#it would actually suit her so much. something to concentrate on to home her feelings onto to learn to improve her multitasking skills.

[shadowedvales]

*

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

[Part 2] | [Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual." 

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth. 

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship. 

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave. 

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you. 

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window. 

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing. 

That settles it. 

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way. 

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with. 

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless. 

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency. 

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant. 

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops. 

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback. 

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily. 

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up. 

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend. 

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly. 

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza." 

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts. 

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your  coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly. 

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger. 

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry. 

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably. 

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape. 

The blonde man stares at you. 

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it. 

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach. 

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?" 

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body. 

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up. 

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm. 

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm. 

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part. 

Bonus: Daitou's backstory 

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect. 

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas." 

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up. 

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement. 

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances. 

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry. 

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid." 

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you. 

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection. 

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking, "if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up. 

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat. 

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus. 

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair. 

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."

[imagine--if]

hey! i hope your doing well, i would love to see anything fluffy for mike (headcanons, blurbs, whatever you feel like suits it most!) - he deserves the whole world and sm more to me 😭

A/N: I get youuuu, hope you enjoy 😁 started off with the relationship hcs but let me know if you wanna see anything more specific!!

Warnings: FNAF movie spoilers, mentions of violence

⋆✮ Dating Mike Schmidt Includes: ✮⋆

➳ Mike's been through a hell of a lot ever since his little brother got kidnapped, so I'm seeing major protectiveness and sometimes even clinginess involved from him when you end up dating because 😭 guy's been through stuff and he's not letting anyone else he's close to get hurt

➳ To be honest, at first he's pretty closed-off with people, vulnerable with a tough exterior, so if you meet him in some scenario where you're tied up with the Freddy's murders and job, he'll try to be distant and professional and all... ending up failing 🙃

➳ Eventually you start. talking more about personal things, hobbies your lives, and he'll mention his sister Abby and having to take the job because he needs the money and is in the middle of the custody situation with his sister. He's got a lot going on and the trauma of what happened all those years ago still wringing at his guilt, so being able to talk with someone who doesn't judge in a relaxed place is a nice change for him having to be on guard all the time.

➳ When Mike befriends you, which is what happens first, he's got your back. If you need someone to vent to or hang out with or whatever, he'll do whatever he can to help, and when it comes to you being in a sticky situation or someone trying to hurt you or play you, he always seems to realise and is in no way afraid of confrontation to get them to back off.

➳ Like if William tries sizing you up a bit... and Mike gets annoyed with that cool, defensive glare as he asks if he needs anything (I've got to make an imagine of this nowwww). I think Mike would only realise that he's actually jealous if you teased about it, or if he really loses his temper with someone that's not leaving you alone or something. Then it really nags at him and makes him think about actually liking you as more than a friend, and then that initial reluctance because everyone he gets close to seems to have something bad happen to them, like it's a curse. At the end of the day, he just wants you to be safe.

➳ It would take something big for Mike to confess to you, unless you take the first step (aka Abby begging you to tell him you like him too because she's getting bored of him not concentrating on what she's talking to him about or the conversation somehow curving to you and the stuff you're into). Maybe you're attacked at Freddy's and you're all in on the crisis together when Mike stands firmly in front of you when William reveals himself, or he shoves you out the way so you won't get hurt, ultimately jumping in front of the threat without a worry of him getting hit instead. It's then that he realises how much he needs you in his life, how he needs you alive because you add some joy to it that he hasn't felt in all these years, a change from the darkness that his head's stuck in.

➳ It all comes out of him in a rush as he looks you up and down with wild eyes and a firm grip, asking if you're alright and saying in a rush that "you're one of the most important people in the world to me, and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt... I- I couldn't live with myself, okay?!"

➳ Okayyy Mike, just kiss them 😏

➳ After you fight Afton together and get Vanessa looked after, you can finally breathe and properly start dating, which includes that familiar protectiveness and slight clinginess... and also being best friends with his little sister, which you 100% would be. You'd spend time drawing or chatting or playing random games while Mike was out working, eliminating the need for a babysitter because you're the perfect fit and get along with her great. And when he is home, you do a lot of stuff together, like a mini family, and there's finally that security and stability in that life she needed.

➳ I feel like Abby would find it hilarious to tell you all the sappy things Mike says about you on the rare occasions where you're not around, ending in Mike's cheeks flushing beet red and him picking her up and whirling her around playfully until she's in fits of laughter. "I heard Mike say that he found another reason to keep going when he realised he was in love wi- hey!!"

➳ Mike would be a bit clingy, again because of what happened with Garret; Mike being distracted for one moment and then blaming himself for the rest of his life because it was that moment where his brother was taken and killed. So if you are out, on a date or just around, this guy will not leave your side. He's the kind of person to text you again and again if you don't respond to the first message, and it's kind of cute how much he worries, but then he doesn't need to, and every now and then he'll need your reassurance that you guys are safe and that you won't leave him, which stills ends with him burying his face in your neck for a long tight hug for a while.

➳ MIKE'S A BIG HUGGER. CHANGE MY MIND.

➳ Whether you're watching a movie with him and Abby, or you're out on a date or sleeping or whatever, Mike will always have some contact with you if you've told him you're okay with it: fingers linked under the table, pressed into his side while you're watching TV (with an affectionate forehead kiss every five minutes 🥺) or being half crushed to death while you're trying to sleep when he rolls onto you and traps you under his leg... good luck if you need to go to the bathroom. Chances are he'll end up trailing after you with mumbled protests.

➳ That protectiveness always kicks in when someone looks at you for too long, or in a way that he doesn't like the look of, or if you're obviously uncomfortable with. If you're quick, you can just convince him to walk away and you two go somewhere else, because Mike will end up getting annoyed and giving the guy a line to get him to make them go away. If he's not careful, he might end up getting in a fight again, but he'll really try not to when you tell him off for it and promise him that things are okay and you're not going anywhere.

➳ You and Abby are basically Mike's world, after all that's happened, there are only really two people left that he truly cares for and would do anything for. Once you're in a relationship with him, he'll do everything he can to make sure you're safe and won't have to go through anything he had to. If ever you're upset, he'll listen for hours with no judgement and major support, whatever mood you're in somehow rubbing off on him. Mike will admit his feelings in a rush, and when he does, he's not afraid to tell you that he loves you whenever you need to hear it, or whenever he wants to say it and wants you to be reminded. It's something that you can never doubt.

[adrift-in-thyme]

I have fallen in love with your fairy Time fics and would love to read more about it. More fics or more ideas about it, anything you want to share would be lovely.

Whether you share anything more or not Thank you for sharing what you have so far. Don't forget to drink some water, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Aaaahhhh I’M SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT

I waited to answer this cause you made my day and I wanted to give you a ficlet in return but my inspiration has yet to return from the war (alas finals). I do have a handful of fics I’m working on rn I just…can’t seem to finish them. So I’ll offer you some headcanons and thoughts instead!

I have a lot so I’ll just put them under the cut XD

Time’s mother was a fairy who left the forest to explore and fell for a mortal man she met during her travels. Like Hyrule, she could transform into a human whenever she wanted to and vice versa.

Time’s transformation is much like his mother’s. He can change at will. However, if he comes into direct contact with fae magic his body will automatically start to transform. If he doesn’t want this to happen he has to focus on funneling magic away from that particular ability, which is exhausting.

He feels even more comfortable in his fairy form than in his Hylian one. It makes him feel closer to Navi and the Kokiri.

Malon is the first — and for a long time only — person outside of the Kokiri to know Time’s secret. She thinks he’s absolutely adorable in that form…fae mischief and all. She loves her tiny chaos husband

Warriors found out that Time can transform during the war. Time — then Mask — turned into a fairy solely to fly up and tell off the Great Fairy who had the captain trapped in a bottle to her face. Surprisingly, she listened to him and set Warriors free

Time can heal people like most fairies can, but it isn’t his strong suit. While he can mend even severe wounds, it takes a lot of strength and concentration for him to do so. He usually conks out seconds later — something that causes him to only rely on this power as a last resort.

Time’s wings are a cross between the Luna Moth

And a Crecopia Moth (the largest moth in North America!

While I imagine Hyrule having powerful but small wings, Time’s are HUGE. And though they’re almost transparent (similar to the Luna Moth), they sport the same false eyes you see on the Crecopia. They freak people out when they look closer

I’m still undecided on the coloring of his wings. In my first fic I described them as green and pink (inspired by the Great Fairy mask from Majora’s Mask and his home in the forest). But now I’m pondering changing that to shades of blue and red FD style (with veins of gold). Idk I like the menacing air that would have.

Last but not least, Sky and Time actually get along better after he finds out Time’s secret (every boy eventually finds out; secrets are bound to get out somehow in a group of nosy heroes XD). He gets to see a side of Time he hasn’t before and Time realizes how deeply he can trust him. (You’ll know why when I write the fic hehe)

[redsunsetxiii]

**Please do not repost without credit** [TRANS] 2023.12.29 SONE NOTE LIVE vol 46 with Yoona

Staff: You tried making mandu bags* this time! Please share why you chose the designs and colors for both bags you made. *literally “dumpling” bag, a bag knitted in chunky yarn

Yoona: For both bags, I tried to have designs and colors that suit winter. Although I say that, I just had them in colors where you wouldn’t easily notice if they got dirty (laughs). So, you can carry the bags I made today around just fine!  Actually, I didn’t decide which one would be the gift at first, and thought of giving away the one that was better. That’s why the navy bag that’s better put together is the gift (laughs). I made the gray one first, so a few holes where I fretted a bit…(laughs). I’ll use the gray one myself! I’ll bring it home and try to match it with a fashion style. Also, both bags are shoulder bags, but that reflects my personal preferences. I like to have both of my hands free, so I thought that maybe everyone else feels that way, too. Sorry for not making fashion the priority (laughs). They are very practical bags.

Staff: How was the activity?

Yoona: Mandu bags have gotten popular recently and I actually have one (laughs). It’s a bit small, but I use it a lot so I thought to try making one myself, but it’s harder than I thought it would be. I could empty my mind of thoughts and concentrate, so I could see myself getting hooked on it, to the point where I want to buy the yarn and make it again later! It’s similar to knitting and easy to make, so I think it’ll be great as a present. The instructor took the lead when I was making the gray bag, but it was my first time so I didn’t have a lot of leeway. For the navy bag, I got used to it a bit and made it while being careful not to make mistakes. That’s why the bag for the gift has no holes (laughs). Come to think of it, Yuri’s nickname for her fans is mandu, so it might be a good idea to give her a mandu bag (laughs). 

Staff: Please share what you were the most particular about during the creation process.

Yoona: I concentrated a lot to not mess up the knitting sequence! I discovered a few mistakes when making the gray bag… Also, I made them while putting a lot of force in my fingers so that the yarn wouldn’t be loose, and because of that my fingers trembled a bit in the later half (laughs). But I was happy when the instructor praised how fast I was knitting! If I wasn’t trying to put so much force in my fingers, I could have made them even faster! (laughs).

Staff: How many points out of 100 would you give your work? Please share a reason for your scoring as well.

Yoona: First, I guess I would give myself 85 points for the gray one? It’s not perfect, but it turned out better than I expected. It’s nice to see the outcome appearing before my eyes the more I spent time on it. I wanted to give it a high score when I thought about the feeling of achievement when I finished it! Also, the gift bag is 90 points! I was careful not to make mistakes while making it, so it scores higher than the gray one (laughs). 

(Staff: If you were to make something different with this type of yarn, what would you make?) I want to make a cushion for dogs! My dog is white, so a color where the white fur wouldn’t stand out a lot would be nice (laughs). I would have to use a yarn that’s a little brighter.

Staff: If you were to go out using the mandu bags you made today, what kind of fashion would you like to match them with? Please share why as well.

Yoona: My outfit today is pink, so both colors I chose today would match it. So I would like to match them with a pink style. The bags have a cute impression, so I guess they would suit most kinds of simple fashion. They also seem like they would match monotone and pastel tone clothes!

Staff: I heard that mandu bags are currently a popular fashion item in Korea, but do you have a fashion item that’s caught your attention?

Yoona: Scarves are my favorite item for winter. They’re also easily fashionable and great for keeping you warm when wrapped around your neck. However, last year I had a lot of photoshoots and I couldn’t enjoy scarves as much as I would have liked, so I’d like to enjoy them this winter. With that intention, I checked how many scarves I owned and I have more than I thought (laughs). I feel like I have scarves in all colors. This winter I want to use them all (laughs).

Staff: Please share your recent happenings. 

Yoona: I’ve been taking breaks while doing schedules such as filming CMs!  I’m also making music together with Epitone Project, and my fanmeet tour starts in January, so I’ve been preparing for that. I’ll be able to meet fans both in Korea and abroad after such a long time, so I’m really looking forward to it.  On my days off, I lazily stay at home all day, eat delicious food, and recharge!

Staff: This SONE NOTE LIVE will be released in December. Looking back on the year, what was the most memorable event for you? Please share the episode as well. 

Yoona: It would have to be starring in the drama, “King the Land”. That was the biggest event for me this year. I’m really thankful that so many people watched it. I talked about my bucket list in a previous interview, and the first episode of “King the Land” was just airing at that time. Having that drama reach #1 globally was in my list and that’s my most memorable event this year since it actually happened! 

Staff: December is the time for opportunities to go to Christmas and New Year’s parties. Do you have a must have fashion item for them?

Yoona: I guess a warm and fashionable coat. Keeping warm is important, but I can't give up on fashion. Also, I can't leave out jewelry for parties. Simple but fashionable jewelry would be earrings. Ones that casually shine would be nice. So wearing those kinds of earrings with a simple sweater would be great as well.

Staff: While filming for a drama or movie, are there any moments during the filming when your real life and story are linked, or when you feel that your character is similar to yourself? Please share the episode as well.

Yoona: I feel a sense of familiarity with the people who actually work in the jobs I play, or in other words my level of understanding increases. For example, for “King the Land”, I played a hotelier and when I actually met one later, I approached and talked to them without thinking (laughs). When I’m in a hotel, I feel like I know everything like… This time is probably break time, their break room is over there, their cleaning room is probably over there. Just my own sense of familiarity (laughs). I also think it’s rather curious.

Staff: Please share your goals for the new year and your reasons for those goals.

Yoona: I haven’t been able to meet the fans for a long time, but I’ll finally be able to next year and think it will be great to make wonderful memories for all the time the fans have been waiting for. Also, the movie that finished filming last year, “Date at 2 O'Clock”, will be released soon! Next year I want to rest well while trying out new movies and dramas!

Staff: Finally a message for SONE JAPAN.

Yoona: I haven’t been able to meet you after so long, but we’ll see each other at the fan meeting next year! I’m happy to finally have the chance to go to Japan in this way. I’m preparing a lot for it so please wait just a bit longer! Let’s meet next year!

Translation by RedSunsetXIII source: SONE JAPAN website **Please do not repost without credit**

[joy-of-life88]

Inked Temptation [a Damian Priest story] 20 The most important question

Damian POV

Today was the day. Our wedding day. And I had to admit that I expected to be way more nervous than I actually was. The smile on my face was my ever-present companion as I stood in front of our guests waiting for my Ellie.

It was a beautiful, warm spring day. The sun was shining and making the lake water sparkle. Birds chirped above our heads while the light breeze carried the scent of the blooming flowers and trees to us.

I tried to take in every detail because I knew that as soon as my eyes fell on my bride, I would not notice anything else. But that also meant that I had to concentrate hard so that she would not forget my vows. After all, I didn't want to read it off the note that was in the inside pocket of my suit jacket. I wanted to look Ellie in the eye while saying these words.

And then it was already time. The music changed and the guests rose from their chairs. There she was. My bride. On the arm of her mother and so beautiful that it took my breath away. She wore a simple white dress, no tulle or lace, that accentuated her curves magnificently. Ellie looked so glamorous. Like a Hollywood star. With the hair down in waves and the, matching the flowers, red lipstick.

Slowly, she strode toward me. Almost in the same rhythm as my heartbeat. Ellie had the most beautiful, radiant smile on her lips. Stunning... simply stunning.

And then, finally, she was with me. I took her hand in mine and knew that I had to hold on to this woman forever.

Without taking our eyes off each other, we listened to the words of the minister. It was a simple ceremony with the traditional words. Just the way we had wanted it to be.

When it was time for the vows, Ellie began hers. Because she said she wasn't sure she would be able to get a word out after mine.

"Damian... I never thought a favor could turn into something for life, but here we are. I stand before you, holding your strong hands and looking into the eyes of my future. You have quickly become my home that I didn't even know I was looking for. Something about your voice, your gaze and the way you hold me in your arms tells me that I will always be safe.

You have no idea how fast my heart beats when you flash me your smile. You have changed my life. In the best way I can imagine. Thank you, Damian. Thank you for your love, your support, your compassion. I promise to always be there for you. I will be your strong shoulder as you are mine. I promise you that everything will be all right as long as we stand side by side, hand in hand.

I don't know if I can describe how incredibly happy you make me. And I hope that I make you just as happy. In this moment, in the next year and for the rest of our lives. I love you. And I'm waiting impatiently for what's to come," Ellie said, tears glistening not only in her eyes.

I swallowed to pull myself together. It was an important moment and every word I was about to say was important.

"Ellie, my beautiful Ellie.... It's possible that you can hear my heartbeat at this moment and I want you to know that it beats only for you. You have quickly and undeniably become the most important person in my life. In the short moment when I thought I had lost you, I realized how much I have gained in my life since I was allowed to love you.

I need your love like the air I breathe. And I want it in exactly this way. I never want to escape it. You are my first thought in the morning and the last before I fall asleep. I can't imagine my life without you. Together with you, I want to face whatever fate has planned for us. Ellie-Bell... I love you. I need you and I will never let you go, because I am not strong enough for that.

When you touched my life, you changed it for all eternity. You made me feel things I never felt before. You gave me a piece that I have always missed. Through you, my love, I became the real me" I said as I tried not to let my emotions get the better of me.

"And now that Eleanor and Damian have let us all in on how deep their love is, it's time to ask them the most important question of the day.

Eleanor, do you take Damian to be your lawfully wedded husband?" said the minister.

"A thousand times I do!" she said in a firm voice, smiling at me.

"Damian, I ask you too. Do you take Eleanor to be your lawfully wedded wife?" wanted to know.

"A thousand times I do!" I said, winking at Ellie.

"Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Damian, you may kiss your bride." he continued.

This was something he didn't have to tell me twice. I carefully wrapped my wife in my arms and kissed her for the first time as her husband to the loud cheers of our families and friends. But neither Ellie nor I paid much attention to that. At that moment, there were only the two of us in this world.

[spacegoldilocks]

The Gods Demand a Queen

Bjorn Ironside x F!Reader

Summary: You're a thrall in Kattegat, under the rule of Bjorn, who desires to one day be Queen and sit on the throne. He helps you realise these dreams, in more ways than one.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, throne sex, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, bit of choking, bit of spanking, size kink, praise, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.5k

The Gods have never favoured you.

You’ve been at someone else’s will for as long as you can remember. Not all of them have been nice. It’s toughened you up, though. You’ve learnt your place and your manners. You’ve learnt when is the correct time to speak, and definitely when isn’t the correct time.

You’ve been in Kattegat, under the mercy of Bjorn Ironside, for a few months now. He’s fair. You mostly stay in the shadows and out of his way. He’s not even here most of the time, anyway. You can’t really complain about your time here, even though you dream of a different life.

You dream of sitting high on a throne somewhere. Anywhere. Not having anyone to answer to. Your own thralls and slaves to do with as you please. A thousand people who call you their Queen, who sit around you, showering you with compliments and gifts. Sacrifices in your own name. A crown upon your head and your face smeared with colours that tell everyone that you are the Queen.

Alas, dreams are dreams. And you don’t dare defy the authority that lingers over you. The fate that awaits your disobedience and failure to capture the power you so desperately crave is worse than simply maintaining your fantasy. You listen attentively to the every need of the family in charge. Most notably, Bjorn.

He’s away more often than he’s here. In those moments, the throne lays empty. Practically begging to be used. At present, no queen resides in Kattegat and you long for the feeling of the throne beneath you. It calls to you like no other.

It’s more than a feeling that tells you that you belong on the throne. You feel as though the Gods have a plan for you. They keep you waiting, so you can ready yourself for when the times comes. It is a question of when not if. The Gods demand a queen for Kattegat, you can hear them.

You say Bjorn is away more than he’s here, yet today is one of the rare times he’s here and he’s active. A room full of people and many duties to attend to. Which also means you’ve been on your feet all day. With Bjorn home and his being busy, you’ve had no end of tasks to complete and requests to indulge.

It started this morning when he and his men arrived on the shores of Kattegat. You having to draw baths and prepare a feast, wash clothing and all the while do it quickly to keep time for any other jobs that might need doing. This included waiting on their every need as they enjoyed festivities for returning safely from their travels.

And so, the throne has been occupied. The only time Bjorn left his seat was to eat with his men, and he quickly returned to it when he was finished. You’d been watching him since he returned. The way he sits, spreading across the chair. Arms thrown over the sides, legs parted, head resting against the back as he looks down at everyone else.

Despite everything you feel, there’s no denying that power suits him. He makes a good king. He is fair and strong and courageous. And he is a son of Ragnar. He speaks with a loud, commanding voice when he addresses his people, thanking them for their bravery and telling them that they live to face more battles before walking the halls of Valhalla.

You won’t lie to yourself and say he’s not attractive, you’ve thought about it before. If you weren’t a thrall and spent more time with Bjorn, you like to think that something might’ve happened between the two of you. But you really have a knack for staying in the shadows, hidden, and only coming out when absolutely necessary.

Throughout the entire evening into night you’ve stayed hidden away as much as possible, watching Bjorn in his position on the throne. Gods, he’s so big. You shake the thought from your head, feeling the pain in your shoulders from so much time racing around today. Your back is killing you. But it’s getting very late, not long and you should be able to go to bed. Not long, you tell yourself. Everyone in the hall should be getting tired too, a long day of celebrations after an even longer time travelling.

They start disappearing in small numbers. Many women leaving in the arms of men, some already married, others seeking comfort in one another just for the night. You’ve made it your business to become familiar with a lot of people around here, not just so you can be a good thrall, but just in case. In case of what, you don’t know. You just think it might be good to have a good indication of who people are, and what they do, in case you need it.

Eventually, there’s only you, a few other slave girls and a handful of men, who are outrageously drunk. They’re so loud. They shout and bang their fists and cups on the table, spilling their drinks and making an even bigger mess that will need to be cleaned up.

Bjorn looks almost fed up, scowling as he watches the men from his seat. He holds his chin, elbow propped up on the arm of the throne. “That is quite enough.” He calls.

All eyes shoot to him. The men look like they want to argue back at him, but ultimately know better than to do so.

“Finish your drinks and leave. Everyone needs their rest.” He gestures around the room, even though there are only a few men, all concentrated on the table nearest the fire. “We have a long few days ahead of us.”

They chug their drinks, not wanting to disappoint or annoy Bjorn any further. They leave one by one, as soon as they each finish drinking, bowing to him before swaggering out of the hall.

You and the other girls are expecting Bjorn to up and leave, letting you all take care of the mess in the hall. But he doesn’t.

You each look at one another from across the room, spaced out along the walls. You’re all as confused as each other, trying to look for someone, or something, to take a cue from.

One of the girls, directly across from you, begins to move. She steps forward gingerly, looking at Bjorn as she does so for any sign that he wants everyone to remain as they are. It’s incredibly tense. This has never happened before. You’re waiting for his voice to boom and echo throughout the mostly empty room, telling the girl to return to her place.

His eyes flick to her, watching as she goes to the table, picking up as many items as she can carry, before returning to stare at the ground, lost in thought and twiddling his fingers. He doesn’t seem to have a problem - you’d know if he did.

And so the rest of you follow her lead, carrying things out of sight to clean and making the hall look more presentable after being thoroughly worn out by the returning warriors.

Your whole body aches. Your back, your feet, your head. Everything. At this point, you just want to sit down. The soles of your feet are probably worn from standing, walking, rushing from one place to the next.

You take any little milestone you can get. You told yourself everyone in the hall would leave and they did. Check. Now it’s four more tables to clear, the fire to put out, the goblets and cups to leave soak. The list goes on.

You and the other girls are dotted around the hall, cleaning and collecting different things when Bjorn gets up. You all make it your duty to not look at him.

Do not make it obvious that you were waiting for him to do something.

You hear him make his way across the room, his heavy boots making the wood underneath him creak, thumping across the stone floor as he descends from the elevated throne. His footsteps stop much too early for him to have already left the room, let alone the building. It’s unbearably quiet.

You audibly gasp when you hear whispering voices - much too quiet for you to understand what they’re saying, and thankfully they’re too far away for them to have heard your embarrassing gasp. Although, you immediately recognise one of the voices as Bjorn’s. Gods, you’d love to turn around to see what he’s doing. His behaviour tonight is continually fascinating.

You try your best to keep going with your task. ‘Just clean the table’ you tell yourself. ‘Focus on that. There’s a stain, try to get it out. Pay no attention to the-‘. Now there’s two sets of footsteps. One Bjorn’s, the other one of the girls. Is she leaving?

The stain. You scrub at it, trying to ignore the way Bjorn’s footsteps stop again. Followed by more whispering. And more footsteps. What the fuck is going on?

You think another one of the girls has left too. You scrub harder at the stain, thinking that perhaps if you channel enough of your remaining energy into removing it then your brain won’t have any to think about what Bjorn may or may not be doing.

Gods, why are you so on edge? Would you be this tense if you could actually see what he was doing? Shit, is that more whispering? And it’s closer. Maybe if you stopped scrubbing the table so loudly you could just about hear…

No. The stain.

Fuck, what is happening? In the room, to the girls, to Bjorn, to you.

You can probably guess what’s happening to you - you’re tired. You’re becoming delusional from being so exhausted by today. You’ve worked hard. You’re still working hard. This damned stain. You’re working so hard to remove it, to distract yourself, you’re only now feeling the way your shoulder is pulling from the harsh movements of your arm.

The stain’s probably gone. You lift your arm up to check and, sure enough, it is. Surely, you’re done for the night now? You’re exhausted, the long hours you’ve worked today are starting to catch up with you. You want to sit down. You want your bed. You want to rest. You want the hand that’s just started rubbing circles across your back to keep doing it. Gods, you could fall asleep right here, the motions lulling you.

Fuck. You flash back to your reality, your head whipping around as Bjorn’s eyes meet yours. He looks aggressive, towering over and shrouding you against the table. His hand rests on the small of your back as he just looks down at you. Maybe its your exhaustion, or perhaps its seeing him this close up for the first time, but Gods is he gorgeous.

Well, you’ve always thought he was handsome but something about seeing the many scars on his face that you’d never had the privilege of seeing before, and the brilliant blue of his eyes somewhat dimmed in the firelight, and the coarse hairs of his beard like this snaps you awake. His smile breaks through the tough exterior he presents, making you relax just a little bit.

The next words that come out of his mouth take you by surprise more than his hand that smoothes across your back. “Have a drink with me.”

Have a drink with him? You probably look insane because you just stare at him. Completely dumbfounded. Somehow you manage to nod your head, letting him lead you away from your lovely, clean table to a slightly dirtier one. At least he appreciates your hard work.

You set yourself down on one of the benches by the fire, resting your arms on the table to try to find a comfortable position where your back doesn’t ache. Bjorn, meanwhile, crosses the room, fetching with him two cups of ale. He sits down right next you, leaving a bit of space but not much.

He looks at you quizzically as he takes a gulp of his drink, whilst you sip. “What is your name again?”

You’re not surprised he doesn’t remember, it’s been many months since you last spoke to him outside of his instructions to you. You answer him between sips of the ale. It’s not your favourite drink in the world, but you like it. And you’ll probably get a small buzz off it between your sleepiness and the lack of water you’ve drank today.

“Hm,” he hums. “That was it. You have been here for several months now, no?”

You can’t help but wonder why he’s sat with you, asking you questions about yourself. Is he expecting you to ask questions back in return? You don’t think there’s a thing you don’t know about him. He is the king, after all.

You nod. “And what do you think of Kattegat?” He swigs from his cup, eyes staying on your face as you carefully consider his question.

You have nothing negative to say about the place, but you still try to choose your words carefully in case you say the wrong thing. “I think it is lovely here.”

He stays silent, willing you to keep talking.

“The people are nice, the food is good. And it is a beautiful place. There is much to see and do.” You elaborate.

He smiles under his beard, nodding in approval at your answer. You sip some more, waiting for another of his questions. He gets up to refill his cup, having finished it rather quickly. He checks yours, seeing it still mostly full, and walks across the room.

Just when he’s about to sit back down, he asks you another question. “And what do you think of the King?”

Your heart starts hammering against your chest - what sort of question is that? Moreover, what the fuck does he expect you to answer if not praise? You see his kind smile has turned into a devilish smirk when you look at him. Are you imaging it or has he sat ever-so-slightly closer to you?

You straighten yourself up, ignoring the painful tugging of your shoulders. “Well,” you begin. “I think that he is just, and fair. And that he makes a good leader.”

The smug look on his face stays, not bearing to stay silent long enough for you to make the decision to keep talking on your own. No, instead he insists you keep feeding his ego as soon as you take the smallest break in talking. “Go on.”

This time it’s you who smirks at him. “I know he is a fierce warrior. And I think that he looks rather good on the throne.” You mean the last remark in that the symbol of authority suits him. But, if he decides to take it … another way, then that’s up to him. Either way, you don’t mind what he interprets the comment to mean.

He looks away from you, chuckling, but giving nothing away. It makes you laugh a little bit too, any tension from earlier having melted away with your easy interactions.

It doesn’t last, not for you at least.

“Tell me, have you ever thought about what it would be like to be Queen?”

With one single sentence, you feel as if he can see right through you, right into you. Fucking of course you have, but how should he know? How can, in one sentence, he be able to floor you like he this, to ask you a question so unintentionally personal? One that pulls something deep within you, something you’ve never voiced to anyone and suddenly now it’s being unearthed by the one person who you should never have to confess it to. Not that you necessarily need to confess the degree to which you have thought about it, but even the insinuation that you have is enough for you to begin flustering, muddling any answer that comes into your head into an unintelligible mess that you can’t verbalise.

You’re quiet for much, much too long. You need to say something. “I’m sorry?” You settle for pretending not to understand.

But it’s no use. The damage caused by you silence is done. His jaw rocks to the side, clenched so hard his jaw bone juts outs under his beard. “So you have.”

Your drink lays forgotten, only serving as a distraction for your anxious hands as you fidget with the rim of the cup. You avoid his gaze, unsure how to act. Then again, surely everyone has dreamt about being king or queen? Maybe not to the degree you have, but doesn’t everyone strive for power? You hold your head up a little bit, feeling slightly reassured by your own line of thinking.

You keep your eyes trained forward, though. He tips his head to look at your face and you can just feel the way he’s smirking at you. He’s left you looking so stupid, stewing in your own thoughts.

“Come with me.” Is all he says as he swings his legs over the bench to stand up. When you look up he’s waiting, hand held out for you to take.

You get up, smoothing your dress out and taking his hand. He guides you out to stand with him on the other side of the bench and leads you towards the very far end of the long room. Towards the throne.

Your eyes flick from him, to the throne, to him again - back and forth as you walk the length of the room.

He stops at the chair and you stop with him, still with your hand in his. Is he doing this as a display to taunt you? Show you up close what you can never have? It’s fucking cruel if he is.

You wait for him to do something so you can take a cue from it. You look up at him and he simply motions with his hand to the throne. You frown, waiting for more information from him. “Sit.” He says.

Sit? On the throne? On his throne? Gods, is this some sort of test? Is he giving you a taste, a mere crumb, of how it might feel to actually have power? Or is he just pushing you to see how far you’re willing to go to obey him? It’s his throne, it belongs to him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone else use it - not even while he’s away, far gone on a raid somewhere.

He drops your hand, using his own to push gently on your shoulders. He spins you around, pulling you down to sit on the throne as he stands behind you.

The room looks huge from this position. Slightly elevated above everyone else and able to see everything and, should the room be full, everyone. It’s comfortable too, and big. You expected as much, Bjorn doesn’t even fully fill the chair and he’s the biggest, broadest man you think you’ve ever seen.

He lowers himself to your ear behind you. “How does it feel?”

‘Correct’, is what you want to say. “Good.” Is what you settle for.

He straightens back up, placing his hands on your shoulders. He’s so big, and he’s putting far too much weight on your already sore shoulders, causing you to wince. “Are you alright?” He asks, alleviating some of the pressure.

“‘M fine, my back hurts is all.” You try to make it not seem as bad as it is, but truthfully you’re in pain.

“Let me help.”

“N-no, it is fine, really.” You lean forward to get up from the throne just as he starts using his thumbs to dig right into a tight spot in the middle of your shoulder blades. You let out a groan at how good it feels, closing your eyes and slumping your head against the back of the chair. Any desire to get up leaves you as Bjorn works the muscles at the back of your neck.

“Tell me if it is too hard.” The calloused pads of his fingers trace firmly across the tops of your shoulders, barely grazing your collar bones as his thumbs work into the top of your back.

It’s a power trip. You sitting on his throne whilst he massages the knots out of your back and shoulders. It’s getting you high, and you open your eyes to look out across the room. You imagine how it would look full of people. Like it was earlier tonight. Packed full with people there to see you. You'd kill for it.

Gods, his hands feel so fucking good and they spread across your shoulders so big. Your eyes flutter back closed, wanting to enjoy his touch without much other sensory experience.

You’re reluctant to acknowledge the fact that it’s turning you on, too. The pain of him rubbing away the aches mixes with just how amazing his warm hands feel against your bare skin. It makes you moan, forgetting where you are as you revel in his hands taking the pain away from you, leaving only traces of his touch behind.

He focuses on your arms now, the clusters of dull ache now gone from your back. His palms work down your biceps, squeezing your soft flesh over your clothes and coming back up to massage your shoulders. His fingers spread out over your chest, rubbing the skin there. You hum under his touch, which he can probably feel reverberating on your chest under his fingertips.

You didn’t tell him your chest hurt, but he spends time concentrating on manipulating your flesh there anyway. His fingers dig into the bones, coming up momentarily to wrap his thick fingers around your neck, squeezing before dipping back down. He repeats this a few times, making you whimper every time he does.

“Is this good?” He whispers from behind you.

You moan out a small ‘yes’, letting him continue with his handy work. His splayed hands come further down your chest, beginning to dip below the necklace of your dress. Your heart beats faster and fuck, you’re wet. You’re trying not to let it get to you but in this moment, you’d let him do anything to you, you realise.

You furrow your brows, trying to push it to the back of your mind, but his hands keep working further and further down, in tiny increments. You swear he’s going to reach your breasts any moment. But he doesn’t. It feels like he’s teasing you. In fact, he goes anywhere besides them. He massages the skin directly above them, kneading into it with the heel of his palm. Then, he dips his fingertips deep into the neckline of your dress, drawing a long, hard line through the middle of your chest, dragging between your breasts. He starts near the bottom of your sternum, feeling the rapid beat of your heart as you try not to think about the warmth pooling between your legs.

You don’t see the way his jaw clenches as he realises how rousing you’re finding this, being groped and touched by him. He told himself he wasn’t going to take it any further, but he can’t help himself. Not when you respond to his touch like this. All the little moans you’ve been making, and the way your heart thrums against your chest. He wants more from you. He wants to hear and feel more of you. Fuck it, he thinks.

He touch leaves you, and you feel yourself come down slightly from a high you didn’t even realise was so severe until it cuts short. You open your eyes to see him walking around to the front of the throne again. He extends his hand to you, much like he did earlier, and you know its your signal to get up from the throne.

You take it, feeling no pain whatsoever in your back, nor shoulders, when you hurl yourself from the comfort of the chair.

He surveys you, using his free hand to cup your cheek. His touch is intoxicating. You don’t know what it is, but the way his hands feel on your skin makes you chase the warmth of him, needing more than the short strokes he gives you. You lean your head into his palm, only slightly but enough to indicate your interest to him.

He’s trying so hard not to give into the part of his brain that tells him to kiss you and to touch you even more. But he hasn’t done well at fighting it up until now. And, unless he’s deluded, you want this too.

Your chest rises and falls, waiting for him to do something. It’s not your place to. His hand stays holding your cheek. It’s so fucking big. It’s big enough for his palm to cover your entire cheek. Gods, his hands were big enough to almost spread out across your chest. His long, thick fingers working at the base of your neck and down past your breasts. Your mind drifts as you stare at him, thinking about how they might feel somewhere else.

His hand drops from your cheek. You think he’s going to walk away and leave you desperate for his touch again. Instead, he sits back down on his throne, looking up at you as he settles against the back of it casually.

Fucking Gods, if he keeps looking at you like that you’re going to jump on him. It’s him that made you feel like this anyway. You were perfectly content to go to bed after finishing cleaning, but no. He had to ask if you wanted a drink with him, and ask you questions, and fucking massage you as you sat on his throne.

He keeps looking at you, considering what to do next. All he knows is he wants you out of your dirty, worn clothes. He flicks his hand up and down, gesturing at them. “Take it off.” He tells you.

Finally, you think, trying not to be too eager in removing your garments.

You start with your shirt, unhooking the top few buttons to allow you to slip the long sleeves down your arms. You let the sleeves fall and the rest of the garment goes with it, left in a heap at your feet. You’re completely revealed for him, your body glowing from the light of the fire behind you.

His cock twitches in his trousers upon seeing you bare before him. He’s trying not to be too obvious, trying to be patient in looking at your body, but he’s greedy. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin that he can see.

You look down at the slight tent in his trousers, smirking at him. He returns it, curling his finger at you to beckon you forward. You’re much too far away, he wants to let his hands explore you. Much further than they already did.

You walk to him, meeting his hands as they come up to hold your tits. Those big fucking hands that trace under the swell of your breast. That grope at your flesh, and his thumbs that brush over your nipples, hard in the cool night air that makes its way into the hall.

He alternates between pinching your nipples, pulling them so hard it almost hurts, and soothing them again by gently rubbing over them.

Everything about this feels so dirty. Displaying yourself to Bjorn. The literal king. Offering yourself to him naked like this whilst he sits completely clothed on his throne. You know you’re probably not the first thrall he’s done this with, but it’s a first for you. And you actually like it. It’s a thrill. Whimpering at every roll of his fingertips over your nipples.

You ache for his touch somewhere else, trying to subtly squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. He doesn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry, taking his time to study every detail and flaw in your skin. It could be ages before he touches you elsewhere - if he decides to touch you elsewhere.

He pinches you again, but you’re so sensitive from his hands that you yelp, chest jumping under his touch. He looks up at you, looking at your face for the first time since you removed your clothes as he leans forward, enveloping your breast in his mouth. His tongue is hot but does wonders to soothe the slight stinging. He maintains eye contact as he swirls gentle circles around your nipple, leave a small bite before he moves to work on your other one. His beard scratches at your skin as he moves his mouth, melting in with the pleasure he's already giving you.

You snake your arm around his head, holding him to you as you watch him in awe. He’s an expert with his tongue, flicking and drawing patterns over the peaks. He moves on from focusing all of his attention on them though, sucking sloppy wet kisses into the bouncy flesh on your tits. He travels the kisses across your chest, leaving you glistening with his saliva. He goes down, grabbing at your hips as he traces his tongue down the centre of your breasts to just above your navel.

You want him to go further, resisting the want to buck your hips towards him to will him to go on. He draws his head back, his hands still resting on your hips.

He shifts his gaze down, watching his own movements as his fingers move across your lower abdomen, combing through the curls that lead him down.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

You nod. Gods, it’s more than okay. You’ve been waiting for him to touch you for the last … how long? You’ve lost all sense of time. All you know is you’re needy for him.

His tips of his fingers travel further, stilling as they reach the beginning of your slit. He lifts his head, studying how your face contorts in pleasure as he moves his fingers again, pressing one of them against your clit.

He pushes his finger down further towards your entrance, feeling how wet you are there. He smiles at this, satisfied knowing how turned on you are for him. He drags his finger back through, now wet with your slick, using it to draw an irritatingly weak circle around your clit. You try to push your hips further forward for more pressure, but the hand that remains on your hip prevents you from doing so.

Your breath staccatos as he pays not nearly enough attention to your throbbing clit. You moan at the loss of contact when he removes his hand from your cunt altogether, spinning you around so your back, and ass, face him. He almost pushes you over as he grabs handfuls of your behind, spreading your cheeks apart to really get a good look at you.

All you need is just a little push, a minute or so of strong, steady work on your pussy to send you over the edge. He’s intent on making you wait though. It’s cruel, you think. He knows what he’s doing to you - he’s fucking felt it. It’s sadistic. Making you wait. Teasing you.

He kneads your ass, his thumbs dipping into the space between your cheeks, so close to where you need him but never quite reaching there. It’s torturous. You know if you push your rear out against him, it’ll probably result in a longer wait before he properly pays you the attention you desperately crave. And so you stay just as you are, letting him manipulate your flesh as he so pleases. You can wait, you tell yourself.

Suddenly, he takes one of his hands away, using it to place a hard smack against your ass. You cry out as you feel heat rising where he’s slapping you. It stings and you’re surprised you like it. He watches your body shake, eagerly awaiting more. You clench around nothing as he lands another one. And another. He huffs a laugh, seeing how your body jolts at every strike, continuing to land a few more as he pleases.

He seems satisfied with his work on your behind, raising his hands to your hips once again. He places a soft kiss on your burning skin and then you’re being hurled backwards, landing on his lap.

He immediately starts attacking your neck with tongue and teeth, hands roaming around your stomach to pull you into a comfortable position on him. He then uses them to pull your legs over both of his, spreading them to give himself access to your body.

And he makes sure he makes the most of it. He grabs your tits, letting your head roll onto his shoulder as he continues his assault on your neck. You feel your skin going tender as he sucks harsh spots against the delicate flesh there. You feel the irritation there as his rough beard scratches your skin, with the potential to leave your skin marred.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He whispers between sloppy kisses.

“Gods, please.” You moan in response.

“Where?” He grabs your hand, placing it over his and pressing firmly, letting you guide him wherever you want him. You take his hand down, letting it hover over your trembling cunt. He nips at your jaw. “I thought so.”

He repeats his motion from earlier, pressing a single finger against your clit, but instead of only dipping down to your entrance, he opts to slide an entire finger into you down to his knuckle. Your back tries to arch away from him, but he keeps you locked down against his chest with his spare arm.

He pumps the finger in and out of you, making the most obscene squelching sound from the warm wetness he uses to ease the movements of his digit. Your arms lay useless at the side of you, letting him do all the work to pleasure you.

He adds another finger, scissoring the two of them inside you, stretching you open as he brings his thumb down onto your clit. To go from one lone finger to this makes you cry out, hips spasming from the shock. You can’t help moaning with how he works your pussy, curling his fingers to hit a spot deep inside you that makes you feel dizzy.

“If you keep being so loud people are going to hear you.” He warns.

“Maybe I would like that.” You retort, bucking your hips as far as you can with him restricting your body’s movements.

You feel his cock twitch against you as he snarls into your ear. “Such a filthy girl.” One of his hands begins snaking its way towards your throat, grabbing at it harshly to cut off any noise that tries to escape your mouth. “But as much as I like hearing your pretty sounds, I need you to be quiet.”

The moans get trapped in your throat, and you can’t warn him of your oncoming orgasm. It starts creeping up on you, burning low in the pit of your stomach as his hands work to push you further and further. You hit at the hand on your neck, trying to get him to let you go.

He loosens his grip but the fingers inside you work faster to make you cum. “What is the matter?”

“Close.” Is all you say, the oxygen able to reach your brain again momentarily before he constricts around your neck again.

He nods into your shoulder, kissing you there as he pumps, nudging your clit with his thumb as he does so. The way you make the smallest noises that he feels trying to escape beneath his fingers makes him groan. You’re making him so fucking hard. Your pussy clamps down around his fingers, preparing for your climax when he slows his movements down entirely, sending you spinning away from coming. He removes his fingers from you, bringing them to trace small wet circles around your nipples, as his other hand eases its grip on your throat.

It takes you completely by surprise, only seconds away from finishing when he rips it all away from you. You’re breathless, asking him why he stopped. “I didn't cum.” You tell him.

“No, I know.” He laughs the deepest, filthiest laugh you think you’ve ever heard in your ear. “You’re not coming yet. I want you wetter before I make you cum on my cock.”

The words hit deep inside you, making you clench on instinct. So this is what he wants to do? Prepare you to take him. Or maybe he just likes seeing you squirm and fidget on his lap, completely in control of your body.

Either way, it’s doing wonders to keep you wanting him.

He slowly drops his hand back down, bringing the same two fingers into your warm heat. He leaves your clit alone, focusing all his attention on dragging the rough pads of his fingers against the sweet spot inside you. He curls them, hitting just where you need him to every single time. It’s bliss and before long your walls start fluttering, a sign of your peak.

He feels it. He feels how your pussy starts spasming around his fingers, clenching the very tips of them as he pushes them so fucking deep into you. He loves this. Getting to push you further and further. He wants you begging for him to let you cum. Begging for him to fuck you and let you cum all over him. He wonders how many times he can edge you before he gives in to your sweet little cries and pleading eyes.

Both of you knew it wouldn’t take long for your high to burn back up as quickly as it diminished. It makes you crazed, letting your loud moans fill the hall with nothing around your neck to stop them getting out. He works faster, now knowing how you respond to being so close, pushing his fingers into your opening and using his other hand to absentmindedly play with your tits.

He knows now how to work you up unbearably quick and strip it all away before you're pushed too far - and it’s exactly what he does. As you're sent hurtling forwards towards your high once again, he takes away his fingers, leaving you edged again.

You slump back against him and let your head rest on his shoulder, already exhausted from the whiplash of pleasure and it being stripped away before it’s able to consume you.

He rolls your head towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead. “You’re doing so well.” He praises. He rubs your thighs, waiting for the right time to start playing with your cunt again. It’s surprisingly soothing.

He waits for your breath to become steady and for your body to cool down. You’re worked up beyond belief

Your body’s covered in a cold sweat, worn out from all the edging he’s putting you through. You don’t even know how much more of this you can take. How much more you can tolerate before you take matters into your own hands, giving yourself your own release. It sounds good, but truthfully? Waiting it out for the prospect of being fucked by him? Gods, it sounds a thousand times better. You can’t see it but you can just feel how big he is, his cock pressing hard into your back. You want to feel it stretching you, filling you in a way his fingers fail to achieve.

He decides you must be ready, because he takes two fingers to rub against your clit. Your hips buck up, the nerves in your clit overworked and yet desperate to chase any contact to give them release. Your moans come out frantically, whimpering in your slumped position lying against him as his hot breath fans over your face.

His fingers work around your bud with ease, using the excessive slick you’re producing to slip through your folds. He loves this, watching how your body looks, so worked up. You’re shining with sweat, an icy sheen over your entire body, coating your chest, your legs. Beautiful.

You’re so sensitive and you haven’t even cum. You writhe in his lap, waiting for the moment you feel yourself about to peak and trying to prepare for the eventual fall away from it. You know it’s going to happen. He told you he wants to fuck you through your orgasm, so you know you’re about to be denied three times in a row.

You feel it, again. Your clit becoming more and more needy as his fingertips swirl around it. Your back starts to arch, preparing for a climax that’s not going to happen. You push his hand away on instinct, already accustomed to being denied your high. The quick movement of your hand takes you both by surprise.

You keep a firm grip as your fingers lock around his hand, keeping it held hovered above your pussy. Your eyes flutter closed. You know you can’t take another round of this … whatever it is. Fucking torture.

“You learn fast.” He remarks, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly, your orgasm slipping away from you for the third time.

“Please, let me cum.” You plead with him.

“Here, get up.” He helps you to your feet as you stand on weak, shaking legs.

You get up, feeling just how wet you are at the apex of your thighs as they press together for the first time since he pulled you onto his lap. They move together, sticky, as you pad around to face him.

He’s spread out across the chair, just as he was earlier when you saw him. The only difference is the huge bulge in his trousers, and the wet spot - evidence of the messiness between your legs.

He dips his hand below the loose waistband of his trousers, pumping himself without you being able to fully see. With his other hand he pulls you by your hips onto his lap, facing him this time. You place your knees in the free space left on the throne on either side of his legs. You reach your hand to meet his in his trousers and feel how big he is for yourself.

Your hand can barely wrap around his girth. You give him a hard tug, making him grunt. It’s like music to your ears. Finally getting to hear the noises he makes, instead of him pulling the sounds out of you as he denies you. He twitches in your hand as you free him from the confines of his trousers.

And if you couldn’t feel it in your hand, you fucking see it. He’s huge. You bite your lip, anticipating the difficulty you’re going to have letting him fuck you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone this big before, let alone let them inside you.

You look up at him, seeing how smug he looks knowing you’re gobsmacked. He knows he’s impressive. Just knows you’ve never seen a cock that big. He probably knows you’re going to find it hard to take, too.

So you’re determined to take it. And you’re so fucking ready to cum. You need it.

You rise up on your knees, lining him up with your entrance. You're wet enough, but even the nudge of his head against your opening makes your mouth fall open. He pulses in your hand as you stay there, trying to let your cunt adjust to the intrusion.

The way he stretches your tight hole makes it sting. But you can’t help but think it feels fucking amazing - he fills you so well as you sink down onto him. A different kind of pain and pleasure mixture than when his big, warm hands were caressing your shoulders and chest, earlier. It’s not warm and soft like that, it’s blazing hot and fiery, perfect around him as he throbs.

Your hands find their way back onto his chest, confident that he won’t slip out of you by accident. You move up and down on just the top half of his length, taking yourself further down with every jolt of your hips.

The hands on your hips still you as you move down on him. “Do you want me deeper?” He pushes his hips up, nudging his cock further into you by a mere fraction. “Tell me, is that what you want? You need me to fill you?”

Fucking of course it’s what you want, you want to feel him all the way inside you. You want to be able to feel him when you walk tomorrow. You’re just nervous at having to take all of him. “Yes, just go slow.”

He stays holding your hips, lifting his hips up to push into you. He loves watching it. Loves how it feels. How your tight heat clenches around him as he pushes into you. He takes it slow, like you asked, gently lowering you back onto him a little as he watches himself move inside you. You’re almost there and he thrusts the rest of the way into you, burying himself to the hilt.

You mewl, completely filled by him now. You roll your hips against him, feeling every time his head moves against your walls and nudges against your cervix.

“F-Fuck. Bjorn -“ you begin.

He feels your thighs clenching on either side of him, a sign that you’re about to cum. “Do it.” He says. “Cum for me.”

The relief washes over you just as your orgasm does. Your body jolts forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. You cum hard. So hard. He feels his cock get flooded with more of your arousal as you squeeze him with the flexing muscles in your cunt. Your eyes roll back as you hold yourself against him for security, clutching onto him hoping to ground yourself against something.

He keeps moving his hips against your writhing ones, dragging his cock inside you. It makes you scream. The sound gets muffled against his clothed chest as you crumple into a spent heap on him.

You feel more than hear the guttural moans that escape Bjorn as he feels you coming undone so hard on his lap. The sounds reverberate in his chest underneath you and he holds you close to him. You nuzzle into his chest, letting him take over the movement to chase his peak now that you’ve reached yours.

He meets virtually no resistance from your cunt now, easing in and out with your slick and the slackness that came with your orgasm. He thrusts a few times before starting to hammer into you with zero remorse.

You try to thrash out, but he’s holding you so tight against his chest that there’s nowhere for you to go.

“You didn’t think I was only going to let you cum once, did you?” He growls into your ear. “You worked so hard, you deserve one more.”

Your arms are trapped under the weight of your upper body, all of which is held flush against him as his arms wrap around you. He holds you in place as he brutally fucks up into you, his skin slapping against yours and making the filthiest smacking noises that echo around the empty room.

You relax against him, feeling every inch he buries into you and letting yourself be carried away by the euphoric way he’s making you feel. You swear, no one’s ever made you feel like this.

He notices the way you go slightly limp against him, using the opportunity to keep one arm around you and wedging the other between the two of you. There’s just enough room for him to reach his middle finger up to stroke over your clit in perfect time with his thrusts.

There’s no sound that escapes your mouth when you open it to cry out. Only a hoarse, throaty moan that gets caught somewhere. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you feel another peak approaching. It’s debilitating. Your cunt's been teased so many times and then allowed to cum, it’s as if it doesn’t know how to deal with the oncoming climax. You clench, drawing higher and higher and higher, waiting to be dropped down to your pleasure.

When you cum, it’s even more brutal than the time before. He has no consideration for your spasming body as his pace never falters, only becoming even easier for him to fuck you now with two orgasms worth of your cum to guide him.

You cry his name out, begging him to cum soon. You don’t know how much more of his savage, relentless thrusts you can take.

“P-perfect. So good.” He replies, losing himself in chasing his high. He can feel himself getting closer. And the way your pussy gets so wet and how you clench so hard around him. Gods, he’s surprised he didn’t cum with you. He has always prided himself on his ability to last, though. “W-won’t - fuck - won’t be long. Want to cum in this cunt.”

Fucking please, you think. You want to feel him fill you in the only way he hasn’t yet.

His movements begin to falter ever-so-slightly, so you know he means it when he says he’s close. He tries to get a few more good, deep thrusts into you before he cums. He lasts for maybe five or six more.

Everything about him is big and excessive. Big hands, broad shoulders, big cock. And even his fucking load is huge. He pushes into you as he spurts his cum, feeling it drip down his cock and drilling it back into you as he tries to keep fucking you while he cums.

He sounds so good moaning in your ear, louder than he’s been moaning this entire time. The noises he makes are gorgeous - low, husky groans right next to you.

He drops his hips down, but even still half his length is still buried inside you. You feel his cum leak out of you, probably mixed with some of your own wetness. And he, in turn, feels it run down his cock, dripping down onto his balls.

You’re both left breathless and completely exhausted. He rests on the chair, one of his arms still haphazardly thrown around you, the other hanging over the arm of the throne. You lie on top of him, still curling your upper body to huddle into the warmth of his chest.

He clears his throat. “I must confess something." He begins. You lift your head up slightly to look at him. The sweat gleams on his forehead, dripping down from his temples. "I have heard the demands of the Gods. And they demand a queen for Kattegat.”

Your eyes go wide, not that he can see.

“So,” he sweeps the hand on your back upwards, coming to hold your face as he asks you one final question. “How would you like to be Queen?”

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[anonymousfiction211]

Hi- may I ask for a Loki x reader, for their anniversary as a couple, reader decides to get a tattoo in his honor. A permanent mark in a private place, to ensure how strong their love is enough to put a dedicated brand on her very skin... In the evening of their celebration day, she reveals her "gift" for him... How would Loki respond to such declaration of love? You may choose how fluffy/smutty the story will be, or perhaps you just can make it "smuffy" !

A/N: I think 'smuffy' is my new farvourite word! Hope you like it.

Tattoo You and Loki were sharing a chocolate lava cake. He had picked out a fancy restaurant for your 1-year-anniversary. Both of you had dressed up for the occasion. You were wearing a green dress with long sleeves and a low V-neck. He was wearing an all-black suit. He looked so hot it should be against the law for him to wear it. The whole evening the two of you spend talking and reminiscing about your relationship.

The dessert was finished – Loki had eaten most of it – but you were so full you didn’t mind. You saw that familiar twinkle in his eyes, the one that always shone whenever he had something planned for you. It was your most favourite facial expression of him. You cocked your eyebrow, silently asking the question what he was up to. When you heard the familiar Norse song starting to play, Loki got up and extended his hand.

‘Will you do me the honour of a dance?’ he asked.

You rolled your eyes at his puppy-eyes, but took his hand. He let the two of you away from your table towards the band. He had learned you this dance when you were together for about half a year. Even though you had practiced a lot, you were still thankful that Loki was good at leading. He spun the two of you gracefully around. Other couples that were dancing made a bit more room for the two of you. You had the feeling that multiple people were watching you, but you didn’t care. Right now, all you saw were Loki’s emerald eyes, looking at you with love.

‘How did you even get them to play this song?’ you asked him.

‘I have my ways’ he smiled.

When the song ended he led you back to the table, on it were two glasses of champagne. He winked at you and pulled out your chair.

‘I was going to wait until we got home to give you your gift, but I can’t wait anymore he said.

He conjured up a small rectangle box, beautifully wrapped. He slid over the box to you.

‘Happy anniversary, love’ he said.

You untied the bow and unwrapped the gift. Inside the box was a beautiful golden necklace. At the end hung a green stone. For a moment you didn’t know what to say. You looked at Loki, who didn’t show the amount of certainty on his face as he did a moment ago.

‘You don’t like it?’ he asked a bit hesitant.

‘I love it!’ you quickly answered before he could conclude the wrong thing.

He looked relieved when you answered him. You took the necklace out of the box and unclipped the claps. ‘Can you?’ you asked while holding up the necklace to Loki.

Loki got up from his chair and walked behind you. You moved your hair out of the way, so he could put the necklace around your neck. His fingers softly touched your skin and suddenly your whole body felt like it was on fire. When the necklace was on he gave you a kiss on your cheek and sat back down across from you.

‘I’m glad you like it’ he smiled.

‘It is beautiful! Where did you get it?’ you asked him. Loki always went to the same jewellery story and this necklace didn’t look like something they would have in their collection.

‘It was actually my mother’s’ he said softly.

You put your hand on his and gave it a light squeeze. Loki didn’t like being vulnerable, so you didn’t push it any further. You knew how much this meant to Loki and he knew that you knew. ‘She had great taste’ you smiled.

‘That she had’ Loki chuckled.

‘But on to more pressing matters. You have forgotten to get me a gift’ he smirked.

‘I haven’t forgotten it’ you answered.

‘You have. I looked everywhere in the house and couldn’t find one’ he said.

‘It was in the house, currently it isn’t’ you smirked.

‘If it were, I would have found it. I have found every gift you ever given me’ he said sceptically.

‘Maybe you are losing you touch, trickster’ you smirked.

‘Hmm, no that isn’t it’ he said. You could tell from his face that he was intrigued. ‘So, what have you gotten me?’

‘You’ll see it at home’ you said. While casually sipping your champagne. Loki gave you a fake pout and started to ask for clues. You didn’t give him any, he just had to be patient. When you walked through the door of your shared home Loki immediately pushed you against to wall for a kiss. He lifted you up so you could put your legs around his waist. He walked the two of you to the bedroom and laid you down on your back.

‘You’re sure you haven’t forgotten a gift?’ he asked between kisses.

‘Very sure, you will see soon enough’ you answered.

Loki trailed his kisses down to your neck and your chest, as far as the V-neck would let him. ‘Not that I’m complaining, but we agreed that sex didn’t count’ he smirked. He put his hands around your back and undid the zipper. You were making quick work of his jacket and blouse. When he had slipped your dress of you unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down.

Loki was surprised to see you didn’t wear any underwear. ‘If I knew this, I would have fucked you in the bathroom there’ he growled in your ear. Instead of a response you moaned when you felt his hands on your breasts and his teeth in your neck. He was still wearing underwear and you started to grow frustrated when you felt the fabric against your clit. He deliberately took it slow, knowing it would drive you crazy. When you tried to pull down his underwear he grabbed your wrists with one hand and put them above your head.

‘Loki, please’ you begged.

‘Have patience, love’ he whispered. His tongue was licking every inch of your breasts and your nipples hardened. After a long time, he had you moaning and arching into his touch. He grabbed your knees and put your feet flat on the bed, leaving you completely exposed to him. He magicked his underwear away and started to tease your clit with the tip of his erect cock. You were getting closer to your orgasm when Loki pushed two of his fingers inside of you, slowly massaging your g-spot. Right before you came he retracted his fingers, making you whine.

He smirked ‘You still don’t want to give me my gift?’ he asked, thinking you would scramble out of bed to get it.

‘You’ll see’ you smirked back.

‘That’s it, on all fours. I think it’s time to teach you a lesson about gift giving’ he growled. He quickly flipped you around and you got on your hands and knees. Loki didn’t waist time and entered you in one smooth motion. He was buried bulls deep inside of you. Before he could start to thrust you flipped your hair to the right side of your face, leaving your left shoulder exposed. You felt Loki tense and he halted all his movements.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘A tattoo’ you replied.

‘You painted my symbol on your shoulder?’ his voice was getting lower and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

‘I did, I wanted to keep a piece of you with me wherever I went’ you replied. You wiggled your ass against him, it was getting harder to concentrate and you really needed Loki to start moving.

‘How- for how long will you wear it?’ he asked.

‘It’s permanent, I can’t remove it’ you answered.

For a moment Loki didn’t respond, you looked back and saw tears starting to form in his eyes. ‘I want everyone to know I’m yours’ you added. A switch in Loki flipped. A growl which could only be described as animalistic emitted from him and made your whole body shake. He forcefully grabbed your hips and started to thrust into you. He was groaning hard, his hand snaked around to your clit and he started to alternate his fingers on your clit with his movements. He had you coming in seconds. He didn’t stop until your second orgasm had washed over you. Then he pushed your upper body down on the bed and started to kiss and bite your shoulder. ‘MINE’ he growled in your ear, making you come for a third time.

You didn’t expect this reaction. Loki seemed utterly possessed and you loved every minute of it. He was fucking you senseless, claiming you like he had never done before. After the fourth time you came hard around his cock, your walls kept clenching. You milked his cock for all he got. Loki didn’t pull out of you. He laid down on his side and pulled you against him, cock still buried balls deep inside of you. He was panting and kissing the shoulder with the tattoo on it. Loki finally had caught his breath ‘I can’t believe you love me so much, that you permanently put my symbol on your skin’ he whispered.

‘Guessing from your reaction, you like it?’ you panted.

‘I love it. And I love you more than anything in the world. I can’t believe how lucky I’m to have found you’ he said while kissing your shoulder.

‘And tonight, I will give you a night you will never forget’ he growled while starting to thrust inside of you again.

@delightfulheartdream @the-best-phineas @theaudacitytowrite

[severidescigar]

Quarantine Blues - Stellaride

Fandom: One Chicago

Pairing: Kelly Severide & Stella Kidd

Note: The original plot was requested this is the slightly remastered version. (Repost)

•••

As the number of confirmed COVID cases in Chicago were increasing by day, the mayor issued a citywide lockdown effect of immediately. First responders were still going to work, but once Sylvie cane down with flu like symptoms she decided to get tested just incase and to everyone’s surprise it came back positive for COVID, therefore everyone on the second shift at 51 was in mandatory quarantine for 2 weeks.

Four days in, Stella and Kelly were already bored beyond belief. For two people who were barely home most of the time and actually craved some lazy days, they quickly realized it was not as fun as they thought when they were forced upon them.

“I talked to Brett, her fever is going down and she said she’s finally able to eat properly.” Stella said as she cuddled next to Kelly on the couch. “That’s good…everyone else seems to be doing fine.” He informed her skipping restlessly through channels and letting out an irritated scoff as he couldn’t find anything watch worthy. All this down time was pretty hard on him as he found it unusual at this time of the day to just lay on the couch instead of working out or just being out and about.

“Easy tiger you still have at least one more week time to get annoyed.” Stella laughed at him as he got up and started to pace around. She was also getting bored but it was funny to watch Kelly getting all worked up, it was like watching a hyperenergetic 5 year old stuck into an apartment and not being allowed on the playground.

“We need to find something to do, or else we’ll lose our minds…Maybe we can go out for a run and nobody will know.” Kelly was an outdoor person, so he was pretty sure he has never spent this much time inside. “You know the whole point of being on lockdown is to stay inside…right?” Giving her a blank look, Kelly half joked "At this point I'm willing to go for a run in a mask and a full hazmat suit".

In the first four days in quarantine they managed to keep themselves busy enough not to get bored, but there was only so much they could do inside. Binge watched all seasons of Sons of Anarchy, reorganized every single closet or drawer in the apartment, attempted to work out, took naps throughout they day and randomly called each person from 51 just to find out everyone was equally as bored and out of ideas when it came to extracurricular activities.

“We should’ve quarantined at the cabin…at least there we could’ve gone hiking and fishing and not a single person would be in sight.” He continued and Stella watched him amused as an idea ran through her mind.

“Remember when you insisted on teaching me how to properly barbecue like a pro?” Kelly nodded waiting to see where she was going with this “what if we order some groceries and I teach you how to bake?” Giving Stella an unsure look at first he ultimately agreed as there was nothing else to do anyway, making her jump into his arms excitingly.

Later that day once the groceries arrived and everything was set, Stella pulled out of nowhere a baking apron for Kelly. “You have to be kidding me…how long have you been waiting to do this?” He laughed putting it on.

“Been waiting for the perfect moment for you to even take my idea into consideration.” Stella said and started explaining everything step by step. She couldn’t help but feel very entertained by how serious and concentrated Kelly was trying to mix all the ingredients together and him constantly asking whether he was doing it right. While their muffins were baking in the oven he kept checking on them but once it was time to decorate it was a whole another story.

“Stella, I’m kicking down doors and restoring boats for a living, I can’t do this!” Kelly was frustrated as his topping cream was everywhere but on the muffin. “You need to stop squeezing it out so hard!” She exclaimed as she took his hand into hers guiding him. “Let me show you…see it’s not that hard mister kicking down doors and restoring boats .”

“Admit it...you had way too much fun watching me struggle.” Kelly said as they were finally taking a bite out of their baked goods. “I mean let’s just say I’ve never seen you getting this worked up, even over a rescue before.” Stella said wrapping her arms around Kelly’s neck and he immediately picked her up placing her on a small portion of the counter that wasn’t covered in flour.

“At least we’ll be busy tomorrow cleaning up this mess.” Kelly said looking around their kitchen as Stella pulled him into a deep kiss.

[jadegrey711]

Achey Thighs

Henry Cavill x Fem!Reader

A/N: For some reason i randomly find myself writing about Henry Cavill yet again. This guy really needs to be in more movies specifically romance movies lol. So this little story is based solely on true events, the true events being that i recently tired to workout and fucking killed my legs with lunges lol. Also the source for this gif can be found in the tags

*NOT MY GIF. Source is in the Tags*

Summary: Reader decides to workout with Henry and whilst doing some lunges she overexcerts herself and her muscles ache like crazy the next day. She assures Henry that she’s fine but he sees her limping and tells her the best thing to do is to rub it out.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

It was a new year so that meant it was time for a new you. You had to admit that during quarantine you had gotten extremely lazy; Henry did too for a bit at the very beginning. And you had to admit that having him home all the time to cook for the both of you, along with lying about and messing around anytime you wanted was pure bliss. However, as soon as production was able to ramp up again;  he was right back to his early morning routines. So, you decided that you weren’t going to be a lazy lout anymore and decided to join him in his routine one day. 

You heard the alarm buzz and gasped awake, feeling a hint of drool on the pillow. “I’m awake. I’m awake.” You muttered and twisted in bed to find Henry already sitting up and smiling down at you. 

“Babe. Are you sure you want to do this with me? I mean it’s four in the morning, this is not your usual prowling hours.” he chuckled. 

“No.” you said sitting up in bed. “I said I wanted to do this with you and I meant it.” You stated before, gruffly getting out of bed, hearing Henry’s chuckles behind you. 

“Alright then. I’ll see you downstairs in ten to fifteen minutes yeah? Make sure you bundle up. It's cold out there.”

You let out an involuntary shiver at the thought of going outside this early in the morning. 

*****

Well that wasn’t too bad of a way to spend the morning. 

You knew that Henry purposely went easy on you this morning, knowing full well that his training and morning routines don’t consist of power walking, but it made you smile to think that he did it for you. Plus, even though it was freezing outside the walk itself was wonderful; being able to take in the early morning before the world was awake, with you and Henry chatting as you walked. Towards the end of the walk and as you neared closer back to the house, Henry noticed you were starting to shiver and wrapped a strong arm around you and brought you close to him. 

You immediately let out a low moan of appreciation as you felt his heat radiate into your cold skin. “God, you’re still so warm, even after being out here for an hour!” You smiled, snuggling closer into him. 

He let out a small chuckle, tugging you tighter to him. “Don’t worry this next part won’t be nearly as cold.” he smiled. 

“What are we doing?” You asked tentatively. 

“I thought we could work on some strength training together. I know you said you wanted to get in better shape.” he paused, a smile coming to his lips. “Although I personally think you are perfect as you are.” He smiled again before placing a quick kiss to your lips, causing your cheeks to heat. “However, I thought that strength training would be a good place to start and of course it won’t be something insane.” 

“Okay, that sounds like fun. Then after that are you going to bench me?” You chuckled as he opened the door. 

“Oh hell yes. That’s the only reason for me to stay in shape. So I can pick you up and throw you over my shoulders any time I please.” He said before his hands shot out to your hips and you let out a squeal of delight; as he stole you away into the house to begin your first day of strength training.

*******

“Fuck.” You groaned as you slowly got up from the couch, trying not to wince too loud as you made your way upstairs for another ibuprofen. You knew those lunges were a bad idea, you’d never been able to do them right and in consequence you’d always gotten hurt. 

However, this time you didn’t think you’d actually hurt yourself you were just this out of shape.

As you grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen, you heard Henry coming up the stairs. 

“Babe? Are you still sore?” 

“Yeah!” You shouted back from the bathroom, and a moment later Henry was standing there leaning on the bathroom door frame. 

“How bad does it hurt?” He asked, concern etching his face. He came up behind you and began rubbing your shoulders. 

You smiled. “My thighs don’t necessarily hurt, their just sore like fucking crazy.” 

Henry nodded and thought for a moment. “You’re not used to this kind of training but I’ll get you there.” He smiled. “But, I have an idea that I’m sure will help you out. Go lay down baby and I’ll be there in a second.” He said kissing your head. 

“Okay.” you nodded and tried so hard not to limp away but it was useless. You let out a loud groan as you sat on the bed, your legs outstretched in front of you as you waited for Henry to come out of the bathroom.

When he came out of the bathroom and into the bedroom he had your bottle of Aveeno lotion. You cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“What do you think you’re going to be doing with that?” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He smirked. “I know you’re sore, and it doesn’t matter how much ibuprofen you take right now the only way to really help with that soreness is to rub it out.” 

“Alright.” You said, and bit your bottom lip. “I’m liking this much better already. So you’re going to massage me? And it’s not even our anniversary!” You giggled and Henry let out a loud laugh. 

“Are you going to let me help you or are you gonna give me shit the entire time?” 

“Giving you shit is my born prerogative.” You chuckled, then got up onto your knees and reached out for him and pulled him into your embrace so you could kiss him. 

Henry slowly pulled away. “Alright, you’ve had your fun, now lay down and take off your pants.” He smirked.

“Oh! Now we’re cooking with fire!” you giggled.  

“Y/N.” He said, his face showing that he means business now. 

“Alright!” You giggled and started to take off your leggings, until you were laying on the bed in only Henry’s oversized shirt. 

“Good. Now tell me where is it sore the most? On the back of your thighs? The front? Does your calves hurt at all?” he asked his face filled with seriousness. 

“It’s the front of my thighs that hurt the most.” You said as you positioned yourself so you were laying completely flat on the bed the only thing that was elevated was your head. 

“Alright. Henry said simply, and then proceeded to climb on the bed and position himself so he was between your legs. He guided your legs so they were wrapped behind his back, and you laid open to him. 

“Henry. What are you doing?” You asked confused but intrigued just the same.

He lightly shushed you and grabbed the lotion bottle and rubbed some into his hands before he brought those strong hands down on your aching thighs.

You let out a soft hiss. But his hands didn’t waver as they continued to softly rub your thighs. He started out by using the tips of his fingers, so his touch was soft at first. Then as he continued working on your sore muscles he started using the palm of his hands. So he could work the deeper knots in the muscle. 

You let out a small sigh, as you felt your aching muscles ease under his touch, but you also felt something else as his strong hands worked you. You felt your arousal growing, watching him there between your thighs, his hands alleviating your pain but also bringing you pleasure as you watch them glide up and down your skin. His face a mask of shere concentration as he massaged you, only to look up at your face every now and again and each time he did, you could see his own arousal growing in his eyes. 

His hands moved a bit lower than they needed to, grinding them into your hips before coming back up your thighs and stopping at your knees; repeating the same motions. 

“How does this feel?” He asked, and it came out breathy. This had to be affecting him as much as it was affecting you. 

“It feels really good baby.” You purred, knowing now that you were a puddle in his hands now. 

“How good?” He licked his lips, then you felt his hands trace the inside of your thighs and before he could touch you where you needed him to, his hands went back up again. 

“Henry.” You gasped, feeling just how drenched you were for him and those hands of his right now. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Y/N.” He said, his voice holding a tone of command. His hands went back down to where they almost brushed your mound. 

“It feels so good, baby.” You purred and arched your hips up to him, letting him know exactly what you want. 

“Oh yeah?” he teased. 

“Yes.” You hissed. “Henry please, touch me.” You pleaded and to your sweet relief felt his fingers brush your pussy lips, separating them as he traced down your folds. 

“You’re so wet for me Y/N.”

You couldn’t think coherently with Henry’s fingers tracing your folds with him in between your thighs so you just nodded, feeling like you were going to explode if he didn’t properly touch you soon. 

“Such a good girl.” He purred as he put down your legs so he could lean over you and kiss you deeply. You let out a low moan as you finally got what you wanted and you felt Henry’s finger slide into, and started crooking it in a come hither motion. Adding gas to the already roaring fire inside you. 

“You know how much I love you Y/N.” he said against your neck, sucking your skin knowing that it’ll leave a mark there. 

You moaned and grabbed onto his curly locks as he pushed another finger inside of you, and you could feel that familiar climb in your lower belly as you knew you were about to reach your climax. 

“So good.” he purred in your ear and you felt yourself go over the edge and grip tightly onto his fingers as your climax raked over you. 

“God, I love you so much Henry.” You moaned somewhat unintelligently. Henry didn’t seem to mind at all as he slipped his fingers out of you and fell to the bed next to you. 

“Well that’s not at all where i intended that to go.” He laughed and you laughed with him. 

“You started it! Telling me to take off my pants then putting yourself between my legs!” you laughed. 

“Okay, maybe I did mean for it to go there.” he laughed. “So, does this mean that we’re doing this every time we work out?

[scuttle-buttle]

WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

[jekde04]

Unbreakable Vow

Summary: There had been many false alarms in the past, moments when she thought Gray would finally accept her feelings. She once again had her hopes up, even though she knew this was probably another one of those.

Word Count: 1,503 words

You may also read it on FanFiction.net and AO3! Check out my master list for other Gruvia fics.

Tag List: @shampooneko @fbflame94 @juviaafullbuster @unvalley @gruviaftw11​ (Wanna be tagged, lemme know)

When she said those words, she hadn't really expected he would do it for her.

Of course, everyone in Magnolia knew of his habit of stripping his clothes at random—she in particular enjoyed it quite a lot—but he did it almost unconsciously, out of force of habit.

She never thought the day would come that her Gray-sama would actually undress willingly in front of her.

In her room. After she jokingly asked him to do so.

"Well?" Gray asked, his muscled chest, arms, and abs in full display as he carelessly tossed his coat and shirt on her bed.

For all her cheeky jokes and naughty teases, she was still a shy and conservative girl underneath it all. She couldn't help but get flustered as she eyed the deep V-shaped cuts of his lower abs that disappeared beneath his low-cut jeans.

"W-why is Gray-sama undressing in front of Ju-Juvia?"

Gray smirked, and Juvia instantly knew he was enjoying this. Oh, her Gray-sama could be so mean sometimes.

"You said you'd inspect my body for any wounds, right? I'm just doing what you asked me to," he answered casually with a shrug of his shoulders. "Are you going to do it or not?"

Well, he had a point. If Gray had an injury somewhere, it needed to be cleaned and patched up.

She had to do it for her Gray-sama, Juvia thought. This was no time to be embarrassed.

Keeping her composure, she sat on the empty space beside him on her bed. She felt a tingle run up her spine as their arms lightly brushed against each other.

"Let Juvia see, Gray-sama," she said as she carefully inspected his face first, her fingers treading on his forehead, cheeks, nose, chin. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she continued looking for any cut or bruise or scratch on his neck, shoulders, arms, chest, and abs.

As he said before, he was fine. There were some minor cut and scratch here and there, but they were far from being life-threatening. A little dab of alcohol (with Juvia blowing on it so it wouldn't sting) and a small band-aid were enough to patch him up.

"Juvia."

Gray's serious tone made Juvia look up from the tiny cut she was treating on his collarbone. His intense stare bored into her.

"I… I..."

Juvia waited for his next words, but he looked as if he was trapped in an internal struggle on what to say next. She knew that words weren't his strongest suit, so she decided to help him out.

"Did the mission go well?"

Gray sighed, relieved that Juvia opened up the conversation. "Yes. But it's not yet done. We still have to go back and finish it."

Juvia nodded. She was really hoping that it would all be done, and they could spend more time with each other. All the constant worrying also stressed her out. She knew that he promised to come back, but you never really know what might happen during dangerous missions like this one.

Speaking of coming back…

"Gray-sama, before you disappeared last time, you were about to say something." Juvia cleared her throat. "You said that when you come back…"

Gray's cheeks colored slightly, though his eyes wore a determined look. "I... I was just saying that when I come back…" He stared right at her, and she tried her best not to look away.

There had been many false alarms in the past, moments when she thought Gray would finally accept her feelings, but they didn't end the way she wanted them to. Despite that, she craved for such moments, and even though she knew in her mind that this was probably another one of those false alarms, she still had her hopes up. After all, even if Gray wasn't that great with words, he always made her feel special with his subtle actions.

The words would come eventually, she told herself. Be patient, Juvia.

But the more they stared silently at each other, the more that Juvia was convinced that perhaps, this was still not the right time. That maybe Gray still wasn't ready. Maybe she was pressuring him—

"When I come back, I'll be a man worthy of you." Gray finally said.

Juvia couldn't believe her ears. Was this some hyper-real fantasy she was conjuring in her head?

"I swear... that I will do my best to make you happy, for each and every day that you choose to stay by my side..."

Juvia wanted to slap herself to make sure everything was real, but instead, she remained frozen in place as Gray said the words she never thought she would hear from him.

"... if you would still have me, of course," he finished reluctantly, as if he was expecting her to shoot him down right there. When Juvia just stared at him and didn't say anything, he unclasped his silver cross necklace and reached forward to place it around her neck.

Juvia could feel his breath against her cheek as Gray leaned over. She felt herself getting flushed with their proximity as time seemed to stretch forever. Her heart was drumming in her ears, it was impossible he couldn't hear it.

In a daze, she palmed the cross now resting on her chest. It was cold in her warm hands, much like its owner.

Looking up, she found herself staring straight into Gray's onyx eyes, a light blush adorning his cheeks. Their faces were just a few inches apart, and she could easily close the distance if she just moved a little closer…

"Gray-sama."

His name escaped her lips like a whispered prayer only he could hear, making him reach out and cup one of her cheeks. They didn't realize how close they were to each other until they felt the tip of their noses touch, but neither pulled back. Juvia's eyes instinctively closed, her lashes brushing against his cheeks.

She felt his lips cover her own, at first soft and reluctant, as if asking for permission. Opening her lips slightly, Gray kissed her again, deeper this time, angling his head and nibbling at her lower lip.

Matching his intensity, her hands slid to his broad shoulders all the way to his back. She felt his other hand against the small of her back, pressing her closer to his body. They stopped momentarily when they felt the need for air, but the reprieve was short as he dove in, again and again, making up for all the moments he could have kissed her like this but didn't.

It was a dream, Juvia was sure. A dream she wished would never end.

But it did end eventually, though there was no doubt it was real. Her flushed cheeks, slightly swollen lips, and Gray's arms wrapped around her were enough evidence that it wasn't just a product of her wild imagination.

"Juvia," he whispered, her name on his lips sending an electric shock to her body. "Promise me you'll wait for me."

"Juvia promises," she answered without hesitation, looking straight into his eyes. She once again clasped the cross on her chest, knowing that even without his words, he would certainly come back home to her. And she would wait, no matter how long it would take.

He gave her his signature smirk, but it was matched with so much tenderness in his eyes that she knew it would always be the last thing she would remember every night before she fell asleep. She gave him a smile in return, the one she always reserved for him.

His hand covered the one clasping his necklace, tightening his hold. "I'll leave this to you so that you won't forget the promise I gave you."

"Juvia will never forget Gray-sama's words, with or without this," Juvia answered him. "But since Gray-sama gave Juvia a piece of him…"

Suddenly, Juvia had an idea. She stepped away from a confused Gray and went to her closet. When she came back, she was sporting a wide grin and holding something behind her back.

"Juvia would also like to give Gray-sama a Juvia doll so he'd always remember that Juvia's waiting for him!" she exclaimed, handing the plushie to Gray.

Any other time, Gray would have freaked out at Juvia's unconventional gifts. But he was used to these things by now, and frankly, he loved her for it.

Smiling, he took the Juvia doll in his arms, staring at the dark blue eyes sewn on its hat-covered head. It wasn't the real Juvia, but it would do for now.

"Thanks. I'll take care of my Juvia doll," he said, and Juvia beamed. "But for now—"

He placed the Juvia doll on the table and grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him. Juvia gasped as she found herself locked in his arms once again.

"Let me take care of you while I'm here, okay?"

"Okay."

No Fairy Tail mage saw them again, at least for the rest of that night.

***

A/N: You know, I always get a spark of inspiration from canon materials and official arts. This one’s inspired by Mashima-sensei’s latest autograph session featuring these two artworks below. Next in my pipeline: the Gruvia Day 2021 official art. I already have the story in my head so hopefully I have enough time to finish it in the next two weeks!

[forever-rogue]

Idk if you’re still taking Bucky requests, but I came across a quote and I feel in love with it because it just screamed Bucky to me. It read: “there is nothing as beautiful as seeing someone who has been unlucky, finally being loved so effortlessly by the right person” if this sparks anything in you, I would love to read it 💜

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 1.9k

Warnings | dad!Bucky, slight language, slight suggestive theme

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky bit back a yawn as he closed the car door and headed towards the front door. The smell of spring, the freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers overwhelmed his senses along with the warm summer sun hitting his skin. This was nice, he realized, the calculated simplicity and domestic nature of it all. He hiked his bag on his shoulder, the gold in his vibranium arm glinting brilliantly in the slowly dying light of the day. He didn’t bother to hide it anymore, somehow long past that part of his life. At one point he never thought he’d reach that point in his life and now he had the world in front of him. 

Walking up the stairs, he smiled to himself as he could already smell something delicious cooking through the open windows. In a vain attempt to keep the household from falling into complete and utter chaos, he slowly opened the door and tried to tip-toe inside. He managed to get about two feet inside and kick off his work boots before he heard an exciting squeal followed by a few loud woofs. 

The pitter-patter of two small feet and four paws quickly reached him as Falcon, the trusted family dog, and Emily, your oldest daughter, ran down the hall towards him. Any stress he had remaining quickly melted away at the sight of two of his favorite beings as they almost knocked him over in their rush. 

“Daddy!” an excited shout was followed by another bark. He bent down and scooped the small girl in his arms, the weight of the world off his shoulders as she wrapped her little arms around his neck, “hi daddy, you’re home!”

“Of course I am,” he propped her on his hip and studied her sweet little face. She took after him with his dark unruly hair and ocean eyes, but the rest he swore was all you, especially that sweet smile, “I’ll always come home to my sweetest girl. Did you have a good day, baby?”

“Yeah,” she nodded excitedly as he brushed her hair out of her face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “mama and I painted and then we planted some new flowers. She said she picked them out because they reminded her of you!”

“She did, did she?” he couldn’t stop the grin that spread from ear to ear as his heart fluttered in his chest. Even to this day you still managed to make him weak in the knees and set off butterflies in his belly. He held Emily tightly in his grip as he bent down to give Falcon a few pets, causing the dog to rub against his legs as he wagged his tail, “what would I do without my little hellraisers?”

“Mama says that’s a bad word!” Emily looked at him with wide eyes and he chuckled softly before holding a finger to his lips.

“It’s our little secret,” he whispered as she nodded, “do you know why this secret is okay?”

“Because it’s not gonna hurt anyone,” she asked as he nodded. She gave him a wide gap toothed grin as he set her back down, “will you play with me later, daddy? Falcon wants to have a tea party!”

“Of course,” he promised his daughter as she held tightly onto his hand, “now go and get cleaned up for dinner. It smells like it should all be done soon.”

“Okie dokie,” she dropped his hand and motioned for Falcon to follow her instead, practically bouncing up the stairs. 

Bucky sighed in content as he shook his head before slowly making his way into the kitchen where he was sure you were. He found at the island, brows furrowed in concentration as you chopped vegetables for the salad. Your baby boy was slung around your chest, and despite the commotion from Bucky’s entrance, he was fast asleep. A lump welled up in his throat as he watched the sight. It would be nothing special to most people, but to him it was everything.

You looked so beautiful, even in your sweatpants and t-shirt with your hair a chaotic bun as you hummed to the baby under your breath. You looked tired and he felt bad for a moment; leaving you with a toddler and a baby was a ton of work and he would have gladly stayed home with you and helped, but you were insistent that he work if he wanted. You’d never hold it against him, he knew that.

As soon as you sensed you his presence in the kitchen, you turned to him and gave him a soft smile, and his own features softened even more, “hello, my love. I’m so glad you’re so home!”

You set down the knife before slowly making your way over to him, careful not to disturb the baby as he immediately leaned down to kiss you. Your whole body was practically humming from his touch as you stole you a few more kisses, “rough day? You should have called me and I could have come home, honey baby.”

“It wasn’t bad actually,” you promised, watching with nothing but adoration in your eyes as he stroked Stevie’s chubby little cheek, “the chaos duo was on their best behavior today and the little one has been sleeping most of the day. I think he wore himself out from all his fussing last night.”

“Miracles do happen,” he laughed lightly as his hand went to your face and he gently stroked your cheek. You grinned at him, keening into his touch like a cat to the sun, “you are so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” you playfully pushed his chest before hiding your face behind your hands. Funny, how even after all this time he still managed to make you feel nervous and shy, “I’m in my ugliest mom clothes which I’m pretty sure these sweats have permanent puke stains, I haven’t showered today and I look like I haven’t slept in five years. Hardly beautiful.”

“You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on regardless of all of that,” he insisted softly, reaching for your hands and pulling them away from your face. Your whole body flushed with pleasant warmth as you looked into his eyes, “and I love you more than anything in this world.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I let you knock me up twice,” you joked as he playfully rolled his eyes, “god, Bucky, how do you still make me feel like this?”

“Like what?” he asked as he slowly moved to undo the sling from your chest and take the baby from you. Stevie made a few small sounds before cuddling up on Bucky’s chest. 

“Like I’m still falling in love with you every day,” you whispered as you leaned in and let him wrap arm around you as well. He kissed the top of your head before sighing in content, “I guess I am. We’re a little different every day - we’re definitely not the same fools from when we first met, huh?”

“I mean, we’re married and have kids, and the whole you know, typical suburban thing going on,” he teased, “so I’d say we’re pretty different. But you’re still my favorite pain in the ass.”

“James!” your eyes widened before the two of you broke into a fit of giggles, “I will get you back for that later!”

“Oh, I definitely count on it,” he promised, “now, go and take a few moments to yourself, shower or whatever, and I’ll finish dinner and get the kiddos and Falcon settled.”

“Whatever would I do without you, my love?”

“I think the better question is what would I do without you, honey baby?”

You blew him a little kiss as you all but ran towards the stairs in order to fit in a quick shower. Sometimes even ten minutes of peace and quiet would suffice. Bucky watched you go with a soft smile on his face, before turning his attention back to his softly cooing son, “your mama’s the best person in this entire world, I hope you always know that.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What?” you could feel Bucky’s eyes on your back as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom en suite. He was sitting in bed, winding down with some television as he waited for you, “I can feel you checking out the goods, Barnes.”

“That’s because I am,” you could practically hear the cheeky smirk in his voice, “it’s not wrong to admire, is it?”

“You’re too much,” you dried your face off before making your way back over to him. He offered you a lazy smile as he pulled back your side of the blankets and made room for you. You were only wearing his shirt and a pair of old cotton panties but he was watching you like you were the best in this world. Because to him - you were. The end all and be all, “James? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing,” he whispered as he immediately reached for you and gently pulled you into his lap. You made a small sound of surprise but easily gave into his touch, “nothing at all. I’m perfect.”

“Hmm,” you leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his plump lips, gently tugging on his dog tags, “me too. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I kind of like you a lot.”

“Is that why you married me? Had two kids with me? Got the dog?” he raised a brow as you carded a hand through his dark locks, scratching lightly at his scalp, “I bet it was all for the dog.”

“He didn’t hurt,” you joked, gently stroking his cheek, “but you aren’t so bad either. I love you, Bucky. So much. I hope you know. I hope you know you deserve this, everything we have - the whole world.”

“I…” he paused for a moment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as you showed him so much tenderness and delicate love, “I love you too.”

“Hey,” you put your hand under your chin and turned his face up towards yours, “I mean it James Buchanan Barnes. You have been through so much, so much that other people forced on you, and you deserve happiness. You deserve all the happiness this world has to offer. I know you have some bad days, and I understand that, but I want you to know I will always be here for you and I will always love you. You are my best friend, my husband, the father of my children, you are my everything.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Yes,” you insisted softly, “you do, James.”

“I-”

“How about for one moment you hush up,” you pushed him back against the headboard and pressed a few gentle, lazy kisses to his lips, “and just listen to me. And let me love you.”

“I love you, honey baby.”

“I love you too, James.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 9

“Dinner at my house at 7. Be there,” Rossi announced to everyone in the bullpen.

Everyone nodded, accepting the invitation.

“Sorry, I can’t. I have Jo tonight,” Spencer declined.

“Bring her with you. The more, the merrier! Her mom is welcome too, I would use her name but I’m still in the dark about that one,” Rossi said.

“Well, I, for one, would love to meet the lady that Pretty Boy is throwing punches for,” Morgan smirked.

“Henry will be there, Spence,” JJ informed Spencer, trying to convince him to bring Jo.

“Alright, Jo and I will be there. I will ask Y/N and yes, that’s her name if she decides to come,” Spencer gave in.

-

“I don’t know, Spencer...can’t just you and Jo go?” you asked.

“Yes, we could. I don’t want to pressure you but I think it would be fun if you went too. Plus, Rossi’s pasta is phenomenal,” Spencer stated.

“I don’t want to intrude...and I’m horrible at small talk,” you added.

“Rossi specifically invited you so you’re not intruding. Will and JJ will be there, who you already know, and I promise I won’t leave your side until you’re comfortable,” he assured you.

“Fine, I need to take a shower and get ready then. How formal is this thing?” you asked.

“Most people either stay in their clothes from work or go home and change into casual clothes,” Spencer shrugged.

You nodded and headed up the stairs.

A half hour later, you came down in a cream colored midi sundress with a floral pattern and a slit down the side.

Spencer’s breath hitched in his throat.

“How’s this?” you asked, giving him a little spin.

“Y-Yes that’s f-fine,” Spencer choked out.

“You don’t like it?” you frowned, “They’re gonna hate it...and me.”

You started walking back up the stairs to change when you felt someone grab your wrist gently.

“I was having trouble speaking because you look absolutely radiant,” Spencer spoke softly.

“Not too bad yourself, Doctor,” you smiled.

Spencer had lost his sweater vest and tie from the work day, leaving him in just his pale blue dress shirt with a few of the top buttons undone.

“Jo, come on! I’ve got to do your hair before we go,” you called out, pulling out one of the kitchen table chairs.

Jo came running down the stairs in a light pink sweater and overalls.

“What do you want?” you asked, using a spray bottle to wet her hair slightly and then brushing it out.

“Two braids please, Mommy.”

You parted her hair and began working on the first braid, feeling Spencer’s eyes watching curiously from beside you.

Once you finished the first one, you turned to looked at him.

“Do you want to do the other side?” you asked.

“I was observing your movements but I’m not sure if I can replicate them with the same speed and accuracy,” Spencer stated as you pushed him forward.

“I’ll be your instructor then. You’re going to need to learn how to do this. Jo doesn’t like to have her hair in her face so she likes to have it styled back somehow,” you said.

Spencer brushed the hair on Jo’s left side once more and then sectioned out three even pieces from the front.

“So basically you just keep crossing the side strands over into the middle and adding more hair to the side strands each time,” you explained as Spencer slowly started to braid Jo’s hair.

By the time he got to the end, it was a little bumpy and a small chunk of hair had been left out of the braid and was hanging astray.

“Okay okay, not bad for a first attempt,” you encouraged him.

“I think I’ve got it this time,” Spencer released the braid from its elastic and combed Jo’s hair out again.

Spencer’s confidence definitely increased this time through, he was going much faster, almost as fast as you. His tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. You had to admit that he looked absolutely adorable.

“Much better,” you smiled as he tied off the braid with the elastic.

“If you can do a braid, pigtails and ponytails will be a piece of cake,” you informed him.

“I think my fingers are cramping,” he chuckled, admiring his handiwork.

-

“Spencer, what if they hate me?” you nervously asked as you walked up Rossi’s driveway.

“They are not going to hate you,” Spencer assured you as he carried Jo on his hip, “See, JJ and Will’s car is already here so there’s two people who already know and like you.”

Spencer rang the doorbell. You heard laughing and lots of conversation inside. You were nervously playing with your hands until Spencer reached over and grabbed one, squeezing it a little before letting go again. The simple gesture soothed you tremendously.

The front opened, revealing an older man with black hair and a goatee.

“You must be Y/N,” he smiled.

“Yes, that’s me,” you shakily returned the smile.

“I’m Dave or Rossi whichever you prefer. Come inside! Dinner will be ready shortly!” he waved to Jo in Spencer’s arms.

You entered the kitchen to see a bunch of grinning faces, staring at you.

“Guys, this is Y/N and you all remember Jo,” he introduced you to the group.

You gave a small wave, “Hi! It’s nice to meet you all.”

A blonde woman was the first to get up off her seat at the kitchen counter and wrap you in a warm hug. You squeaked a little at first, not expecting it.

“Hi, I’m Penelope! Sorry, I’m an avid hugger,” she chirped.

“No worries,” you smiled back.

Another woman with long dark hair approached you next, “I’m Emily! I love your dress!”

“Thank you! I actually got it at a thrift store downtown,” you replied.

Next in line was a man still in his suit, smiling only slightly but you could tell he was trying his hardest.

“I’m Aaron but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch said as he shook your hand.

And finally, “Derek Morgan, at your service,” Derek grinned as kissed your hand.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek.

“Ignore him,” he said to you.

“Jo, I’m loving the braids,” JJ said as Spencer set her down on the floor.

“Daddy did the left one,” she beamed.

“Did he now?” JJ looked up at you and Spencer incredulously.

“Yes, he did,” you confirmed.

“He is going to have to start braiding my hair,” Penelope chimed in.

Henry and Jack came running into the kitchen.

“Jo!” Henry exclaimed, “Me and Jack are playing tag. Wanna play?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically and Henry touched her quickly and began running away.

“You’re it!” he called out.

“Oh, that was a cheap shot, Henry,” Will chuckled as the kids all left the kitchen once again.

“Jack is Hotch’s kid,” Spencer explained to you.

“Y/N, do you want some wine?” Emily offered.

You looked up at Spencer and he nodded, mouthing “I’ll drive home”.

“Sure! Thank you,” you accepted the glass.

You were talking to JJ, Will, and Hotch when you heard a familiar crying coming from outside. You set your wine glass down and ran to the backyard.

Jo was on the ground, clutching her knee, and the boys were hunched over her.

“Oh no, Baby J, what happened?” you asked, kneeling down.

“I fell while running and my knee got a boo-boo,” she cried.

You picked her up in your arms, rubbing light circles on her back, as Spencer came running outside carrying a mini first aid kit.

He gently rolled up Jo’s pant leg to above her knee as she clung to your neck.

“Alright, Jo, I have to put on some ointment and a band-aid so the boo-boo doesn’t get infected,” he spoke softly, applying ointment to the little scratch.

After he smoothed the band-aid over it, he kissed her knee three times.

“All better?” he asked.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she sniffled, letting go of you.

“You’re welcome, Princess. How about we have some dinner now?” he asked, using his sleeve to wipe her tears and snot.

Jo nodded and you all got up from the ground, heading back inside.

The rest of the team scrambled away from the window to pretend they weren’t just watching a truly heartwarming co-parenting moment.