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lizzyiii · 4 months ago

Note

hey, so ur works are literally heaven in itself (im in love with u)

you guys reading my works are what validate me in life (i'm so in love with you too, babe)

Scales and Arpeggios

pairing | aemond x wife!reader word count | 4.3k words summary | aemond and his wife share tender moments with their children, engaging in music lessons that bring warmth and joy to their family amidst the shadows of the dance of dragons.

note | slight angst, hotd au (greens win), KING AEMOND, toothrotting fluffff, children, no description of reader, fluffy Aemond, soft aemond, pregnant!reader a/n | aristocats inspired (duchess and her kittens), I thought of this this morning. I really needed this fluff after all my negative thoughts and feelings. also don't worry, I have all my requests in the making, and in my draft's - prepare for the angst and feels.

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Aemond was tired.

Day upon day, his life was mired in endless council meetings, audiences with quarrelsome lords, and grievances of the peasantry, all in the name of healing a realm ravaged by war.

It had been two years since the Dance of the Dragons had torn through the land, yet the scars remained, as fresh as the charred ruins left in the dragons’ wake.

And here he was, King of the Seven Kingdoms—but at what bitter cost. He had bested Daemon in the fierce clash over the God’s Eye, and his half-sister, the self-styled Queen, had been devoured by her own madness.

She met her end as Sunfyre tore her asunder upon Aegon’s command. Not long after, Aegon himself succumbed to his wounds, leaving the crown a hollow prize.

Aemond had defeated the Blacks. The traitors were vanquished, their cause snuffed out. But his family had been taken in the fires of war. Jaehaerys murdered; young Maelor torn apart; Daeron slain.

Helaena, dear Helaena, had taken her own life. And Aegon—Aegon had burned away with his dragon, his defiance crumbling under the agony of his wounds.

All that remained of his bloodline were fleeting shadows of memory and ashes of kin. Only his wife, the woman bound to him since he was but fourteen, remained steadfast.

Through the dark days of the war, you had been his only constant, his sole source of solace. In the end, that was all he had left: his bride, his son Aeron, his niece Jaehaera, and his mother, Queen Alicent, who clung to life with a frail resilience.

It was his wife, too, who had stayed his hand when he considered the fates of Daemon’s daughters. You had urged him to spare the lives of Baela and Rhaena, allowing them sanctuary with their sole surviving brother, Aegon the Younger, now far away in Driftmark.

And yet, his mother had been torn asunder by grief, the madness that followed the loss of three of her children consuming her like a wildfire. Just months ago, Alicent had succumbed to the cruel grip of Winter Fever, and with her passing, the warmth of their family had dimmed further.

He blamed himself, for in his fervor to protect his own—the children he adored and his beloved wife—he had allowed himself to be blind to his mother’s decline. Each day, he devoted himself to the care and nurturing of Aeron and Daenys, ensuring Jaehaera felt the presence of family, while the ever-looming responsibilities of the crown overshadowed his duties as a son.

Now, he barely caught glimpses of the life that remained. He would rise in the early hours, the dawn light casting a soft glow upon his wife’s sleeping form, a fleeting moment of peace before he was swept away by the relentless tide of royal obligations.

In the fleeting minutes before he departed for court, he could only admire the serene lines of your face, knowing that the day would steal him from your side again.

The children were no better; brief encounters in the corridors felt like whispers of a past he could hardly grasp. Aeron would be playing with his toys, and Daenys might be crawling after the palace cats, laughter echoing softly in the halls, but those joyful sounds seemed distant, muffled by the duties that consumed him.

But on this day, a flicker of fortune shone upon him; he had managed to complete his duties earlier than usual. Typically, he toiled long into the night, only to return to the warmth of their chambers when all were asleep. Though it was after supper, a glimmer of hope sparked within him that perhaps he could still find them, to grasp those precious moments he had so dearly missed.

Through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, the young Prince Aeron and Princess Jaehaera raced, their laughter echoing against the cold stone walls as they hurried toward the music lesson that awaited them. The air was filled with the thrill of their spirited competition, each eager to claim the title of first to arrive.

As they rounded a corner, Jaehaera noticed Aeron pulling ahead, determination etched across his small face. In a quick, daring move, she reached out and tugged at his tunic, managing to pull him back just enough to dart ahead. “Me first!” she shouted, her voice ringing with triumph.

Not to be outdone, Aeron swiftly grabbed hold of her arm, attempting to halt her advance. “And why should you be first?” he challenged.

Jaehaera strained against his grip, lifting her chin defiantly as she met his gaze. “Because I am the future queen, that’s why!” she declared, her voice bold and unwavering.

With that, she broke free, dashing down the corridor, but Aeron was quick on her heels, bumping her to the side in a playful shove that almost sent her sprawling against the wall. “You’re not a queen! You’re nothing but my cousin!” he yelled.

Jaehaera shot him a fierce glare, her brows knitting together. “I’ll show you if I’m a queen or not,” she murmured under her breath, determination simmering in her tone as they neared the door to the music room.

In a last-ditch effort to claim victory, Jaehaera pushed Aeron aside just as they reached the threshold. He stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, throwing a frown her way. “Fight fair, Jae!”

Without missing a beat, she rolled her eyes and slipped into the room, only to be met with an unexpected shove from Aeron as he followed closely behind. He hadn’t meant to, but the force sent Jaehaera tumbling to the ground with a hard thud that echoed in the hall.

She shot him a fierce glare, her lips forming a pout as she rubbed her side. “Now that hurt!” she exclaimed, the hint of a whine creeping into her voice.

“Aunty! Aunty!” she called out, her tone shifting to one of urgency.

Moments later, you entered the room, carrying Daenys on your hip. A mixture of sternness and affection danced on your face as you regarded the two children. “Jaehaera, my darling, Jaehaera,” you said, your voice firm but softening with a smile. “You must stop that; it is really not ladylike.”

Your gaze shifted to Aeron, your tone turning slightly admonishing. “And you, Aeron, such behavior is most unbecoming of a lovely gentleman.”

Aeron’s cheeks flushed, and he scowled at Jaehaera, ready to defend himself. “Well, she started it,” he retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

Jaehaera, unfazed, lifted her chin in a gesture of regal disdain, pointedly turning her gaze away from him. “Queens do not start fights,” she declared, her voice dripping with authority. Then, with a scrunch of her nose, she added, “But they can finish them.”

Aeron rolled his eyes dramatically at Jaehaera, sticking out his tongue in mockery, but the jest was short-lived as he heard his mother’s voice call out from across the room. “Now, Aeron, don’t be rude,” you scolded, your tone firm but laced with affection.

He turned to you, flashing an innocent smile, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “We were just practicing fighting and pushing,” he replied, his words punctuated by an exaggerated shrug that only added to the mischief of the moment.

You felt a jolt of discomfort at his words, a wave of haunting memories crashing over you. The echoes of past conflicts flickered in your mind—battles fought and lives lost, the heavy price of such lessons. “Targaryens do not practice fighting and pushing and things like that,” you replied, your voice low, the irony of your own words hanging heavily in the air. “It is just horrible.”

With a determined effort, you sought to redirect the conversation and lighten the mood. “Now,” you began, your expression softening as you turned your gaze to Daenys, nestled in your arms, her tiny form clearly on the brink of sleep.

You smiled adoringly at her, a sense of calm washing over you as you looked back at Jaehaera and Aeron. “Why don’t you two head over to the piano, and let’s begin our lesson?”

“Yes, Aunty!” Jaehaera chirped, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she practically danced toward the instrument, subtly shouldering Aeron aside.

Aeron glared at Jaehaera, his indignation flaring up momentarily, but he quickly turned to you with a soft nod. “Yes, Mama,” he replied.

“It’s time to practice your scales and your arpeggios,” you encouraged, as you moved toward the piano. You settled onto the chaise beside it, Daenys resting her head comfortably against your shoulder, her eyes half-closed as she watched her brother and cousin with a sleepy fascination.

Jaehaera stood poised beside the grand piano, her back straight and shoulders squared, a picture of determination. She cleared her throat, the sound echoing softly in the air, and waited expectantly for Aeron to begin.

However, she cast him a pointed glare as he took his sweet time, leisurely warming up his hands as if the lesson were no pressing matter.

Finally, after an impatient moment, Jaehaera announced, “I’m ready, Maestro,” her voice ringing with a blend of authority and hautiness.

Aeron shot her a sideways glance, his mischievous grin returning as he subtly shifted his foot and stomped down hard onto Jaehaera’s, eliciting a sharp squeak from her.

“Aunty, he did it again!” she exclaimed, turning her wide eyes toward you, indignation clear in her voice.

Aeron, unfazed, looked away, propping his chin on his hand with an exaggerated air of nonchalance. “Tattletale,” he whispered in response.

You carefully rubbed Daenys' back, the gentle motion soothing your daughter. Your patience was unwavering, as you said, “Now, Aeron, please, darling, settle down and play me your pretty little song.” Your voice was calm, and your tone both firm and nurturing.

With a resigned sigh, Aeron nodded, his playful demeanor shifting as he positioned himself at the piano. “Yes, Mama,” he murmured, fingers poised above the keys. As he began to play, the room filled with the soft, melodic strains of his music.

Aemond was at a loss, frustration tightening his chest as he searched the sprawling halls of the Red Keep for you. He had scoured your shared chambers, his personal solar, and the children’s bedrooms, but you were nowhere to be found.

The sinking feeling in his gut only grew as he realized he needed assistance, and at last, he sought out one of the guards stationed nearby.

The guard cleared his throat and straightened slightly, sensing the prince’s impatience. “At Her Grace's music lessons, sire,” he replied, his tone respectful.

“Music lessons?” Aemond murmured to himself, brow furrowing in confusion. He had not realized such an event was taking place, nor had he been informed of it.

Without another moment's hesitation, he rushed in the direction indicated, making his way down a seldom-used wing of the castle, its walls lined with faded tapestries and the whispers of history.

As he drew closer, he heard the unmistakable sound of a piano, its notes cascading through the air like a gentle stream, drawing him forward.

Coming closer to the door, he opened it quietly before he peeked his head inside, his heart melting at the sight as he heard Jaehaera's voice.

"Do mi sol do do sol mi do," the girl of six summers sang, her voice young and somewhat pitchy as she sang confidently, "Every truly cultured music student knows. You must learn your scales and your arpeggios Finger music ringing from your chest And not your nose. While you sing your scales and your arpeggios"

Aemond stood just beyond the doorway, a swell of pride filling his chest as he watched his five-year-old son, Aeron, seated at the piano. The boy’s fingers danced across the keys with a mixture of enthusiasm and concentration, his small face lit with determination.

To Aemond’s surprise, Aeron broke into song as well, his voice sweet yet tinged with the tremor of youth. “If you’re faithful to your daily practicing, you will find your progress is encouraging,” he sang, each note imbued with his budding confidence.

Beside him, Jaehaera stood, arms crossed and a hint of exasperation in her eyes as she rolled them subtly at Aeron’s exuberance. Aeron continued, his voice growing bolder yet still wavering, “Do mi sol me do, mi sol me fa la sol, it goes. When you do your scales and your arpeggios.”

Jaehaera lifted her voice to sing her part again, “Do mi so do,” but she was abruptly cut off by Aeron, who had become overly enthusiastic at the piano, his fingers now racing across the keys with fervor.

“Do mi sol do, do sol mi do,” you chimed in, your voice ethereal and melodic, casting a gentle spell over the room. Aemond found his gaze drawn to you, the light catching your features as you sang alongside the children.

Jaehaera quickly fell in with you, her voice harmonizing beautifully, “Do mi sol do, do sol mi do. Though at first it seems as though it doesn’t show, like a tree, ability will bloom and grow.”

In your arms, Daenys, who had previously been drifting off to sleep, now sat wide awake, her bright eyes filled with wonder as she attempted to mimic the words you and Jaehaera sang. Her babbling intermingled with the melody.

The three of you continued in unison, your voices intertwining, “If you’re smart, you’ll learn by heart what every artist knows. You must sing your scales.....and your arpeggios.”

Aemond leaned against the doorframe, a small smile gracing his lips as he took in the delightful scene unfolding before him. The flickering light of the candles cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the joy radiating from his children.

Aeron beamed at you, his face aglow with pride as the final notes of the song faded into the air. “How was that, Mama?” he asked, his bright eyes shining with eager anticipation.

You turned to him, your heart swelling with affection. “Absolutely wonderful, my love,” you replied, your voice laced with warmth and encouragement. Just as you opened your mouth to add more praise, a small, excited voice broke through the moment.

“Kēpa! Kēpa!” Daenys cried out, her tiny hands clapping together in delight, her wide lilac eyes fixed on the door where Aemond stood.

All three of you turned your attention toward the threshold, and Aemond couldn’t help but feel a slight flush of warmth at the sight of his little girl’s enthusiasm. He stood there, somewhat awkwardly.

“Do you wish to join us, my king?” you teased gently, a playful amusement dancing in your tone as you gestured for him to enter.

Aemond gave you a small smile before striding into the room, the familiar weight of his crown momentarily forgotten in the presence of his family.

Daenys, her cherubic face lighting up with excitement, eagerly raised her arms toward him, and he scooped her up effortlessly from your embrace, her giggles filling the air. “I was not aware there were music lessons in the first place,” he remarked, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Merely for the children’s entertainment, I assure you,” you replied softly, your heart warmed by the sight of your husband.

Aemond shot you a skeptical glance, an eyebrow arching slightly as he nodded. “Oh, I am sure,” he replied, a hint of teasing lacing his tone.

“Father, did you see how I played?” Aeron asked eagerly, his small hands still resting on the piano keys, a bright grin spreading across his face.

“Yes, I did,” Aemond said, his expression softening as he smiled down at his son. “Much better than any bard I’ve heard.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Aeron beamed at the praise.

“And did you see how I sang, uncle?” Jaehaera chimed in, her voice a melodic chime that danced through the air like the notes of the piano.

“Yes, of course,” Aemond replied, nodding with genuine admiration. “One day, you might even come to rival the Queen’s voice.” The compliment brought a bright flush to Jaehaera's cheeks, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“She’ll be even better than me,” you murmured, a soft smile gracing your lips as you watched the exchange unfold.

As the children chattered excitedly, desperate for their King's attention, your gaze drifted to the doorway, where you spotted your maid, Emery, standing patiently, signaling that it was time for bed.

You cleared your throat gently, drawing the children's attention back to you. “Children, it’s time to go to bed,” you announced softly, your voice laced with warmth yet firm.

Aeron turned to you, his wide eyes shimmering with innocence as he clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Do we have to, Mama? Father just got here,” he implored, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made your heart ache.

You sighed, feeling your resolve weaken under the weight of his pleas. However, Aemond came to your rescue, his hand affectionately ruffling Aeron’s fluffy silver hair. “And I’ll come say goodnight once you are in bed, little king,” he promised, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You tilted your head toward the door, giving a gentle nudge. “Emery is waiting for you,” you murmured, the soft authority in your tone guiding them toward the inevitable.

Disappointment flickered in both Jaehaera’s and Aeron’s eyes, yet they nodded reluctantly. Jaehaera approached your side and planted a tender kiss on your cheek, her small frame radiating warmth as she bid you goodnight.

Following her lead, Aeron hurried to do the same, his kiss lingering a moment longer before he bent down to press his lips against your swelling stomach, his sweet gesture eliciting a smile from you.

Aemond, observing the tender moment, passed baby Daenys into your arms. She giggled excitedly, her laughter a delightful sound as you smothered her with kisses, before you handed Daenys to Emery, who was prepared to lead the children out.

As the soft patter of little feet faded down the corridor, the lively laughter and chatter of the children ebbed away, leaving you and Aemond cocooned in the warm embrace of the cozy chamber.

A serene silence enveloped the two of you, a precious moment amidst the storm of duties and the remnants of grief that lingered in the air.

“Hello, husband,” you greeted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to shatter the comfortable stillness that settled between you.

“Hello, wife,” Aemond murmured in return, his tone low and warm as he lowered himself onto the piano bench beside you.

With a gentle grace, he let his hand drift over the piano keys, pausing just short of touching them. It was a silent acknowledgment of his lack of skill, yet he seemed fascinated by the instrument nonetheless.

You watched him, the lines of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the chamber, and felt a pang of affection.

“I apologize for not informing you about the lessons,” you said, your voice steady yet filled with sincerity.

“Tis alright,” he replied, though his gaze remained fixed away from you, a flicker of concern shadowing his features. “When did it begin?”

“The day of your mother’s funeral,” you replied gently, choosing your words with care. “Your duties had taken you away, and Aeron and Jaehaera were feeling very down. I thought music might lift their spirits, and it has. Jaehaera even asked me to teach her to sing and play.”

At the mention of that day, Aemond’s expression shifted. Guilt washed over him, and memories flooded back—his mother’s service at the Sept, the heavy atmosphere of sorrow, and how he had been swept away in the currents of his responsibilities, never given a moment to truly mourn.

He nodded thoughtfully, his voice barely above a whisper. “Aeron seems particularly skilled.”

“He is a very intelligent little boy,” you agreed, your eyes not leaving his as he continued to stare at the piano, lost in thought. “He has an eagerness to learn that reminds me of you.”

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound breaking through the solemnity that hung in the air. “I fear he has far more talent than I ever did,” he said, a hint of pride seeping into his words. “But I’m glad to see them find joy in something so beautiful.”

“Music has a way of healing,” you remarked, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “Especially in times like these.”

He turned to face you fully, his piercing violet eye searching yours. “And what of you? How do you fare amidst the shadows of loss?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. “I carry the grief, as we all do. But I find solace in our children. Their laughter reminds me of the light we can still find in our lives.”

Aemond’s gaze softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours with an intimacy that sent warmth coursing through you. “You are stronger than I,” he said earnestly. “I often wonder how you manage to bear the burdens we both carry.”

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, you replied, “We bear them together, my king. That is what family is for.”

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly, and he murmured, “Aeron... he shall be a better king than I.” His voice held a weight of expectation and uncertainty, a reflection of his own doubts.

You turned your gaze toward him, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes as you stood and swiftly settled beside him on the bench.

Reaching out, you cupped his face in your hands, grounding him with your touch. “Only because he shall learn from your mistakes. Every king should be better than the former.”

Aemond stared into your eyes, his heart swelling with gratitude. In truth, he had often wondered what he had done to deserve your steadfast presence. Memories washed over him—of the day he first met you when he was merely fourteen, a boy angry and hateful at the world.

He leaned his forehead against yours, finding solace in your warmth. “You are very wise, my queen. You never lead me astray.”

“Destiny has its designs,” you replied softly, a small smile gracing your lips. “And I am merely fulfilling mine. To guide you, to stand by your side.”

He chuckled lightly, the sound a blend of affection and admiration. “Even when I do not deserve it?”

“Especially then,” you countered, your tone playful yet sincere. “Every king needs a queen to keep him grounded, to remind him of what truly matters.”

Aemond took a deep breath, the weight of the realm and his responsibilities momentarily lifted. “And what is that, my love?”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It is love, loyalty, and the hope for a better tomorrow. The kind of future we want for our children.”

Aemond leaned back, a rare lightness settling in his chest for the first time in what felt like an age. He placed his hand over your round belly, feeling the warmth radiate from within. You tilted your head, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as you caught his gaze.

“Aeron has taken to kissing my stomach,” you said, your tone playful. “He believes that if he shows enough affection, it might persuade my body to grant him a brother. He claims it would make his chances of having a fair fight against the girls much better.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. Then, nodding toward the piano, he added, “Teach me. I may never reach the heights of Aeron’s talent, but perhaps I could aspire to match little Daenys’ skill.”

Your laughter chimed like music in the air, a sound that warmed his spirit. Aemond grinned at the absurdity of comparing his potential to that of his infant daughter. “Very well,” you said, your eyes sparkling with delight. “First, let us see what you can do.”

You guided him closer to the piano, instructing him to place his large, slender hands over yours on the keys. “Feel the movement,” you encouraged, your voice soft and patient. “It’s not merely about the notes; it’s about the rhythm and the heart behind them.”

Unbeknownst to you and Aemond, enveloped in your own intimate world, three pairs of curious eyes peered in from the slightly ajar door of the chamber. Jaehaera, Aeron, and little Daenys had quietly slipped away from their caretakers.

Jaehaera, though only six years of age, sighed wistfully as she watched her uncle and aunt. “How romantic,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a sense of longing.

She cradled baby Daenys in her arms, the infant unusually calm, her wide eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the room as she took in the scene of her mother and father together.

Aeron, standing beside Jaehaera, observed his parents intently, a thoughtful frown furrowing his brow. “Do you think our marriage will be like that?” he asked, glancing over at Jaehaera to gauge her reaction.

Jaehaera turned to him, her gaze sharp and serious, her little brows furrowing in determination. “It has to, Aeron. It has to.”

“Do you think we’ll be that happy?” he pressed, his youthful innocence shining through, even as the shadows of doubt crept into his mind.

She nodded vigorously, her long silver hair bouncing with the motion. “Of course! The king and queen love each other. If we love each other like they do, it will be just as wonderful.”

Aeron pondered her words, his gaze drifting back to the sight of you and Aemond, lost in your shared moment. “And what if…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “What if things become difficult, like they do in the stories?”

Jaehaera frowned slightly, her youthful optimism momentarily faltering. “Then we fight for each other, just like they do,” she declared with conviction.

Aeron nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I like that idea,” he said softly, his gaze drifting back to the happy scene of his mother and his father.

“We’ll make it the best story ever.”

[Jaehaera, Aeron, Daenys]

headcannonsss:

— aemond and reader end up having six children in total: aeron (18), daenys (15), mikael (13), jaemes (10), elaena (7) and aelora (4) + jaehaera (19)

— aeron and jaehaera marry

— daenys falls in love with aegon (rhaenyra's son)

— mikael comes out as gay

— jaemes and elaena marry

— aelora refuses to marry and part with her mother (sophie/donna relationship)

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond

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sundaysconsort · 1 month ago

Note

I would like to request some fluffy established relationship headcanons for Aven, Phainon and Stella (my queen 🤲🐥💛🥹) hehe, take your time with this req! 🤭🫶💖

Entry : " Just You And I Until Forever "

Pairings : HSR! Aventurine | HSR! Phainon | OC! Strelitzia

Information : My "fluffy" Established Relationship headcanons! It's been several years since I've written a request, I hope this is to your satisfaction, my Beloved. I’m sure it’s somewhat ooc, and I apologize if it’s chaotic or repetitive! 🥲💙🫶

Tags : Fluff, Emotional vulnerability, Doubt, Comfort, Established Relationship, Intimacy, mutual respect, supportive relationships, gentle affection, etc. I'm terrible at tags.

Subject: Aventurine | Love Language: Gift giving

Aventurine’s love language is unmistakably rooted in "gift-giving." He is a man who equates his self-worth with his financial success, and there’s a certain joy that radiates from him when he showers you with lavish presents. Each carefully chosen gift is not just an object; it symbolizes his affection and desire to indulge you, reinforcing his sense of pride and fulfillment in the relationship.

He is a man who possesses an uncanny ability to read your gaze, effortlessly guiding you through the vibrant store aisles filled with colorful fabrics and stylish garments. As he strolls alongside you, his keen eye catches sight of various pieces of clothing, and he eagerly presents them to you, his enthusiasm infectious. If you express even the slightest interest in a particular item, he insists on purchasing it for you, his generosity unwavering, no matter the cost. Should you politely decline his offer, he remains undeterred. With a patient smile, he waits for a moment when your attention is elsewhere, and by the morning light, you might discover the very piece of clothing you hesitated over, neatly folded on your bed as if waiting for you. Alternatively, you may receive a discreet text message, a playful hint teasing you about a delightful surprise eagerly awaiting you once you complete your work or studies.

He is a man who takes pride in flaunting you as his own, to the point where it sometimes borders on possessiveness. With a broad grin, he delights in the attention you attract, wrapping his arm around your waist in public and speaking with intention—louder so that those around you can hear. He clings desperately to his last chip, fully aware that without his luck, he feels lost. Without you, what does he have left? You belong to him, just as he belongs to you. It will take time for him to embrace himself, as he is already capable of doing for you.

He is a man whose every intention is to make you feel beautiful, help you stand out, and remind himself that you belong to him. He struggles to understand the concept of love and the idea of someone truly cherishing him. To him, you are a gamble, a thrill he cannot resist, no matter how hard he once tried. He is completely wrapped around your finger.

He is a man who once believed that he could rely solely on his good fortune, as he felt he had nothing else to offer. Or rather, he once had nothing. Now, however, he has more to lose than ever before: you. You have become his top priority for as long as your relationship continues.

He is a man who misses his partner dearly, finding that every little detail in his life somehow reminds him of you. Little by little, he begins to enjoy his life again; every gamble he wins becomes money to be spent on you. You have become his reason for living. Each time he is able to care for his own needs, he feels secure, knowing that you are happiest when he is healthy. You make him whole, serving as a beacon of light in his once-darkened world of solitude. In your presence, he often drops his usual confident facade and smooth talk; whether through his words or actions, he becomes more genuine. He may speak less, carefully choosing his words to ensure they are sincere rather than deceptive.

He is a man who endlessly praises your body and your character. He possesses a genuine love that is free from fabrication or deceit; he truly treasures it. Surprisingly, he is more hesitant when it comes to receiving physical touch than one might expect. In a committed relationship, every move he makes is carefully calculated to elicit a reaction from you. He kisses your fingers delicately, appreciates your every imperfection, and gently trails his kisses toward your knuckles before resting his forehead against the back of your hand.

He is a man who melts into your embrace over time. At first, his body may feel stiff when you take him into your arms, but soon a wave of ease washes over him, and he returns the embrace with an amused comment laced with desire. He craves your arms wrapped around him. His eyes may close as he sinks deeper into your frame, feeling safe. Whether he is the one protecting you or the other way around, he is content to relish this moment. He allows himself to feel the warmth, care, and love that come from a true partner—someone who has seen him at his worst and loves him all the same.

He is a man who takes every chance to whisk you away on a luxurious adventure. While he enjoys shopping during your dates, he gradually introduces you to exquisite meals at sought-after restaurants, all while remembering your favorite dishes for next time. When the moment is right, he confidently orders for you, always with a warm grin. You | "What if I wanted to try something new today?" Aventurine | "Then I'd buy you that as well. Who do you take me for?"

Bonus section for @aventurineswife, I'll feel guilty if it's not fluffy enough for you. He is a man who delights in the sound of your laughter, cherishing it more than anything else in the world. When he breathes softly against your neck, it sends a thrill down your spine, and then he turns away with a casual, playful air, as if to draw you deeper into his charm. At the sight of you, he can’t help but whistle, a melody that reflects the joy you bring to his life. He has a knack for moments of whimsy, like when he playfully sets his hat atop your head, playfully shielding your eyes from the sun, while also drawing you into a world of shared laughter. In conversations, he removes his sunglasses, allowing his eyes to convey the sincerity of his attentiveness. He leans in closer, captivated by your words and eager to connect on a deeper level, showing that your thoughts and opinions matter to him immensely. He is the kind of man who would go any distance for your attention, whether it’s a small gesture or a grand romantic act. Although he presents an air of confidence, he can be brought to his knees when you challenge him, and only by you, revealing an endearing vulnerability. He thrives on the banter, enjoying how you keep him on his toes, igniting playful debates that spark chemistry between you. He loves to tease you endlessly, his gentle jabs filled with affection, always knowing exactly how to make you smile. There’s something intoxicating about the way he inhales your scent as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment as if it’s a precious secret. His commitment shines through in the way he makes you wear matching rings, a playful promise that symbolizes a bond evolving toward something even deeper—a future engagement that he envisions with you. He genuinely values your opinions, listening attentively and encouraging you to express yourself freely. When it comes to your body, he sees beauty in every imperfection. He adores your "imperfections" whether they're love handles, moles, stretch marks, birthmarks, or scars, he'll end up interpreting each one as a testament to your beauty, strength and unique story. He is unapologetically a man in love, celebrating every facet of who you are and embracing the unique qualities that make you, you.

Subject: Phainon | Love Language: Physical touch

Phainon is a man who places a high value on "physical touch;" it is his primary love language. He feels most connected to others through the warmth of hugs, the brush of a hand, and the intimacy of close proximity. For him, these simple gestures convey deep affection and strengthen his emotional bonds with those he cares about.

He is a man who wraps his arms around you gently as you drift off to sleep, providing a warm and comforting presence. With each soothing embrace, he creates a safe haven, making sure you feel protected and cherished throughout the night. His steady breathing and quiet whispers reassure you, helping to quiet any worries that might linger in your mind. In those moments, you can surrender to rest, knowing he will safeguard your dreams with love and care.

He is a man who envelops you in a flurry of affectionate kisses, his lips brushing against your skin with a gentle urgency. Each kiss feels like a promise, as he methodically covers every inch of your body, lingering on your cheeks, forehead, and the curve of your neck, pouring his heart into each moment. As he prepares for a long mission that will take him away from you, he seems to want to memorize the warmth of your skin and the rhythm of your breath, as if these tender moments might sustain you both in the days to come. His kisses are not just physical gestures; they carry a depth of emotion, reminding you that every second spent together is a cherished memory to hold onto during his absence.

He is a man who is thoughtful and devoted. He who willingly adjusts his meticulously planned schedule to accommodate your needs. Despite the demanding responsibilities that come with being the Chrysos heir, a position that often pulls him in numerous directions, he prioritizes your time together. His commitment reflects not only his affection for you but also his determination to make every moment count, regardless of the pressures he faces from his title and the expectations that come with it.

He is a man who clings to the tiniest fragments of your conversations, recalling with fondness the playful exchanges and silly remarks that once made you both laugh. Each lighthearted memory—like your infectious giggle or a shared inside joke—becomes a precious lifeline amid the harsh realities of the battlefield. As he navigates the chaos and uncertainty of combat, he often finds himself lost in daydreams of home, where your smile awaits him. The very thought of not returning to you weighs heavily on his heart, filling him with a determination to survive, so he can once again embrace the safe haven of your presence and relive those cherished moments.

He is a man who takes his role as your partner seriously. As the respected heir of Chrysos, he stands guard over you, ensuring that no one suspicious can approach without his explicit permission. Anyone who seeks to reach you must first navigate through his watchful presence, as he meticulously assesses their intentions, weighing each potential visitor with careful scrutiny before deciding whether to grant them access. His formidable demeanor can be intimidating, but beneath it lies a willingness to respect your wishes. If you desire space or want him to step back, he will readily understand and allow you the freedom you seek, always prioritizing your comfort, often brushing off his protective behavior with humor and affection.

He is a man who effortlessly attuned to the subtle social cues that reveal your emotions. He seems to instinctively know what brings you joy and what makes you uncomfortable, even if you hesitate to share your feelings. His playful nature often shines through as he tells silly jokes, aiming to elicit a smile from you or lighten the mood when he senses any unease.

He is a man who, upon realizing he has upset you or made you feel uncomfortable, instantly transforms into a flurry of apologies. His demeanor shifts noticeably, and you can see the concern etched on his face as he fumbles through his words, striving to express how truly sorry he is for his actions. It’s as if he feels a deep sense of responsibility for your feelings and is eager to make amends, often over-explaining himself in a bid to ensure you understand that it was never his intention to cause you distress. His awkwardness only adds to the sincerity of his remorse, making it clear that he values your feelings profoundly.

Subject: Strelitzia "Stella" | Love Language: Quality time

Strelitzia is a woman known for her striking presence, often opting for silence instead of speech. She values "quality time" with her partner, and her moments of quietude do not stem from a lack of thoughts or feelings. Rather, they reflect a profound depth of character and a keen observant nature.

She is a woman who is devoted, willing to fight for your cause in the face of opposition, despite her own anxieties. You can see the fierce determination etched on her face as she steps forward to protect you without a word, her body tense with anticipation, in fear. When you finally call her name, the tension in her features begins to melt away, replaced by a gentle warmth and concern.

She is a woman who swivels her head at the familiar sound of your voice, her expression lighting up as she searches the crowd for you. Her feathers, a stunning array of iridescent colors, create a soft glow that sets her apart from those around her. As she spots you, her wings unfold gracefully, flapping with an animated rhythm that mirrors the excited wag of a dog’s tail, betraying her eagerness and joy.

She is a woman who tends to withdraw due to her fear of making mistakes. Despite this distance, she can't help but keep a watchful eye on you from afar, silently ensuring your safety. Her protective instincts drive her to monitor your well-being, even if she struggles to engage directly. It’s a complex balance of wanting to be close yet feeling the need to maintain space, all rooted in her desire to shield you from potential harm.

She is a woman who, without even realizing it, orchestrates romantic outings in hidden, tranquil spots away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Whether it's a charming little picnic by a serene lake, a leisurely stroll through a secluded forest, or an unexpected sunset watching at a quiet beach, her natural inclination seems to draw her towards intimate settings that evoke a sense of magic and connection.

She is a woman who truly engages with every word you say, giving her full attention as you share your thoughts, stories, and even your frustrations. With her warm, inviting smile, she creates a safe space where you feel comfortable venting and rambling on. It’s as if she hangs on to each word, her eyes sparkling with empathy, reflecting a genuine interest in what you’re expressing. Whether you’re sharing a small triumph or a deep concern, she listens intently, her expression soft and encouraging, making you feel heard and valued in every moment you spend together.

She is a woman who embodies the saying "actions speak louder than words." Her deeds often convey her intentions and feelings more powerfully than any spoken language could. Despite the fatigue that often accompanies lengthy conversations, she perseveres in her efforts to articulate her thoughts and ideas for you. Her determination to communicate, even when drained, highlights her commitment to connecting with you, ensuring that her message is heard and understood.

She is a woman who cherishes the beauty of subtle, gentle touches that convey warmth and affection. As her relationship deepens, she finds herself growing more impulsive and adventurous, exploring this newfound intimacy with enthusiasm. Unbeknownst to her, each shared moment and intimate gesture signifies her personal growth, allowing her to shed layers of hesitation and embrace the comfort of being herself. With each passing day, she becomes increasingly attuned to her own desires, relishing in the freedom of expressing her feelings openly and confidently.

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notlongtolove · 4 months ago

Text

masterlist! ˖ᝰ✧˖° [requests are: open]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ thanks for stopping by

a recent work: suddenly, here it is🎐 currently writing for spencer reid x fem!reader

fluff 🎐 angst 🏹 personal favorites 🧺

one shots time present and time past 🧺🏹

situationship!reader contemplates einstein's theory of relativity and wishes she could stop time as she watches spencer sleep—3.4k words

joy sneaks in 🎐

bau!reader and spencer try their best to hide their relationship from the team during a christmas party—3.9k words

the cup holds the tea 🎐

bau!reader has too much to drink and its up to bf!spencer to get her home, puke on shoes and all—3k words

in eternal lines 🎐🏹

student!reader has an essay due and her fever isn't helping. the fact that she has a genius for a boyfriend doesn't do much for her self confidence either—5.2k words

the garden is growing 🧺🎐

bau!reader catches up with an old friend leading her and spencer to have a contemplative talk about their relationship—2.2k words

the fox and her hound 🧺🎐🏹

a love story told through the allegory of a fox and a hound—2k words

empty my soul 🎐

spencer compares the pull of his desire and devotion toward you against the seven deadly sins—1.8k words

your hand in my hand 🎐

bau!reader and spencer are forced to embark on a 4 hour train ride together much to their disdain (at first)—3.1k words

like a lover 🎐🏹

student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad—3.8k words

a perpetual possibility 🧺🏹

situationship reader stays over at spencer's for the first time and breaks down in his bed—3.6k words

sun makes the day new 🎐

bau!reader has too much to drink (again) and the team calls upon spencer for backup to wrangle their beloved running drunk home—3.8k words

the earth was made for lovers 🎐

bau!reader and bf!spencer spend a rare day out filled with domestic fluff—2.3k words

between the sand and the stardust 🎐

reader is up contemplating what life would be like if her and spencer had never met. spencer has a few reassuring things to say about it—1.8k words

it's dry january 🎐

flirty bau!reader renders spencer reid a bumbling idiot on a night out—1.1k words

to get it anyway 🎐

bau!reader gets hurt during a case and spencer is worried out of his mind (worried enough to confess his feelings for her)—2.2k words

thanks to the light you shower🎐 🏹

reader spirals during a friendship breakup and spencer is there to comfort and reassure her—3.3k words

your star next to mine 🧺🎐

spencer simply loves waking up to bau!reader in the morning—1k words

petals and frost 🏹

spencer falls a little too hard when you join the team for a temporary attachment—2.8k words

to be an accountant of the heart🎐🏹

bau!reader feels insecure about how strongly she feels for spencer—5k words

little hearts everywhere🎐🏹

bau!reader experiences a panic attack on a case and spencer helps her both through it and after it—2.2k words

in my dream, i'm fixing your crutch🧺🎐🏹

bau!reader and spencer deal with the aftermath of guilt and forgiveness after he takes a bullet for her—2.8k words

suddenly, here it is🎐

bf!spencer just wants reader to spend the sunday in bed together—1.8k words

series burnt norton; the masterlist

you've waited, you've stayed, you've stayed in the waiting. more pathetic than poetic if you're being honest. situationship core x avoidant spencer

little red cap; the masterlist

spencer tries, always, to keep that part of his life separate from you. from this brief glimpse, you’re not sure if you’re ready for it after all. lit student reader helps spencer with a clue he missed.

with more to come ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

all pics from pinterest!

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 1 year ago

Text

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

❤️◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇💍◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇❤️

#bumblebeesfromvenus #bale!bruce x reader #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #the dark knight #batman begins #the dark knigth rises #christian bale #bruce wayne x reader #batman #bruce wayne smut #bale!bruce wayne smut

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 month ago

Note

I am hungry and I require more oplita. Any oplita. Please, i need to feed my kids we need more oplita!!!!!

Coming right up! Your ship material, lovely asker!

Vaguely affiliated with my fic Action! but not canon to it.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Golden spools of cloth carefully draped over her form, covering and yet accentuating every aspect Orion adored when it came to his Conjunx. The outfit was loosely hung around his beloved's frame, tight around her chassis to show off her waist, but free flowing around her legs to give her total freedom of movement. It was traditional, but Orion couldn't help but think she looked like the Primes of old. Perhaps it was heretical, but he could only compare her to Solus Prime in grandeur.

"They are going to love you, Ariel. You shine most wonderfully." Orion murmured as he began clasping her audial attachments into place. The little tear drop shaped crystals shone in the light, glittering a brilliant blue like the morning sky when Cybertron came near to it's sister star.

"I know they will. You are making me into quite the sight." A smile settled on his beloved's fair features, her antennae perking up at the praise. For all her outward stoicism, his love still adored compliments when they were given genuinely.

"You do not need my assistance to light up the room, oh mighty Elita-One." A teasing smirk played on Orion's lips, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Elita as she turned in her chair, an optical ridge raised in silent amusement.

"You say that as if you are not just as note worthy, my Prime." Orion shrugged in response, waving away the statement with a gentle hum as if he hadn't considered the concept before. Then, with his smile maintained, he gathered up the necklace he'd purchased for Elita deca-cycles before. A gift he hoped she'd appreciate.

Long and nimble digits worked quickly to clasp the bejeweled piece in place around his beloved's neck, resting comfortably just above where he knew her spark chamber to be. It gleamed a soft deep aqua, just like her optics. As cliche as it was, when he saw it, all he could think of was her.

Seeing her expression shift from amusement to awe as she touched his gift tenderly was enough to make Orion's every trial over the past few cycles worth it. Anything to see her happy.

''You did not have to." Elita murmured gently as she ran her digits over the center jewel. Orion simply hummed, leaning down to rest his helm against hers. Not a word was exchanged between them for a blessed moment. Instead, everything was conveyed through a bond forged through struggle and adoration shared in equal measure between them. While their union was not as ancient and hardened as Chromia and Ironhide, Orion liked to think it was just as strong.

"I wanted to. You've brought so much joy into my life, I simply could not help but want to return the favor." Pressing a soft chaste kiss to her audial, Orion watched Elita's expression in the mirror in front of her. Truly, she was crafted as if Primus himself had overseen every plate and seam upon her form.

"Jewels and gifts are not the way to my spark, Orion Pax. I think you of all mecha know that better than most." Elita smiled coyly, her servo reaching up to caress his cheek. It was a familiar gesture, one Orion reacted to by pressing a kiss to her palm. He knew this song and dance.

"Then perhaps I ought to show my affections more openly." Orion met her gaze, and in that moment, all was right with the world. There were no trials that could tear them apart, not when their very sparks cried out in perfect symphony.

For all the problems their world faced, when he was with Elita, none of it mattered. So long as they were together, the universe was theirs to mold as needed.

"I think you should." With her quiet confirmation, Orion gently tilted her chin up with a digit. Then, with a quick press of their helm crests, her brought their derma together, soft and unhurried. There was no rush.

The rest of reality could wait. For the moment, all that mattered was the two of them and their quiet connection.

#transformers #maccadam #optimus prime #elita one #orion pax #ariel #alternate universe #short fanfic #optimus x elita #oplita

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andy-15-07 · 24 days ago

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A Dance of Eternal Promises

pairing:Alexei Vronsky x f!reader

summary:During preparations for a grand ball, Alexei and his beloved celebrate enduring love, whispered dreams, and hopeful new life.

word count: 2264 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

Alexei Vronsky and you woke early on that gentle morning, the sunlight barely brushing the ornate windowpanes of your shared home. Today was not merely any day—it was the day of the grand ball, and with it came the celebration of both your union and the soon-to-be arrival of your first child. In the hushed light of dawn, while the city still slept, the two of you found yourselves immersed in the soft rituals of preparation, each moment an ode to the love that had grown between you.

You sat before a carved antique vanity, your delicate hands moving with quiet precision as you arranged your hair. Resting gently on your lap was the unmistakable reminder of the life blossoming within you—a small, vibrant promise of the future. The room, adorned with roses and pastel draperies, filled with the scent of freshly cut peonies and the gentle murmur of your whispered hopes.

Alexei, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that spoke of refined elegance, approached with a smile that brightened his usually composed demeanor. “My love,” he said softly, his hand reaching to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, “you are more radiant than the morning light itself.”

Your eyes met his in the mirror, and a tender warmth spread through you. “Thank you, my dearest Alexei. Tonight, as we step into the ball, I want every eye to see the glow of our joy—of the life we are about to share.” Your voice carried both excitement and the weight of dreams fulfilled.

With measured care, he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “Every step we take tonight will be a step toward the future we build together. I long to dance with you, to lose myself in the music and the quiet promise that every heartbeat holds.”

The conversation flowed as naturally as the gentle breeze that stirred the lace curtains. You spoke of the anticipation of dancing beneath the soft glow of chandeliers, recalling memories of your first dance—when the world fell away and it was just the two of you, your hearts keeping perfect time. “Do you remember,” you began, your voice tinged with nostalgia, “when we first danced together, and it felt as though every note of the orchestra was written just for us?”

Alexei’s eyes sparkled with recollection. “How could I ever forget? It was as if the stars had aligned solely to bring our souls together. Every graceful turn we shared that night was a promise of the life we would lead—a life filled with passion, hope, and the constant wonder of love.”

As you both moved about your preparations, the room resonated with gentle laughter and whispered dreams. You carefully fastened a delicate brooch to your gown—a deep burgundy silk dress that hugged your form elegantly, its color reminiscent of the passionate hues of a sunset. “I have thought about tonight all week,” you confessed, adjusting the fabric with loving care. “I want our dance to tell the story of our journey, the struggles and triumphs, and now, the joy of a new beginning.”

Alexei stepped closer, his hand warm on your shoulder. “And I want every step we take on that dance floor to be a testament to our unyielding devotion. Our child will inherit a legacy of love, strength, and the beauty of shared dreams.” His voice, low and earnest, mingled with the soft strains of a distant piano.

You paused, a soft smile curving your lips as you glanced down at your belly. “Sometimes, I find myself imagining our child watching us now, wondering how we became so intertwined in each other’s hearts. It feels as if every moment, every glance, has led us to this crescendo of life.”

Alexei’s gaze softened. “Indeed, my love. Every heartbeat, every whispered word, every shared secret has woven the tapestry of our lives. Tonight, as we join the swirling throng at the ball, I want you to know that in every conversation, every dance, I see our past, our present, and the endless promise of our future.”

The hours ticked by as the two of you moved seamlessly between moments of quiet reflection and bursts of playful banter. At one point, while you adjusted a stray hem of your dress, you teased, “I wonder if our child will inherit my flair for mischief or your impeccable sense of style.”

Alexei chuckled, his laughter warm and rich. “Perhaps a little of both, my dear. I imagine our little one will have my adventurous spirit and your gentle grace—a perfect blend of both our souls.” His eyes crinkled with mirth as he continued, “And who knows? Maybe our child will be the one to steal the show at the next ball.”

The room around you was alive with the quiet symphony of domestic bliss—the soft clinking of fine china as breakfast was set out on a nearby table, the rustle of silk as you moved about, and the ever-present undercurrent of shared hope. Each object in the room seemed imbued with meaning, a silent witness to the love story unfolding with every whispered word and tender glance.

Before long, the time came to step out into the bustling world beyond your door. The grand staircase of your home, polished to a mirror-like shine, welcomed you both as you descended with measured grace. Every step echoed with the promise of the night ahead, a night where you would become the center of a celebration not just of opulence and artifice, but of a love that had been nurtured in the quiet moments between chaos and calm.

Outside, the world was vibrant with life. Carriages glided along cobblestone streets, and the chatter of passersby formed a lively counterpoint to the inner sanctum of your shared joy. Alexei, ever the gentleman, extended his hand to you. “Shall we, my love?” he asked, his tone both gentle and insistent, as if urging you to embrace the magic of the evening.

“Always,” you replied, your voice filled with quiet resolve and anticipation. “Let the night be a canvas for our dreams, a stage upon which our love is the performance of a lifetime.”

Walking together to the ball, your dialogue was a continuous exchange of memories, hopes, and plans. “Do you recall the first time we met at a similar celebration?” you inquired, eyes sparkling with the recollection of a long-ago summer night. “The way your smile lit up the room, making it seem as if everything had suddenly fallen into place?”

Alexei’s response was immediate and heartfelt. “I remember every detail. Your laugh was the melody that captured my heart. Even amidst the chatter and clinking glasses, it was as if only your voice reached me, pulling me toward you.” His tone held a note of reverence as he added, “Every dance, every glance since has been a reaffirmation of the bond we share.”

At the grand entrance of the ball, beneath glittering chandeliers and the admiring gaze of elegantly dressed guests, your conversation deepened. “Look at how everyone stops to admire us,” you whispered, a blend of amusement and quiet pride in your tone.

Alexei’s eyes never left yours. “They see only a glimpse of our story, but in that glimpse, they witness the passion and hope that define us. Tonight, the ball is not simply a celebration of society—it is a celebration of us, and of the future that awaits.”

Inside the ballroom, the ambiance was enchanting—a sea of dancing couples, lively music, and the soft murmur of delighted conversations. Yet even amidst this splendor, your dialogue remained intimate. While waltzing in a secluded corner of the floor, you said, “I sometimes worry that the splendor of this night might make me forget the simpler, quieter moments that truly matter.”

Alexei’s reply was immediate, his tone both reassuring and filled with adoration. “Never, my dear. For even in the brilliance of these lights and the grandeur of this setting, it is the simple truth of our love that shines brightest. Every shared smile, every whispered word, every heartbeat in sync with mine—it is all a reminder that true beauty lies in the authenticity of our connection.”

The dance continued, and with each turn and each gentle step, your conversation wove seamlessly between playful teasing and profound declarations of love. “Do you think,” you asked softly, “that one day, when our child is old enough, they will listen to our stories and understand the magic of a night like this?”

Alexei’s smile was both mysterious and tender. “I believe they will, my love. They will learn that our life has been a series of moments—a dance of passion and hope, of challenges met with courage and triumphs celebrated with joy. And in every step we take, they will see the unbreakable bond that has carried us through every storm.”

In the midst of the waltz, a dear friend approached, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Alexei, your love for her is as inspiring as the legends of old,” she said, her voice lilting in admiration. “Tell me, what is it that makes your union so extraordinary?”

Alexei’s eyes softened as he replied, “It is in the quiet moments, when the world fades away, and it is just the two of us—our hearts speaking in a language older than words. Our love is not simply a dance of appearances; it is a quiet, enduring melody that will guide us and our child through all of life’s seasons.”

Another guest, caught up in the enchantment of the night, added, “And now, with the promise of a new life soon to join your dance, it is as if the universe itself is rejoicing in your happiness.”

You smiled at these kind words, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Our child will be born into a world filled with love, laughter, and the beauty of shared dreams,” you said, your voice a soft murmur that resonated with every listener. “I want them to know that no matter where life takes us, our love will always be the guiding star.”

As the evening unfolded, every conversation, every shared laugh, and every whispered promise further enriched the tapestry of your lives. The ball became a living, breathing testament to the love you both nurtured—a love that had weathered storms and now shone as brightly as the chandeliers above.

At one point during a quiet interlude by a window draped with silver curtains, you paused to reflect. “Sometimes I wonder,” you said softly, “if all the beauty of this night is enough to capture the magnitude of our love. It seems so vast, so deep—how do we even begin to measure it?”

Alexei’s gaze was tender as he took your hand in his. “We do not measure love in grand gestures or opulent settings,” he said gently. “Love is found in the quiet moments—a shared glance, a soft touch, the way your eyes light up when you smile. Tonight, every moment is a note in the symphony of our lives. And no matter how grand the ball or how sparkling the chandeliers, it is our hearts that truly illuminate this night.”

In that moment, your words merged with his, forming a melody of hope and assurance that lingered long after the music had faded. You both knew that while the ball was a celebration of the present, it was also a promise—a promise of a future where every shared dance, every quiet conversation, and every new heartbeat would add to the enduring story of your love.

Later, as the final dance drew near and the crowd began to thin, you found a secluded corner where the gentle murmur of the evening gave way to a peaceful quiet. Here, with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through tall, arched windows, you continued your heartfelt dialogue. “I want you to promise me something,” you said, your voice husky with emotion. “Promise that no matter what comes, we will always hold on to this feeling—this unyielding joy, the simple truth of our love.”

Alexei pressed his forehead gently against yours, his voice a tender vow. “I promise, my beloved. Every day, every dance, every breath we share will be a reminder of the promise we made—to cherish one another, to hold our dreams close, and to nurture the love that has always been our guiding light.”

And so, as the night slipped quietly into the early whispers of dawn, Alexei Vronsky and you remained entwined in a timeless dance—a conversation of hearts, an endless dialogue of hope and commitment. The ball, with all its splendor and elegance, was but a backdrop to the real celebration: the celebration of your union, your shared dreams, and the promise of a new life soon to join your eternal dance.

In the gentle silence that followed, as the last notes of the music faded into the cool night air, you both knew that the beauty of this night would linger long in your hearts. It was a night of whispered confessions, of dreams shared between glances, and of promises made beneath the watchful eyes of the stars. A night that encapsulated the very essence of your love—timeless, unyielding, and infinitely beautiful.

With one final embrace and a quiet kiss that sealed every unspoken vow, you stepped out into the future, hand in hand, ready to greet the promise of tomorrow. The dance of your lives, rich with the laughter of the past and the hope of the future, continued onward—a brilliant, ceaseless melody echoing in every heartbeat, every shared word, every soft whisper of love.

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sketches4mysw33theart · 10 months ago

Text

To Indeed Be A God

The title has almost no bearing whatsoever on the writing, I'm just obsessed with the Dead Poets Society right now.

Pairing: Henry Winter (The Secret History)

Summary: A drowsy morning at the country house with Henry Winter involves a row around the lake, a breakfast picnic, and falling asleep in the boat.

Warnings: Google translated phrases, please let me know if these are wrong!

Check out my previous Henry Winter piece!

I awoke to a throbbing in my head, a contrasting harmony to the soft twittering of birds floating in through the open window. I couldn’t resist the groan that forced its way from my mouth. It felt as though my head was being split open repeatedly, like a misguided executioner was standing at the head of my bed and swinging an unsharpened axe.

It was several moments before I moved at all after I had rolled over, my body feeling scarily heavy yet weightless at the same time. I had little desire to so much as breathe manually, let alone open my eyes and face the merciless joy of the sunlight.

As I lay there, eyes closed firmly, hands grasping the thin silk duvet, flashes of the previous night came to me as though through a camera’s lens.

The dinner, a large affair to mourn the passing of the twin’s beloved dog. The wine sloshing in the Abernathy’s prized crystal wine glasses. Those same glasses raised in multiple toasts and clinking together like blood-soaked moths in the candlelight. Charles at the piano playing melodies of sweet summers past. The bottle of Bourbon passed between us without a care for tumblers. Francis plucking Camilla from the armchair she had curled herself up in to stumble around the library in a clunky dance. Bunny’s face, lined with confusion and acidity, watching us all through rolling eyes. Richard’s reflection, gaping at the chandelier-lit room through dazed eyes, as I stared out of the window, looking for stars but finding only my own distorted face.

And Henry, tall and proud and stoic and quiet. Him I could picture clearly, as sharp and focused as a still life portrait. He’d drank as much as us, more, yet he’d never fizzed over like we did. Only watched from the sofa as we exploded like fireworks, flashing reds and yellows reflected twofold in the whites of his eyes through his glasses.

Then, me falling into place beside him, head spinning in dizzying circles even as I laid it back on the plush sofa cushions with my eyes shut, light popping behind my eyelids.

Then, him whispering to me, the soft, cold anchoring of his deep voice, but either I couldn’t tell what he was saying, or I was not in tune enough to listen.

Then, I was there, waking up in bed.

I opened my eyes when the pounding in my head began to lessen, allowing the bird song to wash over me rather than suffocate me. The thick curtains were open, weak sunlight creeping across the oak floor and furnishings, lighting them up like whisky. It was cool, that early morning chill before the last of the lingering summer heat could settle in again.

I watched the floor for several minutes, praying for my headache to cease. Of course, praying never did anyone much good. Henry would be disappointed.

I didn’t have a clock in the room I stayed in during nights at the country house. Francis’s great aunt, whose room that used to be, couldn’t stand them. She felt they made her rush.

Still, I could guess it was early. There was no noise. Francis wasn’t singing in the kitchen as he made breakfast, Charles and Camilla weren’t bickering meaninglessly in the depths of the house, Bunny wasn’t honking his laugh at some ridiculous jibe. There was nothing except pure tranquillity.

I knew of one other person, for certain, who would be up so early. That was motivation enough to get out of bed. Still, it was a struggle. My body fought it as I sat up, pushed myself to my feet, scrabbled through my bag for clothes, and checked myself over in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable.

Finally, I exited the room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. The hallway was quiet, eerily so, and I paced down it, focusing on the soft, luxurious carpet against my bare feet over the pounding of my head.

On the stairs at the end of the hallway, Francis was curled up, still fully dressed, like a small child unable to stay conscious on a drive back from the beach, snoring obnoxiously and fiercely cuddling a near-empty bottle of whiskey. His overcoat tails were tangled between his bent legs, pale, slender ankles poking out conspicuously from his half pulled-off socks. In the country house, this was not an uncommon occurrence.

I clambered over him, trying not to catch his limbs or face with my foot. As though sensing my presence as he slumbered, Francis uncurled his body, spreading himself out across several steps and out of the way of my bare feet. Smiling, I leant down to pat him gently on the cheek, careful not to disturb him. He looked incredibly peaceful, for once.

I left Francis on the stairs, snoring in the shadows of the half-shuttered windows, and headed towards the library. There was a fair chance Henry would be there and, if not, I would likely spot him on my way over.

As expected, it did not take me long. Henry valued the morning hours, the weak light illuminating the thick pages of his books, the quietness of a dawn tainted only by the songs of the birds.

He was sat outside, of course, fully dressed, a suited silhouette through the ornate glass doors, a splatter of ink against the canvas of autumn. Although I pushed open the doors as softly as I could, his head shot up as soon as it began to squeak.

“Good morning,” he said, with a smile. “Drink up.” A slight gesture of his hand brought to my attention a full glass of water and a sleeve of ibuprofen sparkling in the cool, creeping light.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, fumbling with the package in my desperation to push out two of the pills. When I managed to do so, I swallowed them quickly with a large gulp of water, which I drained gladly straight after.

Once I’d swiped at my lips, I took the few steps to his seat. Standing behind him, I rested my hands on his broad shoulders and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. I caught the smile on his face, which did little to lessen the furrow of his brow.

“How’s the translation going?”

This question elicited a heavy sigh from him. “It’s all wrong, unfortunately. The verbs won’t translate well, and these sentence structures are ridiculously tricky.”

“Boreís na to káneis éfkola agápi mou,” I breathed into his ear, bringing my fingertips to his sharp shoulder blades. You can do it easily, my love.

He laughed. “Óchi ótan eísai étsi, den boró.” Not when you’re like this, I can’t.

I hummed humorously, spreading my massaging fingertips along his taut shoulders. Spread out before us was the house’s garden, as pure and fierce as Eden, coming swiftly to life in front of my eyes. The sun was just emerging, lingering in the far east like God, watching His creations come to life as on the seventh day. Henry was watching it too, finally relieving himself of his books in favour of the glitter of the autumnal flowers, Gomphrena and Didiscus and Goldenrod.

It wasn’t often I was up early enough to catch Henry on mornings like this. Despite our circumstances, we never shared a bed during our stays at the country house, primarily because Henry didn’t want to disturb me during our short vacations, or so he said. But also, because, I believe, he was rather shy about our activities around the rest of the Greek class. They knew, of course – we were never as subtle as we thought - but, still, there was something prudish lying within Henry. Or perhaps it was possessive. Not that it matters now, I suppose.

“Let’s go to the lake,” he said, suddenly, startling me from my observance of a large bee bumbling its way drunkenly through a flowerbed.

“Now?” I questioned, surprised. Henry enjoyed the mornings because of the quiet solitude they offered him, the time to be alone with his books and his papers. Things he valued even more, I think, than me.

“Would you like to?”

I was still sleepy, even more so after taking the ibuprofen Henry had laid out. Still, I could picture how lovely it would be: the drowsy, sun-laced walk through the dandelions and uncut grasses, the heady smell of nature flourishing around us, the somniferous sound of waves lapping at the gently rocking boat, the mesmerizing feeling of floating on air.

“Yes,” I said, “I would, actually.” Henry was always confidently persuasive. Eerily so. Not that I would have needed much persuading, really. I just liked to think there was something magic about him.

He sighed, stretching out his aching limbs as he got to his feet. Pre-emptively, he removed his jacket and folded it meticulously, leaving it on the seat of his chair. “Good. Perhaps we should take breakfast with us?”

It was a wonderful idea, and we slipped back inside to prepare a breakfast picnic: a full bottle of orange juice, a half-full stoppered bottle of champagne left over from the previous night, a package of strawberries, a selection of pastries bought from Camilla’s favourite bakery on our way to the country house the previous morning, and a packet of large blueberry muffins.

With our breakfast packed in an old wicker basket, we set off into the morning sun, meandering through the budding flowers and tall grasses, clasped arm in arm. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to the lake, but we lingered meaninglessly on the way, I to admire the nature and wildlife, and Henry to momentarily relieve his arm of the picnic basket and watch me with a smile when he thought I couldn’t see him.

Eventually, we made it, and eagerly hopped into the lonesome boat oared at the makeshift jetty, picnic basket still in hand. Considering it was so early, Henry was alive with vigour, and rowed eagerly, pushing us quickly to the centre of the lake. He had been somewhat withdrawn over the last few weeks, particularly during our days at the country house, so seeing him come to life among the falling birch leaves was a gift.

We covered one lap of the lake at a fairly quick pace, talking about our latest classes, Julian’s theory of Dionysiac architects (which was, essentially, that the secret language they spoke was more akin to modern day English than any other language throughout history), and the startling resemblance that morning of the pond and surrounding countryside to Jan Brueghel the Elder’s ‘Odysseus and Calypso’ - one of my favourite paintings.

Henry slowed as we began our second lap of the lake, and I watched his concentrated expression in the water’s reflection.

“Aren’t you tired?” I was feeling a little peppier now, despite the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping gently at the boat, and I knew Henry had been up significantly longer than I had. “Can I take over?”

“No, you don’t have to do anything.” I was still watching him in the warped shine of the water, and he caught my eye through the fairy-dust covering of birch leaves. “Just sit right there and look like you do.” A smile flittered across his face briefly, and I shook my head, laughing.

“If you say so,” I said, still laughing. Henry rowed on and began to fill the silence with his stream of thoughts on Heraclitus’ ideas of opposites, and how the philosopher decreed Hades and Dionysus as the same God, a belief Henry was strongly against. Occasionally he’d break his speech to mumble a suggestion for his translation, which he no doubt tucked away into another corner of his mind for later.

At some point, I lay back across the seat of the boat, head coming to rest on the lip, one hand stretching over to trail in the lukewarm water. Francis had said once that one of the neighbours had seen leeches in the lake, and Bunny always swore blind that there were water snakes in there. Yet, still, we all went out on it as often as we could, swimming and fighting and trailing our hands through the ripples.

Listening to Henry speak tantrically and feeling the warm water kiss my fingertips was as delicious and satisfying as being carried in Charon’s boat across the rivers separating the worlds of the living and the dead. I wanted it to last forever. The best kind of purgatory. Psuche.

But eventually, we did come to a stop, once Henry, with some difficulty, had managed to turn the boat and situate it towards the centre of the lake. I sat up and stretched, groaning at the creak of my bones.

As I heaved the picnic basket up on to the seat, Henry balanced the oars properly, wiped at his brow, and rolled up his sleeves, eying the cutlery and plates I was laying out. He must have been starving.

I looked to him to ask if he had any preference for pastries as I began doling out them onto our plates, but the question died on my lips when I saw a constellation of bruises flowering in a strange pattern along his freshly revealed arm. They were fresh, a shocking purple tinted with red.

“Henry,” I exclaimed, croissant held in one frozen hand. “What in God’s name have you been doing?”

He furrowed his brows at me, following my eye line quickly. I saw him flounder for a moment, but in a flash, he was as composed as the Queen’s Guard.

“Don’t fuss, it’s nothing. I fell in the garden yesterday morning, those damn dogs left more garbage on my front path. Is that for me?”

I believed him, of course. It was a perfectly sensible answer, and certainly not the first time something like that had happened. If only I’d known...

I gave him the croissant, and finished plating up the food as he poured two Mimosas into the old teacups we’d packed, using far more champagne than orange juice. We ate in a comfortable silence, broken sporadically by random thoughts and anecdotes; we were both slipping into fatigue once more now the sun was fully risen, not too warm against our skin, and the inebriating smells of flowers and the birch trees were reaching out to us, woody and smoky like winter night’s gone by.

Four Mimosa’s later (between us), we had finished our breakfast, and were lying, nearly unconscious, in the boat, which was very slowly bobbing its own way around the lake once more. Henry was stretched out completely, arms acting as a pillow, and I was tucked in on my side next to him, resting my head on the broad stretch between his shoulder and chest.

God knows how long we stayed there in the boat, moving listlessly without direction or need, bumping lightly against the bank until one of us made the effort to lift a foot and push us away, listening to the birds' tweet and fly above us, feeling the gentle caress of the birch leaves across her skin, hearing the soft intermingling of our breaths just over the gently lapping water as it granted us passage, seeing the shades of light and dark through the shield of our eyelids. Zoe. The divine life of God.

When we were roused, the air, the very nature around us felt different, alive, charged. The sun was crawling towards the centre of the sky, but several dark clouds were on its heels. Hours must have passed.

I came back to life first, awaking as though from death’s sleep, drowsy and confused. What came to me, however, was the distant call of my name, the familiar cadence of the voice. Francis. It was Francis.

As his shouting got closer and slightly more frantic, I pushed myself up with one hand braced against the smooth wood of the boat’s sole, using the other to first wipe the sleep from my eyes and then shield them from the sun.

Francis was on the far bank, heading towards the small jetty, and waving his arms as though welcoming in a plane. He was, I noticed with some amusement, still wearing the same clothes he was in when I’d stepped over him that morning. I waved my free hand at him, and he shouted my name again. “Are you insane? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Is Henry with you? It’s gone 12, you know.”

I couldn’t muster up the energy to respond to him, but I did lay a hand on Henry’s shoulder to shake him awake. With a bit of resistance, he came to, and sat up in the same sluggish manner as me, stretching out his arms, back, and neck.

Francis called to him now. “Henry? Henry! Bring the damn boat in, will you? Julian’s coming to dinner tonight, and I need everything to be ready.”

Henry waved his fingers at him, a dismissive acknowledgement, a king sending away a disobedient courtier. Finally, he opened his eyes, landing his gaze directly on me. He smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth so quickly I did not have time to respond. “Piso ston politismó,” he said lowly, a melancholy look setting in his features. Back to civilization.

He situated himself carefully on the seat while I stayed where I was watching him like I was at the feet of one the post-Socratics. He picked up the oars once more and started rowing us back to bios. Back to life.

#dead poets society #the secret history #tsh donna tartt #henry winter #camilla macaulay #bunny corcoran #richard papen #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #donna tartt #imagine #the secret history imagine #henry winter x reader #julian morrow #dark academia #charles and camilla #dark academia books #odysseus

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cillians-sweetheart · 2 months ago

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The Marriage Pt. 2 (Pregnancy) - Cillian Murphy

Cillian Murphy!Husband (34) x Wife!Reader (18)

Plot: (During the Middle-Bronze age (the era of the bibles setting)) After the seven days of love making between Y/N and her husband Cillian, she is delighted one morning with the absence of her period, and births the child of her dreams.

(Story is based off the novel, The Red Tent by Anita Diamant)

Content: Religious themes/rituals, speak of menstruation, fluffy husband x wife, age-gap, pregnancy, childbirth (kinda graphic), emotional Cillian

It was days after when I had left the lust-filled tent to return to my sisters. My beige robe dragged against the grass. It held a scent of sweat and arousal, from both Cillian and I’s bodies.

I was greeted sweetly by my sisters outside of their tents with delicate kisses. Leah was the first to come to me with endless questions. They had such curiosity about Cillian; about what he held between his legs. Many young girls -the daughters and nieces- dreamed of having him as their husband. To carry and birth his children. To have him as the man to first remove their robes. Just as he did to me.

Circling around my sisters and aunties in Leah’s tent, I told them about the joys and pleasures he had given me. With his words and with his seductive touch. The experience we had throughout those seven days.

“He was good unlike any other man. Kind, and gentle with a good scent.”

“Did he bless your womb, love?” My auntie spoke as her gentle hand rubbed over my thigh. Her hand traveled up to my lower abdomen. I nodded and she took my face into her hands, kissing my cheeks and nose tenderly.

“And in the night he held me to his chest, stroking my arms and legs.” I said with an uncontrollable smile growing on my lips. “He told me that I gladdened his heart like a sunrise.”

My sisters awed with every word about Cillian. Each already wished their husbands would pay any attention to them as he did. To them, I was the blessed one. With beauty and the love from a good husband.

Another sister of mine -Rachel- came to me with a cup of wine. She lifted my chin and held the cup to my lips. The fruity bitterness flowing down my throat. I was greeted throughout the evening with bread and fresh baked cakes from my mothers. And as I slept I was sung prayers, and Leah's light fingers combed through my hair. It was now that I would wait for the next moon to reveal either my monthly bleed, or a growing pregnancy.

Each night before I’d sleep in Cillian’s arms, I would glance around the sky for the glistening moon. Waiting for the day it is black, meaning the beginning of the new moon, and the anniversary of my first bleed.

And eventually the day came. I woke in the red tent with the hay below me dry and the rag between my legs clean of blood.

I sprung from my bed to Leah and Rachel who were lying in their beds next to me. “Sisters! My bleed, it’s late!” I squealed with excitement, shaking their shoulders. Leah sat up and held my hands in hers.

“Oh sister” Her cheeks glowed pink and she grinned warmly. She stood and pulled me to her chest. Her arms held firmly and lovingly around my back. My other sisters and aunties stood from their beds and all reached to touch and caress my young belly. And with the sounds of the excited women, my mother became curious from my fathers tent. She arose from her sleep and walked lightly to wear the happy cheering came from. Slowly she lifted and peered inside the red tent. Her eyes found me, then to Leah, and Rachel.

No one had to say a word. With the sounds and faces on my sisters, she knew. Everyone was silent as my mother came to me, taking my young hands in hers, and the other on my clothed belly. “I did not think I would live to see a grandchild,” She said delicately to me while smiling ear to ear. “Beloved girl, daughter mine.”

I felt true love from my mother at that moment. Love I hadn't witnessed since I was just an infant. With me now holding life in my womb, I could be treasured by the mothers and grandmothers of our family. I now held purpose.

As the evening came, and the women baked, I found Cillian in a group of men and sheep. His blue eyes shining in the setting sunlight, and his robe clean as always.

The men quieted as I approached him. He turned away from them and came to me. I brought my hand to his scruffy cheek, “Dear husband, I am with child.” I grinned warmly, looking up into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes of his lit up with love. He took my face in his hands and kissed me lovingly.

My sisters in the distance watched and awed. It could be seen that out of several wives, I was the one who held his heart in the palm of my hands. He’d sacrifice all for me, and our growing child.

Cillians hand came to my belly and womb. He rubbed it with the palm of his hand sensing the little life inside. “My precious girl…” He cooed. “You are my Queen of Heaven.” His smile soothed me and made my insides lighten with love.

Over several months, my belly began to swell plump and round against my tunic, and my ankles swelled. Leah and Rachel would caress the life in my belly in the morning, and in the night Cillian would trail kisses along my soft, stretched flesh. His finger would trace gently up the line below my belly button and he’d message my swollen, sore breasts until I’d fall asleep. He treasured my body and the life within it. As did the women in the camp.

During a feast I sat alongside my aunties and sisters as they prepared food for the men. With my belly growing larger and rounder each day it became harder to stand and help bake. Eventually it became impossible to even touch my feet.

As the men began to gather around for their meals, an older woman came from the trees in a colourful flowy robe. I’d seen her before. My mother walked to her and bowed her head. I watched and slowly stood from the stack of hay. She was my grandmother. The midwife of our family. She didn’t live at our camp, but came when the gods told her a child will be brought into the family. When Leah was with child, she traveled weeks just to bless her womb.

My grandmothers wrinkled eyes met mine and she walked past my mother to me. Her hands came straight to my belly. She felt and pressed down against the baby's tiny limbs through my belly. “A daughter.” She says, her eyes coming up to mine.

The women go silent at her words. Throughout the months of my pregnancy I had always felt the life of a boy in me, but hearing my child is a girl made me feel something new. I wasn’t disappointed, I was delighted, and almost relieved though I’ve only ever wanted a boy.

My mother standing next to us smiled widely and pulled me into her arms. She cried and kissed my cheeks. My sisters and aunties gathered around me and smiled giving me their blessings. The commotion and laughs of the women brought confusion to the men. Cillian and my father stood and came in between the circle of women.

We quieted and I looked into Cillian’s eyes in front of me holding my belly, “a girl… we are bearing a girl…” I smiled. Cillian stood lost for words, with an expression on his face that was hard to read before he grinned widely. He slowly stepped to me through the grass and his hands came to the little girl in my womb. He held her through my heavy flesh.

“You lucky girl,” Leah held my shoulder. “To bring a daughter, a giver of life, to our world.”

Cillian took my hands into his and kissed them until every inch was blessed with his lips. I could feel the intensity of his love from his kisses alone.

On the morning of the new moon, 9 months past my absence of my monthly bleed, I woke to cramps churning in my stomach. At first I was able to breathe past it, only lasting a few minutes and being an hour apart. I continued with my day preparing meals the best I could and cleaning the fresh picked vegetables the men had gathered.

I peeled the layers of useless skin from onions and bathed them in barrels of water. The cramps deep in my womb became sharper, and more frequent. They became contractions that caught the attention of Rachel. She came to me putting her arm around my back as I panted and squeezed my eyes close. My skin became hot and my breath became laboured.

Rachel called over Leah to help keep me on my feet while they guided me to the tent. While I stepped forward, gushes of water flowed down my legs. I froze as my robe darkened and became soaked in my fluids.

The pain hit me like a blade to the stomach as my water broke onto the dewy grass. I hollered and felt as if my legs would fall. Leah quickly hauled me into the red tent and laid me onto the stack of hay and blankets.

Sweat dripped down my red face, and the stabbing pressure increased. Leah lifted my robe and peered between my legs. By now I was yelling and panting as if the baby were about to come out at any second, but the head wasn’t even visible.

More of the women began to crowd in, including my mother. She sat at my side and ran her hand on my forehead wiping away the sweat and bits of hair. At my other side Rachel held my hand and I squeezed her tender flesh with my every contraction. And each second the pain grew worse causing me to tremble and go wide-eyed. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I peered around cluelessly. All I wanted was Cillian. I needed to hear his voice, and feel his loving hands, but men didn’t attend births until after the child was born and cleaned.

My mother, being the daughter of one of the greatest midwives, learned every skill and technique of my grandmother. In her life she’s seen hundreds of births and was the most experienced in our camp.

She gently guided me to my side and she rubbed my belly while her other hand reached up inside me. I howled and screamed, and my mother soothed the inner lining of my womb with mint oils. “The baby is near.” My mother smiled, her fingers lightly glazing her head from inside. “Soon you will need to stand on the bricks when her head is lower.”

I nodded and took quick breaths. My sisters surrounding my trembling body rubbed my legs and back while praising and reassuring me.

“Good, good, good, my girl.” Leah cooed while her hands messaged my aching back. “Good, good.”

I screamed and shook as the baby's head began to crown at the entrance of my sex. Quickly my mother and Leah lifted beneath my arms to my feet and laid bricks for me to stand on. My mother pressed down on my stomach while my legs shivered and shook, squatting over Rachels hands.

My aunties held me with all their strength as I was not able to keep myself up. My legs felt as if they would break and die at any moment, and my sex stretched and ripped around the baby’s head.

Screamings of mine could be heard far throughout the site. Cillian sitting just meters away from the tent cried in fear and sadness of my pain. A previous wife of his lost her life during birth, and the thought of that happening to me made him nauseous.

Finally after the hours of blood curdling pain, my mother told me to push. My eyes bulged, and my skin turned red and blue. Gushes of blood flowed from between my legs as my daughter's head came free. And with my little remaining energy, I pushed and her little body slipped out of me and into Rachel's hands.

She screamed and squirmed and my body fell weak against the stack of hay. My sisters and aunties cheered and laughed. They passed the baby around the tent, wiping her and kissing her, praising her limbs, her torso, her head, and her little nose.

My womb was stuffed with cotton and bits of straw, and my face and legs were wiped and cleaned. The crying little girl was wrapped in a rag and handed to me by my mother. In my arms her crying calmed. I took out my breast and she grabbed onto my nipple eagerly with her tiny lips.

She was so beautiful, incredibly perfect. Every bit of her little face resembled Cillian’s gorgeous features. I cried and leaned to lay gentle kisses onto her soft head. And as I kissed her, Leah returned into the tent -without me even noticing she left- with Cillian. His eyes were red and glistening as he slowly approached and lowered down to the sucking baby. The women in the tent silenced. Cillian cried joyfully at the sight of his first daughter. “Oh, my love” He cooed gently, caressing the top of her head. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

I looked up from our little girl into his eyes. He smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. I reached and held onto his face. I felt fulfilled and relieved to finally have him at my side, and to have this little girl finally in my arms. I never expected I could love someone as much as I did my girl and Cillian.

As my energy began to return, I left the tent to join Cillian in his. The people in the site crowded around our baby with words of prayer and praise at her stunning little features.

In his tent, we sat and while staring at her face and glowing blue eyes, I named her Adina. A daughter of delicacy.

“She is a jewel,” Cillian purred, tenderly caressing her cheek. “A princess sent from heaven. Like her mother.” he grinned and brought his lips down to mine. His hand stroked lovingly through my hair, and Adina cooed in my arms. It was known as a mix of the two most beautiful people, comes a goddess of a child. Adina would be praised and shown off by every mother who would hold her at their hip and kiss her little face. She was Cillians treasure who would be forever loved and protected in his arms.

And as the sun set he insisted he be the one who’d hold her to his chest throughout the night. He removed the layers of his robe revealing his muscular chest. I took the rag from around Adina and laid her bare skin down onto his. She cuddled against his warmth and closed her innocent eyes. I watched as Cillian tickled her bare back with his fingertips until each of us were asleep. Cuddled together as a family.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian fic #the red tent #anita diamant #bronze age #historical fiction #pregnancy #childbirth

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fawnsflowerbed · 2 years ago

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leon x pregnant reader 🥹 you can choose the plot. just fluffy smut or just a fluffy fic. i love your leon writings

Thank you my love!! AlsO UGHHH YES THIS IS ADORABLE I LOVE IT!!!

Leon always wanted that classic white picket fence life with a loving spouse and a child. A perfect little life to call his own. Now that you’re well into your pregnancy, he feels the need to express just how much he loves you.

Warnings/content: Fem reader, 2nd person (you/yours), RE6 Leon, domestic bliss vibe, BIG OL’ FLUFFBALL!!

Word count: 2,400 (est)

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

All of those stories about motherhood being a blessing, glowing experience where you get to connect with yourself and your child on a cosmic level?

Absolute bullshit. You were due in about 14 weeks and wanted this thing out. Did you love them? 100 percent. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss the days where leaning down didn’t feel like you were being stabbed in every muscle imaginable, or when you could actually sleep. Not to mention some days you marvelled at how a life was about to be brought into the world thanks to you and others you sat crying in Leon’s arms about how fat you were because you’d easily outgrown all of your clothes and some shoes thanks to the swelling. Hormones. Hormones were the devil.

But it was true, you found yourself running your hand over the rather firm skin of your belly in the sun streaming through the kitchen window, trying to ignore the ache in your feet whilst you stood in front of the sink. You could somewhat feel it, that bliss and awe of knowing there was a life growing inside of you. One that you’d made. No matter how sore you were, no matter how big your belly, you refused to be helpless. So you stood, glass in hand over hot soapy water. You gave it a final wipe down before setting it in the drying rack. Next you moved onto a plate.

“Excuse me miss, but you should be laying down.”

Leon’s voice had you turning to see him enter the kitchen, fresh from work but ever so happy despite his busy schedule. He’d been that way ever since you’d found out about your little one, a beacon of light and domestic joy. You hadn’t seen him this happy in a while, although there were a few occasions where he seemed this joyful; the afternoon he asked you out, the night he proposed, your wedding day, when you announced your pregnancy to him. He was happy around you, but positively ecstatic at those times.

“We’re lucky I’m even doing this without rushing to the bathroom again.” You scoffed.

His hands were resting under the weight of your swollen stomach, lifting up slightly to take some of the pressure off of your back. You had those pregnancy books to thank, Leon had studied those things like they were a mission briefing. He wanted to be fully prepared for up until the baby arrived, and that included keeping his beloved wife as comfortable as possible.

You groaned out with a creased brow of relief, lulling your head back against his shoulder. “God, that's so much better. Also I’m already on Kennedy house arrest, might as well keep myself busy while you’re gone.”

He nuzzled his nose affectionately into the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Yeah well I won’t be gone anymore. I’m talking to the board about family leave, considering the fact that junior is giving you hell.”

You frowned at him. “Baby, I'm not due for another three months.”

“First off, doctor said it’s actually 14 weeks.”

That earned him an eye roll. “Same thing, smartass.”

“Second, better safe than sorry. You’re still prone to swelling, and we’re more than comfortable money wise.”

“How can I not be safe when I’m walking around with a husband for an ankle monitor?”

A grin crept up his face with a slight shrug, ensuring not to disturb you nestled into his shoulder. “At least I’m a handsome one.”

True, the morning sickness was a pain in the ass, stomach, throat and mouth and half the time the smell of certain things like citrus had you rushing to the toilet to throw your guts up, but god if you didn’t love moments like these. Where all you had to focus on was each other and the life you were building together, despite the world constantly trying to fall out from under your feet. This sense of normality amongst the chaos of Leon’s career and the strain it put on your lives that you both powered through, fighting for one another. And now you were both willing to fight for your child and the home you’d spent so much time working for.

With gentle hands he slowly lowered your belly back down much to your dismay, gaining him a disappointed moan as you felt the weight of your unborn baby drag you back down. He then reached around you to take the dish from your hand. Unwillingly you let him.

“Alright, off you go. Rest up on the couch.”

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass.” You grumbled.

A sweet kiss to the cheek was the closest thing to an apology you got for his statement. “Well you might as well be. I love you sweetheart, but you’ve always been accident prone, pregnant or not.” He took a step back to allow you to slip out of his arms. “Go on now.”

So you did just that, taking your step by step waddle away from the sink and into the doorway of the living room. But not before calling back to Leon.

“Alright, but I’m still cooking dinner! You aren’t allowed near that stove!”

You could hear him huffing from where you stood. “You burn water once, I swear.” He turned his head into the living room for you to hear. “And you aren’t any better, your tastes have gotten weird.”

You couldn’t help but scowl playfully, shouting back. “It’s called cravings! Complain about it when you’ve got a 7 something kilogram bowling ball using your organs as a pillow!”

You were now making some kind of attempt to take a nap but god only knows that was impossible when your child was swimming olympic laps through your uterus and making a very rough effort to barge at your pelvis.

It was time for some mama to baby talk. You pressed both hands to your stomach, whispering down at your unborn baby.

“Listen here, kid. You’re gonna get the shit loved out of you when you get out of me, so how about cutting your mum some slack for now, yeah? Might even score you a puppy.”

“Are you making empty promises because Tiny’s putting stress on you?” Clearly finished with your job and likely planning to order something for dinner, Leon came in to see you talking down at your swollen belly.

“Not like they’ve been using my bladder as a trampoline since forever. Oh, and playing hide and seek around my goddamn ribcage. Perks of their daddy being a government agent, your stupid strength must be hereditary.”

He gave you a shit-eating smile, taking a knee down next to you as you stayed laying on the sofa. “I’m flattered. Means they’ll be a worthy crash tackle competitor.”

Another frown. “You crash tackle our child in the house and I’m putting you in time out.”

“Yowch. Got it.”

Once again you felt the short-lived embrace of domestic bliss, both of you staring intently at the roundness of your body thanks to the life growing inside of you. But something was still eating away at you.

You took his hand in yours to catch his attention. Leon turned to look at you, now seeing the concern on your face.“You’re not- scared, are you? Or is that just me?”

His light chuckle hit your ears as a sign of comfort. “Oh honey I’m petrified. This is scarier than anything I’ve ever done. But I know it’ll be worth it.”

You ran your thumb across his knuckles. “We both waited long enough for this.”

“God, if that ain’t the truth.” He swallowed, eyes looking down for a moment before he looked back up into yours. This time with a touch of sadness and longing. “I never- I never thought I’d get to have a family after everything that happened. After being strung along by my job day after day I thought I’d never have that life I always dreamed of having. But then I found you.”

A loving squeeze to his hand in return to his loving nature, followed by your own joke to lift him back up. “Yeah and your swimmer found the egg, asshole.”

Just as you planned he was smiling, leaning up and over to kiss at your forehead. “Grouch all you want, sweetheart. You’re allowed to, considering the fact that you’ve been carrying around an extra tiny human.” Then his hand was leaving yours to rest on your belly. “I just- I love you so much, and if this baby is anything like you then I’m confident we’ll be okay.”

You’d marry this man for a thousand lifetimes if you could. Leon had been nothing short of a saint to you ever since you’d met, and the glow of dating turning into marriage and then parenthood had made your bond stronger than ever.

Maybe it was from seeing you talking to them or maybe it was that fatherly instinct but Leon was now craning his neck down to start talking at your stomach.

“Don’t you go being too much like your papa, okay? You can take my rugged looks and cunning wit, and definitely my humour. But you’re gonna have your mama's heart. And hopefully her laugh.” He turned to you for a second. “Man, can you imagine if they have your laugh?” Now back to the baby. “You just wait until you can hear it properly, junior. Your mother has the most amazing laugh.”

You shrugged through sore shoulders. “It’s not that great.”

Your husband was quick to disagree. “I’m sure the baby thinks otherwise.”

“Well-”

And then there it was. A hard budge to the swollen shell of your stomach, right next to Leon’s hand as if reaching out at him.

The first full forced movement.

You both instantly looked at each other in awe despite your obvious discomfort.

Leon stumbled for a moment. “Holy shit, did-”

“That was a kick. The baby kicked.”

If you thought he was smiling before this he was now positively beaming with pride, drawn right back down to your child. “A kick. That was a kick! It’s like she hears me, oh my god.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, she?”

“I’ve got a knack for these things, your cravings gave it away.”

“Okay the fact that I wanted strawberries and cheese does not prove your theory, that’s a myth. They just made it look really good in Ratatouille.”

“Yes, and our daughter made you so emotional you cried when Remy got kicked out of the kitchen but that’s besides the point.” His ear was pressed right up against you, head tilted slightly against your tummy to speak against your skin to the baby in a soft voice. “Hey baby girl, do you hear me? You hear your daddy?”

Another swift kick, one that had you resting your own hand on your stomach with squinted eyes. Yup, strong like their dad. But you didn’t want to complain too much, not when Leon sat with his eyes wide and teary in absolute delight and awe. With two large hands cradling either side of your belly and an ear up to your skin almost in disbelief. The joys of fatherhood were hitting him all at once and it was nothing short of beautiful to witness.

“It’s like I can hear her heartbeat. There’s- that’s our baby. That’s our baby in there.” He was saying it quietly, as if to himself out of shock of the life inside of you.

“Lee, you’re crying.” You acknowledged with a saddened tone, wiping a stray tear from under your husband’s eye without even acknowledging your own thanks to your rushing hormones. “Honey, are you okay?”

No response, not yet anyway. He was still too busy memorising the way your child was responding to him. When the haze lessened just a smidge, Leon leaned up to rest his forehead against yours, a wide smile on his face as he spoke in a hushed whisper.

“I’m just so happy.”

Your heart could’ve broken right then and there. All Leon ever dreamt about was a family, ever since before Raccoon City. And he thought that dream was lost forever along with the place he’d sworn to protect on that day, but now it was your shared reality. He was about to have a baby with the love of his life, and he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Thank you, love. Thank you.”

You smiled right back, a smile short lived as you groaned out in pain, feeling the baby barging up against your bladder. That was your warning. “Oh yeah we gotta move. Bathroom.”

He shook his head slightly with a light-hearted scoff, blinking back up his tears. “On it.”

That was the cue for him to shift so you could waddle your way on sore feet to the bathroom, somewhat of a ritual at this point. If you weren’t overwhelmed with emotions or begging the baby to let you sleep, you were peeing. Leon stood outside the toilet as you finished up, leaning against the wall as you continued your conversation.

“I’m gonna hate you when this thing comes out.” You called out from the bathroom while drying off your hands, your voice echoing off the tiles before coming back out to join him.

Leon seemed to be the one glowing throughout your pregnancy, and he was showing it off right now in the way he stared at you like you were the most heavenly thing to walk the earth. He found you beautiful before you were pregnant, the most beautiful person in the world, but seeing you bearing his child just made you so much more gorgeous to him. “I’ve been warned of labour hate, I’m ready for it and the thousands of swear words.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, settled against the wall with his hands on your hips. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much that you have no idea. Thank you, for all of this. For letting me have you. You and our tiny.”

“We love you too, Lee. But get me pregnant again and I’ll have you neutered.”

#leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil leon #resident evil x reader #resident evil #insomniacanswers #papa Leon Kennedy #papa!leon #papa!leon x reader #works ✎₊˚⊹

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softlypaintedseafoam · 26 days ago

Text

a blazing star sought refuge in my chest

synopsis. your contract was simple ー the control devil would not use her powers on you; you just needed to stay with her forever.

pairing. makima x f!reader (afab)

word count. 7.2k | masterlist

content warning. part 1 spoilers (manga spoilers), canon divergence (makima never meets denji), man is a blazing star (series), character death, reincarnation, "find me again" trope, use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

and now part 2 of my beloved (to me) series is here! what's so funny to me is that i published this during the early days of part 2 and a day before nayuta made her reappearance in the manga! i always thought that was a fun coincidence!

i. ハッピーエンド

“So, how’s the married life treating you?” Himeno deviated completely from what you were initially discussing.

Perhaps ‘marriage’ wasn’t too far off from what your relationship actually was. A life-binding contract was marriage in its own right. Despite your musings, however, the truth of Makima’s identity as the Control Devil was a secret. Even if it was Himeno, you wouldn’t let that fact slip. “It’s not the married life,” you replied instead. “But yes, things are going great. Does everyone still hate me for taking away their queen?”

It was quite the uproar when you both announced your departure from the Devil Hunters. Makima received more flowers than you could carry on your last day. It had been several years since then and now you were nestled in Takamatsu in Kagawa Prefecture.

You managed to find work in translation, much to the joy of your family back home. “We have to meet this girl who got you to quit,” your mother insisted, she’d hear no objections. She might have wanted you to come home to your country in general, but she was happy nonetheless you were no longer hunting devils for a living.

Himeno’s snort told you as much. “I don’t think Nanaka will ever be over it.” Himeno snickered.

“I’m glad to hear she’s still alive and kicking regardless,” you replied honestly with a chuckle of your own. Even if you had never seen eye to eye, you wished the brunette the best as Himeno mentioned setting Nanaka up on a blind date. “How’s your new partner?”

Himeno’s voice was a mixture of satisfaction and melancholy. “Aki’s great, he’s still alive after all this time. I wish he’d just settle down now. I’m hoping this new division helps with that.”

Right, Himeno mentioned something about it before. A Division composed of tamed devils and fiends, though it would be terminated should there not be any good results. “Any new additions?”

“Since last time, the Blood Fiend actually. Other than that, there’s still just the Spider Devil with the Violence and Shark Fiends.”

“Any other blessings I should know about?” What about that Angel Devil you talked about? You still keeping his discovery secret?

“None for now.” Still my best kept secret in the village I found him in.

“I see.” Good for him.

It wasn’t too long ago Himeno had sent you a coded message detailing her orders. She requested that if things about him ever came to light, you and Makima would help somehow. The redhead didn’t seem too interested in this request, but she agreed when you asked. The Angel Devil is a peaceful one, Himeno detailed in her script. He doesn’t have what it takes to kill, so I just want him to stay with the humans that brought him up. The little guy even has a girlfriend. Humans and devils living in peace might be a reality one day, I’m just not naive enough to think that’ll happen overnight. Maybe that’s what won you over now that you thought about it.

“Well,” Himeno pulled you away from your thoughts and back into your conversation. “There is a Zombie Devil I’ll be snuffing out tomorrow morning, maybe that’ll be our new member.”

You grimaced at the thought of a zombifying-devil. “Even I think that’s a terrible idea and I’m the one who decided to become a devil hunter just so I could travel.”

“You think every idea I have is terrible.” Himeno whined.

“Not every idea,” you corrected with a teasing tone. “Only most of them.” Upon turning a corner, you viewed the welcoming sight of your apartment door. “But look, I’m just getting home so I’ll talk to you later. Try not to get yourself killed tomorrow.”

“Say ‘hi’ to the missus for me.” Himeno drawled before hanging up.

Still a maelstrom. It would always be a relief to hear from the playful devil hunter in spite of that maelstrom though. You sighed in satisfaction, reaching for your keys when the door opened on its own.

The breeze must have drifted your scent under the door, you figured, as you welcomed the comforting sight of your girlfriend. “Welcome home, [First].” Makima greeted you warmly as you walked into her embrace. “How was your day at work?”

“Peaceful,” you pecked her cheek before kissing her lips. “How about you? Busy day again?” You weren’t the only one to find new work after your resignation from the Devil Hunters. Makima took to working at a small but popular café in the neighborhood, preparing tea and crafting baked goods. She told you before baking was merely an activity she took up to alleviate her boredom, but it had since become something she enjoyed. It was beneficial to your being as well as you happily indulged in testing prospective new items on the menu for her.

“The choux crème has been a really popular item, more people are coming in for it.” Makima replied, satisfied. You blanched at the emphasis of the dessert name and the hounding sound of heavy paws heading your way. Your reaction, sadly, was too slow as Makima’s many dogs came to greet you like clockwork.

“Maki- nooo!” You sputtered as Makima laughed gleefully at the onslaught of wet tongues and wagging tails. “Tell them to get down!”

Makima’s expression was teasing, “but they’re so happy to see you come home, see?”

You dodged another lick from Macaron with expertise. “You’re not funny, I hope you know this,” yet the grin on your face said otherwise as Makima finally got her pups to relax. I guess I’ll be washing up sooner than expected.

“Someone looks like she’s in a good mood today,” you noted as you massaged lotion onto your freshly washed face. Bagheera and Tora welcomed you home, brushing against your legs now that their larger canid roommates finished their turn. Makima moved about the kitchen, making tea. “Did something good happen while you were out?”

“Your mother called today,” Makima answered with a small but satisfied smile. You couldn’t hold back a small grin of your own at those words. That action alone would probably give your girlfriend enough happiness to last several days. To earnestly earn the love of your family and feel as if she were part of it herself, it meant more to Makima than she could ever express. “She wanted to practice her Japanese before she came here.”

“My mom called and she just wanted to practice her Japanese with you?” You implored in disbelief once you settled on the couch, Makima sitting between your legs as she drank a hot cup of chai.

Your girlfriend’s smile was an uncanny replica of the Mona Lisa. “She asked why you haven’t proposed yet.”

“Now that sounds like my mother.”

Makima took a long sip of her tea before saying anything else. “Maybe we should be married in the human sense as well.” She set her cup down on the coffee table. “It’s the ultimate contract for humans.”

Your expression was curious. “You like the idea of marriage?”

“The idea of weddings was something I was always drawn to.” Her golden eyes had a distant look in them, her mind far beyond your comfortable living room with your many pets. Makima never went into the specifics of her childhood, but she told you enough to get the picture. She was simply one of the best kept secrets of the government; a young devil whisked off the streets of Tokyo to become a necessary evil. Concepts such as love, family and friendship were ones she learned from film and books. “The idea of binding yourself to another person for an eternity, it’s a concept I’m fond of. I wanted a big wedding.”

“I’m not opposed to a wedding,” you smiled. Marriage hadn’t been something you thought about prior to Makima. Your contract with her practically was one, all a wedding would make Makima’s integration into your family official. “I’m not sure if we have enough people in our lives to have the wedding size you’re thinking of, though.”

“I have plenty of people at the headquarters in Tokyo that would come if I asked.” Makima’s lips curved into a smile primal in nature while amusement danced in the rings of her irises. “Nanaka would for certain, she wouldn’t want to do anything to make me sad. If she’s still alive, we could extend her a personal invitation. What do you think?” At your dry look in response, your girlfriend chuckled lightly before pressing herself against your chest. “It’s a joke, I’m joking.” You decided to take her word for it. You always wondered to what extent it would be possible for Makima’s view of those who had fallen victim to her abilities as her equal. Perhaps it was one of those questions best left unanswered. “Weddings are one of those things that feel best when those in attendance truly care about the couple. I only want those people to come to our wedding.”

There was a lot of moral ambiguity that came with dating the Control Devil. Any devil really. You wondered if you were the only person in the world to do so, but you wanted to believe in the one you fell in love with.

Makima no longer relied on the fake relationships she manufactured with her abilities since your move to Takamatsu. Not for the interpersonal parodies she made to fill the loneliness inside her. She wasn’t perfect. Her first few weeks of generating business at her café were completely reliant on absolute control’s influence to bring customers in directly and through word of mouth. You were quite sure that power was how she obtained her job in the first place.

But you’re still trying your best. “There’ll be people like that,” you cradled Makima gently as you kissed her forehead. “My family loved you before even coming over to meet you properly. More of your regulars are just normal people you just happen to talk to daily. When the time comes, lots of people will be there just because they’re your friend.”

ii. 「純愛だよ」

There would be many people that would come to the wedding for Makima’s sake, that you were sure of. Kishibe of the Devil Hunters, however, would not be one of them. This you were certain of as you recalled the day you encountered him only a month after your resignation. If not for the way he intercepted you outside of your apartment building on your way home, definitely because of his cold but calculating stare.

When the man made no move to explain what he wanted, you decided to move your piece first. Nothing about the encounter felt coincidental as you were led to a place with as few people as possible. “So what do you want?” You had seen from the ground level that Makima had opened the window and you wondered if she knew of this sudden arrival. “I’ve been busy planning a move and I want to go home, it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight.” You dangled your small bag of groceries, a few ingredients required for the dish you planned to cook.

“You can’t spare a moment to talk to an old work buddy?” In spite of his words, there was no nostalgia or yearning in his tone. Kishibe held out his box of cigarettes to which you declined before he lit a cigarette of his own. “It’s been a while after all, we haven’t talked in so long.”

“We barely talked in the first place,” you replied tersely. Besides introducing you and Makima to one another, you seldom saw the man held as one of the strongest in the Bureau. He was an enigma, a drunk enigma who still managed to do his job well. You were doubtful you’d be able to hold your own against him for long. “Hit me with that line after it’s been a few years.”

“How is Makima?” Your eyes narrowed at the sudden question. “It was quite the surprise to everyone that she resigned. I’m surprised the higher ups weren’t more insistent that she stay.”

“Cut the crap and tell me why you’re here,” you crossed your arms and you shared a knowing look. Whatever it was, you were on the same pageー both of you knew more than what you initially assumed. “What is it that you need to know so you can get out of our hair?”

“I suppose we can drop the pleasantries then,” Kishibe put out his cigarette as quickly as he lit it. “I’ve never been fond of Makima, but I could always tolerate her. Whatever inhumane deeds she committed, as long as I knew she was on humanity’s side, I could always turn the other cheek.” Tired black eyes that knew too much glanced at you piercingly. “I just find it strange that she decided to leave the Bureau to play house with a new toy.”

Your eyebrow twitched, but you held back your anger. “Because she’s the Control Devil, you mean,” you chuckled humorlessly. “Were you the one that brought her to officials? You worried that your dog got off its leash? Or is it because that dog turned on its masters?”

Infuriatingly but unsurprisingly, the man didn’t answer any of your questions. “I was worried that the Control Devil forced you into making a contract with her.”

“Makima can’t force me to do anything,” you scowled.

“Did she make you make a contract with her?” Kishibe queried.

“That’s none of your business.” After a strong silence between you both, sighed. “It’s part of our contract,” you answered begrudgingly. It would be better to cooperate lest he decide to take action due to your insubordination. “Makima can’t use her powers on me. She couldn’t force me to do anything before anyway. I’m not sure about the specifics, neither is she. We just know she hasn’t been able to order me successfully.”

“And what does she gain from a contract like that?”

“We stay together forever,” a soft voice cut through the conversation before you could answer. Makima stood behind you in an accompaniment of caws and frantic wingbeats as crows dispersed from where she stood. You sighed in relief at her appearance, at the very least Kishibe was the only devil hunter that had come to inspect the motivations of the Control Devil. “Hello, Kishibe,” a cold smile spread across her lips as she softly nuzzled the crow perched on her forearm. “had I known you were coming, I would have made tea.”

“You don’t need to keep up appearances on my account,” the older man insisted gruffly as Makima sent her corvid on its way. “You’ve been listening since we left the apartment. You left the window open.”

The redhead seemed to take a dark thrill in this moment, “yes I suppose we don’t have to keep up those things,” she agreed fluidly. “I wanted to keep a listen out for [First] so I could greet her at the door when she came home. Anyone would worry about their beloved when a strange man intercepts them.”

I do not need a fight breaking out. Makima versus Kishibe, you worried less about the physical outcome. No, you were fearful of what the long-term consequences of this fight would be. “Makima,” you stepped between the devil and the hunter. “we finished talking, let’s go home. He got the answers he was looking for.”

Makima’s smile shifted into one warmer for you, “yes, let’s go home.” You held her hand with the one not holding groceries and gave it a squeeze, Makima squeezed back.

You glanced at Kishibe over your shoulder, “you have the answers you’re looking for,” you repeated.

It’s-

iii. ごめんな

Your wet cough tore you away from your memories. It hurt, it hurt, everything hurt. It all hurt, yet you couldn’t react beyond a weak gasp as you laid on the ground, crushed under debris. Ah, this sucks.

You get off hours early from work, and a devil decides to attack. Perhaps it was muscle memory from your devil hunting days as you absently reached for a weapon that was no longer there. It had long since been confiscated after you resigned, civilians had no need for such weapons. Yet the horrifying realization that your sword was gone, was all the devil needed before gleefully thrusting its hand through your stomach. This all sucking was truly the understatement. Where were the devil hunters patrolling the area supposed to be, stopping to get lunch?

Today was supposed to be a good day, you lamented.

Your half-day at work aligned perfectly with Makima’s off-day. You were supposed to swing by and change into something comfortable, then you’d hit the town. You recalled the dress she said she would wear. It was gonna be that white sundress she got last year, she looks so good in that.

She was waiting for you.

That was what hurt you the most. Makima and the makeshift home you made for yourself. The two cats that slept anywhere that inconvenienced you and the seven dogs that welcomed you home rambunctiously everyday yet you were somehow still surprised when it happened. Makimaー

Your phone rang in the distance for the fifth time in the past six minutes.

I’m a terrible girlfriend, you berated yourself. You couldn’t crawl to it and your arms refused to move no matter how much you willed for your adrenaline to make a miracle happen. I’m sorry, you weeped quietly as your phone fell silent before the sharp trill of your ringtone started all over again. I’m so sorry.

You weren’t particularly religious, nor were you sure if there was a god that they would stop to listen to hear prayers for the sake of a devil. Still, you prayed. please let her be okay. I’m okay with dying as long as she’ll be okay. Don’t let this be what makes her lose hope in everything. I want her to be loved for the rest of her life.

Whether it was by your family that survived you, whether it was by the friends, whether it was by someone else who loved her beyond the controls of her abilities. Anything would be better than her being alone again.

Please.

The continuous trill of your cell phone accompanied you until your eyes closed, and your chest stopped heaving.

iv. 彦星と織姫の物語

At five years of age, you dreamed of a prince on a magnificent horse saving you from a life of despair.

The world was unimaginable without your parents.

And you were sure you were born for a special purpose, a belief amplified by the strong feeling something was missing in your life and you needed to find it.

At thirteen years of age, you understood how the world truly worked.

The world continued despite the loss of your parents.

There were no princes riding on magnificent horses and there wasn’t anybody who would save you from the despair-filled life you were living.

And no one was born with a special purpose in life, not even you.

One… two… three… four… You held yourself tightly, forehead pressed against your knees as you waited for the sound of rushing footsteps to fade. It was just your luck that you ran into cops that found it more than a little suspicious that a preteen was wandering around instead of at school. They were unconvinced when you told them you were homeschooled and a kick to the shin later, you were hiding in an alley. Just a little while longer, you whispered, hugging yourself tighter. There was no prince that was going to come and save you, you realized this the moment your parents died and you were left alone in the streets of Beijing to fend for yourself. You became your own prince.

That was why you stole from merchants, that was why you picked pockets of anyone gullible enough to let their guard down.

You stood up from your crouch when you were sure the police officers were gone. You’d earned enough cash that day and something for dinner to boot. It was time to go home before you got too cocky and landed yourself in trouble. You patted your pocket with the squished meat buns in them. That would be enough to get through today.

You just needed to save. You were unsure of the amount you needed to save, but once you had enough, you would be able to get out of this place. That belief reassured you more than anything, it certainly reassured you more than the dead magpie your right foot nearly touched. Ew gross! You nearly touched another in your attempt to avoid the first. The cats would be in heaven later when they found this spot you grimly thought.

You glanced to your right, wondering if this would be a decent alley to leave into the main street when you saw a girl your age sitting with her knees bunched to her chest. You couldn’t see her face from how she was hunched over, nor did you trust her. It didn’t look like she was with anyone else, though it crossed your mind that maybe she was a decoy so you could get jumped.

You glanced over your shoulder without turning, relieved no one was standing behind you. You’d seen it happen more than once, you weren’t going to be another victim. Promptly, you turned around, more than willing to pretend you never saw the girl in the first place and exit in the opposite direction when-

Growl.

No, you told yourself sharply as you paused midstep. Giving someone else your food would be a terrible idea. She can find something for herself.

That was what you told yourself; it was what you told yourself and you still begrudgingly turned around, stomping your feet all the while when there was no one to be mad at but yourself.

“Here,” you grumbled without looking at the girl, holding your misshapen haul over her. “take it before I change my mind.” When she made no move to take the buns from your hand, you dropped them in front of her. The wrapping would keep the dirt off of them. “You’re welcome,” you sighed as you finally took your leave. Your only consolation was that she wasn’t a decoy that would lead to your ass getting kicked. There goes dinner.

When you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve, instinctively you jerked away.

You glared at the girl, ready for a fight. “Hey get off of m-,” You. Your words halted as soon as you saw her wide-eyed stare and tears. There was nothing familiar about this girl, you had never seen her before in your life. There was nothing familiar about her black hair, nor the mole under her left eye. You were sure you couldn’t say you’d ever met anyone with golden eyes with red rings in them either. There was no reason to feel like your senses had been set ablaze and the universe shifted.

You didn’t know this girl.

This girl was a stranger.

You knew this and yet you still fell to your knees as warm tears flooded your eyes without your permission. Your mind had gone blank, unable to conjure a single thought and even if you could, you doubted you would be able to voice them. So you followed instinct as it screamed at you to hold this stranger in your arms, welcomed the way she threw her arms over your shoulders in return.

An indeterminable amount of time passed while you cried in the arms of a stranger before you stood up again.

As you wordlessly led her to your home, it vaguely crossed your mind how strange this was. It was strange that you held this girl’s hand while you crossed the street. It was strange that you led her into the abandoned apartment building you called home. It was even stranger that despite only meeting a few hours prior, you were laying with this girl on your tattered bed, holding each other like you were scared you’d disappear if you let go.

It was all strange, but something told you it would be even stranger had you ignored her in that alleyway. “By the way,” you yawned, as it dawned on you that you never once asked for your new companion’s name. “what’s your name?”

When there was no immediate response, you thought the girl fell asleep. “Nayuta,” you finally heard the feathery light reply. Nayuta pressed herself closely to your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“I’m [First],” you squeezed.

Nayuta squeezed back.

v.「行かないで！行かないで！行かないで！どこにもいけないで！離れないで！あたしのそばにずっといて！」支配の悪魔が叫んだ。魂が叫んだ。

You discovered Nayuta was a devil less than a month after you started living together. She did a terrible job hiding it. Considering how airheaded she could be, though, you doubted Nayuta was truly trying to keep it a secret. Still, the truth of her nature eluded you for a few weeks as you initially accepted that perhaps these things were simple coincidences.

Her eyes were unlike anyone else’s eyes you’d ever seen. (You wondered for a while if they were special contacts, but if they were, they were beyond dried and damaged considering she never took them out.)

Animals listened to her way too easily. (There was no longer any need to fight off the crows when they got too close to your meal. A simple “go away” from your companion, and they would fly off just as she commanded.)

There was the time you bore witness to something you wouldn’t have believed had you not seen it yourself. Nayuta walked up to an older woman, held out her hand and plainly demanded, “give me all your money.” Promptly, all the yuan in the woman’s wallet was placed in Nayuta’s hand.

(“That old lady just gave you all her money?” You gawked in disbelief, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “How?!”

“I told her to give it to me,” Nayuta told you plainly, like she was telling you the sky was blue. Then she told you she wanted soup dumplings and jianbing for lunch.)

As such, it was no wonder why you found yourself thinking that she was a devil. It never crossed your mind that perhaps she had another sort of trick up her sleeve. Devil was the first thing that came to your mind and the only answer you felt was right.

“Hey, Nayuta,” you asked after much contemplation, watching as she drew a dog on the dirty hardwood floor of your home. Your belly was full from eating roujiamo and candied hawthorns, purchased with money Nayuta got from a mean teenager. “are you a devil?”

Nayuta paused her ministrations, staring at her rough sketch before she nodded, “yeah.” Her revelation wasn’t a surprise in the slightest. Gold eyes stared into yours as you thought over your next question. Were you scared of her now? No, you answered your internal pondering quickly. Being scared of Nayuta felt like an inherent rejection of what made you ‘you’. You’d never be scared of her, there was nothing intimidating about a devil who wanted a large dog so she could ride atop it like it was a horse. Instead you asked, “what kind of devil are you?”

“The Control Devil,” she answered truthfully.

“Have you ever used your powers on me?”

It was like a dam suddenly broke as Nayuta’s expression suddenly changed from blasé to fearful. “I haven’t!” When did she even get in front of you? It felt like you had only blinked once before she was standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands tightly as she shook her head frantically. “I haven’t!” She repeated desperately and you almost took a step back in bewilderment. You hadn’t seen Nayuta cry since the day you first met but you could tell these tears were different.

Her tears from your first meeting were inexplicable. A visceral reaction to whatever emotion took over the both of you that day. These tears were based on fright and distress.

“Na-,” you tried consoling the girl, but panic had overtaken her completely.

“I didn’t, [First], please believe me!” Nayuta begged hysterically, her grip on your hands somehow tighter. “Don’t leave me!”

“I believe you!” Your heart felt like it was beating a million kilometers a second, but you had to convey how you felt. Nayuta looked as if she was going to cry once more, scared but hopeful.“I believe you,” you repeated softly. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

vi. 誓いの言葉

Nayuta wasn’t much of a talker.

That wasn’t to say she was timid, nor was she diffident. It was more like she was an airhead who skipped to the beat of her own drum. She did as she pleased and she said what was on her mind as it came to her mind. That was how you often ended up spending hours of your day looking for her if she suddenly ran off to find something that piqued her interest or keen sense of smell.

This time thankfully, she’d only been drawn to the display TV in front of a store. That was leagues better than the time she’d wanted to see why two cats were fighting in an alley.

You shot the girl an incredulous look, hands on your hips. “I keep telling you not to let go of my hand when we walk, you always get lost,” you scolded, more concerned than annoyed. The last thing you wanted was for Nayuta to run into devil hunters while you were separated. It was your worst fear that she would be taken from you and killed. Despite your worries, however, it didn’t always prevent instances when something would catch Nayuta’s eye and she’d let go of your hand in favor of checking out.

“[First],” Nayuta pointed at the television, completely ignoring your worry. “[First], I want one of these.”

You pursed your lips in annoyance knowing Nayuta had moved well beyond the matter at hand. At the excited look in her ringed eyes, however, you felt your annoyance fading faster than you’d like. “You want what?” You looked at the TV, wondering what grabbed her attention so much. It was a wedding, you realized after a few seconds. The wedding was western style, the bride donning a beautiful white dress. “Do you want the dress?” There was absolutely no way you’d be able to finesse a wedding dress no matter how hard you tried.

“I want the wedding.” That made you look at her even more wide-eyed than before.

“We can’t afford something like that!” You held up your hand before she could make her ridiculous suggestion. “And they won’t let two kids get married anyway, we’d have to wait until…” you honestly weren’t sure, now that you thought about it. You shook your head and Nayuta’s brow furrowed with a disgruntled pout, “anyways, we can’t have a wedding like that, it costs too much money.” When Nayuta didn’t reply, you poked her cheek. “You okay?”

Nayuta’s following grunt was neither in agreement or disagreement. When she didn’t object to you holding her hand, you held back a snort of amusement as you led the way home. It became apparent later on, when Nayuta approached you with your off-white bed sheet, however, that she had not gotten over the topic of weddings.

“It’s my veil,” Nayuta said as much when you asked why she was wearing your sheet. “I want the wedding now.”

“If you don’t put the sheet back on the bed, it’s the only one we have!” Laughter slipped through your words at the ridiculous display. But she’s still really cute. A total dork, but cute. Your hands moved to adjust her ‘veil’ more evenly on her head. You wanted to marry Nayuta when you grew up; when you had your house and weren’t living off scraps. Then her veil wouldn’t be the dirty sheet you laid on and she could wear the princess-style gown that you saw in the movie, not the dirty clothes you wore everyday. That was a long day away, you knew. It was hard enough imagining that you’d ever be somewhere better than this. “Okay,” you said warmly. “let’s have a wedding.”

Nayuta beamed, holding her head high, before she noticed the sheet slipping. You couldn’t hold back another snicker at that, “we have to say the vows first,” you instructed. “It’s where we promise each other the things we’ll do for each other once we’re married.” Your mother was fond of movies where weddings were the center of the plot, but you couldn’t recall any of the vows expressed in them. “I promise…” you began, pondering what you would say. I promise that first, I’ll get you a big house. One that has lots of dogs, well, as long as they’re cats too. We’ll have food from all over the world because we’ll have some fancy butler make it for us, and when we feel like it, we’ll go to any amusement park we want. And I’ll protect you from any devil hunter we come across.”

“I promise that I’ll be with you forever,” Nayuta followed seamlessly in your exchanging of vows. “I won’t use my powers on you. I won’t let go of your hand when we go out, because you get upset when I get lost. And I promise I’ll protect you too.”

You grinned, content. “Now we have to kiss too.” It was a quick kiss, a simple peck on the lips before you rested your forehead on hers. “And I now pronounce us wife and wife.” The imaginary audience applauded, welcoming your union in open arms.

“The people in the movie were dancing too afterwards,” Nayuta chirped after a moment.

“That’s because we’re supposed to have our first dance as a married couple afterwards,” you replied. The sheet, unfortunately, could not keep up with your dancing even if it was a slow waltz to an unknown melody you made on the spot.

“I want a real wedding this time.”

I do too. “We can get married for real when we grow up,” you vowed once more as you clumsily led each other in your dance.

Nayuta’s smile was saccharin, “promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated joyously. “it’ll be in a fancy hall with lots of people.” Not that either of you knew enough people to have even a small number of guests at your wedding. But that could change by the time you are grownups.

vii. 旧友

The day the devil hunters came was a blur.

You weren’t sure what it was that led to their discovery of Nayuta. You could only guess in the future that it was because of the trail of people who complained that their money had been stolen and they couldn’t remember how. At the time, guessing wasn’t going to get you out of the situation you landed yourselves in.

They didn’t buy your usual excuses.

There wasn’t anywhere to run in the corner they expertly trapped you in as you ran away, believing you had been making progress in losing the one following you.

You held your arms out between, knowing full well you were a flimsy shield to someone trained to kill devils.

Nayuta fingers dug into the back of your shirt, body tense. Her abilities required she believe one was lesser than her for her to order them, that was impossible when you were both scared out of your wits cornered with nowhere to go.

The woman kept an eye on you both, weapon drawn in one hand, phone in the other. “I found the C-” were the only words she managed to get out when she suddenly collapsed, revealing the scarred old man behind her. You learned later he called himself Kishibe.

You weren’t sure if you should have felt relieved when you saw the old man, suited up as any other devil hunter would be. You didn’t like him, that much you had decided in your silent stare down.

He released a raspy sigh, humming thoughtfully as he crushed the unconscious woman’s phone. “I came here expecting to only find one of you,” the man scratched the side of his head sluggishly. He eyed you carefully with a sense of recognition you couldn’t quite place before his eyes drifted to Nayuta beside you. “The Control Devil really is a selfish one.”

viii. マキマとナユタ

“You’re starting to look like me, Himeno.” It had been years since he’d last seen the woman and she seemed tired beyond her years. If Life played favorites, it was more than apparent Himeno was not one of that group. Aki died, succumbing to his final two years to live. The Chainsaw kid took off before then in the aftermath of the brief but chaotic attack of the Bomb Devil. Perhaps she’d been driven mad, perhaps she craved being the country mouse of Aesop’s fable. It was all the woman could do to run off with sister and the Blood Fiend, nestled in the quiet coastal town of Shonai in Yamagata Prefecture.

“It’s rude to point out a lady’s age, sir.” Himeno accepted the cigarette regardless. A large portion of her bangs were white and gray, her eye showing signs of crow’s feet. “What are you doing in little ole Shonai?” Smoke wafted from her mouth with a soft exhale.

“I started my own delivery service,” Kishibe gestured his cigarette to his car. “and you’re my first and only customer.”

Himeno’s smile was amused, but her one visible eye was anything but. “Funny, I don’t recall me or my sister ordering anything.”

“Consider this your lucky day then, it’s the delivery of a lifetime.” Kishibe didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a two-for-one deal.”

“I’ve had enough once-in-a-lifetime deals.” Himeno crushed her cigarette on the bottom of her foot before flicking it to the wayside. With more than a hint of finality, she waved and walked in the opposite direction of his vehicle. “Whatever it is, you should keep it to-”

“It’s the new Control Devil.” Those words made Himeno stop in her tracks. “They discovered her in China, but I managed to nick her.” Just in time to thwart disaster. Makima had been a ticking time bomb that had been staved off successfully when ー appeared in her life. That timer began once again when ー was killed in an attack by the Rat Devil. If the Chinese government had disposed of your current incarnation in front of the new Control Devil, Kishibe knew that there would have been no preventing the hell that would be unleashed upon the world.

Still, it would be best for the two of you to be protected til you could properly fend for yourselves.

Himeno’s shoulder shook for a few moments, it wasn’t hard to imagine the thoughts going through her head. I can keep on walking, she possibly thought. I can pretend I didn’t hear anything. Yet human nature got the better of her, Himeno sighing shakily, “why’d you bring her to me?”

“I’m not fit to raise children and out of all my old contacts, you’re the one I trust the most to do a good job handling her.” Kishibe answered truthfully. Not even Quanxi could be relied on for such a task. As much as he trusted his unrequited love, he knew the woman would have less of an interest in raising children than she did his old advances.

“What’s the second part of the deal?”

“Take a look in the car.”

Warily, the former devil hunter turned around, taking slow steps towards the car and leaned close to the window.

Himeno said nothing for a while as Kishibe watched her back, knowing that she was likely experiencing a strong wave of emotion. Everything likely clicked the moment she saw you. The same skin tone, the same hair texture, everything exactly the same as she remembered. “ー always knew about Makima, didn’t she.” Despite her phrasing, it was not a question. It was a soft, emotional observation.

“This new one shouldn’t have any of Makima’s old memories, but it seems this is one attachment she can’t shake.” Perhaps this was part of their contract. Leave it to Makima to make the implausible possible. The life of a devil may have been cyclical in nature, but reincarnation among humans was unproven. Yet here you were in all your similarities to ー. Kishibe didn’t ponder what this meant for humanity. If this meant his old buddies were somewhere walking around earth as new beings. Perhaps you were simply an exception, a product of the contract ー made with Makima. Makima did say you’d stay together forever.

Kishibe doubted he would ever receive an answer. All he was certain was that if you were the one thing keeping the Control Devil from wreaking havoc on the world, you were a necessary piece of the puzzle.

“This one isn’t ー either, she’s [First]. She doesn’t have any memories from before.” Kishibe warned, lightly tapping Himeno’s shoulder. He didn’t need the woman to get any false hopes. ー was dead, there was no doubt about it. The age separating Himeno and yourself was succinct proof. You weren’t the friend she lost more than a decade prior. “If you really can’t handle it, I’ll figure things out.”

Himeno’s one blue eye shone with more fire he’d seen since the last time he’d seen her. “I’m glad you feel that way,” the man tipped his proverbial hat to her. “I’ll be back when they’re old enough for defense training.”

“Hey, Gramps, where are we?” You demanded once you had woken up, rubbing your eyes tiredly. He might have saved your life, but he had kept you in the dark long enough.

Nayuta ungraciously yawned,“I have to pee.”

The wizened man took a hard look at the pack of cigarettes in his hand before shoving it in his pocket, sighing heavily. “We’re in Shonai over in Japan.” At last, he introduced the woman next to him. “This is Himeno, she’ll be taking care of you both from now on.”

You shared a look with Nayuta, wondering if this place would really be the best for you. It beats living where we were though, you were forced to admit. A part of you would miss the room you and Nayuta called home for the longest time, where you had your wedding and where you drew on the floor when you got bored. But you planned to leave that building someday, hoping you’d be leading a better life by then. ‘Someday’ simply came faster than you expected.

Thanks, old man, you doubted you would see much of him again though as you saw his car become smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Do either of you like cartoons?” Himeno asked when it was just the three of you. “What do you like watching?” When neither of you could come up with a response, Himeno cheerily made the decision for you. “We have the complete Ashita no Nadja set at home, we can watch that when we get there. But since we’re celebrating your arrival, you have to pick dinner.”

Nayuta wasted no time in answering that question, “I want pancakes.”

You rolled your eyes, bemused. “What if I want burgers though?”

Nayuta looked at you carefully, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility. “We want burgers and pancakes,” she told Himeno a second later.

translation notes:

i. happy end ii. it’s pure love iii. sorry iv. the story of hikoboshi and orihime v. “don’t go, don’t go, don’t go! don’t go anywhere! don’t go away! stay with me forever!” the control devil shouted. her soul shouted. vi. word of oath vii. old friend viii. makima and nayuta

<- part 1 | part 3 ->

#romance dawn ー 🌅#chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #makima x reader #series: man is a blazing star ー 💫

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melodic-haze · 8 months ago

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Jinhsi is glowing in the game..i for real thought it was a bug or something and then i open twitter and people be saying the same things..how can she looks so goddamn beautiful..Like she can go from all softie to a literal badass woman..i want her so bad.

Imagine we as her lover omg i can't. Jinhsi is a type of lover who caress your face in the morning and put our safety first GAHGH WANT HER SO BAD

☆ — DEMO TRACK: Jinhsi x Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: None :3

☆ — NOTES: I AM SO SORRY??? THIS WAS FROM FUCKING MAY OH MY GOD. I have another ask after that'll tie into this (more specifically, NSFW hcs for her 😊) saur yeah. Anyway GUYS LOOK A SFW DEMO....WOW I swear I'm multifaceted

☆ — PARTS: Part 1 (you are here), Part 2

She is like. Green flags all over idc idc I NEED HER man she's so sweet my baby 😩😩😩 I need her dawg just having this woman as your lover must be like. So nice as long as you accept that she's working with an extremely busy schedule

Even then though I DO think she'd make time for you. She's a very balanced girlie who's learnt how to balance between working and resting, preferrably with you :3

She makes a point to always ALWAYS wake up next to you. I'd say that she's an early riser as well so she probably just lays there on her side, brushing her hand on your face and your body as she waits for you to wake up. Could she just get up and carry on with work? Yes, and perhaps you've even offered that she could bc you KNOW being a magistrate means you're never NOT busy.. but she's always declined, saying that the first thing she wants to see in the morning isn't work but rather the joy on people's faces as a result of her hard work with keeping the peace.......and that is especially the case with seeing you alive and satisfied in her embrace 🥰🥰🥰🥰

The first thing you feel when you wake is a soft kiss on your bare shoulder, the contact warm and tender yet brief.. but then it comes back as quick as it went and you can't help but sigh in contentment as your eyes fluttered open.

The first thing you see is not Jinzhou's magistrate but rather a woman of pure elegance, her seemingly luminescent white hair flowing freely and expectedly unkept after a lovely night (and you could never tell if it was due to her connection with Jué or if it were a natural reflection of the light). Though to you, she was still nothing short of perfect, with the way the morning light had bathed her pale skin with such an ethereal glow.

"Good morning, dearest."

The first thing you hear is the sound of her soft voice, a groggy rasp to its undertone as a result of a good night's sleep with you.

"Mmm.. morning."

That was the only form of verbal exchange the two of you had for a while as you both laid on the bed without any intention of hastily diving back into the real world. You simply turned around to snuggle closer to your gentle lover, your limbs tangled together before you leaned in at the same time.

There it was, the first thing you taste and the first thing you smell being her, all five senses filled with nothing but her. And considering how busy her life is, you wouldn't have your mornings any other way.

You don't actually know how long you've spent there in silence, cradling each other and exchanging tender kisses without a need for words. You don't really care, and neither does your beloved girlfriend despite the responsibilities she has. But of course, you know better than to question her.

You could have stayed there until the end of time but alas, duty does call.. and so do your stomachs for a good meal.

The both of you sit up at the same time, as if attuned to each other, and give each other one more peck before parting.

"I can make something for breakfast," you offered, "though if you need to leave now, then that's fine too."

Jinhsi shook her head, "I have a counter-offer; let me do the cooking this time."

"You sure? You know you don't have to do that."

"Shh," she places a finger on your lips for a moment before dropping her hand, "I want to. You deserve to be treated every once in a while, so let me?"

"..You always convince me, even though it feels like you're wasting your time for me."

"I wouldn't, as you say, 'waste my time' in doing so if I didn't love you."

WIFE MATERIAL WIFE MATERIAL WIFE MATERIAL I LOVE YOU JINHSI

Throughout your day to day basis I feel like she likes to keep tabs on you to make sure you're okay. She isn't oppressive with it, doesn't have anyone directly guarding you and looming over you or stalking you at every direction, bc she knows you can handle yourself and function independently and she doesn't want you thinking she doesn't trust you!!! But she often asks people if they've seen you around and how you're faring. I think at some point, people end up doing it on their own bc they can tell (with much amusement, ESPECIALLY for Changli) how much she cares about you. Even Sanhua makes it a point to report to her if she sees you somewhere HAHAHA

Speaking of Sanhua, considering how you two are tied together then she's also technically your bodyguard by proxy 🫶 so expect to see her a lot. She'd have a soft spot for you as well, starting off bc you make Jinhsi happy but then over timr you'd probably bond anyway (and Jinhsi's cheery ab having her two precious people get along :3)

She also sends you gifts if she can't see you for the day or a certain period of time. A random courier delivers it to you personally with a knowing smile on their face and you're usually surprised with how it's either something you've wanted for a while now, something you thought about today as you passed by a certain store, or just something that she says in a note reminded her of you 🫠🫠🫠UGH I'M SO LONELY

Ofc being in a relationship with Jinzhou's magistrate also means suffering the downsides aka being basically the prime target for anything that may source as a way to get to Jinhsi with more.. hostile means. Doesn't necessarily happen much bc she takes safety SERIOUSLY but ofc it does happen. Not to mention in general as well, with all the tacet fields popping up left and right

She wants to be able to protect you 24/7 but she does know constant protection would suffocate anyone, with the way she's able to essentially assign the fiercest most intimidating people to basically surround you. But she does try, if not by having others to do so then by herself

Watching Jinhsi fight felt like nothing short of an ongoing art piece painted onto a canvas.

She was unfazed, unbothered and ever so graceful—her sword cuts through the Tacet Discords so cleanly as she executed each one without so much as breaking a sweat. Despite the chaotic conflict, however, it felt as if she were simply dancing through each Discord with their shrieks and screams as her very own orchestrated accompaniment.

..What a morbid thought, though your lover still seems to make it seem like a beautiful visage anyway.

The two of you had only wanted to venture beyond Jinzhou's city walls for a nice picnic, but of course the risk of encountering random dangers had caught up to you, hence the situation.

You knew you wouldn't have to wait for long though—and you say that with such jarring nonchalance because a situation like this is more than some random nuisance, except you have the Sentinel's blessed willingly protecting you—because Jinshi's making short work on the Discords like they're nothing. As expected, of course, though there was that valid twinge of fear mixing within your excitement and awe at her power and her fighting prowess.

A blink, and the final Discord falls to her sword, the metal of her blade echoing out a metallic, reasonating sound that announces the battle's finality. And with it, the Echoes of the last Discord she had felled is stood there, sparkling a glittering gold.

She looks back at you with a concentrated glare, the horns on her head and the aura surrounding her signifying the final fragments of her silent aggression, before she blinks out of her state and reverts back to the seemingly docile woman that you spend your days with.

The white-haired woman licked her lips before speaking, her gaze darting from you to the still Echo, "A see-through visage of you would make for a nice anniversary gift, no?"

You snorted, walking over to her now that the field's been cleared, "Are you implying that you'll kill me so that I end up like the Echo there?"

"Goodness, no! The Echo's presence simply sparked an idea within me." She laughs despite the fight she had just gone through, and the sound couldn't be more musical to your ears, "I simply want to immortalise your memory, perhaps with my presence as a cameo?"

"Even though you're arguably the more important public figure out of the two of us? Why not just have us together, on equal standing?"

"..Why, that possibility had slipped my mind. Perhaps I'm not thinking straight."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"You must be winded, then... How about we find a spot to sit for our picnic, and then you can rest all you like? I did promise Sanhua that I'll have you back relaxed, unhurt and in one piece."

She raised an eyebrow mirthfully, "I still think she should have been more worried about you. I can take care of myself, as you've seen."

"Yeah, well-- ..wait, do you think she'd chew me out for having you fight for me?"

Jinhsi simply gives you a cheeky grin as she walks off, the playful expression a rare view on the Magistrate.. but extremely beautiful nonetheless. And you are left to chase after her, the both of you giggling as you stride through the now-peaceful plains.

And the whole thing has you thinking, that perhaps there is a more.. convenient way of immortalising your bond together, without a need for artificial Echoes or transparent tributes.

All you'd need is a ring.

And maybe better accompaniment instead of the screams of her enemies.

Idk how I ended up with a proposal teaser I'm ngl tk you what the fuck LMAOOO this is what happens when I don't plan anything. Contrary to popular belief I think marriage is a scam but this isn't about me 🫶

Dating Jinshi's obvs not gonna be sunshine and flowers with the risk and how busy she is bc she's leading an entire region, but surprisingly it's pretty close :3

#hazy demos!#THE BACKLOG IS INSANE #jinhsi x reader #wuwa jinhsi #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves imagines #wuwa x reader #wuwa imagines #wuwa women x reader #wuwa women imagines

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jazzdalorian · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter Two ~ Against The Odds

pairing(s): logan (the wolverine) howlett x non-mutant!f!reader, uncle!wade (deadpool) wilson x non-mutant!f!reader, grandma!althea x non-mutant!f!reader

warning(s): explicit, minors do not interact! SMUT SMUT SMUT, plot with porn, yearning, needy, fluff, p in v sex, oral sex, sexual tension, wholesome, family, baby fever (to me because i want a baby lol), wade being a girl dad???

a/n: hello, this is a continuation of Chapter One ~ Fragile. i honestly don’t know how many chapters this will be, but i am very excited to release this one. it is a much longer read, but it is literally wade being such a girl dad. in a way, having wade and althea live with the reader and her daughter really teaches them to be better in a sense. either way, i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did! let me know if there are any errors. :) <3

word count: 6.1k

- - - - - - -

summary: in this chapter, the bond between mara and you, as her mother, deepens as you navigate life after logan. with wade as a vital support, you enjoy a day at the park, where mara’s innocent questions about her father lead to heartfelt discussions on love and family. your emotional journey toward accepting love reemerges through your growing feelings for wade, highlighting themes of healing, family connection, and the complexities of moving on.

- - - - - - -

It had been a couple of years since your beloved daughter, Mara Howlett, was born. She showed her intelligence by imitating her first words, which weren't "mama" but "Uncle Wade." It was a heartwarming moment. Mara and Wade were already playing together and running around the house, engaging in games of hide-and-seek. Every morning, they cooked breakfast together and brought it to you in bed.

Uncle Wade had always been there for support, and even Grandma Althea, who was blind, pitched in financially as much as she could. To help with expenses and ensure that your little one had everything she needed, you took on a job at the nearby grocery store. As you worked long hours stocking shelves and checking out customers, your mind was always consumed with thoughts of your precious daughter and how grateful you were to have her in your life.

She was your light, your reason for pushing through the exhaustion and tedium. Every time you felt your eyelids growing heavy or your feet aching from hours of standing, you pictured her smile, her tiny hand in yours. You imagined the moment you'd walk through the door and she'd come running, arms outstretched, shouting "Mommy!" with unbridled joy.

During your short breaks, you'd sneak a peek at the photos on your phone - her first steps and the two of you with Wade at the beach last weekend. They never failed to bring a smile to your face, even on the toughest days.

As you restocked cans of soup and boxes of cereal, you made mental notes of items she might like for her lunchbox. When ringing up customers, you'd spot a toy or book she'd love, setting aside a mental reminder to pick it up later. Every decision, every action, seemed to revolve around her now.

The store's bell chimed, and you glanced up to see Mrs. Henderson shuffling in, her weathered hands gripping her walker. You smiled, already reaching for her usual items before she made it to the counter.

"How's that daughter of yours?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind thick glasses.

"Growing like a weed," you replied, your chest swelling with pride. "She starts kindergarten week."

Mrs. Henderson clucked her tongue. "My, how time flies. Seems like just yesterday you were telling me she'd been born."

As you bagged her groceries, your mind wandered to the little girl waiting for you at home. You imagined her curled up on the couch, engrossed in her favorite cartoon, and holding her favorite stuffed unicorn.

It was moments like these that made life feel simple and complete again. But then those thoughts would be interrupted by memories of Logan, the father of your child. Mara's blue eyes and black hair were a constant reminder of him, even though he wasn't there with you.

Some nights, the pain would become too much and you would wake up crying, only to have Wade embrace you until you fell back asleep. He had been so supportive and present lately...but did that mean you were falling for him? Could you actually love someone else after everything Logan put you through? It didn't seem fair to Wade, but then again, he wouldn't hurt you. Maybe you can talk to him about it when you get home.

"All done, Mrs. Henderson," you say, handing her the bags. "Have a great day."

As she shuffles out, you glance at the clock. Your shift is almost over. Just a few more customers and you can head home to Mara, Wade, and Althea.

The next person in line steps forward, and you force a smile. But your mind is elsewhere, grappling with the swirl of emotions that have become your constant companions.

Later, as you drive home, you rehearse what you might say to Wade. The words tumble around in your head, never quite falling into place. How do you explain the tangle of grief, gratitude, and budding affection?

- - - - - - -

As you drive into the parking structure of your apartment complex, you park and make your way up the stairs to your shared apartment. The sound of laughter greets you as you approach the door. You smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort. You quickly grab your keys and unlock the door.

You enter the room and witness him playing with Mara. Her laughter echoes throughout the space as she rides on his back, her hair flowing behind her. Your heart feels full as you watch them, overwhelmed with love.

"Mommy!" Mara squeals, spotting you in the doorway. She scrambles off Wade's back and runs toward you, her little arms outstretched. You scoop her up, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the softness of her cheek against yours.

"Hey, sweetheart," you murmur, holding her close. "Did you have a good day with Uncle Wade?"

She nods enthusiastically. "We made a fort and had a tea party with Mr. Unicorn!"

Wade stands up, brushing off his knees. His smile is warm, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes. Concern? Uncertainty?

“Hey there, welcome home!” he says, sauntering over with the enthusiasm of a kid who’s just seen their favorite movie. “How was the grind today? Did you dodge any major disasters, or was it more of a ‘stuck in traffic’ kind of day? Either way, I’m here to make it all better—snacks and terrible jokes included.”

You set Mara down, and she immediately tugs on your hand. "Mommy, come see our fort!"

You follow Mara to the living room, where an impressive structure of blankets and pillows dominates the space. "Wow, sweetie, this is amazing!" you exclaim, crouching down to peek inside.

"Uncle Wade helped me build it," Mara says proudly. "We even have a secret password to get in!"

As you admire the fort, you feel Wade's presence behind you. His hand briefly touches your shoulder, a gesture of support that sends a small shiver through you.

He gently comments, “You look like you’ve been wrestling with a bear and lost. How about you kick back and let me whip up some dinner? I promise not to set the kitchen on fire this time.”

You turn to face him, your initial reaction is to chuckle but then you feel a pull on your heartstrings. You are taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. These moments leave you feeling torn and wistful. "Thank you, Wade. That would be wonderful."

- - - - - - -

As Wade heads to the kitchen, you settle into the fort with Mara, listening intently as she recounts her day's adventures. The soft glow of fairy lights strung inside the blanket structure casts a warm, comforting light on her animated face. You can't help but marvel at her boundless energy and imagination.

"And then, Mommy, Uncle Wade pretended to be a dragon, and I had to save Mr. Unicorn from his evil clutches!" Mara giggles, hugging her stuffed unicorn tightly.

You smile, running your fingers through her silky black hair. "That sounds like quite the adventure, sweetheart. Was Uncle Wade a scary dragon?"

Mara shakes her head emphatically. "No, he was a silly dragon. He kept making funny faces and tripping over his own tail!"

The sound of pots clanging in the kitchen momentarily distracts you both. Mara's eyes widen with excitement.

"Ooh, I think Uncle Wade is making his special pancakes!" she exclaims, bouncing on her knees.

A chuckle escapes your lips, as you recall Wade's infamous "special pancakes" that are always loaded with an excessive amount of chocolate chips and whipped cream. "Maybe you're onto something. But at this time of night? I suppose... we should lend him a hand?"

Mara shakes her head vigorously, her pigtails swinging. "No, no! We have to stay here and protect the fort from the tickle monster!"

"The tickle monster?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Mara nods seriously. "Uncle Wade said the tickle monster comes out when little girls don't eat all their vegetables. But I ate all my broccoli at lunch, so I'll protect you from the tickle monster!"

You can't help but laugh at her earnest declaration. "Well, I'm glad I have such a brave protector. But maybe we should check on Uncle Wade, just to make sure he's not burning down the kitchen?"

Mara considers this for a moment, then nods. "Okay, but we have to be really quiet so the tickle monster doesn't hear us!"

Hand in hand, you and Mara tiptoe out of the fort and towards the kitchen. The smell of butter and vanilla wafts through the air, confirming your suspicions about the pancakes.

As you round the corner, you see Wade at the stove, his back to you. He's wearing an apron that says "I’m Not Actually a Cook, I Just Play One in the Kitchen" and humming off-key to himself as he flips a pancake with impressive flair.

Mara giggles, alerting Wade to your presence. He spins around, spatula in hand, a comically exaggerated look of surprise on his face.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here? A couple of fort-dwellers venturing out into the wild?" he says, grinning. "I hope you're ready for the breakfast-for-dinner showdown of the century! Spoiler alert: it’s going to be epic."

Mara runs up to him, bouncing on her toes. "Are you making your special pancakes, Uncle Wade?"

"You bet I am, munchkin!" Wade ruffles her hair. "And I've got a super secret ingredient this time. Want to know what it is?"

Mara nods eagerly, and Wade leans down to whisper dramatically in her ear. Her eyes widen, and she lets out a delighted gasp.

Rainbow sprinkles!" Mara exclaims, clapping her hands with glee. "Can I help put them on, Uncle Wade? Please?"

Wade pretends to consider it, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know. Sprinkling rainbows is a very important job. Do you think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, yes!" Mara bounces on her toes, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Alright then, my little sous chef," Wade says, lifting her up to sit on the counter. "But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. And also a lot of colorful mess."

- - - - - - -

You lean against the wall, watching as Wade guides Mara's hand, showing her how to sprinkle just the right amount of rainbow bits onto each pancake. The sight of them together, laughing and working in tandem, makes your heart swell with a mix of emotions you can't quite name.

"Hey, don't just stand there looking pretty," Wade calls out to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come join the pancake party!”

You push off from the wall, shaking your head with a smile. "Someone's got to be the responsible adult here," you tease, but you move closer anyway.

"Responsible? In this kitchen? I don't think so," Wade quips, flipping another pancake with unnecessary flair. "We left responsible at the door, along with our dignity and our fear of sugar crashes."

As you approach the stove, the warmth from the griddle and the sweet aroma of pancakes envelop you. Wade hands you a spatula with a flourish.

"Your turn, chef," he says with a wink. "Show us how it's done."

You take the spatula, your fingers brushing against his for a moment. The touch sends a small jolt through you, and you quickly focus on the task at hand.

"Alright, let's see if I remember how to do this," you say, positioning yourself in front of the stove.

As you pour the batter onto the hot surface, Mara cheers from her perch on the counter. "Go, Mommy! Make it a unicorn shape!"

You laugh, attempting to form the batter into something vaguely unicorn-like. "I'm not sure if this is a unicorn or a blob with a horn, but we'll call it artistic license," you say, chuckling as you watch the misshapen pancake sizzle.

Wade leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours as he inspects your creation. "I'd say it's more of an abstract expressionist unicorn. Very avant-garde."

His closeness makes your heart skip a beat, and you fumble slightly with the spatula. Wade's hand quickly covers yours, steadying your grip.

"Careful there," he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. "We don't want any pancake casualties."

You turn your head slightly, suddenly aware of how close his face is to yours. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the kitchen fading away except for his eyes, warm and full of an emotion you're afraid to name.

"Mommy, it's bubbling!" Mara's excited voice breaks the moment. You blink, coming back to reality, and quickly flip the pancake.

"Nice save," Wade says, stepping back with a small smile. "I think you've got the hang of it now."

You nod, unable to find your voice for a moment. The pancake sizzles on the griddle, filling the silence.

"Can I put sprinkles on this one too, Uncle Wade?" Mara asks, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Of course, kiddo," Wade replies, his voice cheerful as he hands her the sprinkle shaker. "Just remember, a little goes a long way."

As Mara carefully sprinkles the rainbow bits onto the cooking pancake, you steal a glance at Wade. He's watching Mara with a soft expression, his eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine affection. The sight makes your heart ache in a way you can't quite define.

As the evening progresses, the kitchen fills with laughter and the sweet aroma of pancakes. Mara's excitement is contagious, and soon you find yourself relaxing, the stress of the workday melting away. Wade keeps the mood light with his jokes and silly antics, but you catch him watching you with a soft, thoughtful expression when he thinks you're not looking.

- - - - - - -

After dinner, as you're helping Mara get ready for bed, she asks, "Mommy, can Uncle Wade read me a bedtime story tonight?"

You hesitate for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions. "Sure, sweetie," you finally say. "If Uncle Wade doesn't mind."

Wade, who's been cleaning up in the kitchen, pops his head into the room. "Did someone say bedtime story? I thought I heard my cue. What'll it be tonight, munchkin? 'The Princess and the Pea' or 'Wade's Totally Awesome and Definitely True Adventures'?"

Mara giggles, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "The Wade story! Please, please!"

You can't help but smile as Wade dramatically clears his throat and settles into the chair beside Mara's bed. "Alright, gather 'round, young padawan. Let me tell you about the time I saved the entire world from an invasion of sentient, evil broccoli..."

As Wade launches into his fantastical tale, complete with silly voices and exaggerated gestures, you lean against the doorframe, watching. The sight of them together fills you with a bittersweet warmth. Mara's eyes are wide with wonder, hanging on Wade's every word, and Wade is fully immersed in his storytelling, his face animated and full of joy.

You can't help but think of Logan, wondering if he would have been this way with Mara. The thought sends a familiar pang through your chest, but it's dulled now, softened by the scene before you.

As Wade's story reaches its climax, with him dramatically reenacting a showdown between himself and the Broccoli King, Mara's giggles turn into yawns. Her eyelids start to droop, even as she fights to stay awake.

"And so," Wade says, his voice softening as he notices Mara's drooping eyelids, "the day was saved, the evil broccoli was turned into a delicious soup, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end."

Mara yawns widely, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "That was a good story, Uncle Wade," she murmurs sleepily.

Wade leans down and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sweet dreams, munchkin. Don't let the bed bugs bite - or the sentient broccoli."

As Wade stands up, you move to Mara's bedside, tucking her in and giving her a goodnight kiss. "I love you, sweetheart," you whisper.

"Love you too, Mommy," Mara replies, her eyes already closed.

- - - - - - -

You and Wade quietly exit the room, gently closing the door behind you. The sudden silence in the hallway feels heavy with unspoken words. You both linger for a moment, unsure of what to say or do next.

Wade breaks the silence first, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "She's really something special, isn't she?"

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "She is. I don't know what I'd do without her."

There's a pause, and then Wade says, "Or without you. You're an amazing mom, you know that?"

His words catch you off guard, and you look up at him. In the dim light of the hallway, his eyes are warm and sincere. You feel a flutter in your chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else you're not quite ready to name.

"I couldn't do it without your help," you admit, your voice soft. "You've been... incredible, Wade. With Mara, with everything."

Wade's expression softens, a hint of vulnerability showing through his usual jovial demeanor. "Hey, that's what family's for, right?" he says, gently nudging your shoulder with his. "Even if we're a bit of an unconventional one."

You both chuckle quietly, mindful of Mara sleeping nearby. As the laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. You find yourself studying Wade's face, noticing the tiny laugh lines around his eyes, the way his lips curl up slightly even when he's not smiling.

"Listen," Wade begins, his tone more serious than usual. "I know things haven't been easy for you, with Logan and everything. And I don't want to complicate things or make you feel pressured in any way. But I just want you to know that I'm here. For you, for Mara, for whatever you need."

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your heart races as you process what he's saying - and what he's not saying.

"Wade, I..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. How do you express the tangle of emotions you're feeling? The gratitude, the affection, the fear of letting someone in again.

Wade takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "You don't have to say anything," he says softly. "I just wanted you to know. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, I'm not going anywhere."

As you look up into Wade's eyes, you can see the sincerity and the hunger there. Without thinking, you lean forward, and your lips meet his for the first time. They're soft, warm, and inviting. A spark ignites between you, unfamiliar but thrilling. Wade's hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your jawline gently.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and husky. His breath tickles your lips, sending shivers down your spine.

- - - - - - -

Without breaking the kiss, you both make your way towards the living room couch, your lips locked in a heated kiss. The soft fabric of the couch cushions your bodies as you collapse onto it, your hands roaming over each other's bodies with increasing urgency.

Wade's hand travels up your shirt, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your waist. He groans as he feels the smoothness of your skin, whispers hotly in your ear, "Fuck, you're so soft... Logan doesn't know what he's missing out on."

You smile against his lips, feeling a thrill at the mention of Logan's name. Wade's rough hands feel even better against your skin now, as if you're sharing a deliciously dirty secret. You tug at the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head to reveal his muscular chest. The sight of his defined abs and pecs makes you feel weak in the knees.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your neck, and you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. "You taste so fucking good," he growls, his teeth grazing your skin.

You moan softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips. You can feel his heart pounding against your palm.

Wade's hand travels up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, and you squirm beneath his touch.

He groans as he feels how wet you are. "Fuck, you're so ready for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "I need you, Wade," you whisper, your voice shaky with desire.

He doesn't need any further encouragement. He tugs at the hem of your panties, sliding them down your thighs to reveal your wet and swollen folds. He takes a moment to admire the sight before lowering his head to lavish attention on your clit.

You cry out as his warm tongue circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He groans as he tastes your sweetness, his tongue darting in and out of your folds.

Meanwhile, your hand travels down his body, finding the hard length of his cock straining against his boxers. You stroke him gently, feeling him throb beneath your touch.

Wade groans as you touch him, his hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel him growing even harder in your hand.

He slides his boxers down his hips, revealing his thick and throbbing cock. You can't help but stare at it, mesmerized by its size and power.

Wade smirks as he sees the look of desire in your eyes. "Like what you see?" he asks, his voice teasing.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "It's so big," you whisper, your voice full of awe.

Wade chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. "And it's all yours," he murmurs.

He positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You moan as you feel it slide against your wet folds.

"Please, Wade," you beg, your voice needy and desperate.

He doesn't make you wait any longer. He slowly slides inside you, filling you up completely. You gasp at the sensation of being stretched and filled, your walls clenching around him.

Wade groans as he feels your tightness, his hips bucking involuntarily. He starts to move, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes.

You moan as the pleasure builds, your nails digging into his back. Wade leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he moves inside you.

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs it gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You do as he says, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Your body shakes and trembles as you cry out quietly, your nails digging deeper into his back.

Wade soon follows, pulling out quickly as his orgasm shudders through him. He came onto your stomach.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "That was amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with wonder.

You nod, smiling up at him. "Yeah, it was," you agree.

As the evening light fades, you and Wade reluctantly rise from the plush couch, but let's be real—who can resist that level of comfort? You both find yourselves sinking back into those soft cushions like two marshmallows in hot chocolate. Wade grabs the throw blanket that’s been carelessly flung over the armrest like it was a battle flag and drapes it over you, creating a cozy fortress of solitude as you snuggle in.

- - - - - - -

The following morning, you wake up abruptly as a soft tickle dances across your nose. The bright light shining down on you reveals Mara's adorable face, radiating sunshine and mischief. You can't help but smile back at her. With delicate fingers, she nudges Wade's hand, which is resting comfortably on your hip, startling him awake with wide eyes. "Thor! I thought we were battling frost giants!" he exclaims before realizing the situation. You roll your eyes and laugh.

Your bodies are feeling the effects of last night's activities - as if you just survived a zombie apocalypse, but in a much more enjoyable way. Just then, Mara interrupts your thoughts with an insistent voice, "Hungry, mommy!" She toddles over, clutching onto Mr. Unicorn for dear life, her wild hair tousled in the cutest way possible. She's like a miniature whirlwind of adorableness.

You stretch out your limbs like a cat, each muscle protesting slightly before swinging your legs over the side of the couch.

"Alright, sweetie, let's get some breakfast," you say, scooping Mara up into your arms. She giggles as you plant a kiss on her cheek.

Wade sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. "I vote for pancakes. Again. Is it possible to overdose on pancakes? Asking for a friend."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I think we've had enough pancakes for a while. How about some eggs and toast?"

"Eggs!" Mara cheers, bouncing in your arms. "Can I help crack them?"

"Sure thing, munchkin," Wade says, standing up and stretching. "Just try not to recreate the Great Egg Disaster of last Tuesday, okay?"

As you head to the kitchen, Mara chattering excitedly about her plans to become a world-famous egg cracker, you can't help but steal glances at Wade. He catches your eye and gives you a warm smile that makes your heart flutter. There's an unspoken understanding between you now, a shift in your relationship that both excites and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

In the kitchen, you set Mara on a stool at the counter while Wade retrieves the eggs from the fridge. As you gather the other ingredients, you feel Wade's hand brush against your lower back as he passes behind you. The touch, though brief, sends a shiver through you.

"Alright, Chef Mara," Wade announces, setting a bowl in front of her. "Show us your egg-cracking skills!"

Mara's face scrunches up in concentration as she carefully taps an egg against the side of the bowl. To everyone's surprise, she manages to crack it perfectly, the yolk sliding into the bowl without a single shell.

"I did it!" Mara exclaims, her face lighting up with pride.

"Way to go, kiddo!" Wade cheers, giving her a high five. "You're a natural!"

You can't help but beam at your daughter's accomplishment. "That was perfect, sweetie," you say, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

As you whisk the eggs, Wade starts on the toast, humming a tune under his breath. The domesticity of the moment strikes you - the three of you working together to make breakfast, moving around each other with easy familiarity. It feels right in a way you hadn't expected.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Wade asks, popping bread into the toaster.

"Well, I have the day off," you reply, pouring the whisked eggs into a heated pan. "I was thinking...we could take Mara to the park. She's been begging to try out the new playground equipment they installed last week."

"Yay, park!" Mara cheers, clapping her hands excitedly.

Wade grins, his eyes lighting up. "Sounds like a plan. I'll pack us a picnic lunch. Maybe we can finally teach Mara the art of proper frisbee throwing without accidentally beaning any unsuspecting joggers this time."

You chuckle, remembering the last park incident. "Let's hope so. Mrs. Johnson from apartment 3B still gives me the stink eye in the elevator."

As you finish cooking the eggs, Wade assists by spreading butter on the toast and helping Mara set the table. Suddenly, Grandma Al emerges from her bedroom with her white cane in hand. "Did someone think of making breakfast for me as well?" The four of you settle down at the table and engage in lively conversation while enjoying your meal and sipping on coffee (or, in Mara's case, apple juice)

As you watch Wade help Mara wipe egg from her chin, you feel a surge of affection. This man, who had started as just a friend, had become so much more - to both you and Mara. The realization both thrills and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

After breakfast, you help Mara get dressed for the park while Wade packs the picnic lunch. As you brush Mara's hair, she looks up at you with her big blue eyes - Logan's eyes - and asks, "Mommy, are we going to live with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al forever?"

The question catches you off guard, and you pause, the brush hovering mid-stroke. "Well, sweetie," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "Since it is their home, it depends. But for now, yes, we're staying here. Do you like living with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al?"

Mara nods enthusiastically. "I love it! Uncle Wade is so funny, and Grandma Al tells the best stories. But..." she hesitates, her little brow furrowing.

"But what, sweetie?" you prompt gently, resuming brushing her hair.

"But sometimes I wonder about my daddy," Mara says quietly. "The other kids at daycare talk about their daddies. Where's mine?"

Your heart clenches at her words. You've been dreading this conversation, knowing it would come eventually but hoping you'd have more time to prepare.

"Your daddy..." you begin, trying to keep your voice steady. "Your daddy had to go away for a while. But he loves you very much, even though he can't be here with us right now."

Mara looks up at you, her eyes wide and questioning. "Will he ever come back?"

You take a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. "I don't know, sweetie. Sometimes... sometimes daddies can't come back, even if they want to. But you know what? You have so many people who love you. You have me, and Uncle Wade, and Grandma Al. We're your family, and we'll always be here for you."

Mara nods slowly, seeming to process this information. "Okay," she says finally. "But can we still talk about him sometimes? I want to know what he was like."

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

"Sure thing," you say, relief washing over you that the conversation has ended for now. "Let's go see if Uncle Wade is ready with that picnic basket."

As you and Mara emerge from the bedroom, you find Wade in the living room, struggling to close an overstuffed picnic basket. He looks up as you enter, a sheepish grin on his face.

"I may have gone a little overboard," he admits, finally managing to snap the basket shut. "But hey, you never know when we might be ambushed by a family of hungry bears, right?"

With a chuckle, you help Wade with the picnic basket, while Mara runs off to fetch her favorite frisbee. As you all leave the house, the sun is shining brightly, and there's a sense of anticipation in the air. The laughter and chatter on the way to the park is a welcome distraction from your earlier conversation.

Arriving at the park, you release Mara's hand and she dashes towards the playground, her laughter echoing in the air. Wade follows her, a playful grin on his face. You and Althea find a nice spot under a tree, laying out the picnic blanket and opening the overflowing basket. The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow on everything around you.

The park was alive with activity, and Mara couldn't contain her excitement as she ran from one attraction to the next. Wade was the perfect uncle, chasing after her and making sure she had the time of her life. Althea, on the other hand, was content feeding the ducks with leftover toast from breakfast. As you watch them, a warm feeling spreads through your chest.

- - - - - - -

As the day turns into evening, the exhaustion starts to catch up with everyone. Wade scoops up Mara onto his shoulders, her face lighting up as she takes another lick of her melting ice cream cone. Althea holds onto your arm as you all make your way back to the apartment.

The cool breeze brushes against your skin, providing a welcome refreshment. The sun slowly sinks in the sky as you make your way inside. You guide Althea to her room for some much-needed rest while Mara eagerly anticipates her nightly bath and bedtime routine. With everyone settled for the night, it's just you and Wade in the bathroom.

As the steam fills the room, Wade's fingers trace along the curves of your body, leaving a trail of warmth behind them. He backs you up against the sink counter, and you can feel his hard cock pressing into your hip. His mouth crashes into yours, and your tongues dance in a desperate, passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as his fingers trail up your thigh, teasing the edge of your panties.

Wade's hands slide up your body, gripping your hips as he drops to his knees. His breath hot on your skin as he hooks his fingers into your panties, tugging them down. He takes a moment to admire your wet, swollen pussy before diving in, his tongue lapping up your juices. You grip the counter for support as his tongue circles your clit, his hands gripping your ass to pull you closer.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so good," Wade growls, his voice low and husky. He sucks on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You cry out, your hips bucking against his face as he adds a finger, sliding it into your slick folds. He curls it upwards, hitting your g-spot with each stroke.

Your orgasm crashes over you unexpectedly, and you cling to him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Wade pulls back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he tugs off his boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing cock.

He lifts you up onto the counter, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he lines himself up with your entrance. He teases the head of his cock against your clit, making you writhe with need before plunging into you in one swift motion.

The feeling of him inside you is almost too much to bear, and you grip his shoulders as he thrusts into you, his movements strong and steady. Your moans fill the steamy bathroom as he takes you harder and faster, his fingers digging into your hips.

"You like that, baby?" he asks, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck yes," you gasp, your nails leaving marks on his skin. He chuckles and leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. Wade's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deep inside you, each stroke hitting that sweet spot that sends shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he growls, his voice low and rough with desire. He pulls out of you, his cock still throbbing and slick with your juices. His hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it a few times as he leans in to press a hard kiss to your lips.

With a final groan, he pulls back and you watch in fascination as ropes of cum erupt from his cock, landing in hot streaks on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of it against your skin, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"Fuck, that was intense," Wade pants, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He leans in to trail kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, his hands roaming over your body.

"Mmm, yes it was," you moan, your own desire still pulsing through you. You reach down to run your fingers through the sticky mess on your stomach, then bring them to your lips, tasting the salty tang of his cum.

Wade groans at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. "You're so fucking sexy," he growls, his hands sliding down to cup your ass and pull you closer. You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and it makes you ache for more.

The two of you continue to kiss passionately as he lifts you up from the counter. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist, while your arms drape over his neck as he carries you into the shower. The warm water washes away any thoughts of Logan, leaving behind only lingering sensations from a night of intense passion and pleasure. Your body still tingles with delight under the cascade of water, and you can't help but smile at the memory of Wade's skilled fingers playing your body like a finely-tuned instrument.

- - - - - - -

glossary: n/a

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader #smut #wolverine x reader #x men 97 #x men movies #deadpool x reader #deadpool #ryan reynolds #hugh jackman #ryan reynolds smut #thank you #fluff #family #tumblr milestone #deadpool movie #deadpool smut #poolverine

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loganhowlettshousewife · 3 months ago

Note

For December do you think you could write decorating with genderfluid!Reader? If not that’s cool too and you have my thanks anyways!

logan howlett x genderfluid!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

as always with these, anyone can technically read it but it was written with a genderfluid reader in mind. there's really only one mention of reader being genderfluid since i wasn't sure how to add it into the fic in a way that felt natural.

decorating is one of your absolute favourite things to do. you suppose it makes sense given your love for fashion and aesthetics and art - you enjoy when things look beautiful. so for every season and holiday, big or small, you decorate.

the x-mansion is full of children who came from bad homes, or homes that were once wonderful but fell apart quickly when the parents found out their beloved child was a mutant, a freak of nature. you hope you can bring even a modicum of joy to these children’s lives through your over-enthusiasm for the holidays, making the environment fun for them, giving them enough good memories to hopefully outnumber the bad ones.

it leads to moments like these: half-full boxes of winter decor strewn around the room, the sound of overlapping laughter as everyone tries to find the perfect spot for the perfect addition to the room, music playing quietly in the background.

and logan, your logan, your favourite person, your very best friend, the love of your life. easily lifting kids high into the air so they can reach the ceiling, taping up paper lanterns in the shape of snowflakes that the taller patrons of the x-mansion will have to dodge for the rest of the winter season, ducking every time they walk through the room.

he used to refuse to do this with you, said it was too chaotic, too many people running around, too much noise for a temper like his. and yet this morning as you’d lazily gotten out of bed, he’d watched you with a question in his eyes, a hesitation that told you it wasn’t something bad, but certainly something you’d lord over him for a while.

you had exited the shower, felt his hands exploring your body as you tried to get dressed, sighing in exaggerated irritation every time he interrupted the process. he’d asked you his typical morning questions as he pressed kisses to your neck: how did you feel, what should he call you, how did you want him to refer to you today?

and then, “spit it out, logan.”

he’d admitted that he wanted to see what the fuss was about, why everyone was always so happy afterwards, reveling in the energy of the day even as the sky fell beneath the horizon.

it was strange for logan, a man so used to pain and suffering, hard after all this time for him to understand the simple joys of life, like celebrating holidays with people you loved. but he wanted to try being a part of something good. and besides, as much as he tried to hide it, you knew he had a soft spot for the children in the x-mansion, sneaking them treats and helping them get away with things, shrugging when asked if he’d seen anyone causing trouble.

he pretends to drop the kid he’s holding, a loud shrieking squeal piercing the air, giggles that sound like music to your ears following shortly after. he puts the kid down, who immediately runs off to his friends, leaving logan watching you, his eyes meeting yours from across the room.

“thought this was your thing,” logan mutters when he reaches your side, “looks to me like you’re letting everyone else do the work this time.”

you grimace at him in faux annoyance, but it’s impossible to keep up the facade, not when you’re looking at the winter decor, - a mix of hanukkah and christmas and kwanzaa and whatever else anyone wanted to add - disorganised and messy and absolutely perfect. it is, in your opinion, the closest thing to a physical representation of the word joy.

“you’re being distracting,” you reply, pressing a brief kiss to his lips, “but now that you’re here, you can help me! pick me up! i have a plan for these lights but i can’t reach where i want to put them!”

and he does, of course, because what are boyfriends for if not for indulging in your every whim?

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

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callsigns-haze · 8 months ago

Text

Ace of the aces

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Eris wakes up alone, realizing Y/N has taken their son, Finna, out for the morning. As he starts a fire and picks up a book, he drifts back to sleep. He wakes to Y/N and Finna returning home with a new hunting hound puppy, bringing back memories of his own twelve hounds from childhood. Warning: Mild language, Brief mention of past trauma. Emotional reflections, MOSTLY PURE FLUFF

*Serves as a one-shot but can be read as memories fade or the sequel loves haze series

Eris loved his little family more than anything, but ever since Finna was born, sleep had become a rare luxury. He shivered awake as the cool November sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. As he turned over in bed, he noticed the empty space beside him. Y/N wasn't there.

He sighed, pushing himself up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The bed was cold where she had slept, indicating she had been up for a while. Eris stretched, feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion in his muscles. He listened for any sounds that might indicate where Y/N and Finna were, but the house was unusually silent.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Eris stood up and made his way to the nursery. The room was bathed in the soft morning light, and the gentle colours of the walls seemed to soothe his tired mind. He walked over to Finna’s crib, expecting to see his son sleeping peacefully. But the crib was empty.

A jolt of worry shot through him, and he quickly scanned the room. There were no signs of Y/N or Finna. Eris’s heart began to race as he hurried down the hall, checking each room along the way. Finally, he headed to the kitchen, hoping to find some clue as to where they had gone.

On the kitchen table, he spotted a note in Y/N’s handwriting. Relief washed over him as he picked it up and read:

Good morning, my flame. I took Finna out for a walk to let you sleep in. We’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about us. Enjoy your morning off. Love, Y/N and your buddy.

Eris let out a long breath, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders. He smiled to himself, grateful for Y/N’s thoughtfulness. She always seemed to know what he needed, even before he did. Folding the note, he placed it back on the table and went to make himself a cup of coffee.

As the rich aroma filled the kitchen, Eris leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee and thinking about how lucky he was. Y/N had given him the gift of a quiet morning, a rare opportunity to rest and recharge. He took another sip, savouring the moment of peace, and decided to take her advice.

Deciding to make the most of his quiet morning, Eris moved to spark a fire in the living room. He pulled on a thick robe and slippers before stepping outside to gather some firewood. The chill of the November air hit him instantly, making him shiver as he quickly collected a few logs and hurried back inside.

Once back in the warmth of the house, he set to work stacking the wood in the fireplace. With practiced ease, he arranged the logs and kindling, clicking his fingers and coaxing the flames to life. The fire crackled and roared to life, filling the room with a comforting warmth and the familiar scent of burning wood.

Satisfied with the fire, Eris grabbed the book he had been reading from the coffee table. He settled into his favourite armchair by the hearth, the flames casting a flickering glow across the pages. As he opened the book, the quiet of the house enveloped him, creating a perfect cocoon of tranquillity.

He lost himself in the story, the words transporting him to another world. Every now and then, he would glance up at the fire, the dancing flames mesmerizing him. The warmth seeped into his bones, and he felt the tension of sleepless nights slowly ebb away.

The book was a comforting escape, a beloved novel he had read countless times before. Each turn of the page brought a familiar sense of joy, and Eris found himself smiling as he immersed himself in the tale. Time seemed to slow down, the peaceful morning stretching out before him.

Eris couldn't remember the last time he had a moment like this to himself. Between the demands of leadership and the joys of fatherhood, these quiet moments were few and far between. He cherished the solitude, knowing it wouldn't last long but appreciating every second of it.

He read for a while, the fire crackling in the background, the house still and serene. His thoughts occasionally drifted to Y/N and Finna, wondering what they were up to and when they would return. But for now, he was content to simply enjoy the peace and quiet, the book in his hands, and the warmth of the fire beside him.

As Eris lightly drifted to sleep, the warmth of the fire and the cozy chair lulling him into a peaceful doze, he was abruptly awakened by the sound of the front door opening. He heard Y/N's giggling, followed by a delicate bark that made him sit up straight, his heart pounding in confusion.

They didn't own a dog.

Curiosity and a hint of anxiety propelled him out of his chair and toward the corridor. He moved quickly but quietly, not sure what to expect. As he turned the corner, his eyes widened in surprise and a mix of emotions.

There, standing in the entryway, was Y/N, her face lit up with joy as she held Finna in her arms. And beside her, wagging its tail energetically, was a hunting hound puppy. The puppy had the same sleek, powerful build and intelligent eyes as the hounds from the Autumn Court that Eris had grown up with.

Y/N looked up and saw Eris, her smile widening. "Surprise!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "I thought you could use a little company and a reminder of home."

Eris was momentarily speechless, his gaze shifting from Y/N to the puppy. The hound looked up at him with curious, bright eyes, and Eris felt a rush of nostalgia and unexpected emotion. It was as if a piece of his past had suddenly come to life in his present.

"Where did you find him?" Eris finally managed to ask, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N laughed softly. "We found him at a breeder at the market. I couldn't resist. And Finna seemed to love him at first sight."

As if on cue, Finna reached out a chubby hand to the puppy's head, giggling in delight as the hound licked his fingers. Eris felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the scene, the happiness of his family mingling with the poignant memories of his past.

Eris knelt down, reaching out to pet the puppy. The hound responded with a happy bark and a wag of its tail, nuzzling against Eris's hand. It felt like a bridge between his old life and the new one he was building with Y/N and Finna.

"Thank you," Eris said softly, looking up at Y/N with gratitude. "This means more to me than you know."

Y/N's eyes softened, and she leaned in to kiss him gently. "I know," she whispered. "I thought it might."

Eris gathered them all into a hug, his heart swelling with love and appreciation. The puppy barked again, as if to join in the family embrace, and Eris couldn't help but laugh.

"Welcome to the family, little one," he said to the hound, his voice filled with warmth. "You're going to love it here."

Eris watched as Finna continued to bond with the new puppy, his tiny hands grabbing at the hound’s fur while the pup wagged its tail excitedly. The sight tugged at Eris’s heart, bringing a flood of memories from his own childhood, surrounded by the twelve loyal hounds that had been his constant companions.

"I think I'll name him Ace," Eris said softly, a smile forming on his lips. "It's a strong name. Suits him, don’t you think?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling with stars of understanding. "Ace it is."

Eris knelt down beside Finna, gently stroking Ace’s fur. The puppy responded by licking Finna’s cheek, eliciting a burst of giggles from the baby. Eris’s smile widened, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.

As he watched Finna play with Ace, Eris’s mind drifted back to his early years in the Autumn Court. The memory of his twelve hounds was vivid—how they had been his guardians, his friends, his solace in the turbulent court life. Those hounds had understood him in ways no one else could, offering unconditional loyalty and love.

Eris felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with gratitude. He had vowed to create a better life for his own family, free from the shadows of his past. Seeing Finna bond with Ace, he knew he was on the right path. This little hound, named Ace, symbolized not just a new beginning, but a bridge to the cherished memories that had shaped him.

Looking at Finna’s happy face and Ace’s playful antics, Eris felt a surge of determination. He would protect this family with all his strength, ensuring they never experienced the pain he had endured. With Y/N by his side and their children growing up in a loving home, he knew they could overcome any obstacle.

Eris stood up, lifting Finna into his arms and cuddling him close. "Ace is going to be your best friend," he murmured to his son. "Just like my hounds were to me."

Y/N wrapped an arm around Eris, leaning her head on his shoulder. "We’re building something beautiful here, Eris. Our own little piece of heaven."

Eris nodded, his heart swelling with love for his family. "Yes, we are. And I’m going to make sure it stays that way." As the sun continued to rise, casting a warm glow over their cabin, Eris felt a renewed sense of purpose.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen