been hard to stay mad at Neteyam, and the look on his face was very serious.

I put my hand into his, noting how much larger his was, and we went back into my family’s alcove in Home Tree together.

Neteyam did not let go of my hand when we stepped inside, and I tried to savor it. If he was to belong to someone else soon, this might be the last time we were ever truly alone.

“Well, what do you need to talk about?” I asked, trying not to let my voice waiver. “My family will be back soon.”

This was not even close to the truth, and Neteyam knew it. My mother could talk for hours every night, and my sister was usually exhausted by the time they returned from their socializing. It would be at least an hour before they returned.

Neteyam looked everywhere in our modest home but at me, and I squeezed his hand. “Teyam, spit it out!”

“Damn, you don’t make it easy, Y/N!” he replied in a huff, and my eyes widened in surprise.

“Sorry,” I said, unsure of what I was apologizing for. He was the one who should have been apologizing to me.

Why had we gone on all those rides together? Hunted together? Taken meals together, spent time with each other’s families, if he had not intended to be mine?

“You are mad at me,” he said quietly, and I finally allowed myself to look into his eyes.

“Yes,” I said in a near-whisper. “I am.”

“Why?”

I took my hand from his and crossed my arms over my chest. “They are saying.. they are saying you have chosen a woman. Everyone is to celebrate the mating of the Chief’s son.”

His eyebrows rose up and his shoulders fell. “Well... this is true.”

I nodded, stepping away from him. “Who is she? Ni’awtu? She’s a fine hunter. Or... Petani? She has a fine skill on the loom, and would make a good mate.” I blinked hard to stop the tears rushing into my eyes.

I jumped with surprise when Neteyam laughed so hard that he threw his head back. “You are joking!” he exclaimed.

“I am not! Tell me who it is!”

With considerable effort, Neteyam stopped laughing and closed the gap between us again. He reached out, gripping my upper arms with his hands, and leaned in close.

“You are mad because you are jealous, but you are jealous of yourself, Y/N. Ni’awfu may be a fine hunter, and Petani weaves very well on the loom, but I do not love them. I do not love anyone else.”

Blinking hard, it took me a few moments to understand what Neteyam was saying to me. I stood, slack jawed and stunned, forcing him to continue speaking.

“I wish to ask you to be my mate before Ewya, to spend your life with me, to mother my children, Y/N.”

I took in a long, deep breath. My hands were shaking and the tears had filled my eyes, I could no longer hold them back. It was so hard to find any appropriate response. I had spent years pining over Neteyam, and all day today sure that my chance was gone and I was going to have to watch him with someone else - which would have been a fate worse than death.

“Neteyam, I... of course, yes. I, I have always...” I stuttered and stammered as tears fell down my face.

Graciously, Neteyam stopped our needs for words by leaning down and pressing his soft lips to mine in a kiss I felt as if I had waited so long for.

My body felt on fire instantly, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into him, deepening the kiss.

It felt like a long time before we pulled apart, both smiling like a couple of idiots.

“You are mine, Y/N,” Neteyam whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “How could you have thought I would choose anyone else? I have always been yours.”

Tears spilled freely now, and I put my hands on either side of his face. “I feel foolish. I have always been yours, Neteyam.”

He hugged me tightly, pulling my body completely flush with mine, and I breathed him in deeply.

“Always.”

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — oh baby ! + katsuki bakugou.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, suggestive but no smut, minors dni, mentions of trying for a baby, love-sick!bakugou can’t resist your baby fever.

“if we had a baby, what would you name it?”

bakugou peers at you from over his phone, dark brows drawn together in the centre of his forehead while he frowns lightly. the pair of you are lounging about on a colder afternoon, him on his back on the couch— shirt riding up a little — and you between his legs and lying on his tummy.

“we’re not having a baby—“ he can tell by your sharp in-take of breath and the pout that ensues that he’s fucked up— quick to lock his phone with a click of the power button before grabbing the roundness of your face between his rough fingers, holding you with care. “yet. we’re not havin’ one yet.”

the smile that returns to your face is almost instantaneous— gleaming like a higher being has struck stars and galaxies into your eyes and magic into your grin. “why not?” you ask, cheekily licking katsuki’s hand now that you’ve got his attention.

“‘cause you’re my baby. don’t need’a ‘nother one to take care of while you’re around.” the blonde grimaces at the trail of saliva you leave against his palm— groaning in disgust as he wipes it on your shirt (the one that he lent you) as if he doesn’t enjoy watching you slobber all over his fingers during your nightly round in the sheets. “babies drool. you keep fuckin’ droolin’ on me. can’t deal with two people droolin’ on me—“

“would you want one? a baby?”

he’s still in the middle of complaining when you ask, your voice wistful like you’ve been daydreaming and you draw heart shapes on the patch of bakugou’s skin that’s been exposed by his tank top riding up.

“what’s gotten into you? talkin’ about babies ‘n shit…you sneakin’ off to see those todoroki triplets again?”

“it was the midoriyas this time…and i’m serious!” you swat at his chest, a little less gentle and a ripple of love shoots through katsuki at the sound of your angelic laughter. “don’t you think we’re ready, kats? i mean we’d both be great parents…”

he sits up a little, ruby red eyes narrowed into slits, head full of straw blonde hair tilted in curiosity. you can’t help but wonder what your kids would look like with a mix of your genetics. “you seriously want a kid?” bakugou says quietly, inquisitively, cautiously— scared to spook you as if you’re a deer in headlights.

you nod.

you’d want that…with him? “why?”

“‘cause i think…now would be a good time?” ringing your fingers, you toy with stray strings of your clothes and the fabric on katsuki’s, heat rushing to your face. “i mean…you’re set to take over best jeanist’s agency and my career with hawks is going great. we’re well off, married, your mom won’t stop bugging me about grand-babies—“

“don’t bring my ma into this, she don’t exactly inspire fuckin’ you so that we can make a baby—“

“— and i want to. start a family. with you…i want a family of baby katsuki’s and baby me’s running around and clambering onto you when you get home from patrol.” there’s that tone again, dreamy and excited— your face glowing with the possibilities of parenthood. “sometimes i imagine what our cosy Saturday’s would be like, little ones curled up on the couch with me while you make us breakfast. i can’t help but wonder how happy we’d be…i want a baby with you, katsuki.”

silence filters through the room, sunlight fluttering your skin and filling the room with love along with warmth as bakugou weighs up the choice. “if we’re having a baby, we’re naming it somethin’ with meaning.” he mumbled after sometime, looking away from you with a blush.

katsuki still can’t quite wrap his head around how much you love and want a future with him.

“like, katsuko? it means victorious child.” you suggest as if you’d been thinking of the name for your child the entire time.

it rolls off your tongue smoothly, like butter, similar to katsuki’s own first name— it too having a strong meaning. you’d really wanted this with him, dreamed up a whole life with your husband and future baby.

“katsuko. that’s a good one, i like that name.” the blonde grins, sitting up fully as he tugs you into his lap with a slow and steady smile. “close to mine, no doubt the kid’ll be a winner like you.”

“so you want one, a baby. with me?” you giggle, mirroring his expression while bakugou’s rough hands slip under your shirt to squeeze at your ass, pinch at your curves— hunger brewing hotly between you both.

“yeah, now roll over. if we wanna bring katsuko into the world we gotta start baby makin’ somehow…”

“katsuki!”

[runnning-outof-time]

The Special Touch | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: A small, small detail brings back memories of a person in Tommy Shelby’s life that was able to do something not many can.

Warnings: language, drinking

Word Count: 3102

A/N: the structure of this one’s a little wonky, but I think it reads cohesively…I hope it comes off that way for you. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: the italicized dialogue in the story is taken directly from season 1 of the show.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

comment/message me if you want to be tagged!

(Y/N)'s food was the only thing Tommy Shelby actually ate.

Sure, he still didn't willingly sit himself at the table when it came time for a meal, but (Y/N)'s cooking coaxed him in more often than it didn't.

What started as a woman trying to impress the family of a man she dearly liked - that form of impressing coming through a lovely, homemade apple pie - quickly blossomed into (Y/N) being the Shelby family cook. Polly was probably the happiest about this - she no longer had to tackle the family meals alone.

Tommy was also happy about this - being that he quickly made sure that she was his - because it meant that he was able to spend much more time with her. Hell, he'd even happily endure the enhanced teasing from his family...Tommy hadn't spent this much time at home since he was a child. But (Y/N), and her cooking, had him coming home more often than anything else.

And he enjoyed it.

On this particular evening, she had decided to make some plum bread to bring to the Shelby family. It was one of her favorite recipes, one that she only brought out every once in a while.

Tonight would be a special night for it, she thought. She and Tommy had been officially together for eight months, but it was on this night one year ago that they shared their feelings with each other and decided that they’d commit themselves to one another.

She worked all day to make the bread not only for this occasion, but also because she wanted to see if his family liked it as much as hers did.

It was late afternoon when she made her way over to the house on Watery Lane. She hoped that everyone was home because with each step her eagerness was building - she wanted as many people as possible to try the bread she’d baked.

She could hear the inhabitants of the house before she saw them as she entered through the front door.

She heard Tommy speak in a low voice, “you’re alright,” as the sound of pain-filled hisses filled the room.

Then came a statement that made (Y/N) stop: “he said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. National interest, he said…something about a robbery.” It was Arthur who was speaking. “He said he wants us to help him.”

“We don’t help coppers,” she heard John chime in.

“He knew all about our war records,” Arthur continued, “he said we’re patriots…like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said—” another pain-filled hiss left the eldest siblings lips, and it was followed by a soft ‘shh’. He continued once the pain had been assuaged, “I said we’d have a family meeting and take a vote,” he finished his statement.

A pause filled the room. (Y/N), who’d been standing still and listening in since she entered the dwelling, couldn’t stand in the same position any longer. Despite her efforts not to, her weight shifted, making the floorboard creak underneath her foot.

Tommy looked up from the ground upon hearing the sound, and his intense gaze connected with her worried one instantly. “We’ll discuss this later,” he then addressed his family in a low tone.

“What the fuck is wrong with him lately?” Arthur asked, annoyance laced into his tone.

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s chemists,” Polly chimed in, her tone matching Arthur’s.

Tommy’s eyes were still locked on (Y/N), who now felt like she had to make her presence known. She took a few steps forward into the room before speaking, “I’m sorry I…I didn’t know what I was arriving to,” she hesitantly said, feeling several pairs of eyes now locked onto her. She tried to withhold her expression, but surely there was a look of pain present on her face as she took in Arthur’s bloodied one. “Goodness,” she gasped, the tension quickly becoming too much for her to bear, “I…I wanted to bring something over for the evening. I baked plum bread from scratch,” she said, holding the enclosed tray out in front of her.

“Well isn’t that just bloody perfect,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

Silence hung in the room and (Y/N) wasn’t quite sure what to do. It seemed like every person in the family was glaring daggers at Tommy, and Tommy was just standing, brooding in front of the free-standing stove.

“I can just…I can leave and come back at a better…”

“No!” John interrupted her, pushing himself off of the wall he’d been leaning against, “you’re here now, so let’s try some of this bread.”

“Ok,” there was still a great deal of hesitance present in (Y/N)’s voice, but she still allowed John to take the tray from her hands when he motioned for it. She then glanced in Tommy’s direction, seeing that he was still glaring at the floor. Above everything else, she really wanted to speak to him. The conversation she walked in on was still in the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t sure how to make the first move though.

“Oh, (Y/N), this is grand!” John’s review of the bread cut through her thoughts, making her focus on the small group that was now trying it. Ada nodded her head in agreement with her brother as Polly quietly ate her piece. She didn’t look displeased with it though. Arthur was still staring at the piece that had been placed in front of him. (Y/N) figured he wouldn’t eat it that moment though, given the state he was currently in. A small smile creeped onto her face as she watched them enjoy the thing she’d spent so long baking.

“Tommy you’ve got to try it! It’s absolutely amazing, as always,” Ada said to her older brother, hoping that her shining review would coax him into having a bite.

“I’ll have some later,” he brushed her statement off, his eyes finding (Y/N) again. “(Y/N), can I talk to you?” he asked her then, his brows raising slightly.

“Yes,” she answered softly, knowing there really wasn’t any other response she could give.

He nodded before tipping his head in the direction of the betting shop doors. She nodded in agreement, wordlessly following behind him as they went into that section of the building.

The walk felt so long, even though they were really only moving to the next room over. (Y/N) bit on her cheek as she tried to think of what to say. She knew she wanted to be the first to speak. “What did I walk in on back there?” was what she settled on asking as they both came to a stop.

“It was nothing,” Tommy brushed the question off.

“It didn’t seem like nothing,” she doubled down, not buying his diversion. “Who has Mr. Churchill sent?”

“It’s not a big deal,” he tried another escape route.

“You’re helping the cops now?” she asked another question.

“(Y/N)…” his tone held a warning.

“Why does Arthur look like that?” her exasperation finally shined through this question as she motioned to the room they’d just left.

Tommy exhaled a sigh as he looked away from his partner. It was already enough that his entire family was coming down on him…he didn’t need it from her as well. “This isn’t something you need to worry about, (Y/N),” he told her once he composed himself.

“You said you wouldn’t hold anything from me, Tommy,” she reminded him of a promise that he made to her in their early months. A promise that came as a result of him showing up to her family’s house broken and bloodied…over something he couldn’t share.

Her parents hated him from that day forward, but she found a way to continue to see him. He assured her that would be the last time nothing was withheld…until now it seems.

“This is different,” he shook his head.

“Different how?” she asked for him to elaborate.

“Different in the sense that if it all goes according to plan, we move up in the world,” his elaboration was still vague.

“That doesn’t tell me much,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well it’s all I can share,” his tone was now dismissive as he lifted his hand, his palm to the ceiling.

(Y/N) stared at him for a few moments, silently hoping that he’d take that statement back and clue her in to what was going on. She had to bite on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering after those moments had passed and nothing more was said.

“Well I think I need to leave then,” she finally said, her voice just above a whisper.

Tommy’s brows furrowed at her statement, “what?”

“You promised that you wouldn’t keep anything from me, that there’d be no secrets in regards to what sort of business you’re doing,” she reminded him, “we agreed that that would be the only way we could work.”

“I said that this was different, (Y/N),” he argued his cause, “there has to be an exception for it.”

“I can’t make an exception, Tommy,” she shook her head, her tone slightly wavering, “because if I make one now, you’ll have me making another down the road.”

“(Y/N), I don’t need this…”

“Do you know what day it is, Tommy?” she cut him off, her eyebrows raised. He said nothing. “Huh?” she asked for a response. Silence was all she got. “You don’t…” she sighed in defeat, shaking her head as she looked to the floor. “It’s been a year…one whole year since we shared our feelings for each other. One whole year since I thought I found the person who I was going to be with for the rest of my life. But now I don’t know anymore…”

“(Y/N)…” he tried to get out but she wasn’t hearing it.

“This is your last chance,” she gave him the ultimatum, “tell me or I leave.”

The tension between the two was practically palpable. (Y/N) waited on bated breath for him to share what he’d been hiding from her. Tommy weighed his options in his mind - no one knew that he still had the guns in his possession. He was hoping that the last person who knew was (Y/N). But now since she stumbled in on that conversation, she wanted to know more. He’d remembered the promise he made those several months ago. And while the last thing he wanted to do was break it, he just couldn’t bring himself to reveal the secret he was withholding from the entire family. If she knew, everyone would know, was his thinking.

“I’m leaving,” she made her decision, cutting into his thoughts and making him realize that he hadn’t said anything.

She took one last look at him, honestly still hoping that he’d make some grand gesture and save everything, but he just stood there, a look of disbelief clear across his face. She had to follow through with her decision. With a deep breath, she walked past him and exited the building through the betting shop door. Turning and walking back past the family would have been too much for her. She needed to get away with the least amount of Shelbys seeing her.

Tommy blinked a few times after the door to the shop closed. He was frozen in disbelief. So much had happened in the span of a short time. And now (Y/N) was gone.

He remembered the bottle of rum that he’d brought for Arthur’s wounds. It wasn’t whiskey, but the last thing he wanted to do was go out now, so the rum would do.

Polly, John and Arthur were still sitting in the kitchen when he re-entered it. He didn’t make eye contact with any of them, instead making a b-line for the bottle of alcohol and bringing it to his lips the second he had it in his hands.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Arthur questioned, looking less bloody now than he had before.

“She left,” Tommy answered before taking another drink from the bottle.

“Shame…this bread’s fucking amazing,” John shared his praises for the woman’s baking skills. “You should try some,” he insisted.

“I don’t want any,” Tommy shook his head.

“Try some!” Arthur shouted, motioning to the small portion of the bread that was left, “before we eat it all on ya.”

“Fine,” Tommy huffed under his breath, moving over to where the baked good was sitting. He took the knife and cut himself the smallest slice, putting it right into his mouth and eating it without giving any clue as to what he thought of it. He then walked out of the room, exiting the home the opposite way (Y/N) had.

The three remaining people in the room all watched him leave, wondering what exactly was making him even more vexed than usual.

“More for us,” John shrugged, his carefree comment clearing the tension as he moved over to cut himself another slice of the bread.

Tommy returned to the house on Watery Lane later that evening and let out a sigh of relief when he found what he was looking for.

There was still a small piece of the plum bread (Y/N) had brought over left of the table. He sighed as he sat down on one of the chairs before reaching out to take the leftover piece.

Another sigh left his lips as he ate the bread. He couldn’t get (Y/N) out of his mind since she left him earlier, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fighting with himself over what he should do now.

As much as he wanted her in his life, he had to honor her wishes. And even if she posed the earlier question to him again, he wasn’t sure if he’d give a different response. What was happening now was different…he had to keep his cards close to his chest. She should have understood that, right?

He couldn’t deny that he missed her though. The fact that he actually came back to have a second piece of the bread she made for them had him realizing that there would be many reasons why he’d be missing her.

“I have something for you,” the barmaid, Grace, announced as she entered the snug, where the three oldest Shelby brothers had been holed up for the majority of the day. She’d been working at the Garrison for several months now, and she’d quickly found her place within the establishment.

“What is it?” Arthur asked as he brought his glass up to his lips, his eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Plum bread. I made it…figured you’d need something after all of the meetings that have been happening,” she answered, explaining the reason behind the gesture.

John and Arthur exchanged a look upon hearing what she’d brought. They hadn’t had plum bread since (Y/N) left it for them. Hesitantly, they looked over at Tommy. His expression wasn’t readable.

“Leave it on the table and then you’re good to go, Grace,” Tommy spoke up to instruct her. He felt his brothers’ eyes on him, and knew that they’d be watching closely to see what he’d do next.

“Ok,” she nodded, carefully setting the serving dish and accompanying plates on the table before she turned and exited the snug.

The three men looked at the bread for a few moments. John and Arthur both didn’t want to be the first to make a move, and they most certainly knew that Tommy wasn’t going to.

It was kind of Grace to bake for them, and they no doubt took it as one of her attempts to break the ice between her and the Shelby family. She’d been chipping away at it since she arrived months ago.

But the elephant in the room was looming large now, and it had made itself known via the choice of baked good that the aforementioned blonde woman had brought.

“Shall we try it then?” Arthur was the first to finally speak up. He took his eyes off the dish for a moment to look at his brothers.

“Might as well,” John shrugged as he replied.

Now they both were looking at Tommy. It became apparent that they weren’t going to make a move until he signed off on it. “Go on,” he finally instructed them, motioning to the bread with his chin.

That was all the two men needed. Arthur took on the job of cutting the bread while John divvied out the plates. They even cut a piece for Tommy, who didn’t seem like he was too keen on eating it.

What they did not need was an invitation to eat the bread. More silence filled the room as they did so. It took a few bites from both of them before they were sharing a look with each other. Something had been silently agreed upon between them, and now they were deciding whether they should share their thoughts with Tommy.

“How is it?” Tommy broke into their nonverbal conversation, knowing the looks they were sharing all too well.

“It’s…” Arthur started, finishing his statement off with a breath instead of continuing before he looked to John for assistance. Between the two of them, he knew the latter was a more colorful commentator.

“It’s not like hers,” John filled in the blank, shaking his head slightly as he looked down at the remaining piece of bread on his plate.

The name didn’t even need to be said. Tommy knew who they were taking about. He exhaled a breath before nodding his head. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the piece sitting in front of him.

“She ain’t got that special touch like (Y/N) did,” Arthur then added his thoughts, addressing the elephant in the room by name.

Tommy’s look was once again unreadable. Glimpses of the woman he’d lost were swirling around his mind, and they wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes he wished he would have done things differently. He wished she was still in his life.

What’s done is done was always what came to mind when he got to thinking like that. But even though that phrase came to mind, he still wasn’t going to try the bread, for his remembrance of how she made it was one of the only good things he had left.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @mischievouslittlecreature

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername

@depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium

@brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife

@shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[2-dsimp]

if it’s no trouble could we get another part to DILF/ nanny reader? Maybe like a willing reader? Bc I know of a hot dad wanted to date me who am I to say no? Lol great work!!!!

Cw: fem reader! jealousy, possessive/obsessive tendencies, Quio and Miki butting heads, the plot thickens

Synopsis no.2: 【featuring you being caught in the middle between your coworker and employer literally and figuratively. Miki obviously hates your employer and makes it well known meanwhile Quio does the same vice versa. The Dilf tried his best to put his and Peina’s plan of seducing you into action. But he’s constantly getting interrupted. And He’s honestly so close to snapping at this point.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

“I wish you’d stop by here more often after all you’re already part of the family."

The Dilf sighs melodramatically, electing a small giggle from your lips. Seeing how he acted so distraught due to your absence. While he led you and your coworker to the living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch.

“Oh that’s kind of you to say Mr. Evinis but I can’t possibly impose on you guys. Plus I’ve still gotta work my boring office job”

You replied with a mirthful tone at his sweet comment truly feeling as if you’ve made a second home within your employers household. You’ve already grown accustomed to his friendly work staff and of course his darling daughter who was l always clinging onto you like a baby kitten. And the fact that her father was so chivalrous and kind didn’t help your own little crush from forming on the single dad.

“Oh perish the thought sugarling~ we’re lucky enough to even be blessed by your radiant grace. In this boring household.”

Quio reassures with a charming smile, as he makes sure to fluff up some fancy decor pillows for his lovely lady. After placing the plush pillows down where you’d sit, He then put a hand on your shoulder giving a comforting squeeze.

“In fact me and the little squirt have always gotten excited at seeing you pull up and we’d be more than happy to keep you hostage here if possible”

The Dilf admits in a cheesy manner, which made you feel at ease. From how sweet his insistence at you dropping by often to hang out was. Being none the wiser to how he was being 100% serious. About the part where him and his daughter briefly molled over the idea of keeping their lovely nanny hostage at their mansion. Since they honestly couldn’t get enough of how addicting your sunshine liken presence.

Lit up every dark lonesome corner of the estate and they’d be damned if they every let you get a chance to escape from their sights. brandishes a pearly grin at the thought of being able to cater personally to his future missus.

“Also if your boring office job is what’s holding you back from spending quality time with us then I can think of a couple solutions to—“

“Um, let me stop you right there man. Whatever you’re pitching would be nice and all but I need my work wife.”

Once again you missed the small micro transgression within the Dilf’s facial features as his eye twitched at the irksome interruption done by that worthless dickbag.

“Aha work wife? With someone like you? I see you’re the type to joke around huh?”

He replied in an tone of condescension giving Miki a mean spirited smile. And an idle glance over full of scorn at the self assured confidence in this boy, who was proclaiming that his darling was his work wife.

“Well I am quite the jokester—wait what the hell do you mean by someone like me??”

You nearly busted out laughing at how Miki got a miffed expression on his face from the subtle dig done by the famous actor. You didn’t necessarily claim to be Miki’s work wife as nice as his company was. He was an utter shitty coworker to have when you’re trying to get shit done. Whenever you two were paired it’d be him cracking jokes while you were working like an effective machine.

“Well If anything they’re my work wife, no my wife, since yknow she’s looking after my kid like the little darling angel she is”

Quio nearly purred with a sharp edge to his voice as he blatantly rubbed it in Miki’s face the sheer difference. Between the two of them and how he was ultimately more important in your standings.

“Anit that right sweetness?”

The single dad hummed with a sickening sweet expression that resembled a hopeful doe eyed buck. His shouldering eyes never failed to make your heart do kick flips from how they always seemed to focus on purely you. Almost as if you were his world, his missing half. You got extremely flustered that you could barely even respond to his words. Until Miki let out a sneer and fixed his apparent love rival a shrewd scowl.

“Oh please as if! She’s your Nanny, not your substitute wife. Plus I already called dibs on her first, my guy.”

The sight of that damned flea mansplaining on the couch with the slinging over his arm right behind your head. Made Quio imagine ripping that same offending arm from our his socket and bitch slapping him with it.

“Dibs? Are you insinuating that she’s an object to be possessed by the likes of a peasant like you?”

He taunts snarkily, dropping his nice guy facade as makes his way to sit right in between you and Miki. Squeezing his bulky frame in the middle of the couch he gracefully crosses his legs as he swats off the offending arm behind your head and replaces it with his own.

“Tch! Now you know that’s not what I meant. It’s always you actors spinning fabricated lies. And the fuck did you just—“

“Miki don’t you think that it’s time for you to go soon? You’re gonna be late for work”

You interjected seeing how things were getting out of hand between the two offending men. Quio merely gave a smug smile as he saw Miki begrudgingly get up with an scowl on his face. You were right he had to go soon since he couldn’t be late for his promotion into higher management. He didn’t tell you that yet because he wanted to surprise you on the day you both worked the same shift.

“Ah fuck your right, thanks for the reminder what would I do without my precious work wife?”

Miki emphasized loudly, Shooting a glare towards the A-listed actor as he then gave you an abrupt hug goodbye whilst still glowering at the Dilf. The two seemed to be exchanging a clash of mixed silent threats behind your back.

Quio “gently” nudged Miki away from his darling with a hard shove with the pointy tip of his shoe upon his midriff. Making your coworker stumble back with a sharp exhaled grunt escaping his lips. Good, he hoped that fucker gets sore down there. The single dad was always about getting his get back by being petty whenever someone blatantly tried to piss him off.

“Alright that’s enough Casanova wouldn’t wanna keep your bosses waiting yeah?”

The Dilf chirped in a sweet noncommittal manner as he briefly pulled you into a side hug. As if to cleanse you from the poor touch Miki had given you. Miki had to bite back his tongue since he really couldn’t afford to waste time with the man’s shenanigans. And rolled his eyes he could only afford to shoot you a word of warning with concern shining in his eyes before he made his way outside of the million dollar manor.

“Be careful… You know how actors are, always so full of shit. Call me when you’re done I’ll come to pick you up okay?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let the door hit cha on ya on the way out Miki”

Quio sassed as he couldn’t wait to have that cocky fucker out of sight and out of mind. There were so many times where the actor came close to acting out. One of his many aspiring roles which consisted of him being a deranged serial killer. It would’ve gave him peace of mind to choke out that lanky shithead and watch the life leave his eyes.

But he had better things to do at the moment rather than drone in about how he’d murder Miki in cold blood. Like wooing you over for instance which was unfortunately put on pause due to a pest intent on getting in the way between you and him. So he feels a sense of relief wash over him as Miki leaves, knowing that he can finally have you all to himself.

“It seems like you two get along well enough already”

You caught the Dilf off guard with your off handed comment as he gave you a raised brow and an apprehensive smile. He shook his head slightly and gave a dark chuckle at how naive you were to perceive their little spat to be that of a friendly origin. When they clearly wanted to go at each others necks.

“It would seem so… But hey I was wondering if you’d be interested in—“

His phone decided to go off in the most headache inducing way. He could hear the annoying ringtone which indicated that his manager was calling and he bit back a snarl from being interrupted once again. Collecting himself he excused himself from the couch not being fore taking your hand in his and giving it a small chaste kiss as he gave you an apologetic gaze.

“Sorry about this sugarling I’ve gotta take this call I’ll be right back”

With his servants taking leave at his behest today was the day he planned on tying the metaphorical knot with the cute Nanny that stole both his and his little girl’s heart. So his manager had better got a pretty damn good reason for bugging him on his day of vacation leave. Or else they’ll get added to the hitlist alongside that damned coworker of yours.

。

。

。

I’m thinking of making this into a mini series, let me know if I should continue!o(≧v≦)o

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: 18+ only! forced arranged marriage, strong language. (Y/D/N + Y/M/N = your mom and dads names)

likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated<3

part two

❥ marrying the enemy — r.c

Y/N

I’ve always known my father had some fucked up trick up his sleeve for my life. I always knew he’d pawn me off somehow, someway. Anything to make a quick buck, right? The thought alone sends me spiraling. Makes me see red. Anger. Shame. Fear. All the emotions that swirl through my mind as I pace my father’s in-home study, awaiting the arrival of none other than Rafe Cameron and his father, Ward Cameron.

I’m not one hundred percent sure what it is my father has planned, but I do know if it involves me being in the room, waiting on Rafe and Ward to arrive for a “meeting” as my dad put it. It can’t be good.

“Please sit down and stop pacing, sweetheart. You’re making me nervous” My father says, snapping me back into the cruel reality that is my life.

I stare back at him for a moment, mouth slightly parted in shock. I’m making him nervous? What about me? And my feelings? I was happy just an hour ago. Sitting in my room, studying for my upcoming final exam, when my father knocks on my door, letting me know my presence is needed in his study. When I asked him why? He told me that the Cameron’s were coming over, and that we had things to discuss. Things that would benefit both of our families tremendously.

Letting out a deep and frustrated sigh, I obey. I plop myself onto the large black leather couch that’s sat against the back wall of his office. I chew at the skin of my lower lip, anxiously scanning the length of the room. I have so many questions. What role could I possibly play in this “family benefiting” situation? I have my theory, but I absolutely hate the thought, so I quickly shove it down.

A few minutes pass, awkward silence and tension fill the air. As I open my mouth to ask what exactly I’m doing here, a knock sounds on the door, making me audibly clamp my mouth shut.

“Doors open” My father says calmly.

I’m not sure why, but now my hands are clammy. Shaking. Anxiety has crawled all the way up my spine, making me sit up right, resting my elbows on my knees that are now anxiously bouncing up and down.

The door is pushed open, and in walks Rafe and Ward. They’re both so different. If they didn’t look so similar, you wouldn’t know that Rafe was Ward’s son. Ward is dressed in a three piece suit with a white button up underneath, shiny black shoes and his hair is done to perfection. Rafe on the other hand is dressed in a simple pair of denim jeans, a tight black t-shirt, and a pair of black and white Nikes. His hair is messy, parted in the middle and giving him the ‘just rolled out of bed’ effect.

No one can deny how attractive Rafe is though. Even I would be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed the Cameron boy’s good looks. He has perfectly plump pink lips that seem to always be drawn into a frown, his eyes are so blue, like the ocean on a cloudless day— you could drown in his eyes — a perfectly defined jawline that could cut diamonds. And his body? Lets just say the few times I’ve hung out with his sister, Sarah, and we’d be lounging by the pool, Rafe and his friends would love to come terrorize us, and I couldn’t ever break my eyes off of his perfectly sculpted body. Hard defined chest and abdomen, tanned, smooth skin. Rafe Cameron is what I’d imagine a Greek God to look like.

But he’s also got a nasty drug habit. A God complex. He truly believes he’s God’s gift to mankind, and that in itself makes him the ugliest person I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t miss the glare he shoots my way the minute he sees me sitting on the couch. The look in his eyes is so angry, so lifeless. It makes me even more terrified of what’s about to be said in this room. He knows something I don’t, and that is terrifying.

“Thank you for having us over today Y/D/N, I know it was short notice, but Rose and I felt it’s best to get a move on things” Ward says simply, giving away nothing.

Rafe snorts, rolling his eyes as he finds a seat in front of my father’s desk. He crosses his arms across his chest, slumping into the chair and spreading his legs wide.

“Not a problem, Ward. Y/M/N and I agree, it’s time we get this process moving”

Getting annoyed with the beating around the bush they’re playing at, I stand from the couch. “What… What are we talking about? Get what moving?”

My voice sounds small and weak, pulling another forced laugh from Rafe’s chest. He turns his head, blue eyes finding mine as he says, “Oh. You don’t know?”

“Know… Know what?”

“Our parents are making-” Rafe begins but his dad cuts him off.

“That’s enough, Rafe! Sit there and don’t speak unless we say. Got it?”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, but I pay him no mind. Instead, my heated gaze is strictly on my father. His eyes have a small hint of empathy in them, but not much.

“Y/N, sweetheart. Come sit, would you?” He asks.

I try and swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat, but I can’t seem to. My entire body is frozen in fear. My mind is racing. I knew Rafe knew something from the moment he stepped foot into this room. The air is thick, and I feel like I can’t breathe, but I don’t dwell on that right now. Instead, I hesitantly make my way over to the chair beside Rafe, slowly sitting down and crossing my ankles together underneath the seat.

Ward clears his throat, “So. As you both know, Cameron Developments has been wanting to merge together with Y/L/N Industries. We think the best way to make our businesses grow and merge together into one big company instead of two working together, is by having one child from each family to be married. And since Sarah is dating John B. and Wheezie is only thirteen, that leaves me with Rafe.” Ward pauses, thinking on how to continue with his spiel. “Your brother is only seventeen, so that couldn’t work. So that leaves you, Y/N.”

I pinch my brows together. I must’ve been hit over the head with a two-ton brick because there’s no way he just said married.

“I- I don’t follow…” I say honestly.

Rafe chuckles, lolling his head to the side so his eyes meet mine once more. “They’re saying we have to get married, princess. Total bullshit, I know. But apparently, we have no choice.”

Ward ignores his son, his eyes finding mine as he takes in a deep breath. “Rafe is right. Albeit his attitude needs some adjustment, he’s right. The two of you are to be married. Your father and I have signed all the necessary paperwork, and all that is left to be done now is get you and Rafe married. As soon as possible.”

My mouth is stuck in an ‘O’ shape, shock and anger rushes through my body. I probably look like an idiot from having my mouth wide open, but I simply do not care. How could my parents do this to me? Pawn me off like I’m a game winning prize? To Rafe fucking Cameron of all people too. All for what? Money? Merging two very successful businesses into one? None of it makes sense. And it’s unfair.

My father’s stern voice pulls me from the thoughts swirling in my mind, “Sweetheart, close your mouth.”

I snap my lips shut, my eyes narrowed into slits on my father. “Daddy. You can’t be fucking serious..”

“Language, Y/N!” He snaps, and I can’t bite back the scoff that escapes me. He has the nerve to say something about my cursing rather than explain why the fuck he’s forcing me to marry… Rafe…

“I’m serious, dad! I’m not marrying him! I don’t love him! Hell, I don’t even like him! You can’t make me marry him!” I snap back.

Rafe snorts beside me. “You think I wanna fucking marry you? The prude, Kook princess who thinks she’s better than everyone else?”

I open my mouth, a sharp comeback sitting at the tip of my tongue, but Ward’s booming voice makes me snap my mouth shut again.

“Rafe! That’s enough. We’ve discussed this, and this is happening. The two of you will just have to learn how to tolerate one another”

My gaze trails back to my father. He’s sitting back in his black leather office chair, his hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. His eyes are void of any emotion. No anger. No sympathy. Nothing.

“Daddy…”

“Sweetheart, this is final. I’m sorry, but Ward is right. This is happening. We’re announcing the engagement this weekend, your mother and Rose have already started planning everything. The wedding will take place in one months time. You will become a Cameron. You both will be doing our family a huge favor.”

I shake my head, a scoff escaping me once again. Standing from my seat, I push my way past Ward and stomp out of my father’s office. I don’t even care if I’m acting like a child right now. I’m being forced to marry Rafe Cameron. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

RAFE TAGLIST: @targaryenbarbie @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @uraesthete @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @kamninaries @biggesthat3r

rafe cameron masterlist | series masterlist | taglist form

[thesparklingwriter]

unspoken thoughts

tags: modern au, wrothesley x fem! reader, roomates to lovers, reader goes on a blind date with a karen (tm), biker! wrio!!!!

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist

“Hey, Bun. How was work?”

You meet Wriothesley with a level glare, as you fumble with locking the door. Maybe rooming with him had saved you money on rent, but what you’d saved had definitely been replaced with extra stress.

“I told you to stop calling me bunny.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t blush like that when I do, I would stop.” He replies, nursing a cup of tea and a book as he relaxes on the sofa. You glare at him again but lower yourself onto the sofa beside him.

“New delivery?” You ask, referring to the tea.

“The one that was delayed,” he says. “It was worth the wait.” He raises the cup to you and you take a sip, taking stock of all the flavours you can before Wriothesley begins to talk about it. One day, you’re sure he’ll find out that you actually have no interest in his teas, and that despite the fact he drives you mad, he’s actually just nice to listen to.

“Seems it was worth the money too,” You say once he’s finished talking. “Definitely belongs in the top ten.”

“Maybe even top five,” he replies, mostly to himself as you stand up. “More work?” he asks lightly, expecting you to grumble about how you're tired of always working, and you wish your manager would stop expecting you to work overtime for free, but this time you smile coyly.

“I have a blind date,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the way he’s looking up at you. “My friend set me up. He’s apparently a very refined, classy guy from a good family, and my friend says he thinks we’d get along well.”

“I wonder what your friend defines as a good family,” Wriothesley says, sipping his tea. “Money? Influence?” He’d never truly considered what you’d look for in a partner before, in fact, he liked to try and avoid the thought if possible. He prefers to only think about the things which affect him directly. But now the topic has been brought up, he suddenly feels strange. If coming from a good family is important to you… That would immediately take him out of the running, wouldn’t it?

“I dunno.” you shrug. “Sometimes my friend just says things. Anyway, thanks for sharing your tea. I’m gonna go get ready.”

Wriothesley watches as you walk away, sighing lightly as he takes another sip of his tea. He’s lived with you for so long that he never truly thought about how his life at home would change if you got a boyfriend. Would it mean he could no longer share his teas with you? Would he have to stop letting you sleep on him when you watch movies together?

He sits with his thoughts until he hears your keys as you leave your room.

“I’m off. Don’t stay up for me.” You smile, and Wriothesley can't help but hate himself for hating how happy you seem to be leaving. He sips his now-cold tea and nods.

“Have fun.”

“You’re grumbling. What’s the matter?” you say, pulling your jacket on.

“I am not grumbling.” he shoots back, standing up to go to the kitchen. “My tea got cold. That’s all.”

“You are so grumbling right now.” you grin. Wriothelsey doesn't know if you are purposefully ignoring his bad mood or if you're so excited about your date that you simply don’t notice, but he doesn’t really like either of those answers. “See you later!”

And then Wriothesley finds himself alone again. Maybe he’d taken it for granted that you’d always be around. Maybe he isn't as okay with the silence as he’d made himself believe he was. 

Even though you told him not to wait up, he finds himself unable to sleep. He tells himself it's not because he’s worried, it's just because he had a rare lie in this morning. It's natural for his body to be slightly out of sync, right? You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and today is just like every other day and–

His phone is ringing. It’s odd for him to get called by his manager so late in the day, but it's also not rare. 

It's even rarer for it to be you calling.

“Wriothesley?”

“Hey, Bun. What’s going on?” He can’t help but smile a little. There you are on a date, but you’re calling him.

“Are you busy right now?” 

It's only then that he notices the wavering in your voice.

“I’m not. What’s the matter?”

“Can you come and get me? I… I’m sorry, I just don’t know who else to call.” 

You sound cold, he notices. Your teeth chatter together in between your words, and the wavering in your voice seems to be getting worse.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you inside?” He grabs his keys and he’s out of the door before you even have the chance to respond. His legs are moving faster than his mind can, and he’s already halfway down the stairs before he knows it.

You tell him where you are, but pointedly avoid his second question, and he supposes that’s fair. Maybe you just don’t want to share.

“I’m coming. Don’t move.”

Even despite the fact he’s glad you called him, Wriothesley wonders why you didn’t call an Uber. You’ve always been very vocal about how much you hate his motorcycle, and how you wish he’d just get a car. is the situation so dire that you don't care anymore?

When he gets to you, you’re sat outside of an upscale restaurant. He’s sure you left with a jacket, but you don’t have it on now.

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to you. “What’s the matter?”

You burst into tears when he asks you that question, and for a second, Wriothesley has no clue what to do. It’s you who buries your face into his chest, sobbing desperately.

“It was going okay at first, but the waitress got the guy’s order wrong and he went crazy. So they asked him to pay and leave, and then he said he didn’t want to because his order was wrong. He demanded that a manager come and then he said that I should pay. And I said I’d pay for my half, but as I was saying that I wasn’t going to pay for him, the manager came and picked up the wrong end of the stick, and she wouldn’t listen to the waitress who was defending me. So she asked us both to leave, and he’s screaming his head off, and they barely even gave me time to grab my phone before they marched us out. They would have left me with him while he was blowing his top if it wasn’t for the waitress who came with me until he left.” you cling onto his jacket. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He says lowly. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” He shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders. “Show me your table. I’ll get your stuff.”

“Wriothesley, please.” You can feel the anger radiating off him, and you worry about what will happen if he ends up on the wrong side of that manager.

“You shouldn’t suffer because of a guy with no manners. Let me get your things.”

You nod but insist on staying outside. The waitress that you said helped you earlier is the one that greets Wriothesley at the door, and you watch on as she brings him your things, and he settles the bill.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You tell Wriothesley as he returns.

“I did. Shall we go?” He asks, handing you a helmet. He’d bought that helmet for you when you first moved in together, just in case you ever needed to use his motorbike, but you always refused. He’s glad that it’s finally getting used at least once.

The ride home is silent, and you don’t say anything until you get back into your apartment. The feeling of the wind against your skin and your arms around Wriothesley calms you, and even though you feel humiliated by the actions of your stupid blind date, you feel that maybe things aren’t all that bad.

“You finally stopped calling me bunny,” you say, as you flop onto the sofa. Wriothesley hums in response as he fills up the kettle. In his haste, he’d left all of the lights in the apartment on.

“Does it bother you?”

“A little.”

“You’re so contrary.” He says finally. “You say you hate me calling you bunny, but here you are. You say you hate my motorbike, but you’re okay with me using it to pick you up.”

“I don’t hate your motorcycle.” You say, sitting up to look at him properly. “I think it’s cool.”

“Right, that’s why you refused to ever be near it.”

“I just hated the thought of you getting hurt on it.” You say finally. “It scared me.” He hands you a cup of tea and sits next to you. He hadn’t expected that to be your reasoning. “A part of me hoped that you wouldn’t let me go on that date, you know.”

“Why? It’s not my place to tell you what not to do. If you want to go on a blind date, I can’t stop you.” Those are the words he’d told himself as he watched you leave—you were your own person and it wasn’t his place to try and police what you do.

“You don’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t,” he replies. “Help me understand.”

You take a deep breath. “If I kissed you, would that help you get it?”

“I don’t know. I suppose you’ll have to try.” He smiles. He barely even gets to finish his sentence when you pull him down to you and kiss him. In all the time he imagined he’d get to kiss you, he didn't think you’d be the one to initiate–-but even still, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.

“Do you get it now?” you ask giddily.

“Not quite.”

So you kiss him again and again until he gets the message.

Bonus:

“You’re not the sharpest pencil in the box, really, are you?”

“Luckily for me, you’d make a great sharpener.”

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: um ig its time to add wrio to my taglist form lol.. i really cannot get a good grip on his character so if you read this without thinking "he would not do that" then I am relieved but if you did i am also not surprised lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 8

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your clothes hang off of your body, a slake of sweat running down your thighs and stomach. You’re not sure how you’ve ended up this way, legs curled around Loki as he pins you to the wall.

The office lights blaring outside your eyelids. His breath plumes into your scalp as he presses his nose into your hair. You tilt your hips as your overwrought nerves cluster and ping off each other.

Another orgasm swells in the ebb and flow of pleasure. Minutes, hours, days, you don’t know how long you’ve been at it. 

It’s another of his tricks. The way he uses your body against your mind. How he can twist your desire like a cage around your reticence. 

“Mm, darling,” he slithers, “shall we go home?” 

He doesn’t stop his steady thrust as he speaks, a hand under your ass and the other on the back of your neck. He dips his head down to nib at your ear lobe. 

“Home?” You murmur dumbly. What does he mean? 

“As man and wife...” he puffs along your throat, “yes, darling, I think it’s time.” 

You push your head back as his lips tease your skin. You hate how he makes your insides rend. You clutch his shoulder and whine. You squeeze him tighter with your legs, hooking your feet together to keep him locked in. 

“A little more,” you rasp to your own horror. 

He snickers, “I never said we’d stop.” 

Confounded by his words, you flick your eyes open and a sudden flash of green paints your world. You feel a lurch around you. It’s as if you’re plummeting for that split second, then the world still again.  

Loki falls onto you. A silky sheet tickles your back beneath the crumpled fabric of your loose blouse, hanging at your elbows. Your shorn skirt fans out under your legs as Loki carries his motion, not missing a beat as the walls around you appear anew. 

Your head lolls as you take in your new surroundings. Behind the green tint, there’s something family. You can’t think. You don’t care where you are, you just care about that spiralling coil inside of you. You clasp onto Loki’s neck and sink your nails in, pushing your pelvis up to take him in. 

You cum again. Shaking violently as you’re battered in the eruption of hot and cold. Your arm splays limp and dangles over the edge of the sofa. Loki persists as you tremble helplessly.  

As you wade in the afterglow, fighting the tiding of yet another orgasm, your eyes flit around. This... this is your apartment. How-- 

You slap his shoulder and cough, “Loki, stop--” 

“Darling, I’m nearly--” 

“I don’t care, get--” 

He rams into you and your voice shrivels up. You drop your head down and gnash your teeth. He ruts into you furiously as he snakes his hand up to cover your mouth. He pumps into you as he pants against your cheek, muttering a flow of sultry delight. 

“Mmm, darling, just you try to get away,” he snarls, “I feel you clinging to me. You want me, hmm?” His taunts peter out into thick grunts and groans and he sinks his head down to growl against the cushions. 

A warmth blooms in you as he spasms and pushes himself into his limit. You twitch at the fullness and claw at his back. Fuck. As much as you hate that he’s right, he is. You don’t think you could make him get off. 

He finally stills but that urgent need does not. It’s a low buzz in your pelvis but you feel it pulsing, waiting to thrum again. You blink and take in what you can of your apartment.

Your plain white curtains are now green satin, around a nightscape that assure you of hours of torture. The walls, usually just as bland, are painted with gold and green trim and your eyes narrow on the snake ornament mounted on the wall with-- 

Huh! 

You tap Loki’s shoulder frantically, “get off, get off.” 

“Darling?” He mutters. 

“I mean it, off.” You try to push him and groan at the effort as your walls squeeze him. “Ayeee.” 

“Mmm, as you wish, dear wife.” 

He slides out of you and a full-body shudder constricts your muscles. You grit through the emptiness and sit up. You nearly tumble off the edge of the couch at the dizziness. You look down at your ruined clothes, barely hanging onto your figure. Fuck. 

You stand and squeak at the tenderness between your legs. You cup your pelvis and limp, your other hand on your forehead. You squint at the metal plate on the wall with the snake curved in an infinity sign. Between each loop, are a set of initials; his and yours. 

You pause and glance around again. You look at Loki as he works at untangling his dark hair. He is entirely too comfortable right now. 

“What did you to my place?” You accuse. 

“Our place,” he insists and sends you a smirk. 

You stare back at him. Your eyes threaten to stray down. His shoulders and chest are forged in muscle and as much as you didn’t ask for any of this, you can’t deny his boasting is mostly true. It makes you hate him more that he was honest in that sense after being so deceitful. 

You press your hands to your temples and his own eyes drift down. A cold wash flows through you as he purrs and you drop your arms. You pull your blouse up your shoulders and do up the only remaining button. Then you wrap your torn skirt and wrap it around yourself.. 

“I need a shower,” you hobble across the floor. 

“A wonderful idea, I shall join you.” He stands, shamelessly naked. You can’t pick out in the chaos of the afternoon when he stripped off every piece. Given how he can throw you through time and space, it probably isn’t much effort for him. 

“That wasn’t an invitation,” you stay far from him as you walk faster. “I need space. I need to think.” 

You hurry down the hall and shut the door before he can catch up. You growl at the sight of the bathroom. Green tile, green towels. He’s taken over more than your body but your entire life. You huff and shuffle forward to the shower and pull open the curtain. As you do, you shriek in horror. 

He reaches up to grip the metal bar and smirks down at you, “dirty mortal,” he tuts. “Time to get washed up.” 

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Family

Benedict Bridgerton x wife fem reader

The Bridgerton household was unusually calm that morning, a rarity in a home filled with the lively energy of four young children. Benedict Bridgerton, known for his creative spirit and easygoing demeanor, had decided that today would be a day for family, free from the usual hustle and bustle of their social obligations. His wife, Y/N, welcomed the idea of a relaxing day at home with a delighted smile, eager to spend quality time with their children.

The sun streamed through the large windows of their elegant country estate, casting a warm glow across the rooms. Benedict and Y/N had designed their home to be a sanctuary of comfort and beauty, a place where their children could grow and thrive surrounded by love and creativity.

In the spacious kitchen, Y/N was preparing a hearty breakfast. The delicious aroma of freshly baked scones and crispy bacon filled the air, mingling with the scent of brewing coffee. Benedict, ever the doting husband, moved about the kitchen with an easy grace, assisting Y/N with setting the table and entertaining their youngest daughter, Emily, who was tugging at his trousers, giggling.

“Papa, lift me!” Emily demanded with a bright, toothy grin.

Benedict scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around in a playful dance. Her laughter echoed through the room, drawing the attention of her siblings. Alexander, the eldest at ten, walked in with a book in his hand, followed closely by the twins, Charlotte and Henry, both eight, who were in the midst of a playful argument.

“Papa, tell Charlotte that it’s my turn to choose the game today!” Henry protested, his expression a mix of frustration and determination.

Before Benedict could respond, Y/N intervened with a calm, soothing voice. “Why don’t we all decide together what we’d like to do today? It’s a family day, after all.”

Charlotte and Henry paused, considering their mother’s suggestion. Alexander, wise beyond his years, nodded in agreement. “That sounds fair. What do you think, Papa?”

Benedict smiled, setting Emily down gently. “I think your mother is right. Let’s finish our breakfast, and then we’ll sit down and make a plan for the day.”

As they gathered around the large wooden table, the children’s chatter filled the room with a lively warmth. They discussed their options, ranging from a picnic in the garden to an afternoon of painting and crafts in Benedict’s art studio. After much deliberation, they decided on a bit of everything a picnic, followed by a painting session, and ending the day with a family movie night.

With breakfast finished, they set about preparing for their picnic. Y/N packed a basket with sandwiches, fruits, and a selection of pastries, while Benedict and the children gathered blankets and games to take outside. They chose a spot under a large oak tree in the garden, its branches providing ample shade.

Just as they were about to head out, the front door burst open, and in streamed the entire Bridgerton clan. Anthony, the eldest of Benedict's siblings, led the charge with his wife, Kate, and their children close behind. They were followed by the rest of the Bridgerton siblings: Daphne and her husband, Simon, with their children; Colin and his wife, Penelope; Eloise and Francesca, each with their own families; Gregory and Hyacinth, the youngest siblings, rounding out the lively group.

"Benedict, Y/N!" Anthony called out, a broad smile on his face. "We thought we'd join you for a day of family fun!"

Benedict's face lit up with surprise and joy. "This is a wonderful surprise! The more, the merrier!"

The garden quickly transformed into a vibrant hub of activity. The children ran around, playing games and exploring the vast grounds, while the adults spread out blankets and set up a buffet style picnic. Laughter and conversations filled the air, creating an atmosphere of warmth and happiness.

After lunch, Benedict suggested they all play a game of charades, a favorite Bridgerton family pastime. The idea was met with enthusiastic cheers, and they quickly gathered in the large living room, rearranging furniture to create an open space for the game.

Anthony took charge of organizing the teams, dividing everyone into two groups. Benedict, ever the performer, was up first. He drew a card from the pile and glanced at it, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Alright, let's see what you've got," Colin teased from the opposing team.

Benedict began his act, first miming the shape of a rectangle with his hands and then pretending to hold something heavy. He staggered around the room, his exaggerated movements eliciting giggles from the children and knowing smiles from the adults.

"He's lifting something! A box?" Daphne guessed.

Benedict shook his head vigorously, moving on to the next part of his act. He began to flail his arms wildly, pretending to be caught in a storm. The children burst into laughter, their infectious giggles spreading to the adults.

"A boat! No, a shipwreck!" Y/N called out, trying to contain her laughter.

Benedict nodded eagerly, then dropped to the floor, pretending to swim through turbulent waters. He finally mimed pulling something large and round from the water, holding it triumphantly over his head.

"A giant pearl! A treasure!" Alexander shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

Benedict pointed at Alexander, nodding with satisfaction. The room erupted in applause and laughter, the children jumping up and down with glee.

"You really outdid yourself this time, brother," Anthony said, clapping Benedict on the back.

The game continued with everyone taking turns, each performance more hilarious than the last. Penelope's impression of a horse had everyone in stitches, while Hyacinth's attempt at miming a famous opera singer brought the house down.

As the afternoon sun began to wane, the family gathered in Benedict’s art studio for a collective painting session. The room, filled with canvases and art supplies, was a haven of creativity. Benedict, with his usual charm, encouraged everyone to express their creativity, handing out brushes and paints. Even the most reluctant participants found themselves caught up in the spirit of the activity, creating a large collaborative mural that would serve as a lasting memory of the day.

When evening came, they moved to the living room for the grand finale: a family movie night. Pillows and blankets were spread out across the floor, and the children nestled in with their cousins, eyes wide with anticipation. The chosen movie was a family favorite, a whimsical adventure that captivated everyone from the youngest to the oldest.

As the credits rolled and the children began to drift off to sleep, Benedict and Y/N, along with the rest of the Bridgertons, carried them to their rooms, tucking them into bed with gentle kisses and whispered goodnights. The house gradually fell silent, the peace of the evening settling over them.

Back in their bedroom, Benedict and Y/N reflected on the day, their hearts brimming with gratitude. Benedict pulled Y/N into a tender embrace, his voice soft with emotion. “Days like this remind me of how lucky we are, my love.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his chest. “Indeed, Benedict. Our family is our greatest masterpiece.”

With that, they climbed into bed, the gentle rhythm of their children’s breaths a comforting lullaby. They drifted off to sleep, knowing that while life was often filled with chaos and demands, it was moments like these that truly defined their happiness.

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