#properly bundled up the boys

[canisalbus]

.

[entitled-fangirl]

A sigil of mine.

Summary: the reader is taken from Winterfell while Cregan is at the Wall. He's a vengeful man.

Warning: kidnapping, dread, guilt, blood, scars, branding, talks of torture, our boy Cregan embodying Joel Miller when Ellie gets taken in the Last of Us

This one is dark

A/n: based on an ask! Also, fuck the Lannisters

I'll proofread later🫡

Masterlist

..............................................

"Lord Stark! An urgent letter has arrived from Winterfell!" A brother of the Wall yelled over the sound of the harsh wind that roared through the icy halls.

Cregan turned his entire body to him, a sudden pain in his stomach. What could be so urgent?

Cregan nearly rips the letter from the man's hand as he nears. The letter is stained with a dark red in places and he feels himself choke a little.

Lord Stark, Winterfell is under attack. By the time you read this, I will be long gone. I tried to protect the Lady as best as I could.  It was an honor to serve under House Stark and see you become a man. Please forgive me. Maester Tinedel

Cregan's hands shook violently as his eyes roamed over the paper another time. Then once more. His jaw set harshly as he looked up to the man that had brought such devastating news. "When did this arrive?" He growled lowly.

"Just this morning. Is it dated by any chance, my Lord?"

Cregan flipped the page and surely enough, the old maester had been wise enough to do so.

The air in his lungs escaped, creating a cloud in the cold air.

"Three weeks now."

The man stared in confusion at Cregan's sudden distress. "Is everything alright?"

Cregan crumpled the paper in his fist. "Ready my horse."

The brother of the Wall shook his head, "My lord, it is the bulk of winter. You can't possibly leave in such conditions. And you are not properly pack-"

"Ready. My. Horse. I leave within the hour."

The Warden of the North stormed away, a heaviness in his step from the sudden weight on his shoulders.

…

Cregan had always thought the travel to the Wall and back took too long on a good day.

Now, he was a mere bundle of nerves trying to tie what he could to his horse.

It would take too long. Whatever happened had happened and he wasn't there to save them.

To save her. 

He knew the guilt would eat his alive no matter how long it took him to get back. 

Surely another letter would arrive soon if things had turned for the better, but he wouldn't wait for that letter to show. 

The odds of one never arriving were too high.

"Are you certain of this, Lord Stark?"

He turned to the stable master with the hint of unshed tears in his eyes. "I'm not sure of anything. But I must return home."

The stable master nodded in acceptance, "And you're really not going to take men with you?"

Cregan huffed in frustration. "I cannot take men from the Wall. Their war is here. I cannot ask them to fight my own war as well."

"My lord, you're fighting both wars. Surely you can allow for some assistance."

Cregan hoisted himself up onto his horse. "I cannot promise when I'll return. But, should everything be righted, I will write back."

"If I may?"

"Yes?"

The man heaved a long sigh as placed his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't wish this feeling on my worst enemy, my lord. May the gods be with you on your journey and at your arrival."

Cregan bits the inside of his cheek. "Thank you."

With that, Cregan clicks at his horse, and the long journey began.

…

As expected, the journey was grueling. The cold was killing him from the outside in, but the constant need to stop and warm up was killing him from the inside out.

He couldn't even eat without thinking of the blood that stained the letter.

He couldn't sleep without thinking of the screams of his wife as another man's hands laid on her.

Even in the best case, the horror was too much to bare.

Despite his initial crumpling of the letter, Cregan kept it stashed away in his few belongings, smoothing it out and reading it every night before sleep consumed him. 

Just to crumple it again.

…

Despite the journey taking a usual two to three weeks when the weather was obedient, Cregan made it back to Winterfell in a week and half.

The consistent shiver to his bones only spurred him faster. 

He had plenty of time to consider his plan, should he truly be in need of one.

And now was the time to use it. 

…

Winterfell laid still. 

Cregan had expected fire and battle. A sound of swords clashing and men roaring.

Quietness was worse.

He had managed to get through the bulk of people with his hood up and his usual dire wolf cloak long abandoned. 

For in this moment, he was no Stark. 

He was a vengeful man.

He managed to sneak into the walls of the very place he should have been highly welcomed in.

For such a burly man, he was deathly silent. His boots made no sound on the stone floors, and his breath was so low that it may be thought that he didn't breathe at all.

He stood outside of his own chamber that he shared with his wife. He reached up and his hand faltered against the wood of the door. He couldn't dare open it.

"Oh, Lord Stark! Oh, thank the gods!" A female voice shrieked in relief.

Cregan flinched at the sound, turning on his heel to see the woman. His wife's handmaiden. He relaxed a bit.

"Oh. Sorry, milord. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just I didn't know when you would return. Or if you'd return at all. And I-"

"Where is she?" He quietly interrupted.

The handmaiden stiffened and her face fell. "I… I dunno."

"She's not here?" He dared to ask.

She wrung her hands nervously. "You don't… you don't know?"

He tried to hold back his frustration. "Are they still here?"

She shook her head. "Left not long after the attack. Left just a few of us to pick up the pieces."

"And my wife? What happened to her?"

She let the silence set. 

He sighed in frustration and his hand moved to the chamber door.

"I wouldn't, milord," she warned.

He threw her a glare and dare to step in.

He should have listened.

The room laid in disarray. The furs from the bed were thrown on the floor. The furniture was moved, an obvious conflict had occurred. But that's not what Cregan's eyes moved to.

It was the scraps of clothing that were strewn across the room in various places. Some bloody.

His jaw went slack and he knelt down and picked up a strip of the cloth. Stark blue. 

His thumb rubbed at the fabric. He knew it well. His favorite dress on her. 

"They came in the early morning." The handmaiden spoke from the doorway. "Lady Stark had just gotten dressed for the day. I was… I was braiding her hair at the vanity when…"

"When..?" Cregan questioned. 

"It happened so suddenly. The screams."

He stood. "Who did it?"

"House Lannister."

Cregan took a deep breath. "Is she dead?"

"Milord-"

"-Was she slain by a Lannister?"

"No. Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"They took her. She could be dead now, I dunno. But they took her alive."

He felt a bit of relief move down his spine. "When you last saw her, she indeed was drawing breath?"

"Yes."

"Then that's enough for me. And Maester Tinedel?"

She tilted her head back and forth. "He lives. But barely."

He kept the fabric in his hand. "Take me to him."

…

"My Lord!"

"Please, don't get up on my account." Cregan stood at the elder man's bedside. "You're still healing."

The maester relaxed and leaned back against the headboard. "It takes more than a blade to change my loyalty, dear Cregan."

"You've been with me since the day I was born, old man," he teased. "And still you defend me when I am not there."

"There has been no greater honor."

Cregan pulled a chair to his bedside, sitting down. "Tell me what you remember."

"It's not a pleasant story for you, my lord. But very well." He leaned back in thought. "I was in my chamber. It was morning. I heard sounds from the corridor and I dared to go venture out. I defended as much as I could, but an old man is no match to young men with longswords. They took the lady from her room. As far as I know, they still have her-"

"-Do you know where they are now?"

"I'd assume they moved back to Casterly Rock. I have reason to believe that you have been betrayed by one of your bannermen, my lord. How else would they have gotten through the North so quietly?"

Cregan considered the man's words, running a shaky hand over his growing beard. "Who?"

The maester grunted as he sat up further. "I could hardly guess, my lord.

"Whoever it is, I'll murder him where he stands."

…

Gathering men together quickly was not a difficult task for Cregan.

Many men had skin in the game of thrones, and equally so, most were loyal unto death for their lord.

While most banner men would have answered a call to war, there wasn't enough time to gather an army while he was there, leaving the job to one of his closest bannerman, the Lord of House Bolton.

His mind laid in constant worry. 

…

In time, the men made it to Lord Reed, the last of the Northern Lords before being out of the North entirely. 

"'Tis truly a shame of what happened to the castle," Lord Reed said as he ushered Cregan further into Greywater Watch. "Any ideas of who might have done such an act?"

He shook his head, eyeing Lord Glover next to him. "No. No, we haven't. Hence why I don't have an army behind me."

"Well, that's understandable. Whoever did such a crime should be punished by all the gods alike, sneaking such an ambush like that."

Cregan nodded, "Yes, yes, they should. I thank you for housing us on such short notice."

Reed forced a smile. "Of course, Lord Stark." He continued moving down the hall. "The North would never sit by while a Lord's wife was taken from him."

Cregan's foot faltered. He paused completely. His voice was low. "I never said my wife was taken."

Lord Reed froze in pure fear at his mistake.

And he was shoved against the wall with Cregan's wolfish growl in his face. "Where is she?"

Reed gasped and fought against the man, but was no match. "I… I don't know what you mean, my lord… p… please.."

Cregan pulled him away by the throat to hit his head against the stone wall again, repeating himself. "WHERE IS SHE?"

Reed sputtered and groaned at the pain. "I… They didn't tell me… I swear…. I swear that to you."

"Your word means nothing to me." Cregan looked over his shoulder to Glover. "Write back to Winterfell. Tell them Lord Reed is dead."

"…My Lord?" Glover faltered.

"Tell them."

"Aye, my lord."

Reed shook violently in Cregan's grip. "I swear. I swear! I don't know! Please!"

Cregan leaned into the man's face. "You're gonna tell me what you do know. Aren't you?"

…

"Fucking Lannisters!" Cregan's voice roared through the Watch. "Get Glover. We're leaving now."

"My lord?" One of the men asked.

"Do what I said."

"Aye."

"May house Reed learn from its mistake."

…

Little did Cregan know yet, Loreon Lannister's brigade had been stopped by the Blackwoods, just shy of Lannister territory. 

The young Lord Benjicot Blackwood had rode out to meet them when word was sent of a brigade sneaking through his land. 

He raged at the sight of a terrified woman clad in a Stark blue dress. He vowed that the Lannisters would not see to their land should they refuse to surrender the woman to him.

Hence the small battle that had commenced.

But that was two weeks ago. 

Cregan looked over the land, the blood still staining the grass. "Think they made it?"

Glover hummed. "Lord Benjicot is a formidable enemy, I've heard. Wouldn't want to anger that boy in the slightest."

"Thank fuck!" A voice yelled over the field.

Lord Benjicot rode his horse out to the group in a fast trot. He spoke when he got closer "Knew you'd be quick but I figured it would be another few weeks."

"Don't underestimate angry northern men," Glover grimaced.

"Or Blackwoods, it seems," Cregan chimed in, looking over the field. "I believe I'm indebted to you in some capacity."

"Don't speak too soon, Lord Stark," Benjicot smiled. "You haven't asked how we faired."

Cregan's brows furrowed. "And how did you fair?"

Benjicot's smile grew. 

"We have her."

Cregan reached a hand out to steady himself on his horse from the sheer relief that swept through his body. "Gods…"

"Fucking bastards should have journeyed by sea if they were smart. Should've known that any ally of the Queen is an ally of mine."

"You have her then? In Raventree Hall?" Glover asked what they were all thinking.

"I do."

Cregan voice recovered. "Take me to her. Please."

…

"My lady?" One of the Blackwood handmaidens spoke up.

Y/n looked up at the woman. 

The faint hints of scratches and bruises were still on the lady's skin, but she had been given time to heal due to the Blackwoods' bravery. But regardless, the tremor in her hands remained. 

"I've been sent to inform you of a visitor that will soon be arriving."

Her heart leaped from her chest. She found herself moving more to the window and peering out. 

Cregan.

The man and his horse moved as one. It had always impressed her. 

Her sluggish behavior left the second he came into view. 

Not caring for her shoes, her cloak, anything, she ran past the handmaiden quicker than her feet could move. 

Tripping and stumbling along the way, ignoring the pain, she finally made it to the large doors of Raventree and bolted out of them.

Cregan had just pulled his horse to a stop when he caught sight of her.

He couldn't remember actually getting down from his horse he had gotten to her so quickly.

His strong arms held her to him in a vice grip, his hands indecisive of where to stay- her waist, her back, her hair, the constant need to feel her wholly gripped him.

Equally so, her arms wrapped around his neck firmly, as if to make sure he was real. 

"Fuck. Don't ever do this again," he sighed as he placed his chin on the top of her head. 

She sobbed lightly against his chest and her hands gripped his cloak so tightly her knuckles turned white. 

"Are you hurt?" He asked in worry. 

She hiccuped through tears. 

Cregan pulled her away, cupping her cheeks so he could study her. "Speak to me, pretty girl. Where are you hurt?"

She hiccuped again. "I… I'm fine."

"Where did they touch you?"

"Cregan…"

"Where?"

Benjicot had caught up at that point. "I wouldn't say they were delicate with her, Lord Stark. Most of it is faded, but the ones on her arms are rather nasty."

Cregan never looked away from her, keeping her eye contact. He tilted his head down, silently asking to gaze at her arms.

He hesitantly pulled her sleeves up and gawked slightly. 

Green bruises still remained at her wrists, no doubt from dragging her along. He tried to ignore the faint scabs from the scrapes that laid in various spots. 

"They did a number on you, didn't they?"

She looked at him fearfully, beyond nervous for his reaction to all of this. 

Benjicot spoke up again. "You've no idea." He placed a steady hand on the woman's back, ignoring Cregan's protective glare as he did so. "You're safe here. Why don't you show him?"

"Show me what?"

She turned to look over her shoulder at Benjicot, "Must I?"

Cregan was growing frustrated. If there was one thing he hated, it was no knowing things. "Show me."

She hesitantly nodded, and Benjicot stepped up to her, untying her bodice from the back. Once he did so, he spun her around to have her back face Cregan. Then he gently pulled down her sleeve until her right shoulder blade was exposed. 

A Lannister sigil was burned into the skin. Ugly scarring around the marred flesh. 

Her head was hung in shame as she stood there, avoiding eye contact with everyone. 

Cregan's hand came up to brush the skin achingly slow. He couldn't find words. 

Benjicot broke the silence. "Amidst this, there is good news."

"I guarantee there isn't," Cregan growled back quickly.

"I have Loreon Lannister under my care as well."

Cregan's head snapped to him. "What?"

"The man is in my dungeons, Lord Stark."

Cregan's hand moved up to Y/n's hair, brushing it aside to fully view what was exposed of her back. 

But his eyes couldn't move from the brand.

"Inside, you say? Still breathing?"

Benjicot let out an amused chuckle. "I refused to take that privilege from you."

Lord Stark's hand brushed her shoulder again. "I fear I owe the Blackwoods more than I own."

…

Not long later, Cregan stepped into her room. 

She turned her head towards him.

Cregan was covered in blood.

She stood suddenly. "Are you harmed?"

His brows furrowed, looking down at himself, as if forgetting all he had done. "Oh. None of it is mine."

"You killed him?"

Cregan sighed and shut the door. "We'll not discuss this now."

"Cregan-"

"-No. Don't ask again."

Her face fell a bit. She moved to the window and sat again. 

He watched her. "Forgive me. There's still rage in my heart."

"Still? Is it because of me?"

He faltered. "No. No, of course not." He rubbed his chin. "You did nothing wrong."

"If I had journeyed to the Wall with you that day, would you have been as angry if Winterfell was attacked?"

He paused as considered her question. "You know the answer."

She hummed and looked out of the window.

He followed her gaze. "Forgive me for taking so long."

"I watched out this window."

"I know you did."

"What if Benjicot hadn't have found me?"

He sat down next to her. "He did though."

"But what if he hadn't?"

Cregan dared to reach out and pull her hair aside, tugging her sleeve down to see the brand again. 

She finally turned to look at him with teary eyes. 

"I'd rather not think about those things," Cregan answered softly.

"Will you wash yourself, please?"

He paused, remembering the blood all over him. "Sorry, sweet girl. I didn't realize that would bother you so much. I will, I promise."

She looked back to the window. "Will we go home soon?"

Cregan stood to go to the washbowl across the room. "We will in time."

"What's stopping us, Cregan?"

He didn't have the heart to actually say that it was her. "Be patient, my girl, alright?"

…

Benjicot walked with Cregan down the corridor. "I apologize that I did not manage to capture Lord Jason. That will haunt me."

Cregan shook his head, "You've done much for the North. We'll not forget this act of kindness."

Benji grinned, "The North remembers."

"Indeed."

"Tell me something, my lord?"

Cregan nodded.

"What did you do in those dungeons?"

Cregan sighed, crossing his arms over his  chest. "I wouldn't want you to think differently of me, old friend."

Benjicot shook his head, "Nothing could do so, Cregan. You've seen me rather bloody. It's only fair."

He paused and considered his words, carefully phrasing himself. "A part of me hopes that his son doesn't find out what I've done to his father. It was almost too much to bare."

"What do you mean?"

Cregan pulled his dagger from his belt, running a hand over the blade. "I'll have to sharpen this later, if you understand what I'm saying."

Benjicot nodded. "I believe I do. But more context might be beneficial."

Cregan leaned forward and spoke lowly. "The dead man wears a sigil of mine in return."

The Blackwood's eyes looked down to the dagger and back to Cregan. "I see."

"If there truly is life after death, my friend, I hope he lives the next with my reminder."

"Surely, he would. I'd say you were merciful in ending him regardless."

…

Cregan rubbed her thigh absentmindedly as the maester inspected the brand. 

"It's healing well, but as you can imagine, it will leave behind a nasty scar."

Cregan clenched his jaw at the thought of his own wife living with a lion burned onto her. "No risk of a fever?"

He shook his head. "A clean burn like this rarely risks such a thing."

"Well, the north thanks you for your work."

The maester excused himself.

Since finding her again, Cregan had a difficulty understanding what she was going through. She was bottling everything up, he could tell. 

"Sweet girl?" He asked gently, continuing to rub at her leg.

"Is it ugly?" She responded quietly, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Cregan wasn't sure what to say to that. "It looks painful. Is it?"

She hummed, eyes still anchored. "It didn't hurt as much as the laughs."

"They laughed? While they did this to you?"

She nodded. 

Her hand moved up to pull her sleeve back up, but Cregan was quick to stop her, placing his hand over hers. 

She looked up questioningly.

"You're as gorgeous as the day I met you." His other hand moved hair behind her ear. "And as beautiful as the day I married you. As well as when I left for the Wall this winter." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently. "You're just changed is all."

"But the-"

"-Yes. Yes, it pains me to see it. But not because of what it is, but because you were hurt and I did not defend you as I should have."

Silence fell over them until she spoke up.

"Tell me I'm yours."

Cregan froze. "What?"

"I need to hear it. To really know."

"Well, you are. You know that."

"Please, Cregan."

Cregan stood from the bed, rounding it until he was behind her. He reached out and brushed the brand again, trying to ignore the shiver that went down her spine. "You're mine."

The words relaxed her, her shoulders moving down.

Cregan placed his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. "You belong to the Warden of the North." He grinned. "A vile and vicious beast intent on killing anything that nears it. Almost anything."

She smiled lightly, the first one in weeks. "And what is that one thing that the wolf likes?"

"A pretty she-wolf that brings down his defense."

One of his hands moved to the back of her neck and she all but melted, her head leaning back now. 

He continued this for a while, letting the silence sit, but he soon leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the marred skin of her shoulder. 

"You're mine." He kissed her shoulder. "And I don't need a brand to prove so." He kissed behind her ear. "You know who you belong to, don't you?"

"…you, Cregan."

"Hmm?" He feigned. 

"You."

He smirked and nipped at her ear. "And who is that? Tell me."

She turned as much as her injuries could allow. Her voice softened as his eyes gazed into hers. "Cregan Stark. I belong to Cregan Stark."

"And I do to you, pretty girl."

He closed the distance, placing the softest kiss he'd ever managed onto her lips.

When they pulled away from one another, she spoke. "Do we get to return soon?"

He nodded, twirling her hair between his fingers. "Soon. I'm only waiting for Lord Bolton to arrive with the men."

"Th… what?"

He puffed out his chest in pride. "I don't do well with spoiled southerners. Bolton is riding an army to the border of Lannister territory, with Benjicot's permission, of course."

"An army? You can't start a war over me."

"I didn't start anything, my love." He kissed her again. "I only finish it."

.........................................................

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[sweetteainthesummerx]

✰ sweet nothing✰

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x writer! reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

song: sweet nothing by taylor swift

summary: 5 times Quinn knew you were the one, and the one time he let you know...

word count: 2.2 k

notes: quinn my sweet boy!! also sweet nothing by taylor swift because her love songs are so superior

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

outside, they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming

quinn pushes open the door to his apartment, exhausted. His face hurts from smiling at fans, and the triple header really, really took it out of him.

he loves his captaincy, really. he loves his boys, the leading, the responsibility. it's hard, though, to live up to all of the jostle and hassle the spotlight brings.

needless to say, the push and shove of stress has taken its toll on him, and all he needs is a hot shower and preferably 8 or more hours of sleep.

through the walkway, he hears a familiar voice, the telltale clatter of pans, a taylor swift song and the aroma of garlic and tomatoes.

you must've used his spare key he gave you.

he smiles despite himself, something warm tugging deep in his stomach.

he calls your name and immediately flushes with how breathy and needy he sounds. the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

"q!" you pop up from behind the counter, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts that drapes long over your slender shoulders and a pair of ratty sweatpants. your hair is pulled back from your make-up void face.

you've never looked more beautiful.

you make your way over while he admires you, and lock your arms around his waist, smiling up at him.

"missed you," you kiss his cheek, and he flushes again. god, why was he like this still?

the two of you have been dating for over than a month now, but he's still so easily flustered by you. maybe it's because you work with words for a living, but you're the sweetest thing he's ever seen (and tasted).

you think it's cute, and you tell him more often than not, reducing him to a puddle of a blushing mess.

he bundles you properly in his arms, kissing you properly.

you're so soft and warm under his fingers, your mouth hot and pliable.

you indulge him for a moment, savouring the time with each other. his hands wander down to your hips, gripping hard like he's afraid you'll be blown away by the wind.

a timer dings, and you pull back. he chases your lips, letting out a whine when you giggle and push gently at his broad chest.

"quinny, stop! i made you lasagna, and I don't want it to burn."

"mm, we'll order take out," he mutters into your neck, breathing in your familiar perfume.

you let out a sound of protest, finally breaking free of his hold. he follows you like a lost puppy as you set the table, plating him an extra large piece.

as he eats, you watches your kind eyes and easy smile with adoration.

the realization jars him, but settles firm in his bones: he wants to come home to you everyday.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i wrote a poem, you say, "what a mind", this happens all the time

it's the release of your latest book, and quinn watches as you engage with your fans. the biggest indigo in vancouver invited you to come do a meet and greet along with a signing.

you had spent the morning with quinn, his hands stroking through your hair to calm you down. although your other books had success, this one was your proudest piece of work yet.

quinn had been the first person to read it. he was impressed; he knew you were smart and you had a way with words that astounded him, but the whole book was like poetry.

the words flowed easy from you, as easy as breathing.

now, watching you all flushed and a little embarrassed by the attention from the mass of people who showed up, he all but glows with pride.

a young girl, maybe in her early teens, comes up to you with a wide smile and bright, glassy eyes. he can't hear well, because he's tucked near the back of the room to avoid the crowd, but she says something and your face falls.

he's ready to sprint through the crowd to get to you, but you hug the younger girl. she's crying, he realizes. you squeeze her tight, sign her book and send her off with what looks like encouraging words and another hug.

afterwards, while he drives with one hand and the other on your thigh, he asks what happened.

"she told me she's never felt more seen by anyone before. that my book told her it's okay to not know where to be in the world." your eyes feel wet, and he smiles.

god, you're brilliant.

he raises your hand to his mouth and kisses your pulse.

"what a mind," he murmurs, and you laugh softly.

"you tell me that all the time."

"because I mean it, babe."

now he understands when those cheesy movies say "I want you body, mind and soul".

you are undeniably beautiful, gorgeous even. kindness seeps from your very being, and you're mind is bright and soft.

he wants all of you, forever.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

the voices that implore, "you should be doing more"

ellen sees some of the articles and criticisms of her eldest on the internet. quinn has always been the quietest, the most calm and so stoic. but her sweet boy, who worked too hard and did too much was always being told to do more.

so when she called him and he picked up the facetime groggy and hair still damp, she was surprised.

"hey, mom." he answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"hi, quinn. sorry, sweetie. i didn't expect you to be asleep. i thought i would check up on you."

"all good." he yawns, and he makes small talk.

she wonders if he's seen all of the speculations about his captaincy on the news and headlines.

he tells her he has, because she asks him straight up. he appreciates the straightforwardness, and he has since he was young.

he tells her that you were there.

"she ran me a bath, with those weird salt things that women love so much-"

"hey! they're very nice." she interrupts, laughing at his antics.

"and she made soup. we ate already and I took a nap. she's out getting groceries, but i'll tell her you said hi, mom."

ellen nods, something tangible and comforting in the air around her. her son is in good hands.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

to you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

you find him in the empty change room. he's sitting on a bench, wet hair messy, head hung. you expected this; your boyfriend was nothing if not responsible and too hard on himself.

after another loss, his grief and frustration was normal.

you kneel before him, taking his face, hot from the shower in your cool hands. his pretty eyes are rimmed red, and he leans into your touch.

"hey, pretty boy. you did good out there, captain."

he shakes his head, fingers trembling as he pulls you closer so he can push his face into your hair, inhaling your smell.

"i failed them. i'm a shit captain, and i can't seem to break this cycle we're in-"

"you are not a shit captain." you say those words firmly, and it almost surprises quinn. normally you were soft-spoken and slow, but you tell him this with urgency.

"i should be taking care of everyone, and everything-"

"but who takes care of you?"

your words break a dam in him, and he buries his head in your shoulder. the position is uncomfortable, but you don't shift or mention his shaking shoulders.

"you are a good leader. a good leader is one who stands with his team, even during the tough times. the boys adore you, and you will break this rut. but it takes time, and work, my love. no one works harder than you."

he sniffs, a hovering breath touches your neck.

"you are so strong, my sweet boy." you cradle his neck, pressing kisses to the side of his face. this sets off another wave of emotions, and he easily tugs you up into his lap.

his wet hair drips onto your (his) jersey, but you don't mind.

"and if you need to be strong for them, you can be soft with me. i'm here for a reason. another set of shoulders to bear your burdens."

"i love you, y'know that?" his voice is scratchy, vulnerable and thick with emotion. although the two of you have exchanged those three words countless of times before this, it feels like more this time.

"i know, quinnie. i love you too."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

jack hauls his older brother onto the curb, setting him there, praying that he doesn't fall flat into the road. luke runs out with quinn's jacket, draping it over his shoulders.

it isn't often that quinn gets drunk, especially this drunk. but the boys night was a chance for all of them to let loose during the off season.

the small dive bar near the lake house was the perfect place to get away.

"dude, he is hammered." luke huffs, tugging at the sleeves of his own hoodie, the chill of the night starting to surround the air.

quinn says something under his breath as he sways, and jack sets him upright again.

"bro, what did you say?"

quinn repeats your name, louder this time, with the request to see you immediately.

the way he says your name, with so much love and awe makes jack almost wish he was in a relationship.

"sure, man. i'll call her to pick you up."

you arrive a mere 10 minutes later, hair wet, wearing one of quinn's canucks sweatshirts and a pair of sleep shorts.

"hey guys," you greet the other hughes boys. Luke gives you a side hug, and you pat jack's arm in thanks as you move to help her boyfriend up.

"babe!" Quinn only realizes then that you're here. jack has to laugh, seeing his brother so far gone because of the 7 tequila shots they took.

"jeez, guys. how much did you drink?" you ask, laughing, and Luke starts to regale you with the tale of jack's bad rendition of lady gaga.

"i missed you." quinn is now standing behind you, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. he doesn't say it loud, but contented and quiet.

jack watches as you smooth your hands over his forearms, rolling your eyes in amusement.

"yes, yes, I missed you too, you clingy baby."

"hey! m'not clingy." he protested, his whole body pressed up against every inch of yours.

jack snorts, giving you a sympathetic look, "good luck with that one."

you jokingly flip him off, as you try to maneuver your much larger boyfriend.

"c'mon, hughes." quinn frowns at this.

"I only answer to quinny, my love, sweetie and baby."

"that's your name?" jack asked, only to be met with a dirty look from his brother. luke snickers as you shrug quinn into the passenger seat.

"thanks for watching him." you say as you walk over to the driver's side.

"thanks for coming to get him. did we interrupt anything?"

"nah, except your mom was showing me your guys' baby pictures." you eyes shine with mirth as they groan.

"please tell me she didn't-"

"yep, the bathtub pictures too." you smile, and quinn yells something from with in the car.

"okay, I should probably get the big baby home. you guys don't stay out too late, okay?" you tell them, and they bid you goodbye.

he watches you guys drive off, quinn probably saying something stupid as you laugh.

"y'know, i really hope she's the one." Luke tells him as they head back into the bar.

jack has never, ever seen his brother so happy. he's never seen him smile so willingly for anyone, and clearly, you have him wrapped around your finger.

"yeah, me too, man."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

+ all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

you're wearing your blue light glasses, a tank top and a pair of his plaid boxers as you sit cross-legged in your shared bed, hair loose around your shoulders.

you're working on something new, and quinn studies your features as you concentrate.

without looking up from your laptop, you grin, "stop staring, stalker."

he laughs, "you love it."

you meet his eyes as he crawls next to you. he lets you wipe at his mouth, where he's sure there's still remnants of toothpastes.

"i love you." you offer instead, and he pulls you onto his lap. his fingers inch up your thighs but stop there.

he just wants to feel you, before he has to leave for another roadie.

"i love you." he tells you matter-of-factly, "and i'm going to marry you one day."

"babe, we've only been together a little over 8 months," you protest, but he sees the glow of joy on your cheeks at his words.

"i know," he says confidently, "but i'm going to make you my wife, one day. all i want is you."

you melt at his words, laying your head on his shoulder, "all i want is you, and your sweet nothings."

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[mockerycrow]

PACK CUDDLES (Hybrid!141 x GN!Human!Reader)

multiple characters masterlist

summary; the base’s heaters have all broken and aren’t due to be repaired for a week—it’s the middle of winter and you’re one of the few humans on base.

[WARNINGS; hybrid stuff, can be read as platonic or romantic, fluffy, sickness.]

THE BASE HEATERS decided to break at the worst possible moment—during the harshest part of the winter. They’re baseboard electric heaters that line every barracks room; the general community rooms such as the common area and the training rooms have central air and heating, but they didn’t decide to provide the barracks with the same luxury. It was never much of a problem, really. Nearly everyone on base was a hybrid of some kind, usually a bigger animal due to the needs of the military so they would produce body heat hot enough to keep them warm for the duration of when the electrical technicians would come in to fix the wiring, or replace the heaters.

Unfortunately for you, you are not a hybrid. You were born to completely human family members, and you have no hybrid genes in your chromosomes. Also unfortunately for you, you were for some reason one of the ones tasked with shoveling the pathways and roads on base—your station has no snow plows as the winters are usually mild to moderate, but this year decided to fuck you over harshly. You spent hours outside in the snow, bundled up in your warmest uniform with a winter coat, boots, gloves, hats, and even a balaclava on to keep as much warmth as possible. 

On day 2 without a heater, you woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe through your nose. Your face is aching terribly—likely your sinuses—and it feels like you swallowed glass and gargled salt water right after. Your chest aches and you overall feel terrible, and you feel both hot and cold at the same time. Even after bundling up in your warmest hoodie and sweatpants—you slept with socks on, too—you just could not evade the sickness. Harsh coughs rack your body, your eyes tearing up as pain shoots through your chest and your throat to your ears. You groan and press your face into your pillow for a moment before you slowly kick your blankets off, pulling your hood up after sitting up.

You slip your feet into your slides and you check the time—0328. Fuck. The boys should be returning from a short mission soon. You hold in a sigh in fear of further hurting your aching throat, making your way towards your bedroom door. You grab your keys on the way out, letting your door close behind you. You squint as the hallway lights irritate your eyes, but you lay them no mind, walking down the hall to seek out the kitchen. Luckily, this base allowed basic medicines in a cabinet in the kitchen, so began your search for some cold medicine, and perhaps some sinus medicine too if you can take both at the same time.

To your sickly delight, no one seems to be awake right now—or at least hoarding the kitchen—despite many of the hybrids on base being nocturnal. You aren’t in the mood to really talk.. Not like you could, anyway. You shuffle your way to the counter with a harsh sniffle, opening the cabinet and rummaging around. You find some compatible cold and sinus medications, and you decide to grab a tea bag and the little plastic jar of honey, deciding that you want to soothe your throat. The air running through your throat makes it ache more. 

You put your forearms on the counter and arch your back, laying your head down as you wait for the electric kettle to heat up the water. At least the kitchen is warm. You holy a bit after it must be a few minutes, hearing the kettle heating up. You lift your head and see steam emitting from the opening, so you switch it off and begin to make your tea, stirring honey into the mug. You shove the pills into your mouth and swallow it down with a wince, using the tea. You sip the tea slowly until the mug is empty, so you quickly wash it out and put it in the sink to properly wash later. With your throat feeling a little better and a handful of paper towels, you head back to your room to go back to sleep.

The next time you wake up, it’s slow and uncomfortable. You’re on your back and you first feel the pain rippling through your throat with every wheezy breath you take—it’s a bit harder to breathe than before, even with the sickness—and then you notice the heat. Wait.. the heat? Isn’t the heater broken?

Your eyes flutter open, unfocused and bleary, with twinges of pain due to the dawn shining through your poor excuse of black-out curtains. Something shifts on your chest, causing you to glance down. When your eyes focus, you’re face to face with a wolf looking husky—striking blue eyes that are peering into your soul, the wolfdog’s fur being thick; white and grey, his ear twitching as he stares back at you. It takes you a moment before recognition filters through. It’s Soap!

A lazy smile spreads on your face as you pet his head between his ears, causing him to lick his snout. “Hey, Soap.” You croak. You sound absolutely dreadful. Three more heads pop out of view, making you flinch ever so slightly. “Jesus!” You hiss, looking at the other three. You’re met with a Grizzly bear, a Barbary lion and a Jaguar; Price, Ghost, and Gaz. Your bed springs croak under the weight of all of them—they broke your frame a year ago, still in the search for a frame that can handle a bunch of weight—and they shift closer to you. A low, rumbling noise comes from Ghost. There’s not much noise he truly makes in his lion form, he often is silent—except for the occasional chuff or intimidating growl—so you know the rumbling means something. 

You reach out to him with your other hand, tangling your fingers in his mane, feeling the rough texture between your fingers. His dark eyes stare at you and if you didn’t know Ghost as well as you do, you would likely be shitting yourself right now. He pushes his snout into your palm for a moment before his rough tongue peaks out and licks over your palm, making you wince from how prickly his tongue is. Ghost then lets out a huff, his breath reaching your face as you watch the Jaguar—Gaz—slink up to your face, the three of them; Gaz, Soap, and Ghost invading your personal space. No doubt that they can smell how sick you are. You think absentmindedly about when they returned from their mission. 

“I’m okay.” You say, your voice hoarse. You can’t help but wince at how you sound, but you don’t dwell on it too much when Gaz’s hard head pushes into your cheek, making you smile. “Yes, I promise.” You add on, moving your hand from Soap’s head to Gaz’s neck, your other hand still attending to Ghost’s mane. You glance over to where Price is, seeing his two little ears peering up behind Ghost. You groan dramatically and pat the spot next to yourself. “C’mon, Captain. You guys can be my heaters, I guess.” You weakly joke, earning a whine from Soap, who hasn’t moved an inch from laying on top of you. You make a noise in return, your eyes feeling heavy once again when the heat surrounding you finally becomes comfortable. “Supposed to fix ‘em soon.” You mumble, already half asleep by the time you feel Price’s nose sniff your cheek, checking in on you.

[vrystalius]

Pls pls pls pls make one about Muzan finding reader gone and turns out she was in their kid's room trying ti stop them from crying and the baby just cries even more after seeing Muzan cause he don't spend no time with em so the baby don't recognize him.

Demon king’s heir

Muzan’s own baby doesn’t recognise him as the father.

Here’s pt.2!

Pairing: Muzan x fem!reader

You’ve been tending to your baby on your own since you’ve given birth. Muzan just took some blood samples from your baby and barely ever showed his face around your assigned wing of the infinity castle. You’ve been missing the man you fell in love with. He was so romantic and affectionate with you before your birth. You two been to many dates that range from talking in restaurants to visiting tech museums together. Without his presence around, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lonely.

Muzan is not even bothering to come by to check on the condition of you or your baby boy. It felt like that man only used you to try making a demon-human hybrid baby. Now that he achieved his goal and got blood samples, does he not want to do anything with you anymore?

You sighed tiredly, rocking your ever crying baby. What’s up with him the last few nights? He keeps crying and crying. He doesn’t want food or attention, or a diaper change. Before you could think about any other reason for his crying, you felt an incredible powerful presence suddenly appearing near you, accompanied by the sound of a biwa string being plucked. Your knees buckled as you felt overwhelmed from the shift of energies. You leaned onto the crib of your boy and held onto your crying baby tightly, anticipating your husband to open the door to the nursery any moment.

Muzan glanced around in your bedroom. The cries of the baby reached his eyes and he scrunched his eyebrows together from that ear piercing sound. How infuriating. He massaged the bridge of his nose and stepped towards the nursery, opening up the door. “My sweet.” His voice sounded sharp as your husband greeted you.

You turned around to him and glared at the man. The baby boy in your arms clung onto your night robes, quieting his cries slightly. He seemed to sense the presence of that man and felt intimidated.

Muzan eyed the bundle of life in your arms and stepped closer to you. “How has my son been?” “Your son has been missing you.” Your voice was laced in venom as you turned away from him, bouncing the fussy baby in your arms. He furrowed his brows and sighed. “Are you upset with me? I am very busy.” He heard your scoff and tightly gripped your shoulder, forcing you to face him. “I want to hold him.” Muzan glanced down at your baby boy, who stared back at him with big eyes. He seemed confused almost. You protectively held your baby closer to your chest. “Why? Do you need more blood samples?” “Just give him to me.” His voice sounded demanding and left no space for arguments. You carefully handed over your baby boy to Muzan, showing him how to hold him properly and how to support his neck. He stared down at the baby in his arms as his eyes seemed to soften a little. He tried tickling his soft tummy a little, but as Muzan tried to touch his son, the baby cried out and started wiggling against his gentle hold.

The whaling cries made your husband tense and tighten his grip on the baby. His aura darkened and he reached out for the face of your precious child. Fearing he’ll do the worst, you quickly wrapped your arms around your baby boy and slipped him out of Muzan’s arms, shushing him quietly. “Shhhh… mommy’s here.. I’m here, it’s okay…” You quietly spoke to your boy as he began calming down slowly. The baby stopped crying and wiggling around, instead gripping onto your clothes and refusing to let go.

Muzan frowned st the sight. Was his son not recognising him? How dare he? Why is that whiny thing not recognising him as his father? He reached out to the baby again, but it just began crying again, hiding his face by nuzzling against your clothes and skin.

You turned away from Muzan, shielding your boy from the sight of him. “You should leave or else he won’t sleep at all tonight. Return to your research. I’ll be fine be fine on my own.” He doesn’t appreciate being commanded around. “I’ll do as I please.” His voice sounded darker and more upset as Muzan stepped closer and looked at his baby over your shoulder. The boy has already calmed and closed his eyes. The baby looked much more peaceful nuzzling against your body like that. “Hm.” He quietly noted how his son preferred your presence over his.

He turned away from you and stepped out of the nursery. The sound of a biwa being strung echoed through the halls of the infinity castle as your husband disappeared again. You glanced down at your baby boy.

“It’s okay, the scary man is gone now.”

💠

I may or may not really really love this man, alongside the other demons. Don’t get me wrong, I fell inlove with almost all the characters in the kny-verse (except a couple characters like the clomes of Upper Four, Emmu, Obanai…), but I just feel magically pulled towards the upper moons, the angry wind hashira, his brother, the sun breather and his brother as well. Thank you so much for requesting, this was so fun!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <3

Take care of yourselves <3

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

money troubles

Januarys in Tulsa were a different kind of hell. You wouldn’t think it would get that cold in Oklahoma, but Darry was surprised every year when December rolled around. His brothers hoarded blankets, stacking them as high as they could go. January and February were even worse.

It was his first winter without his parents, without his father’s salary. Heat was expensive, more so since their windows were thin and the doors couldn’t shut properly. Darry held out as long as possible before turning the heating on.

Pony grumbled a little, wrapping up in blankets and wearing Darry’s old football sweatshirts over every outfit. 

One night in December, Darry was half asleep when his bedroom door opened and his brothers padded their way over to his bed. He barely had enough time to wake up before they crawled on top of him and settled down. Before he could ask what was wrong, he felt Pony’s cold toes being pressed to his shin.

“Y’all are freezing,” Darry murmured as Soda snuggled into his side, forcing his cold nose against Darry’s shoulder. He sighed and rubbed their backs, “I’ll turn on the heat tomorrow.” With his Christmas bonus, they would be fine with the added expense. 

January was when things got hard. 

It was midnight and Darry sat alone at the dining table. When finances were tight, he always did the bookkeeping after the boys went to bed. He didn’t need them worrying, that was his job. And based on his calculations, they’d have to cut back somewhere. It was heat or food. 

Darry’s head fell into his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do? He never wished for his parents more than he did at that moment. A tear dripped onto the notebook paper in front of him. 

He could eat less, leave more for everyone else. That would save some money at least. But not nearly enough. Pony had track, he needed to be eating his fill. And if they didn’t eat with them, he didn’t know where half the gang would get their next meal. 

But if he turned off the heat, well he honestly didn’t know what would happen. He knew he couldn’t stand to see his brothers shivering in the cold, he couldn’t watch them bundle up and pretend nothing was wrong.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He didn’t hear the front door opening, or the footfalls in the entryway. He didn’t know that Two-Bit was inside until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Darry jumped, raising his hands defensively.

Two-Bit smirked and raised his hands, “Woah there, cowboy.” Then he saw the tears in Darry’s eyes. “What’s goin’ on? Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Darry swallowed thickly and ran a hand over his face, “Ain’t nothing for you to worry about. The couch is open if you want to crash.”

Two-Bit’s eyes fell to the page in front of Darry and his eyes widened. Too late, Darry moved to cover it. Two had already seen. “Shit, I didn’t know things were that bad.”

“It’s none of your business,” Darry said shortly. He closed the notebook and slid it under a newspaper. 

He tried to stand up, but Two put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to stay seated. Two-Bit sat down in Pony’s usual chair. He was quiet for a long moment, leg jogging under him. Then he nodded to himself and started digging in his pockets.

A moment later, he put a handful of crumpled bills and a stack of coins in front of Darry. Based on his quick math, it was almost twenty five dollars.

“I’m not takin’ your money.” Darry leaned back as though physical distance could make the money go away. “Where did you even get this much money?”

Two-Bit shrugged, “Texas Hold ‘Em, odd jobs for a guy my ma knows. It’s not even that much money.” It was. It would be enough for food and heat and extra for next month.

“I can’t take this,” Darry pushed it towards his friend. He and Two-Bit had been pals for as long as he could remember, they practically grew up together. Two-Bit was a good guy, Darry trusted him with his family more than anyone else. He knew that Two could use this money for his mom or his sister. Why on earth would he give it to Darry?

“You need it. It’s not even that much.” Two-Bit sighed and for the first time in a long time, Darry didn’t smell alcohol on him. “Look, you help me and the boys, you give us food and…” He nodded his head towards the bedrooms, “I know Johnny is sleeping in the spare room. You forced him to so he wouldn’t sleep outside.” Darry looked down, it was true. “Exactly. So take the goddamn money and keep your kid brothers warm. And the rest of us yahoos that traipse through your door.”

Darry stared at Two-Bit, saying nothing. Two-Bit rolled his eyes, “It should not be this hard to convince a guy to take money.” 

“I don’t-”

“Darry.” Two-Bit and Darry turned around to see Soda standing in the doorway. His hair was all a mess and he looked like he was still half asleep. “What’s going on?”

Darry threw on a smile, “A stray just wandered through the door.” He slapped Two-Bit on the shoulder. “Figured I’d let him stay the night and then go from there. Ya think we should keep him?”

Soda chuckled, “Just until morning.” He yawned. “Y’all need to talk quieter. Pony and Johnny are fast asleep.”

“Will do,” Darry told him. “Goodnight, Pepsi.” Soda just yawned again and waved before plodding back to bed. Darry’s eyes stayed at where he was for a long moment. Then he turned back to his friend. 

Soda and Pony deserved a home that was warm and safe and with enough food for them and all their friends. They needed this money. He could suffer the shame of accepting money from a friend just this once. 

So he grit his teeth and said, “I don’t want to be makin’ a habit of this.”

Two-Bit grinned, “Wouldn’t dream of it, superman.” 

He squeezed Darry’s shoulder, “I’m going to sleep on the couch, tell Johnny that I get the bed next time.” Darry snorted and shook his head, that was never going to happen.

Darry looked at the pile of money for a long moment. His hands shook ever so slightly as he tucked it into the coffee can on top of the fridge. 

When he turned back, Soda was standing in the doorway again, watching him. He seemed more awake now. They just looked at each other for a long moment.

Soda crossed the room in two strides and hugged Darry. Just from that, Soda knew Darry had heard, or at least seen his exchange with Two-Bit. He knew that Soda worried about him, probably far too much. To Soda, Darry accepting help was nothing short of a miracle. 

“I love you,” Soda said softly. “You’re doing a really good job.”

Darry’s throat became thick with tears and he held Soda just a little tighter. “Thank you, honey.” Since their parents died, he’d been adrift, trying desperately to keep everything together. He kissed Soda’s head, “I love you too.” Darry pulled back and pushed Soda’s hair out of his face. Without all that grease, Soda’s hair was constantly covering his eyes. “Go back to bed.”

Soda huffed, “What if I don’t wanna?”

Darry couldn’t help the laugh that bust from his chest, “You’re soundin’ an awful lot like Ponyboy.”

“And he’s my favorite brother, so what?” Soda said sarcastically, earning him a thawk on the head from Darry. A few months ago, that would have hurt, even if it was a joke. Now he knew his brother was being a knucklehead, delirious in his sleep-addled mind. 

“Go to bed, short stack,” Darry said, giving Soda a light shove towards the hallway. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Soda smirked. He gave Darry another quick squeeze before darting back towards his bed. Darry followed him a few minutes later. 

Unable to help himself, he ducked his head into the spare room where Johnny and Pony had fallen asleep. The two of them were curled towards each other like parentheses, Pony’s thumb still holding place in his book.

With a fond smile, he leaned over the bed and pulled the book from his brother’s hands. He slipped a bookmark in and set it to the side table. Both the boys were covered in a thick blanket. Darry adjusted it around their shoulders.

One of Johnny’s eyes squinted open, “What?”

Just like he would one of his brothers, Darry touched his head affectionately, “Just me, buddy. Go back to sleep.” His heart warmed at the trust Johnny displayed as he closed his eyes again and snuggled back down. That was why he needed the money, Johnny needed a safe place to stay.

Darry closed the bedroom door and then moved to check on Soda. His idiot brother was still awake, not even pretending to sleep. Darry leaned into the door frame, “Golly, you’d think you were six, not sixteen.”

Soda stuck his tongue out, only proving Darry’s point. “I’m goin’ to sleep. Wanted to make sure you didn’t try to pull an all-nighter.”

“Goodnight, Soda,” Darry said meaningfully. 

“Night.” Soda snuggled down into bed with a content look on his face. Darry smiled and finally headed back to his bedroom. 

[kinascum]

PICKUP - DAD!M. STURNIOLO

SUMMARY. when a stressed-out, sleep-deprived and chaotic SingleDad!Matt falls in love with his son’s kindergarten teacher.

CONTENT. no major warnings

WC. 1.3k

proofread by @baileysturns

You wait as the hours ticked by, the soft hum of the kindergarten classroom lulling you into a gentle rhythm. The children have long been picked up, their laughter echoing through the hallways replaced by the quiet buzz of teachers finishing up their duties. Then, you hear the distant sound of rubber soles slapping against the linoleum floor, approaching at a brisk pace. The door bursts open and in strides Mr Sturniolo, his eyes scanning the room frantically before they lock onto yours. His son, Tommy, who's a tiny bundle of energy, squirms in your arms as he calls out, "Daddy!"

Matt's cheeks are flushed with exertion, his tie askew, and his hair sticking up in every direction. You can see the lines of stress etched into his forehead, but when he sees you, his face relaxes into a relieved smile. "Thank you so much," he says, his voice a little too loud in the quiet room. "I had a meeting that ran over, and traffic was..." He trails off, shaking his head. You understand; the world of a single dad is often one of unpredictability and juggling responsibilities.

You hand over Tommy, who clings to your neck for a moment before launching himself into his dad's arms. "It's no problem," you reply with a smile. "We had a great time, didn't we?" The little boy nods enthusiastically, his eyes shining with excitement.

As they leave, you watch them go in a hurry, the chaos of the day seeming to dissipate around them. The hallways are empty, the lights flickering in the descending twilight. You pack up your things and head home, feeling a twinge of loneliness as the school falls silent around you. It's not every day you meet a parent who seems so genuinely thankful for your work.

-

The next morning, you're setting up the classroom when you see Matt standing in the doorway, Tomas tugging at his hand. He holds out a small box of chocolates to you, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to apologize again for yesterday," he says. "And thank you for keeping an eye on him. I know it's not part of your job, but..." His voice is gruff, and you can tell he's not used to being vulnerable. You take the chocolates, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "It's okay," you reassure him. "It's what we're here for." He nods, his expression a mix of gratitude and something else. Something that makes your heart skip a beat.

As the days turn into weeks, you find yourself looking forward to the moments when you see Matt. His mornings are still hectic, but he always has a smile for you, and he makes a point to thank you every time he picks up his son. The two of you start to chat, sharing stories about the little one's antics and the challenges of single parenthood. You learn that he's a dedicated father, working long hours to provide for his child, and you can't help but admire his determination.

One afternoon, after the last child has been picked up, you're organizing the bookshelf when you hear a knock on the door. You turn to find Matt, Tommy nowhere in sight. "Could I speak with you for a moment?" he asks, his eyes searching yours. You nod, curious.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. "I know this is probably weird," he starts, "but I just wanted to say... I really appreciate what you do. For him, and for me." He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that somehow makes him even more endearing. "I don't know how I'd manage without people like you." He pauses, and you can see the weight of his words hanging in the air. "And I was wondering if maybe, when you're not busy, we could grab a coffee or something. Just to say thanks. Properly."

You're taken aback by the invitation, but the warmth in his eyes makes it difficult to refuse. "I'd like that," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "How about tomorrow after work?" He grins, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. "It's a date," he says, and you can't help but blush at the term.

The next day seems to drag on forever, with every tick of the clock bringing you closer to the promised coffee. You're acutely aware of Matt's presence when he arrives to pick up his son, your heart racing every time you catch a glimpse of him. When the time finally comes, you grab your bag and walk with him to the small café across the street.

As you sit down, the café's warm lights reflecting off the polished wooden surfaces, you feel a mix of nerves and excitement. You've never done anything like this before, especially with a parent from your class. But something about Matt is different. He's not like the other dads who hover awkwardly or only engage in small talk. There's a depth to him, a raw honesty that draws you in.

The conversation starts off tentatively, with both of you sticking to safe topics like work and the school. But as the minutes stretch into an hour, you find yourselves delving deeper. He tells you about his life as a single dad, the struggles and the joys, and you open up about your passion for teaching and your hopes for the future. His laugh is contagious, and you find yourself smiling more than you have in a long time.

Then, in the middle of a story about his son's latest attempt at art, he looks at you with a glint in his eye and says, "So, tell me more about you, Y/N." You blush, surprised by his directness. It's clear he's trying to flirt, but you're his son's teacher, and there's a line you can't cross. You laugh it off, keeping the conversation light and professional.

The evening stretches on, the café slowly filling with the scent of freshly ground coffee beans and the murmur of other patrons. You both find yourself getting lost in conversation, sharing stories about your pasts and your hopes for the future. His son is a common thread, weaving through every topic, a reminder of the bond you share beyond the classroom.

As you sip on your now-cold coffee, you feel a pang of something unfamiliar. It's easy to be drawn to Matt's charm and the way he talks about his son with such love, but you know that this isn't just a casual chat between friends. You're his son's teacher, and there are boundaries that need to be respected. But the way he looks at you, with genuine interest and a hint of admiration, makes it hard to remember why this isn't a good idea.

Finally, you decide to address the elephant in the room. "Matt," you say firmly, setting down your cup. "I really appreciate the gesture, and I've enjoyed our time together, but I think we should keep things professional. I care about your son, and I don't want anything to jeopardize that relationship." He nods, understanding in his eyes. "You're right," he says with a sigh. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The walk back to the kindergarten is a little awkward, the air thick with unspoken feelings. When you reach the door, he takes a step closer, his hand brushing yours. "Thank you," he says, his voice low. "For everything. And I'm sorry if I overstepped."

You smile, feeling a rush of affection for this man who's doing his best in a tough situation. "It's okay," you reply. "We're good." With a final nod, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with a jumble of emotions.

That night, as you lay in bed, you can't help but think about Matt. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about his son, the way his hand felt against yours. You know that you can't let this go further, but you also know that you're going to look forward to seeing him in the mornings, even if it's just for a brief exchange about homework and school events. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough for now.

tags! @christophersgf @rainuhh @mattandchrismakemewett @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim @baileysturns

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon is out at a stag party for Prices upcoming wedding when he comes how early with something important on his mind that he needs to see you to say. Is he just drunk or is it something more?

Word Count: 3.8 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I just needed a little more fluff smut, so here is this. I have some other things planned for variety coming soon soon.

***

The ringing vibration of the front door opening and shutting with a bit of force caught you by surprise as you lay in bed, the phone in your hand the only light in the room as you bundled yourself under the covers to shield out the cold of that winter night. Eyes flitted up to the clock in the corner of your screen; you hadn't expected him to be home yet as you were sure there would be no sign of Simon until at least sunrise if past experience when he went out with the team was any indication.

Heavy stumbling footsteps sounded throughout the small apartment, getting closer with each passing second, before two distinct thuds of something weighted falling to the floor followed from Simon removing his shoes. The footsteps continued on a bit quieter now until they stopped just right outside the door to your bedroom. With a click the door was opened to reveal your boyfriend standing there, eyes searching for your form in the darkened room as he blocked out the light in the hallway from taking up the majority of the door frame.

Reaching up you flicked on the bedside lamp to illuminate everything in a soft yellow glow. Even with the dim light, brown eyes had to blink a few times to adjust as he propped himself up against the door frame until he could see properly. Setting your phone down on the bedside tabletop you gave him the once over as you untangled yourself from your sheet burrito.

“Is there any booze left out there or did you sorry lot clean out the entire stock?” you chuckled as you rolled over onto your back, eyes trailing him as he crossed into the room to stand at the foot of the bed. “Didn't think you'd be back so soon. Aren't stag nights supposed to go till the sun rises? I seriously doubt the boys were done yet.”

“Had to call it quits early,” he drunkenly strung his words together, accent thick and slightly slurred as the whiskey ran through his veins. 

Odd. “Why? Something happen?” you questioned curiously as you watched him throw off his overcoat and rip off his thin balaclava, short, dirty blonde hair springing back up from being crushed under the fabric as he reached to the back of his neck and gripped the collar of his t-shirt to pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor so that he stood before you bare-chested in his dark wash jeans that clung to his sizeable thighs. 

That bulky, broad chest was flushed pink in the center to match the staining through his cheeks, a product of his drinking mixed with the stifling warmth inside the string of bars the 141 found themselves venturing to in celebration of Price’s upcoming wedding. A playful grin crossed his pale lips as he stalked over to the bed and grabbed at the bottom edge of the bedding, pulling the sheets and comforter out from their place tucked under the mattress up so that he could climb in, letting them fall over him as he crawled underneath up towards you.

Parched lips weathered by the frozen air outside caressed your ankles and calves as that giant mass of man traveled up through the covers, taking his sweet time. Over your knees, thighs, and hips he peppered sloppy kisses along the skin as he went until you felt Simon’s rough fingertips brushing against the panties covering your pelvis as he tugged at the hem of your oversized sleep shirt, pulling it up so that he could shove himself inside it as far as he could go. Warmer kisses now made your stomach flutter where they were placed along your torso as his nose nuzzled into your abdomen until your warmth covered his face and heated his cold features.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Fuckin’ needed to get home to ya is all,” he breathed those need-filled words into your skin under your clothes as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Had a fuckin’ ridiculous cravin’ to see my beautiful girl, so I made up an excuse and told the boys I had ta go.” 

A large hand ran up and down the length of your right hip tracing pathways that he knew by heart, tempting smooth skin with his touch while his padded torso pressed itself over your thighs. He held on tight as if it had been days since he had last seen you in person. Over the years you’d been together you came to notice that whenever those arms were around your body you could pinpoint the exact moment when all the tension he always held in his shoulders would ease and his entire form would relax into you as if he had been holding his breath until the moment he touched you.  

You shook your head with another chuckle; it was always a delightful surprise just how he was even more affectionate when he was drunk. “You weren’t even gone that long. Miss me that much?” you questioned playfully as Simon kissed in delicate circles around your navel, lips eventually trailing upwards over temperate skin towards your ribcage to caress the delicate underside of your breasts with his mouth. 

“Always,” he returned, voice muffled by lips against your body. 

Everywhere he went your skin lit up, reacting to the prickly stubble on his cheeks as his face glided over your body until you were entranced by the feeling of him. Your hands kneaded at the muscles in his shoulder as you writhed beneath him and he would have continued to turn you into a puddle, but there was something he needed to do first; the real reason he had rushed home.  

Slipping out of your shirt he emerged from the top of the sheets, cropped hair tousled and cheeks even more pink. The scent of whiskey was on his breath, accentuated by the sting of tobacco and the frosty winter night. He moved up onto his knees between your legs, kneeling over top of you, sunset eyes drifting down your form from your face to your torso. 

“What?” you questioned as he sat there, taking you all in with gentle eyes that softened the longer he gazed. 

“It’s always been you and me, ya know,” he said as his hands wandered to find yours resting by your sides. Spreading them open with his fingers, he slipped his palms up against your own so that he could interlace those long digits between the empty spaces. “Through all the bullshit, all the long deployments and late nights, all the nightmares and the bad days. You’ve always been a fuckin’ rock for me through it all.”

Simon lifted your hands still wrapped in his and moved them up over your head as he laid himself over top of you until his face was mere inches from your own. 

“Well yeah, I love you ya know,” you agreed, unsure of why he was saying such things now. “But where is this coming from, baby?”

“Conversations tonight got me thinkin’ things again,” he admitted.

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things, hmm?” 

“Things I’ve been thinkin’ for a while now, just didn’t think I could make ‘em happen… or that maybe I shouldn’t. But maybe I can…maybe we can…” his words tripped over themselves with the quickening pounding of his heart.

“Simon, what are you trying to say?” 

He paused with a smile on his lips, sighing contentedly. His inebriated mind had nothing but the truth to give him as a response and so he spoke the words he never thought he’d get to say to anyone, but he was surprised how easily they rolled off his tongue now. “I’m tryin’ to say that I’ve been thinkin’ about how I wanna fuckin' marry ya, luv,” he stumbled out, copper gaze lingering on your eyes shimmering in the low light. “Don't want no one else to get a fuckin' chance to snatch ya up before I come to my senses and make sure your mine foreva’.”

You laughed it off, caught completely off-guard by his words. They say that drunk words are sober thoughts, but this was more than you had ever expected from him tonight. It wasn't that you hadn't thought about the possibility of such a future with Simon, you'd been together for long enough now that it was something you had hoped for, yet whenever the subject was approached the few times it was before it was met with hesitation on his part. There was no question that you knew he loved you, that you loved him, but taking that next huge step had never seemed like a priority and you were fine with that. Hearing him say it aloud so assuredly made your stomach flip with anticipation.

However you also knew he wasn't in a state to be thinking clearly and you didn't want to get ahead of yourself just yet. Tomorrow he could wake up, head pounding, and not even remember you had had this conversation in the first place. Best to wait until he could sober up before discussing such heavy things in any more detail. 

“You're drunk, baby,” you chuckled as your hand cupped against him and lingered on his face, thumb tenderly stroking his cheek. “We can talk about this later, okay?”

Closing his eyes he melted into your touch, so soft and silky against his rough face; it was like magic how you were his comfort. It was effortless, your love, and that was something he had never known. Everything had always been a struggle, an uphill battle that he had to sacrifice for, but being with you was the first time he had ever understood when people would talk about someone being their other half because you truly were his. 

“Maybe I’m a little fuckin’ sloshed,” he conceded, “but I ain't gotta be sober ta know that I’m tired of pretendin’ I’m some kind of cold-hearted monster that doesn’t want ta have some type a life outside of my work; like I haven’t been wantin’ ta give ya the title of missus, maybe start a family with ya and all that. Things I didn’t think I’d be able ta have till ya came along and fuckin’ changed everythin’.” 

Fluttering open his eyes they locked onto yours and there was not an ounce of apprehension to be found in their depths. “You’re serious?” you asked, watching for any subtle change in his face as you struggled to find air to fill your lungs.

Again he leaned into you, capturing your mouth within a kiss that spoke volumes of love into you so that the synapses in your brain misfired the longer your lips danced and worked to make your body feel as if it was floating. “As a fuckin’ heart attack,” he breathed against your mouth. “I sat there tonight listenin’ to Price go on and on about not wantin’ to waste anymore time denying tha life he wanted and it made me realize I can’t keep bein’ afraid to take tha plunge. Ya deserve someone ta be better than that, sweetheart. And do ya know what it is that I really fuckin’ want?”

Speech failed you in that moment as his lips brushed across yours, electricity sparking over them as he took a deep breath to fill himself with your scent as his grip on your hands above your head tightened. It was so easy the way you could become consumed by him; his touch, his words, they cast their spell over you in an instant to fill your heart to nearly breaking. And yet all you wanted was more.

You swallowed to gain control of your vocal chords, finally finding your voice. “What?” the simple question barely audible under your breath.

“What I fuckin’ want is for ya ta be my wife.”

You stopped breathing completely for a moment, heart fluttering frantically as the certainty in his statement filled up all that secret yearning in your soul, the one that desperately wanted to be claimed permanently no matter how much you denied it didn’t bother you not to be. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” you stammered out in a whisper, afraid that this was all an illusion that would break apart the moment you got too loud. 

“I am askin’ ya right now if ya want to be Mrs. Riley,” he answered with a smile. “And don’t fuckin’ say I don’t know what I’m doin’ cause I do, luv. I do.”

Releasing you from his grasp he stretched himself all the way over to the chest of drawers near the bed and pulled open the one that contained the lockbox for his pistol. Pressing the numbered buttons on the front in the correct order he opened it and grabbed something out of the inside that you could not see before he set the lockbox on the ground. Sitting back upright, he held out his hand and inside was something small and square.

You sat up straight in the bed and looked from the velvet box up into his face with a gasp as he flipped the lid open to reveal a ring. “Got it a couple months back,” he admitted, “just wanted it ta be the right time. Kept fuckin’ talkin’ myself outta it cause I thought ya deserved better than me. But I want ya, sweetheart, I wanna make ya mine so fuckin’ bad if that’s what ya want too.” 

All you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat in your ears that drowned out everything else as one of Simon’s large hands cupped around your cheek. “Will ya marry me?”

“Simon,” you said his name so sweetly that it rendered his mind numb as tears pooled in your eyes and time seemed to stand still as he waited for you to finish your answer. “There’s nothing else I want more than to be married to you. Yes, my answer is yes.”

Simon’s reaction was visceral as he hurriedly leaned back down into you with back arching and crashed his lips upon yours, greedily drawing all the love from your mouth that he could as he captured your mouth over and over again. Unconsciously the ring box was discarded on the nightstand as his hands desperately needed to be filled with the being that made up his entire world; that was all that mattered. 

“Whatever the fuck I did to deserve ya I hope I continue to do it to keep ya,” he moaned into your open mouth while he pulled you onto his lap and you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck to keep yourself steady as you sat down on him. “You’re the only thing I’ll eva want.”

You let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands kneaded at your hips and ran over the curve of your ass, overcome with so many emotions that it was impossible not to get swept up in them all. “I’m yours,” you responded in a moan. “Not going anywhere.”

The sound of your soft, breathy voice creating music out of the tender sounds as his fingers sent shivers down your spine made the collected and stoic soldier crack at the seams and any trace of the disastrous thoughts that had plagued him about how this interaction would happen fell away; a fire roared to life in his chest, spreading throughout his limbs until his fingertips prickled with desperation as he lost himself in you until nothing else existed except what lay inside the bed.  

Simon was a moth drawn to your flame and if it killed him, then he knew now that he would happily burn.

His fingers went caressing along the lines of your body over your t-shirt as if he were ravenous, as if he hasn’t touched you in years: over hips and thighs, circling over the fullness of your backside, up and around to your back where he flattened his palms to run them up the length of your spine all the way to where he ran coarse fingers through your hair at the back of your head. A tangled mess of limbs and lips, raw and wanting, as his hands descended back down into your lap.

Grabbing the hem of your sleep shirt with his exploring fingers, he released your mouth for as long as it took to rip it off over your head and toss it somewhere onto the floor. “There she is,” he breathed before mouth was diving into all that newly exposed warm flesh. Simon’s mouth left your kiss-flushed face and traveled to your jaw, adorning it with his lips as he dragged them along the length and trailed them down to your neck where they meet his fingers who took over and followed down the line of your neck to your chest and around the soft tissue of your breasts.

Securing you to him with a strong arm around your waist, bare chest against bare chest, his hand rubbed across the length of your thighs until he decided to slip it in the crevasse between them. Up against your panty-clothed pussy he pressed his hand sending chills along your skin so that you’d buck against his hand and you could feel a smile grow on his mouth that now rested at the crook of your neck.

“I fuckin’ love makin’ ya feel good baby,” he groaned. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ perfect… so perfect, pretty girl.”

Simon pushed his fingers up through the cloth until he was sure he had your petals pressed into your clit so that he could grind into it over and over until you began to ache something fierce. Your hips mirrored the work of his fingers as you rolled them over his hand, the excitement of the moment and the giddy feelings heightening all sensations so that the slightest bit of effort had you dripping.

Suddenly you pulled away from his mouth, leaving his lips missing your touch. “Take off your pants,” you said.

“Only if ya take off these tiny things,” Simon smiled as he pawed at your pelvis.

That was a deal easily made.

It was a mad scramble to remove the rest of the clothing that kept you apart, his jeans being ripped off in a flash as you pulled off your panties, but you were quick and resituated yourselves back in that intimate position of facing one another. His cock throbbed hard, the veiny appendage swollen and aching and ready to slide into you. With a firm grip he helped you situate yourself kneeling over his cock and then held onto you as you slowly lowered yourself onto the engorged tip.

Breathing strained and muscles tensed along his abdomen as Simon slipped inside, your body taking him all in down to the base of his cock. Your arms locked around the back of his neck to keep you from falling off his lap, delicate whimpers dripping from your lips as his cock nestled securely inside to stretch you good and full to the brim. The stretch of him was heaven, only slight discomfort that immediately gave way to ecstasy as it pulsed and throbbed against your walls like a heartbeat deep in your core, its rhythm making your body tremble to the cadence of a dance that only you two had perfected.

“I love you,” the emotion-laden words left your lips.

“I love ya too, sweetheart,” he returns without missing a beat. 

There were no more words that could be said as you both devolved into beings created solely for the pleasure of the other, the sounds of grunting and moaning filling up the room. The longer you went the harder you ground your hips into his pubic bone to engage your swollen clit like you couldn’t get enough of the way it felt. Your fingertips tingled with the prickling sensation of them running over the cropped bottom of Simon’s blonde locks at the back of his neck as you rode him, every part of you from your head down to your toes in pure bliss. 

Simon let you take the lead, so worked up that he was barely hanging on by a thread the moment he was inside you, the overwhelming sensation of love being shared the catalyst that drew you both closer to the precipice of release. Tender snaps of his hips upward into you helped to engage that region inside your core that felt divine. Mixed with the rubbing of your clit against him and you were quickly being made to come undone. 

Head falling forward, your eyes closed as you moaned into his face. “Yes, mmm… yes.”

“Come with me baby,” he groaned as he leaned forward so that your foreheads were pressed tightly against one another, “I know you’re close. Come on, you and me, together.”

Your hands around his neck squeezed harder to match the feeling as his grip wrenched down on your hips, your mouth hung agape as you desperately focused on your breathing. The coil wound tightly in your abdomen pulled taunt, body vibrating with pleasure, your orgasm within reach. It wouldn’t be long now and Simon was straining to hold on till the end.

“That’s it,” he coaxed gently, keeping his movements at a steady rhythm. “Just breathe; we’re almost there.”

The coil of arousal compressed in your core finally snapped and with a shudder your orgasm rocketed through you fiery hot, making you whimper closed mouth into his face as your hips bucked harshly into his. And before you could even finish through a second of your ecstasy, Simon locked his mouth onto yours as he let go and came fast and rough, mixing his groans with yours in the space created by your mouths.

Remembering what started this all he stretched his arm over to the nightstand and reached for the ring inside the box, taking your left hand to place the delicate band around your finger. He held up your hand before you both to admire the look of it, watching the gem glint and gleam in the light as he turned it back and forth. Never in his dreams could he imagine something so perfect being his to keep.

Simon’s hands stayed locked to your hips as a natural rhythm rocked you both back and forth through your high, just breathing until you could both come back down. He didn't want to let you go and you were more than content to stay nestled in his arms for as long as possible just to feel him. Eventually his heart rate slowed enough that he could breathe normally again and as he did he eased you both down to the mattress, you resting atop his chest. Your finger drew lazy patterns through the hair along his chest as the pair of you clung to one another.

Simon brought your hand to his mouth and placed gentle lips to it. “Can’t believe I get to ‘ave her as mine for the rest of my life,” he said as he pulled you into another toe-curling kiss, as happy as one person could be.

[myszie]

I think your Tutor likes being called a Good Boy

Sub!Matt x reader

Trigger warning - Smut, Dom/Sub dynamics, Throat play, major Corruption kink, maybe Dub!con, degradation.

MDNI

First time writing smut, constructive criticism please!!!

Matt fidgets with his pencil, hands roughly bundled in his lap, You’re supposed to carry over the power” he mumbles, his words terse. I look up at the boy sitting across from me in the prickling sweltering heat of the school library, “Matttt I swear you’re writing in another language at this point” I murmur exasperated, lips drawn into an exaggerated pout.

Matt shifts in his seat - red flush coating his porcelain skin, as he reaches over to correct my mistake. “It’s not hard, you’re just not doing it properly” he adds attempting to joke and look away from my face, and the way my skin shimmers in the heat….so mundane yet so provocative. “You whore, why must you attack me like that” I laugh back tugging at my thin tee so it it doesn’t stick to my body. Not hearing a reaction, and worrying I pushed too far, I lean into Matt only to see him squirming in his lap as diverts his gaze from the dip of my collarbone.

“You don’t look so good Matty….its too hot in here…wanna study in my car?” I offer cooing at the boy as I help him gather his things, perfectly disguising the ways my hands linger as I help him put stuff in his bag.

The boy shuffles behind me, his hands firmly plastered to the front of his body…the heat, your lips and the ways your words were just on the precipice of his desire. Watching Matt struggle ever so much under my gaze, the battle behind clinging to his perfect image is downright tempting. Like a white canvas begging for colour, begging to be ruined.

“Does that feel better?” I murmur, softly rubbing his thighs, to comfort him of course and not anything else. The hitch in his breath is loud and clear within the silence of the car, but I’m more than happy to indulge in this game of cat and mouse a bit longer. “The heat was really getting you huh?” I coo again, this time pressing a cold beer near his jugular. “Mhm this should help the flush” I say smirking slightly as I hover over the boy, but seeing his blush darken and eyes look wide and dazed…my temptation peels and I can’t help but dip the bottle lower…near his chest.

Matt gasps biting his lips, “Yea that feels…better” he manages to force out even though the ice did nothing to calm the raging hard on he was packing. He was too far gone at this point, he needed you to keep touching him. “I think I know what will feel really good though Matty, what hill help ……this” I whisper in his ears as I drag the cold beer bottle close to his navel. Matts eyes widens and before he can process what you’re proposing, I pull my hands back and settle in my chair acting nonchalant. “Feel better Matty?” I lilt, stressing the syllable. Matt eyes turn to mine, completely wide and his chest heaves as his brain tries to cope with the fact that he hadn’t just imagined your hands near his cock.

I stare back at him, a challenge and invitation clear in my eyes, “No…need help” he finally murmurs out his words stressed and broken. “Mhm you were quite rude you know, you should ask me nicely” I rasp as I let my hands and nails ghost over the skin of his thigh. Matt hands ball in his laps as his body shakes under my touch, “please help me…please” he finally manages and I smile my touch getting bolder as it palms the bulge in his pants. “Help you do what bunny?” I say smirking, having fun while breaking down matts composure. “Touch me please” Matt moans his hips rising up as they grind up into my hands.

Smirking I’m immediately on him, straddling his heaving frame in the small car. My red manicured hands grasp both sides of his face, as I look into his eyes….”You thought you were being subtle huh, palming your dick in the library like a slut” I rasp roughly kissing his perfectly pouty laps. Matt all but whimpers as his hips ground up to mine, moving desperately for friction. I squeeze his mouth, “Open” and spit in his mouth as he spreads open his mouth, “god such a desperate slut, now swallow” I say licking a line of sweat down the side of his neck. I’m well aware of the fact by this point he’s practically humping me, but I let him…he was too pure yet to ruin completely and besides I didn’t wanna reveal all my cards.

“You desperate boy, I thought you needed me to touch you, but here you’re more than happy humping me like a Rabid bunny in heat….fuck perfect Matt is such a little slut…doing all this when anyone can see the fucked out look on your face” I tease my hands grasping his throat as I too grind down on him. Matt tries to answer, his words muffled in moans and I laugh, “You don’t gave permission to speak doll” I say biting his lips.

Matt is all but reduced to to heap of grunts and moans, his hips chasing the rhythm of mine. Feeling himself get closer, he can’t help but moan out, “Fuck feels so good” as he cums in his pants against the heat of my centre. I ride him through his orgasm drawing out the sensitivity, until I address him with a hard glare.

“I said you’re not allowed to speak doll”

Y’all want part 2? I’m not sure?

Tag list

@chr1sgirl4life @sturniolos-bae @sturnsfave @somegirlfromasgard @solarsturniolo @vecnasnose0 @ev3rgreenxtrees @sleepysturnss @namelesssaviour @lov3burns @tillies33ssss @sturnpooks @ladyvenera @malirosee @sluttformatt @yo123itsme @hypnotizedsturn @stellarsturns @lolasturniolo @namelesssav

[capquinn]

Imagine dad Quinn with Jack and Luke, along with us meeting the baby in the hospital 🥹🥹 imagine how the boys would act with a new baby

The hospital room was warm and quiet, softened by the glow of late afternoon light filtering through the blinds. Quinn stood near the bed, cradling his baby daughter carefully, his large hands almost comically gentle against her impossibly tiny frame. She was only a day old, barely big enough to fill his hands, with a downy tuft of hair and her face still scrunched in that sleepy, new-baby way. Every now and then, she let out a soft coo, and each sound sent a flicker of wonder through Quinn’s face, a look of complete awe mixed with a bit of that new-parent nervousness.

Jack and Luke, for all their bravado, wore similar expressions. They’d been buzzing with excitement since they’d stepped into the room, but as they finally got close enough to see her, a hush fell over them.

When Jack finally held her, he cradled her a bit awkwardly but with as much care as he could muster.

Quinn hovered closely, his body leaning in, just a little tense. His eyes flickered over every detail — Jack’s fingers around her, the angle of her tiny head resting against his chest. He watched, heart in his throat, protective instincts on high alert. Every few seconds, his gaze darted over to you, almost pleading, a silent question in his eyes: is she okay? Should I take her back?

But each time he looked, you just gave him a soft, reassuring smile, urging him to let the moment breathe, to trust his brother’s careful hands. Quinn’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but his eyes never left her, tracing the delicate rise and fall of her breath, making sure her blanket stayed snug around her. His hand hovered at his side, fingers twitching like he was ready to step in at the slightest hint of discomfort.

Jack, sensing the weight of his brother’s watchful eye, grinned up at Quinn.

“Relax, Q. This isn’t the first time I’ve held a baby,” he teased.

Quinn rolled his eyes, crossing his arms but refusing to step back. “Just focus on holding her properly then, would you?” he replied, voice firm but softened by a barely-hidden smile. “Her head’s gotta be supported.”

Jack chuckled, shifting slightly as he adjusted his hold, his tone gentle. “You’re wound up tight, you know that?”

“You’re holding my daughter like she’s a ticking time bomb about to go off,” Quinn retorts, a hint of defensiveness in his tone as he leans a little closer, eyes fixed on Jack’s grip.

Jack raises an eyebrow, suppressing a grin.

“Maybe that’s because you’re hovering over my shoulder like she actually might,” he shoots back, adjusting his hold just to prove a point.

Quinn huffs, his hand twitching as though he’s about to step in, but he holds himself back, glancing over at you. You catch his gaze, giving him another reassuring nod, a small smile that says, “trust him.”

When it was finally Luke’s turn, he stepped forward with a soft, eager smile, his arms already outstretched as Jack carefully transferred the tiny bundle into his grasp. Unlike Jack’s tentative approach, Luke seemed to find his footing almost instantly, his hands settling with a gentle confidence as he cradled her. His long fingers supported her head, and he instinctively began to sway, his movements slow and easy, a quiet rhythm that seemed to soothe even the softest stirrings from his niece.

He looked down at her with a look of wonder, as if seeing something entirely new in the world.

“Hey there, little one,” he murmured, “I’m your uncle Luke. The fun one.” His words carried a playful warmth, but there was a flicker of pride in his eyes, a glimpse of the care he already felt.

Jack, watching from beside him, let out a soft chuckle, and leaned in to gently brush his fingers over her impossibly tiny hand.

“Yeah, by fun he means he’ll be doing all the things that make mom and dad panic,” Jack teased, his voice dropping into a warm whisper. “She’s just… so small,” he whispered, the awe in his voice breaking through his usual humour.

His finger lingered there, and to everyone’s quiet delight, her hand closed reflexively around it, holding on tight. The sight left him speechless, his usual stoicism melting into something entirely new — gentle, protective, proud. It was as if the weight of being an uncle settled over him in that single moment, reshaping his usual carefree grin into something more tender.

Jack let out a quiet laugh, his eyes never leaving her tiny face.

“Guess I’m officially Uncle Jack now,” he murmured, a little awestruck, like he was still wrapping his mind around the title.

Then, as if sensing she was the center of their attention, the baby let out a small, sleepy noise, a gentle little sigh that made everyone fall silent. Luke’s grin faded into a look of pure wonder, his eyes softening as he looked down at her, completely smitten.

Quinn watched from beside you, a hint of emotion catching in his throat as he took in the sight of his brothers doting on his baby girl. You slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him close, and he leaned into you, his heart full. He squeezed your shoulder, and together, you both simply watched, soaking up this first, tender meeting, feeling the magic of it all.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

requests are open - let’s daydream!

[sundew199]

Birthday present

a/n: just smth cute to celebrate Zoro's birthday ♡

tags: Roronoa Zoro x f!reader, fluff, dad!zoro, family dynamics, post-canon

His hands shook as he wiped them from on the sides of his pants, clammy and moist from the nervous sweat he had broken out into as he waited.

It'd been a couple of hours since he received word that you'd gone into labor, caught up in a class and doing his best to rush back to the compound where the two of you lived. The whole day had been a mess, Zoro not anticipating you'd be close to delivering when he agreed to teach a class halfway across the island almost a year ago. Oh well, he can't go back and change the past, all he could do now was apologize and make up for it somehow.

"Everything went smoothly."

Not even hearing the door to the bedroom open, let alone spot the doctor slipping out of the room, snapping Zoro's restless thoughts back to the present. The man looked kind and forgiving, features creasing soft in a reassuring smile as he patted Zoro's arm.

"I'll give you all the time you need, congratulations."

Zoro barely smiled at the doctor as he turned down the hall away from the bedroom Zoro stood outside of. There shouldn't be any reason why he was nervous, right? I mean this wasn't a surprise, sort of planned and wanted so he should just go in and forget about everything swirling in his head. But his stomach flipped and churned and he wished he knew why.

Well. He can't stand out here for the rest of his life.

Slowly pulling back the shoji, slipping inside, Zoro just about melted seeing you cradle a small bundle in your arms, paired with the brightest and yet most tired smile he's seen on you.

"Hey." Falling to his knees beside the futon, grasping the back of your head and placing a kiss on your cheek. "I'm so sorry, I tried to get here as fast as I could."

A soft hand came to silence whatever else might've come out of his mouth next, gently laughing and kissing his cheek back, making the unease in his veins simmer into nothing.

"It's okay, this was kind of unexpected, for everyone."

Zoro cumbersomely laughed, pressing his forehead to yours and then following it with a kiss, reassured to know you weren't upset with him for missing the birth of his first child. You began to scoot over to make room for him, adjusting the baby in your arms and giving Zoro a brief glance. Shit he felt so emotional, a lump rising in his throat and finding no way to make it go away.

Slowly your hand moved the loose blanket swaddled around the baby out of the way so Zoro could see them properly. They were sleeping soundly in the comfort of your arms, it almost didn't look or feel real that he was a father now. He'd hope the realization would've set in sooner, but at the same time the overwhelming sensation coursing through him felt other worldly.

"Can I?" Asking nervously, watching you break out into a small laugh at his question to hold his own child, but Zoro was nervous and it couldn't be helped.

"Of course."

The exchange felt like it was in slow motion, Zoro something of a giant to this new life and instantly on pins and needles when the baby was placed in his arms. Moving as carefully as he could while sitting on the edge of the futon, Zoro looked at you with misty eyes, not quiet crying but overflowing with joy.

"It's a boy by the way."

Hearing you whisper the sweet words and smiling even harder, looking back down again at the baby and adjusting his hold to where he could move the blanket further away from their face. His son made little faces at the adjustments, worrying Zoro for a moment but calming when he continued to sleep.

"I meant to get you a proper gift, but I hope this is okay for now."

Quicker than he could process, Zoro was twisting to look at you fully, uncertainty taking over in his expression.

"Gift? What are you talking about?"

Your sweet laugh confused him further, wondering what you were talking about. Subtly, you scooted closer, hooking your chin over his shoulder and throwing an arm around the other, pressing your cheek to his as you both admired the sleeping baby in his arms.

"It's your birthday today."

Oh.

Oh-

Zoro slightly turned his head with wide eyes, the reminder dawning on him in that moment and suddenly he felt emotions he couldn't find proper words for. His birthday wasn't anything he cared much for, just another year getting older, but he did like the excuse of getting to drink as a form of celebration. He'd been so focused on you and the dojo that his birthday didn't even cross his mind once.

"Shit it is isn't it?"

Lips vibrated on his cheek as you kissed him with another laugh, running your fingertips along his shoulder and humming peacefully.

"Mhm. You don't mind sharing a birthday do you?" Asking with a bit of humor in your tone, pulling the corner of Zoro's mouth into a firmer smile.

"No," Moving to fully turn and face you now, getting himself properly adjusted on the futon next to you, checking in on his son still fast asleep. "Probably just made my birthdays more memorable from here on out."

With his free hand, Zoro cupped one side of your face, locking you into a deep kiss, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone when he pulled away.

"It's not going to bother me, but we never know how he'll feel about it when he's older." Motioning down towards the newborn baby with his chin, breathily chuckling at his own comment.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see." Leaning over to kiss the top of your son's head, proceeding to give Zoro a quick kiss as well before curling up into his side carefully, running your hand across the soft newborn hair with your fingers.

[amsznn]

CHRIS STURNIOLO BF HEADCANONS ⋆˙⟡♡

warnings: none, just fluff!

-

⭑ you better have tylenol, and a whole bunch of patience if you’re with this boy.

⭑ so much energy and expects you to be on the same level as him.

⭑ sometimes he’ll tone it down if you’re having a bad day or if you just need some quiet time.

⭑ at the end of the day, he’s so exhausted that he doesn’t even say goodnight, just knocks out.

⭑ you and chris are cuddled up on his bed, enjoying each other’s presence when you decide to ask his opinion on something.

“chris what do you think about this hoodie?”

chris: 💀😴

you: 😐

⭑ BLANKET HOGGER. doesn’t matter how big or how small the blanket is, you’ll be left shivering while chris is bundled up with 50% of the sheets dragging on the floor.

⭑ on nights where he doesn’t immediately tap out, he’s resting his chin on your head while one hand is playing with your hair and the other caressing your arm while yapping your ear off.

“if you were a chicken, what kinda chicken would you be?”

“chris i swear to god.”

⭑ needs to be touching you in some way. And it’s not always sexually. small touches like, playing with your ears, hand on your thigh, or just playing footsies under the table, contact is his fav.

⭑ whenever he’s in disagreement with his brothers about something he makes sure to throw you into the mix and ask your opinion cus lets be real, you almost always agree with him.

⭑ randomly jabs your side to tickle you whenever there’s a moment of silence between you two.

⭑ asks your opinion on designs for his brand before launching anything. also makes sure you get at least one of every item he’s designed.

⭑ don’t think he’s the jealous or protective type. but if someone is making you uncomfortable he’ll definitely tell them to back off.

⭑ the media found out about you two on accident 💀.

⭑ chris was streaming one day and forgot to tell you but it was too late when you walked into his room unannounced in your grammy pj’s ready to knock tf out when chris let out a loud “ohhhhh shitttt..” when you realized that you were fucked.

⭑ you looked at chris and chris looked at you before you both shrugged your shoulders and went on with what you were doing, honestly not giving af atp.

⭑ comments flooding about who you were, tiktoks posted about you two with dating rumors, had to wait until the next day when chris posted on his story the both of you in skin care hello kitty masks facing the mirror with his arm around your shoulder and you leaning up to give him a peck on the face.

⭑ yeah, yall broke the internet.

⭑ you were featured in the next podcast with you and chris properly talking about your relationship.

⭑ after that chris would post you any chance he got. from cute insta stories, to goofy tiktok trends, he just wanted the world to know about his amazing gf.

⭑ PDA PDA PDA PDA. in the back of the triplets vlogs that you sometimes feature in, fans can spot you and chris in the background hugging with chris sometimes attacking you with kisses.

⭑ just a clingy guy tbh.

⭑ whenever you wake up from one you and chris’ shared afternoon naps to go find something to eat in the kitchen, chris makes his way to you like 2 minutes later and wraps his arms around your waste peeking over your shoulder so he can also have some of what you’re making.

⭑ loves going out and seeing things that remind him of you, but when he’s about to buy it and the store says “we don’t take apple pay” he’s upset for the rest of the day talking about “what fucking store doesn’t take apple pay”

“what kinda guy forgets his wallet…”

⭑ he ends up ordering it for you online 💀

⭑ overall a cute silly guy who just loves to love on you.

-

A/N: i want him. im posting sm cus theres soo many things in my drafts guys, imma try to even my posting days out though, bare with me <3.

[joyfulcowboycandy]

My tears, oh my tears, I just read your Lilia fic😭😭😭😭I don't think I'll be able to get through my day well. I really need a happy ending for him with her🤧🤧🤧

HI ANON! Thank you for your request ❤! I had to think pretty hard for an idea and I settled on this I hope it's satisfactory! I'm not very good at writing fluff and happy endings so I tried my best:p

Lilia Vonrogue x Reader

❥ part two (part 1: here)

Content warning: none

fem reader

Lilia had spent countless years as a hardened warrior, fighting on the front lines and keeping his heart guarded from attachment or sentimentality. But when she died in his arms, all his strength and resilience seemed to dissolve. Now, he was left with only her memory—and the child she’d entrusted to him, Silver. Raising Silver should have been a way to honor her, but each day felt like a reminder of his failure to protect her. Despite this, he kept her memory close, never sharing the truth with anyone else.

When he’d returned to Briar Valley, he had simply told others he’d found the boy abandoned. He didn’t want their sympathy, their prying questions, or their pity. She was his secret, a part of his soul he guarded as fiercely as any territory he’d once protected in battle.

Though he loved Silver fiercely, Lilia struggled to raise him properly. Silver was human, fragile and dependent in a way that bewildered him. Malleus, though eager to help, was just as lost. He was unused to anything so delicate, and his fascination with Silver’s human traits sometimes did more harm than good.

“I do not understand, Lilia,” Malleus said once as they watched Silver wail at the unfamiliar taste of solid food. “Why does he reject this nourishment? Fae children devour their first meals.”

Lilia only chuckled, masking his own frustration. “Human babies don’t always eat everything, Malleus. They’re… unpredictable.”

But when he was alone, Lilia was less assured. How could he teach a child when his own life had been war and solitude? He often tried to remember the warmth of her smile as she held Silver, the way she’d cradled him with a patience and gentleness he could never seem to match. He’d even picked up books on human parenting, flipping through pages with an intensity usually reserved for military strategies. Yet, with every attempt to follow the words, he felt her absence even more sharply, the emptiness of her laughter lingering in the silence of their small home.

Silver was growing quickly, and with him, Lilia’s feelings shifted. At times, Silver’s big eyes, so much like hers, would look up at him with a trust that made Lilia’s heart ache. But he was also reminded of his failings. How could he raise this child with warmth when he had none left to give? He was a warrior, not a father. And yet… he couldn’t let her down. Each time he saw Silver sleep, curled up and peaceful, he’d lean against the doorway and watch, feeling something unfamiliar and gentle soften his battle-worn heart.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.          Years Later

As he grew older, Silver began to notice things that didn’t quite fit the stories his father told him. Lilia had always said he found Silver, abandoned and alone, and that he’d taken him in. But there were gaps in the story, inconsistencies that left Silver questioning his past.

Sometimes, late at night, Silver would wake to find his father sitting by the fire, staring into the flames with a distant, sorrowful expression Silver had rarely seen. And sometimes, Lilia would hold a small trinket—a ribbon, or a faded piece of cloth—that he quickly hid whenever Silver approached.

“Father,” Silver asked once, “were you alone when you found me?”

Lilia’s gaze shifted, and he masked his expression with a wry smile. “You were all I found that day, Silver. Just a bundle of trouble waiting to happen.”

But Silver couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Over time, he learned not to ask too many questions, knowing they would only be deflected. Yet, the mysteries lingered, especially in the moments when he saw a softness in Lilia that he couldn’t quite understand—a gentleness that seemed to speak of someone else.

One night, Silver dozed off after a long day of training, only to find himself drifting into a dream unlike any he’d ever had before. It felt unusually vivid, he realized he were stepping into someone else’s memories rather than his own. He was in a dimly lit forest clearing, and through a haze of recollection, he saw his father, but not as he knew him. This version of Lilia seemed slightly younger, sterner, his gaze sharper and full of fire. And beside him was a woman Silver had never seen before.

She was human, with soft, gentle eyes, and the way she looked at his father was unlike anything Silver had ever witnessed. In one scene, she was gently binding a wound on Lilia’s arm, her hands steady and careful. Lilia was grumbling, clearly unused to being cared for in such a way, but there was a tenderness in his eyes, a look Silver had never seen directed at anyone before.

The memory shifted, and now she was holding a small child—an infant Silver realized with a start was himself. She whispered to the baby in her arms, her words too soft for him to hear, but the expression of love on her face was unmistakable. And when Lilia glanced at her, it was with a mix of admiration, something deeper and unspoken lingering in his gaze.

Silver stirred, feeling an ache in his chest he couldn’t explain. Who was this woman, and why had his father never mentioned her? The dream faded, but the questions remained, and the next morning, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Father,” he began hesitantly, watching Lilia’s face, “I had a dream last night… or maybe a memory. There was a woman with you. She looked… kind.”

Lilia stiffened, his usual mirth fading as he met Silver’s gaze. For a moment, he was silent, his eyes betraying a depth of pain Silver had never seen before.

“She was…” Lilia’s voice was barely a whisper. “Someone I lost long ago.”

Silver remained quiet, sensing the weight of the memory and the love his father had hidden all these years. Though Lilia didn’t offer any more details, Silver understood that this woman—his mother—had been someone truly special. 

Silver felt a quiet desperation gnawing at him. Now that he had glimpsed a fragment of her—a woman he felt connected to yet hardly knew—a hollow ache settled in his chest. His father had always kept his sorrow hidden, masking any sign of grief with his usual humor and lightheartedness. But after seeing her, Silver couldn’t ignore the emptiness left by her absence, and he couldn’t accept that this was the end of their story.

The longing grew sharper with each day, his mind drifting back to the mystery of her—a mother he barely remembered, a bond he could only dream of. How could he let things end like this? To never have truly known her felt wrong. Still, he was just a human, and what power did he have over something as final as death?

But the thought wouldn’t let him rest. He was not as helpless as he felt. He was strong, he knew magic, and he was connected to some of the most powerful beings in Twisted Wonderland. Surely there was a way—some forbidden knowledge, some hidden path he hadn’t yet considered.

And then he remembered the rumors, whispers of a witch who resided far beyond Briar Valley, somewhere between worlds, where human souls and fae magic brushed against each other. A powerful sorceress who understood the mysteries of life and death and could speak to the spirits themselves.

The path to this witch wouldn’t be easy, but Silver knew he couldn’t turn back now. This was something he had to do—not just for himself, but for the one who had given everything for him, the one he knew his father had loved in a way he had never spoken of.

Silver set out quietly, keeping his journey a secret from his father, Sebek and Malleus. He ventured through dense forests and past enchanted lakes, traveling farther than he ever had before. His heart remained steadfast, though fear began to settle in as he neared his destination.

Finally, after days of travel, he reached the borderlands between the human world and the realm of the sea—a place where twilight lingered, where ancient stones rose from the mist, and the air was thick with enchantment. In the shadows of the rocks, he caught sight of her: the witch he had heard of. She was cloaked in dark robes, her figure partially obscured, but her gaze was piercing, as though she had been expecting him.

“You seek to bring back a lost soul,” she said before Silver even spoke. Her voice was calm but held a warning, laced with an unsettling wisdom. “A dangerous wish, young one. Life and death are not to be tampered with lightly.”

Silver’s resolve held firm. “I know it’s dangerous, but… she was taken from us too soon. I just want the chance to know her, even if it’s only once.”

The witch regarded him in silence, her expression unreadable. “To bring back a soul from beyond… it requires a great sacrifice,” she finally said. “Not in gold, not in power, but in spirit. To restore what was lost, you must be willing to give something of equal weight in return.”

“What do you mean?” Silver asked, feeling a shiver of uncertainty.

She gave him a steady look. “It will cost you a piece of yourself. Memories, perhaps, or a fragment of your own life force. To give life, something must be taken. And even then, it may not work as you hope. The dead do not always return as they were.”

Silver’s heart raced, but he nodded, his determination unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The witch watched him, assessing his resolve before finally nodding. She led him to a clearing at the edge of the shore, where she instructed him to gather rare herbs and light a circle of candles in the shape of the full moon.

Silver could feel the energy drain from him as the witch chanted in the language of old, his very life force spilling into the circle they had created. He closed his eyes, focusing on his mother’s face, the brief glimpses he had seen in his dreams—the gentle smile, the warmth that lingered even in a memory. He barely noticed as the witch’s voice faded, the mist thickening in front of him until it nearly obscured the world.

When he opened his eyes, she was there.

She stood just beyond the edge of the mist, her form wrapped in simple robes of soft, muted colors, somewhere between the shades of twilight and dawn. Her hair, flowing, caught the light in a gentle, silvery sheen. Silver’s heart stilled, his breath caught in his throat as he took in her familiar features—the softness of her gaze, the contours of her face that mirrored his own.

For a moment, she looked around in confusion, her brow furrowing as her gaze settled on him, lingering with a glimmer of recognition that hadn’t fully settled. She studied his face, her eyes taking in every feature as if piecing together a puzzle from fragments of memory.

Silver’s lips parted, and the word slipped out like a breath. “Mother…”

Her eyes widened, the dawning realization flooding her expression, and then, as if nothing else in the world mattered, she moved toward him. At first, a tentative step, and then, as recognition and emotion surged within her, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him with a force that belied her slight frame. Silver’s arms moved instinctively to hold her, his heart pounding as he felt the solid warmth of her, the reality of her presence.

They held each other for a long moment, both too overwhelmed to speak, both still trembling with the fragile wonder of what had just happened. She pulled back slightly, gazing up at him, her eyes studying every line and shadow on his face. She let out a soft, incredulous laugh, a sound both joyful and tearful.

“Silver…” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “You… you’ve grown so much. You’re so big now.”

Silver managed a shaky smile, barely able to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions. “I… I never thought I’d see you…”

Her hand reached up, brushing his cheek, her fingers lingering as though she was still trying to assure herself he was real. “I don’t understand how… or why… but I felt something calling me back, a longing I couldn’t ignore.” Her voice faltered, softening. “I thought I’d lost you both forever.”

Silver shook his head, his own hand moving to cover hers. “No. I had to bring you back. I had to know you—just once.” His voice broke slightly, but he didn’t care; he needed her to know the depth of his longing, the years he had wondered about her.

They shared another silent moment, just taking in the wonder of being reunited before Silver finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s someone who needs to see you… someone who’s missed you even more than I have.”

Her gaze brightened, and she nodded, a glimmer of emotion flickering in her eyes as she realized who he meant. “Take me to him.”

When they returned to Briar Valley, Silver led her to the castle, his heart racing with anticipation and awe. Lilia was there, his usually cheerful expression softening as he spotted Silver at the entrance. But when his gaze landed on the figure beside him, he froze.

For a heartbeat, Lilia seemed unable to comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly open as he took in the sight of her, standing beside Silver, alive, her eyes shining as she met his gaze.

“Lilia…” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears pooled in her eyes.

Lilia took a hesitant step forward, his composure slipping away, replaced by an expression Silver had never seen before—a vulnerability, a disbelief, and a raw, overwhelming joy. “How…?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Unable to hold back any longer, she moved toward him, her steps quickening until she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if he might vanish. Lilia’s arms encircled her, holding her tightly, and a tear slipped down his cheek as he buried his face in her shoulder.

They stayed like that, the two of them locked in an embrace, their reunion marked by silent tears and whispered words of comfort and disbelief. Silver watched, a warmth filling his chest, his heart swelling with quiet happiness as he witnessed the reunion he had always longed for.

When they finally pulled back, Lilia placed a gentle hand on her face, brushing away a tear. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes softened with a depth of love that Silver had never seen before.

She placed her hand over his. “You never lost me. I was always there… watching over you both.”

Lilia looked toward Silver, his gaze filled with gratitude and something else—a newfound pride, a warmth that he struggled to put into words.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.  BONUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Silver led his mother, Y/N, through the stone corridors of the castle. She held herself with quiet grace, her steps soft, but she was clearly a bit nervous. As they approached the courtyard, Malleus and Sebek stood waiting, expressions guarded yet curious.

“Mother,” Silver began, a touch of pride in his voice, “these are my friends: Malleus Draconia and Sebek Zigvolt.”

Y/N gave a small, respectful nod, her gaze briefly meeting theirs before she glanced aside shyly. “It’s… nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a little of you on the way here.”

Malleus tilted his head, regarding her with a steady, thoughtful gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Wait,” Sebek interjected, brows drawing together in confusion, “Silver, you… have a mother? That’s not the story Master Lilia told us…” His voice was skeptical, yet respectful.

Silver shifted slightly. “I uh…. Well, it’s complicated…”

Just then, Lilia approached, hands behind his back, giving the scene an amused glance before his gaze softened on Y/N. She caught his eye, a bit of warmth there, even if neither spoke right away.

“Lilia,” Malleus finally ventured, “perhaps you could enlighten us?”

Lilia gave a faint smirk, his tone dry. “Oh, I do seem to have forgotten a few details, haven’t I?” His eyes flicked to Y/N with a hint of warmth. “She has a habit of showing up when you least expect it.”

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing at Lilia. “Some things haven’t changed.”

Sebek was still gaping, while Malleus studied the quiet exchange between Y/N and Lilia with a thoughtful look. Lilia only shrugged, his voice nonchalant but his gaze carrying a deeper feeling as he said, “Every family has a few secrets, after all.”

Bonus 2: Y/n: Oh… You cut your hair. Lilia: Yes, I did… Did you like it longer? I’ll grow it out. Y/n: W-what? It’s okay! I love it now too. It’s cute. Lilia: I love you too–oh, I mean I love it too, yes.

[starrylevi]

Dad!Levi 💫

Dad!Levi who pushes the stroller when you’re both out

Dad!Levi who gets all the chores done around the house while having the baby strapped to his chest

Dad!Levi who literally takes care of everything the first few months after you giving birth

Dad!Levi who packs the baby’s bag whenever you both leave the house because somehow you always manage to leave something but Levi never does

Dad!Levi who tries every diaper brand before picking the one he deems is the best for your child

Dad!Levi who bundles up your child as if they’re going to experience a blizzard their first day out in the cold

Dad!Levi who cuts your child’s hair himself because he doesn’t trust anyone else

Dad!Levi who internally freaks out every time your child gets sick

Dad!Levi who seems to be the stricter parent but is actually the biggest softie and lets your child indulge once in a while

Dad!Levi who doesn’t let just anyone take care of your child. They’re always properly vetted or are a well trusted friend

Dad!Levi who teaches your child to be scrappy and resourceful so no one messes with them when they first attend school

Dad!Levi who’s in charge of bath and nighttime routines

Dad!Levi with a sunshine child who is absolutely obsessed with him even though everyone else fears him

Dad!Levi who doesn’t get upset with his children’s messes because how else will they learn how to clean up

Dad!Levi who makes sure he is gentle with his little boy knowing the world was never gentle with him

Dad!Levi who holds his little girl close, reminding him of his time with his mother

Dad!Levi who just cares about raising good humans not soldiers

Dad!Levi who doesn’t punish your children but teaches them lessons

Dad!Levi who tries his hardest to be the best father since he never thinks he’s good enough

Dad!Levi who loves your children with every fiber of his being as they are healing his inner child

[onyourowndaisymae]

solomon's bunny boy birthday service

today is my birthday and i'm rewarding myself with self-indulgent, bunny boy solomon smut. heavily inspired by conversations w jes and this image right here

content + warnings: NSFW minors dni, solomon x fem!reader, oral (reader recieving), fingering, reader is wearing a dress, minor lucifer cuckage

word count: ~1.2k

"fuck, that's-- solomon, please."

the steady thrum of dance music and the occasional trickle of light are all that pierce through the otherwise complete seclusion of the room. it's a private VIP space. today is your birthday-- that's your party outside, so graciously hosted and organized by the demon brothers-- and yet here you are, arching your back off of the sofa as your body writhes in pleasure.

this is all his fault.

it's your special day. preparations have been made in advance, and-- excuse your bluntness-- you've known most of the details since they were finalized weeks ago. the demon brothers are wonderful for a lot, but certainly not at keeping secrets or planning surprises. so you knew this party was coming. but when solomon waltzes up to you shortly after the night begins dressed as one of the club's bunny boy waiters-- well, the sight almost sends you to your knees, both in a fit of laughter and for... other reasons.

he's a damn flirt. seductive whispers against your ear, fleeting brushes against your body as he walks by, attending to your every need like a good little waiter-- all of it is sneaky and fitting of the devious sorcerer's usual antics. you can't deny the way his lips brushing against your earlobe make you shiver, how the show he puts on of waggling his bunny tail before he skitters off stokes dangerously at embers inside your gut.

solomon got what he wanted-- you, in a private room, moaning his name as he pleases you.

his lips latch greedily onto your clit, steely eyes looking up through pretty silver lashes to gauge every reaction, every sharp intake of breath or flutter of your eyelids. his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, steady and consistent, bumping against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur in pleasure. breathy cries leave your lips. there's no strain, nothing rough about the noises you make or the way his tongue lavishes your sensitive bud with kitten licks-- it's all soft, almost needy as you try to remain quiet and hide from any intrusive guests.

he's a sight between your thighs. solomon's always so pretty, but there's something about the way he looks right now that makes your core ache with need around his long fingers.

his bunny ears are skewed in two different directions. one is angled towards you while the other looks left. his vest is long discarded, draped hastily over a nearby couch cushion in the rush to touch you. his tie is undone around his neck, and the first few buttons of shirt are undone-- you remember unbuttoning them amidst a feverish kiss before he carefully laid your back against the couch. you're grateful for it now. pretty pink flush coats his ivory skin, creeping up his chest to flood his cheeks with blazing heat.

he pulls away from your clit just enough to catch his breath, the warm of each exhale molten across your sensitive folds. his thumb rubs a teasing circle across the bundle of nerves before caressing it properly, steadily. your hips buck into his hand and he lets out a breathless chuckle.

"how do you feel? is this okay?"

both of you know the answer to that-- judging by the way your hand clamps over your mouth to silence your noises, the twitching of your cunt around his fingers, you can both assume he's doing an excellent job. but there's a vulnerability to the way he asks, a neediness that leaks through even with the self-satisfied grin he's wearing.

does this feel good for you? do you want to stay back here with me? is this orgasm worth abandoning your party for? am i worth choosing over everyone else you could be with tonight?

"more than okay," you breathe. "fuck-- i want you, sol. wanna cum, wanna feel you inside me, i-- please."

you do not have to tell him twice.

heat flares in his cheeks, and his eyes flick away momentarily before he leans in and resumes his work. his fingers scissor inside you now, stretching your inner walls to prepare you while sucking on your clit. your thighs clamp around his head, but his pace never halts or stutters-- the needy dig of your feel between his shoulder blades awakens something within him.

he needs you. badly.

it's not long after his pace reaches a fever pitch that your muffled cries do too. your thighs quiver and tense around his head again and again, practically begging for release, until your inner walls tighten and cum leaks across his knuckles. the pace of his fingers slowly until the obscene squelching quiets to quiet, slick noises of him pumping in and out, in and out, until he's sure your orgasm is over. solomon pulls them out carefully and leans in to kiss you.

then he freezes. both of your bodies stiffen against each other. his hand comes down to the hem of your skirt, previously yanked up to give him better access to your core, and yanks the garment down before sitting up.

the click of the door opening makes fear shoot down your spine.

"... i figured i'd find you here."

lucifer's imposing silhouette obscures the strobing lights of the party outside. you can somewhat make out his facial expressions, but it's not like you need them-- you can tell he's upset from the moment the door swings open.

"sorry," solomon chirps. you can hear the smug grin in his voice, see the way he waves his hand, aloof, like the smell of sex doesn't hang heavy in the air. "i meant to lock that door earlier. didn't want any guests intruding tonight."

"what is going on in here?" lucifer asks sharply. his ruby eyes narrow in the low light.

"oh, i don't think you need to ask that. i think you know."

solomon's fingers glisten in the low light. gossamer strings of your arousal coat his fingers, dripping like molasses down his digits. there's a few seconds of thick tension in the air before his lips part and his tongue laves the cum off his fingers. it's a dirty move-- lucifer's whole body stiffens in the door way. heat burns inside your stomach when they slip into his mouth with a moan. his tongue swirls sloppy around them, lapping up every last drop of the pleasure he gave you, never once bothering to look away from the demon in the door way.

"you're a disgrace," lucifer spats, words sharp and accusatory.

"come on, lucifer," solomon cooes, like he's attempting to pacify the angry avatar instead of rub salt further into his wound. "all in good fun, right? all for mc's special day."

silence.

"mc, come join us. my brothers are looking for you."

"unfortunately, lucifer, we're not quite done yet. isn't that right, mc?"

there's two sets of eyes on you. ruby rage from across the room, wings puffed like his chest as he beckons you to rejoin the rest of the group. cold steel close by, flickering with a warmth that makes your stomach tighten and your knees weak. your body and mind are not on the same side as you glance between the two.

"lucifer?" you finally start.

"hmm?"

"... shut the door on your way out, please."

[lee-laurent]

Playing House - Luke Hughes

Summary: Tori makes the decision to introduce Riley to Luke

content: angst, some fluff, arguing, kissing, money issues

wc: 2.5k

notes: here it is! as requested by one of my anons :)) this is part 5 of the done trying series! here we goooo

Tori woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing repeatedly on the bedside table. She groaned, reaching out to silence it, but the name on the screen made her sit up immediately.

John Marino.

"Hello? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Tori. Sorry to call you so early. Riley wanted to talk to you."

Her heart melted at the sound of her son's voice. "Mama! Hi!"

"Hi, baby! Are you having fun with Dada, Nanny, and Pop?"

"Yes! We has pancakes!"

"That sounds so yummy! Are you being a good boy?"

"Uh-huh. Miss 'oo, Mama!"

"I miss you too, Ri-Ri! I'll see you super soon though, okay?"

"O-tay! 'Uv 'oo!"

"Love you too, Riley. Be good for Dada."

She heard John take the phone back. "He just wanted to say hi. I'll bring back tomorrow morning, as planned."

"Right. Thanks, Johnny. See you then."

As she hung up, she felt Luke stir beside her. He blinked a few times, then smiled sleepily. "G'morning."

"Morning, Lu," she replied, leaning in to kiss him. "Riley called. He misses me."

"Of course he does. Who wouldn't?" he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "So, what's the plan today?"

"I was thinking we could relax for a bit, then maybe go for a walk? Show you around the neighbourhood."

"Sounds perfect," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep. "But first, more cuddles."

Tori laughed, snuggling into his chest. "Deal."

Later that morning, they were walking hand in hand through the park near Tori's apartment. The sun was shining, and the air was warm- the perfect day to be outside. The found a spot near the small pond, enjoying the peacefulness.

"I love this place," Luke said, looking around. "It's nice and calm. Feels like we're not even in the city at all. Miles away from everything."

"It's been my little escape since we moved here. Riley loves it too. He calls it the 'duck park' 'cause of all the ducks, which unfortunately sounds like 'fuck park' when he says it, but we move."

Luke laughed. "I can't wait to meet him properly. I hope he likes me."

"He will," Tori assured, squeezing his hand. "You're great with kids. I've seen how patient and kind you are with all the kids that come to fan events."

"I guess. But this... this is different. This is your son. I like need to make a good impression."

"You will, Lu. Trust me."

The rest of their day was spent adventuring. They walked around the neighbourhood, talking about everything and nothing. By they time they arrived back at Tori's apartment, they were both beyond tired.

As they settled onto the couch to watch a movie, Tori's phone buzzed again. This time a text from John instead of a call.

Can we talk tomorrow when I drop off Riley?

Tori sighed, "Looks like John wants to talk tomorrow. Probably about you."

Luke nodded, "Figures. But we'll deal with it... together."

"Together," she grinned. Luke chuckled, pressing a loving kiss to her cheek. She shook her head, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

"Together."

Tori was a bundle of nerves the next morning. She busied herself by tidying up the apartment, acting like her two-year-old would notice whether or not the place was clean. Luke tried to reassure her multiple times, even trying to pull her back into bed, but she could clearly see the tension in his eyes too.

"I- Luke I think I should talk with John alone to start. I know him... and he'd just get angrier if you were there."

"But I want to help you, Vic. I wanna be there to back you up."

"I know, babe. But... just trust me on this one."

"Fine. But if he raises his voice, even just a little, I'm coming in to beat his ass."

Finally, there was a knock at her door. Tori opened it to find Johns standing there with Riley. She felt a knot form in her stomach as John stepped into the apartment, his expression grim. Riley was already distracted, happily playing with his toys in the living room, , with Luke sitting nearby, making car noises to match Riley’s play. She took a deep breath and led John into the kitchen, bracing herself for the confrontation she knew was coming.

"What's this about you introducing Luke to Riley?" John started, his voice low but edged with anger.

Tori crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure. "John, Luke is an important part of my life now. Riley needs to know who he is. Slowly. We'll take it slowly."

"An important part of you life?" John scoffed. "You've barely even been together. He's just another hockey player. He'll probably just break your heart. You really think that's a good idea for Riley? For our son?"

"It's not about him being a hockey player. You know I'm not a puck bunny, John," Tori shot back, her frustration showing. "It's about him being someone else who cares about me and in extension cares about Riley. Someone who wants to be there for us."

In the living room, Luke was playing with Riley, making sure the little boy was entertained. He could hear the heated conversation in the kitchen and felt a pang of concern. He wanted to support Tori, to show John that he genuinely cared for Riley, but he respected Tori's wish to handle it herself.

"Hey, buddy, wanna race cars?" Luke asked Riley, trying to keep his focus on the child.

Riley giggled, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes! Vroom! Vroom!"

John shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. "You barely known him! Wh- what if he leaves you?"

Tori's eyes narrowed. "You don't get to judge my decisions, John. I'm careful, I don't let just anyone in like this. Luke isn't like other people. He cares about me. And he wants to care about Riley too."

"And you think that's enough?" John challenged. "Does he have what it takes to be a dad? You think just because he says he cares, it's okay to bring him into my son's life? What if Riley gets attached and then Luke leaves? Huh? What if Riley gets hurt?"

"Riley deserves to have people in his life that love him. And Luke wants to do that. He wants to be there for Riley, to be a positive influence."

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I don't want Riley to get hurt, Tori. He's already been through so much."

"I know," Tori replied gently. "But keeping him away from people isn't the answer. Luke isn't trying to replace you, John. You'll always be his dad. He's just trying to be there for Riley, to be a friend."

Luke turned to Riley, who was now making his toy car zoom circles around the coffee table.

"You're doing great, Riley!"

Luke looked back to the kitchen, then at Riley, weighing the situation. He took a deep breath and called out, "Tori, maybe I should talk to John too."

Tori turned her head to Luke, her eyes softening. "I appreciate it, Luke, but this is conversation that we need to have alone."

John also glanced towards the living room, his expression hardening at the sight of his son playing with Luke. "If he has something to say, he should say it now."

Tori reached out, placing a comforting hand on John's arm. "John, please. Let's just talk, okay? Don't... don't worry about Luke right now."

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension slowly easing. Finally, John nodded, though he still looked conflicted. "Okay, fine. But if he ever hurts Riley, Tori, I won't forgive him. Or you."

"He won't. I promise."

John sighed again, the fight leaving him. "Okay. I will try to be civil."

"Thank you," Tori smiled. "For Riley's sake."

John nodded, heading towards the door. "Bye, Riley. Dada will see you later. You have fun with Mama and Luke."

"Bye, Dada! 'Uv 'oo!"

"I love you too, baby."

After John left, the atmosphere in the apartment lightened. Luke continued to play with Riley, who was still a bit hesitant but seemed to overall enjoy Luke's company. Tori watched them for a moment, her heart filling with love and affection for both her son and Luke.

"Hey, Riley, do you wanna show Luke your favourite car?" Tori suggest, kneeling next to her son.

Riley looked up at his mom and then back at Luke, his small fingers fidgeting with a toy car. He seemed unsure, glancing between the two, seeking reassurance from his mom.

"It's okay, bud," Luke said softly, smiling at the toddler. "I'd love to see your favourite car."

Riley slowly reached out, handing Luke a small fire truck. "Dis one," he murmured, still clinging to Tori's side.

"Wow, this is a really cool fire truck!" Luke said, examining it with genuine interest. "Does it make sounds?"

Riley nodded, pressing a button that made the fire truck's siren wail. He glanced up at Luke to see his reaction.

"That's awesome!" Luke exclaimed, his enthusiasm making Riley smile.

Encouraged by Riley's reaction, Tori suggest they go to the park. "How about we take your fire truck to the park, Ri-Ri? We can play on the playground and look at the ducks."

"Yes!" They all put their shoes and headed out, Riley clutching his fire truck tightly.

At the park, Riley stayed close to Tori at first, his eyes wide as he observed the other children playing. Luke sat down on the grass, setting up a small area with Riley's toys.

"Riley, look! We can drive your fire truck on this road," Luke grinned, drawing a pretend road in the dirt with a stuck.

Riley watched for a moment, inching closer, intrigued by the game. He glanced at Tori, who nodded encouragingly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Go play with Luke."

Riley finally sat next to the boy, still a bit tentative but clearly interested. He placed his fire truck down and together they drove it along the makeshift road, adding little sound effects and making up stories about rescues.

As they played, Riley's shyness began to fade. He started to laugh more, his small voice growing more confident as he directed the fire truck and explained a story to Luke. Tori watched on with a smile, feeling an immense sense of relief.

After some time at the park, they headed back home for lunch. Tori prepared sandwiches while Luke and Riley played with more toys in the living room. Riley was now fully engaged, laughing as Luke pretended to be a new character in their game.

"Mama, 'ook! 'uke is dino!" He exclaimed, pointing at Luke, who was stomping around and making growling noises.

Tori laughed, setting the plate of sandwiches on the table. "That's awesome, Ri! Let's eat lunch, and then we can play some more."

The next few hours were spent playing, completely skipping over Riley's afternoon nap completely. He was too busy playing with Luke.

Dinner time was always an adventure with Riley. As they sat around the small kitchen table, Tori served up plates of spaghetti, Riley's favourite food after mac and cheese. Luke took a seat next to Riley, who was already eagerly stabbing at the noodles with his little plastic fork.

"'Ook, 'uke! I do it all mine-self." Riley exclaimed, proudly showing off his newfound skill.

Luke watched with an amused smile as Riley attempted to twist the spaghetti onto his fork, only to have most of it slip back onto his plate. Undettered, Riley tried again, managing to get a very small clump of noodles into his mouth.

"Great job, buddy!" Luke praised, genuinely impressed by Riley's determination.

Riley beamed, his face lighting up with joy. "Tank 'oo! Mama show me."

"You're doing great, Ri-Ri. But remember to take small bites," Tori added.

As dinner continued, Riley's enthusiasm led to more spaghetti ending up on the table and his high chair than in his mouth. He giggled as a particularly long noodle dangled from his chin.

Luke couldn't help but laugh. "You're making quite the mess, little man," he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sauce off Riley's cheek.

"'Ghetti is fun! 'Ook, 'uke!"

With that, Riley took another forkful of noodles and lifted it high, causing several noodles to fall on the table. He giggled, kicking his feet, waiting for Luke's reaction.

"Whoa, that's some impressive skill. You might need to teach me how to do that."

Tori shook her head in mock exasperation. "You two are a pair," she said fondly. "But let's try to keep some of the food on the plate, okay?"

Riley nodded, his face serious as he tried to be more careful. Despite the mess, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and laughter. Luke felt like he belonged, enjoying the simple moment with his girlfriend and her son.

After dinner, they all moved to the living room for some relaxation. Tori flipped through their apps on the TV before settling on "Paw Patrol," one of Riley's favourites.

"Patrol!" Riley cheered, clapping his hands as he snuggled into Tori's lap.

Luke sat beside them, throwing his arm over Tori's shoulder. "I've heard a lot about these puppies. Which one is your favourite?"

"What his name, Mama?"

"Marshall, bubba."

"Dat one!" Riley pointed at the screen where the fire pup was making a daring rescue with his friends.

"That's a good choice, bud," Luke nodded, making a mental note to research the rest of the characters in the show.

As the episode played, Riley's eyes remained glued to the screen, occasionally glancing up at Tori and Luke with a large green. Luke couldn't help but feel his heart swell at the sight. The little boy was growing on him, and quickly.

After the episode ended, Tori stood up and stretched. "Alright, Ri-Ri. Bathtime."

Riley pouted, but slid off the couch. "O-tay, Mama."

Luke followed them, watching as Tori began filling the tub with warm water, adding a generous amount of bubble bath.

"Need any help?" Luke asked.

"Sure," Tori laughed, handing him a cup. "You can rinse his hair."

Riley splashed happily, creating mountains of bubbles. Luke carefully poured water over Riley's head, using his hand to shield the boy's eyes.

"You've got this down, buddy," Luke said, impressed by how easy the toddler was being.

"Tank 'oo, 'uke! Bubbles are mine favourite!"

"Mine too."

Once Riley was clean and wrapped in a fluffy towel, they all headed to Tori's bedroom for storytime. Riley picked out a book he loved to read over and over again, "Goodnight Moon." He climbed onto the bed, snuggling between Tori and Luke.

Tori began reading, her voice soft and soothing. Riley leaned against her, his eyes growing heavy. Luke listened intently, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

"Night-night, Mama. Night-night, 'uke," Riley murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

Luke picked him up, carrying him down the hall to his room. Once he was settled in his crib, they closed the door quietly behind them. Tori turned to Luke, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you for helping me tonight. It means a lot to me. And to Riley too."

Luke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It was my pleasure, V. I loved every minute of it."

Together, they made their way back to the living room, ready to enjoy the rest of their evening, knowing they were building something special not just for themselves but for Riley too.

Victoria prayed it would stay that way...