#she’s thriving! and we love that for her!

[sincerely-sofie]

It’s Narilamb fankid hours.

[magical-reid]

The rings we keep

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none?

Word count: 1.6k

The badge clipped to your belt was as much a part of you as the Glock strapped to your hip. Being an FBI agent meant long hours, endless yellow tape, and the occasional brush with danger that left you rattled for days. But you loved it. You thrived in the chaos, the adrenaline, the chance to make a difference.

Still, nothing could have prepared you for the chaos of being married to Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t kind or brilliant—he was both, in spades. Spencer was a walking encyclopedia with a heart that quietly held more compassion than most people knew. You hadn’t planned on marrying him, though, in fact, neither of you had planned on marrying anyone.

It had started two months ago, in a Las Vegas hospital room. Spencer’s mother, Diana, had been lucid that day—something you’d learned was both a gift and a curse. She had smiled at you as you sat next to Spencer, the three of you chatting about books, the weather, and old stories from her youth.

“You’re so good to him,” Diana had said suddenly, fixing her gaze on you.

You’d looked up, confused.

“She is,” Spencer had replied, his voice soft as he squeezed her hand.

“Marry her,” Diana had said, her words clear and direct. “Spencer, I want to see you happy. And I want to see you married before you have to leave.”

Leave. It had been a terrible misunderstanding, her mind tangling the threads of the past and present. But the plea in her voice had been real, and Spencer hadn’t been able to bear telling her no. He’d looked at you, something fragile and desperate in his eyes, and before you knew it, you’d agreed.

The walk-in chapel had been surreal. There was no big dress, no flowers—just a quick exchange of vows, a ring from a pawn shop, and Diana’s tearful smile as she watched from her seat. The moment had been oddly sweet, almost sacred.

And then the moment had passed.

You’d both agreed to annul it later, but life got in the way. Between your cases and his, you barely had time to sleep, let alone complete the paperwork. Eventually, Spencer had suggested staying married, if only for the convenience.

“It’s easier,” he’d reasoned. “Legally, I mean. Besides, it’s not like it changes anything.”

And for two months, it hadn’t.

Today, though, felt different.

The case you were working on had taken a grim turn, and your unit chief had decided to call in the BAU. You hadn’t protested—it was a particularly brutal series of murders, and their expertise was invaluable. But when you stepped into the police station that morning and saw Penelope Garcia’s face light up like Christmas, you knew she’d snooped.

“Mrs. Reid!” she chirped, her voice barely contained.

You froze mid-step, narrowing your eyes at her. “Not here,” you hissed under your breath.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she whispered conspiratorially, winking. “My lips are sealed… mostly.”

Before you could respond, your unit chief waved you into the conference room. The BAU was already seated, their attention split between a whiteboard covered in crime scene photos and a map dotted with pins.

Spencer was there, of course, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He didn’t look up when you entered, but his presence was enough to send a twinge of nervous energy through you.

Your unit chief cleared his throat. “Agent Reid, thanks for joining us. BAU, this is Agent Y/N Reid—she’s with our unit and will be helping coordinate the case on our end.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. You saw Emily Prentiss glance at Spencer, her brow raised in mild amusement. Derek Morgan’s smirk was almost immediate, while JJ covered her mouth, clearly trying to hide her surprise.

“Reid?” Derek repeated his grin widening.

“Y/N Reid,” you said firmly, emphasizing your first name. “Yes. We’re married. No, it’s not relevant to the case.”

Penelope let out an audible squeal from the corner of the room, and you shot her a warning glare.

“It’s not relevant,” Spencer agreed, his voice calm but his ears slightly pink. “Can we move on?”

Derek chuckled but relented, turning his attention back to the board. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

The case was grim—a string of murders targeting young women who all bore a striking resemblance to one another. Blond hair, blue eyes, petite builds. They’d been abducted, held for days, then left posed in public spaces. The unsub was meticulous, methodical, and growing more confident with each kill.

By midday, the conference room was a storm of theories and strategies. Your units worked well together, bouncing ideas off one another as new leads emerged. But despite the progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

It wasn’t the unsub—though God knew you’d had stalkers in your line of work. No, this was different.

You looked up from your notes and caught Spencer’s gaze. He quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the map.

The weight in your chest grew heavier.

Spencer was your husband. Legally, at least. But in every other way, he was your coworker. He was brilliant and kind and occasionally maddening, but you didn’t know how to be his wife. Not really.

“Y/N?”

JJ’s voice broke through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing everyone was looking at you.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, you and Reid should interview the victim’s roommate together. She might be more comfortable with a familiar face,” JJ said, glancing between you and Spencer.

You hesitated, but Spencer nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “We’ll take my car.”

The drive was awkward.

Spencer fidgeted with the radio, flipping through stations before settling on classical. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the growing tension between you.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally.

“So have you.”

He sighed, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Are you… okay? With everyone knowing, I mean.”

You frowned. “It’s not like we planned this, Spencer. Besides, it was bound to come out eventually.”

“I know. But I don’t want it to make things harder for you.”

You softened at his words. Despite his sometimes awkward demeanor, Spencer had a way of saying the right thing when it mattered most.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Really.”

He nodded, though he didn’t look convinced.

The interview went smoothly, though it yielded little new information. The roommate was distraught, her hands trembling as she recounted the last time she’d seen the victim. You kept your tone gentle, and your questions open-ended, but the answers all led to the same dead ends.

When you returned to the station, the atmosphere had shifted. Penelope was typing furiously at her laptop, muttering under her breath about search parameters. Emily and Derek were deep in conversation, while Hotch stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed.

“We have a lead,” he announced as you and Spencer entered. “The unsub’s car was spotted near a bus station downtown. Surveillance footage shows him leaving the scene shortly after the last victim was found.”

He gestured to the screen, where a grainy image of a man in a baseball cap appeared. His face was partially obscured, but something about his posture sent a chill down your spine.

“The station is less than a mile from here,” Hotch continued. “We need to move quickly.”

Your team sprang into action, splitting into smaller groups to cover more ground. Spencer was assigned to the tech team with Penelope, while you were paired with Emily and Derek to canvass the area.

As you searched the bus station, your instincts prickled. Something about the unsub felt personal—too calculated, too deliberate. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching, waiting.

When your phone buzzed with a text from Spencer, your heart skipped a beat.

Be careful.

You texted back a quick You too before slipping the phone into your pocket.

Hours later, the unsub made his move.

It happened fast—too fast. You were alone, having split off from Emily and Derek to follow a potential lead. The unsub cornered you in an alley, his knife glinting in the dim light.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your blood ran cold. He knew your name.

“FBI,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you drew your weapon. “Drop the knife.”

He didn’t. Instead, he smiled—a slow, deliberate smile that made your stomach churn.

“You’re just like her,” he murmured. “So pretty. So perfect.”

Before you could respond, footsteps thundered behind you. The unsub’s smile faltered, and he turned to run, but not before Spencer tackled him to the ground.

The knife clattered to the pavement as Spencer wrestled him into submission. You moved quickly, cuffing the unsub as Spencer caught his breath.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

You nodded, though your hands were shaking. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He offered a small smile, but his eyes lingered on you, searching for any sign of injury.

Back at the station, the unsub’s confession came easily. He’d been stalking his victims for months, studying their routines, their habits. He’d seen you on the news once, years ago, and decided you were his ideal type.

The realization made your skin crawl.

“You saved her life, pretty boy,” Derek said, clapping Spencer on the shoulder. “That’s what husbands are for, right?”

Spencer flushed, but his smile was genuine.

Later, as you packed up to leave, Spencer lingered by your side.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” you said softly.

“Yes, I did,” he replied without hesitation.

For the first time since your wedding day, you felt the weight of the ring on your finger. Maybe this marriage wasn’t as complicated as you thought.

Maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - H

I think I'm nearly there; the end! Though, I feel personality changes in as I keep write Agatha and Rio ... SSSSHT

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part ?

The longer you stayed, the more the strange tension that had first hung between you all began to dissolve, replaced by an ease that both comforted and unsettled you. It wasn’t the answers you had come for, but it was something else—something warmer, something real.

Rio sprawled out on cushions on the wooden floor, her head propped up by her hand as she laughed at something Agatha had said. The sound was bright, almost childlike in its glee, though there was an edge to it that made your pulse quicken. Agatha, in contrast, sat with her legs crossed, her expression carefully composed, though the occasional smirk betrayed her amusement.

"You two are impossible," you said, shaking your head as you watched them bicker over some trivial detail. "Sometimes, I don’t know how you can stand each other less love each other."

"Oh, it’s not standing—it’s thriving," Rio quipped, her dark eyes glinting mischievously as she threw a casual arm over the back of a mountain of cushions. "Agatha keeps me on my toes, and I keep her… entertained."

"Entertained?" Agatha scoffed, raising a brow, not taking her eyes off her book. "Try exasperated."

"You love it," Rio teased, her grin widening as she reached over to tug at Agatha’s sleeve playfully.

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, and for a moment, you caught a flicker of something raw and unguarded in her eyes. She quickly masked it with a roll of her eyes, brushing Rio’s hand away with feigned annoyance. "You’re incorrigible," she muttered, though the corners of her mouth curved into a faint smile.

You watched them with a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Their connection was undeniable—intense, magnetic, and filled with a depth that made your heart ache. You wanted to be a part of that, to share in the love they so clearly had for each other. Your cheeks burned as you took it all in. Their ease with each other was too different the rigid decorum you were accustomed to, and yet it only deepened the strange love you felt growing for them.

Rio tilted her head, clearly sensing your lingering look. "Still reacting like this after everything, pretty lady?" she teased, her grin widening. "You’ve already chased us down, asked all these questions, and even admitted you love us. Surely, a little casual behaviour isn’t going to scare you off."

You couldn’t deny the lingering culture shock of seeing Rio lounging so casually, her feet almost carelessly close to the table. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head at your own absurdity.

"You’re so different, and sometimes it feels like I’m the one out of place here."

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, her smirk deepening as if she found your flustered honesty amusing. "Out of place?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Doll, you’re sitting here with us, aren’t you? That’s hardly out of place."

Rio stretched out further, her posture even more relaxed as she flashed you a knowing grin. "Exactly. You fit in here more than you think, pretty lady."

You glanced between them, feeling the tension that had been knotting in your chest begin to ease. Their casual confidence was infectious, and though part of you still felt out of your depth, another part began to wonder if they were right. Maybe you weren’t as out of place as you feared.

Shaking your head, you let out a breathy laugh. "You two… I don’t even know how to describe it."

"Describe us?" Rio interjected, her grin widening with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, please do. I’m dying to hear how utterly charming we are."

"Charming isn’t the word I’d use," you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. "Frustrating might be more accurate."

"Frustratingly charming," Rio corrected without missing a beat, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. "But go on, don’t stop now."

Agatha chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. "She’s catching on," she murmured, her sharp gaze flicking to you with amusement. "Doll, you might just surprise us."

"Do you two ever stop?" you asked, exasperation laced with affection as you leaned back in your chair.

"Stop what? Being devastatingly and frustratingly charming?" Rio asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence that only made her grin more infectious.

Agatha rolled her eyes but smirked nonetheless. "Infuriating is the word you’re looking for, doll," she said dryly, though there was no mistaking the fondness in her tone.

"Infuriatingly charming," Rio declared triumphantly. "I’ll take it."

Agatha let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and rich. "Careful, doll. Keep this up, and you might actually start enjoying our company."

"Too late," you admitted without any hesitation. The words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your cheeks flush under their combined gazes.

Rio’s smile softened, and for once, there was no teasing in her expression. "Well, that’s good," she said, her voice warm and genuine. "Because we’re starting to enjoy yours too."

A quiet laugh escaped you, and before you could overthink it, you stood and crossed to where Agatha sat. Without ceremony, you flopped down beside her, the cushion beneath you sinking slightly as you settled in. Your shoulder brushed against hers, and you couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of floral clinging to her.

Agatha arched a brow, her sharp blue eyes flicking to you as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Comfortable, doll?" she drawled, though there was no real bite in her tone.

"Yes, actually," you replied, tilting your head to meet her gaze with a small, teasing smile. "You make a good shield."

"A shield?" she echoed, amusement lacing her voice as she leaned back, closing her book. "From what, exactly?"

You didn’t answer, instead glancing over at Rio, who was watching the two of you with an expression that could only be described as delighted. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and she didn’t hesitate to shift closer, effectively sandwiching Agatha between you.

"Perfect," Rio said brightly, her grin wide and unapologetic. "Now I get to see you both up close. It’s like my birthday."

Agatha rolled her eyes but didn’t move, though you noticed the slight stiffening of her shoulders. After a moment, she let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning discomfort. "Honestly," she muttered, "if you’re going to crowd me like this…"

She trailed off, her arm lifting and draping casually around your shoulders. The motion was fluid, almost dismissive, but the weight of her arm sent a rush of heat to your cheeks. You stiffened, the warmth rising from your neck to the tips of your ears as you tried to focus on anything but the fact that Agatha was now holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rio’s grin widened as she leaned her chin on her palm, clearly enjoying the scene. "Well, isn’t this cosy," she remarked, her tone dripping with amusement.

Agatha’s smirk deepened, her fingers tapping lightly against your shoulder. "Cosy enough for you, doll?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"I…" You faltered, the words catching in your throat as your face grew impossibly hotter. "It’s… fine," you managed, though your voice sounded embarrassingly high-pitched even to your own ears.

Rio laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained as she reclined against her cushion. "Oh, you’re precious," she said, her dark eyes twinkling. "I think I like this side of you, pretty lady."

Agatha chuckled, the sound low and warm. "She’s full of surprises," she murmured, her gaze flicking to you briefly before returning to Rio. "Wouldn’t you agree?"

The conversation shifted after that, flowing naturally as you all fell into an easy rhythm. Rio’s wild gestures and exaggerated stories filled the space with laughter, her energy infectious even when it bordered on overwhelming. Agatha, in contrast, remained sharp and composed, though her biting humour and occasional soft chuckles hinted at a depth she kept carefully guarded.

Despite their differences, their connection was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but feel the strange love toward them grow stronger with each passing moment. Sitting there between them, with Agatha’s arm still draped around you and Rio’s teasing gaze never straying far, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: belonging.

"You’re awfully quiet," Agatha remarked suddenly, her piercing gaze cutting through your thoughts. "Something on your mind, doll?"

You hesitated, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. "Just… thinking," you said softly, glancing between the two of them. "About how different you are. And yet, how… perfectly you fit."

Rio raised a brow, her grin turning sly. "Are you saying you admire us, pretty lady?"

"Maybe," you replied, your voice steady despite the warmth rising to your cheeks. "Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how you haven’t driven each other mad yet."

Agatha laughed, the sound unguarded and rich. "Oh, trust me, we’ve come close," she said, her tone lighter than you’d ever heard it. "But somehow, we always find our way back to each other."

Her words struck a chord deep within you, and you wondered if they felt the same way about you. Did they notice the connection forming between the three of you? It felt fragile yet undeniable, and for now, you chose not to ask, content to let the moment linger, warm and unhurried.

Time had passed, and the tension that had once defined your visits to Agatha and Rio’s surreal home had softened into something far more comfortable. You spent more time in their world, wrapped in their unique blend of wit, charm, and enigmatic allure. You had begun to understand their quirks—the way Agatha masked her emotions with biting humour and Rio’s unpredictable energy could shift from playful to commanding in a heartbeat.

Sometimes, both women disappeared, citing 'business' that required their attention. Though they never explained in detail, you suspected it was tied to their magic. Occasionally, you heard whispers of Lord Rio at your household—visiting the court or being spotted in the city. Those moments left you both flustered and intrigued as you wondered what she was up to in your world while you lingered in theirs.

One morning, your grandfather summoned you to his chambers. The moment you stepped inside, the heavy atmosphere made your chest tighten. He sat at his desk, a letter open before him, his expression as stern as ever.

"You wanted to see me, Grandfather?" you asked politely, though a part of you already dreaded what was coming.

He gestured for you to sit, and you obeyed, folding your hands neatly in your lap. For a moment, he studied you, his piercing gaze weighing heavily on you.

"There is an important matter to discuss," he said finally. "A marriage proposal has been brought to my attention. From the royal family."

Your stomach dropped, and your carefully composed expression faltered. "The royal family?" you echoed, your voice quieter than you intended.

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. "It is a significant opportunity for our family. To marry into the royal line is an honour and a privilege."

Your thoughts raced, panic clawing at your chest. The idea of marrying someone from the royal family—someone you did not know, someone who was not Agatha or Rio—felt like a weight pressing down on you.

"I…" You hesitated, searching for an escape. "What about Lord Rio?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted your impulsiveness, knowing your grandfather would not accept.

Your grandfather frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. "Lord Rio?"

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself to sound composed. "He is well-respected, is he not? A foreign lord with influence and intelligence. Surely, he would make a suitable match."

For a moment, your grandfather said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Lord Rio is indeed an impressive individual," he admitted. "But he is a foreigner. Marrying him would not bring the same advantages as joining the royal family."

Your heart sank, though you struggled to keep your disappointment from showing. "But surely… there is value in forging alliances beyond our borders," you argued weakly, knowing your words held little weight against his unwavering logic.

"Enough," he said firmly, cutting off any further protest. "You are a noble daughter of this household. Your duty is to strengthen our family’s position. A marriage to the royal line achieves that."

You bit your lip, your hands clenching in your lap. "And what if I do not wish to marry at all?" you asked quietly, the words slipping out in one breath.

Your grandfather’s eyes darkened, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Wishes have little place in matters of duty," he said coldly. "You would do well to remember that."

The conversation left you feeling both trapped and defiant. Your mind swirled with thoughts of Agatha and Rio. Their world felt like freedom compared to the suffocating expectations of your family. But what could you do? The love you felt toward them had only grown stronger, but it seemed the ties of duty were tightening around you with every passing day.

You needed to see them, to be in their presence again. Perhaps they would know what to do—or perhaps simply being near them would remind you of the courage you so desperately needed to find within yourself.

You did not even realise you ran out of your grandfather's study and were running until your lungs began to burn. The sound of your grandfather’s angry shouting echoed faintly behind you, but you did not care. You just kept going, your feet carrying you instinctively toward the only place that felt safe anymore.

The entrance to their realm came into view, the shimmering gate glowing faintly in the daylight. Without hesitation, you passed through, the familiar sense of comfort washing over you like a warm embrace. It was as though the air was cradling you, soothing your frayed nerves even as your emotions overwhelmed you.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they began to fall—slow, silent drops rolling down your cheeks. Tears started falling drop by drop, staining the collar of your dress as you walked toward their house. It stood there as it always did, serene and otherworldly, its soft glow contrasting with your turmoil.

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open. The silence inside was palpable, the air still and expectant. You stepped inside, your legs feeling heavier with each step. When you reached the corner of the room, you could no longer hold yourself up. You sank to your knees, wrapping your arms around them as you waited for them to return.

You did not know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of your dress as you sat in the stillness of their home. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and before you realised it, sleep claimed you.

A soft touch pulled you from the haze of slumber. Gentle fingers brushed your shoulder, shaking you awake with a care that felt almost reverent.

You blinked your eyes open, and the first thing you saw was Agatha’s face hovering above you. Her piercing blue eyes, usually guarded, were filled with an unspoken concern. There was no smirk, no teasing remark—just raw, unfiltered emotion. It startled you almost as much as the tenderness in her touch.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry. She crouched down in front of you, her hand lingering on your shoulder as her eyes searched yours.

The flood of emotions you had been holding back broke free. Without thinking, you threw yourself into her arms, your hands clutching at the back of her robe as you buried your face in her shoulder. A sob tore from your throat, followed by another, and another. Sobbing, you tightened your embrace around her.

Agatha froze for a moment, clearly startled by the sudden embrace. But then, slowly, her arms came up to wrap around you, holding you close as you cried. Her hands were gentle, one resting on the back of your head while the other rubbed soothing circles against your back.

"Shh," she murmured, her voice softer than you had ever heard. "It’s alright, doll. Let it out."

The sound of her voice only made you cry harder, the weight of everything crashing down on you at once. The pressure of your family’s expectations, the suffocating proposal, and the fear of losing the connection you had built with these two women poured out in a torrent of tears.

Agatha didn’t pull away or try to quiet you. She simply held you, her embrace firm and reassuring as you let the storm within you rage. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel everything without restraint, knowing you were safe in her arms.

When your sobs finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, your face flushed and tear-streaked as you met her gaze. Agatha’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. Her expression was soft, her sharp features unusually tender as she looked at you.

"You’ve been holding this in for a while, haven’t you?" she asked gently, her tone free of its usual teasing edge.

You nodded, your throat too tight to form words. Her hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before she pulled you back into a hug, resting her chin lightly on the top of your head.

"Good," she said softly. "I’d hate to think you didn’t trust us enough to let it out."

The words hit you harder than they should have, and you clung to her even tighter. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

You hadn’t realised Rio was there until her voice broke the quiet behind Agatha. Turning your head slightly, you met her gaze, and what you saw there startled you—a mix of anger… and was that jealousy?

Rio said nothing as she stepped closer, her movements fluid and purposeful. She reached out, her hand resting lightly on the top of your head in an almost comforting gesture, though her intense expression said otherwise. Her dark eyes seemed to shimmer before they glinted fiercely, a predatory light flickering within them.

Her eyes gleamed sharply.

Without a word, Rio drew a dagger from her robes—a weapon you hadn’t seen for some time, its sleek blade catching the faint light of the room. She tilted her head, her voice dangerously soft as she asked, "Who do I need to torture?"

Despite the tension of the moment, a soft laugh escaped you. The absurdity of her statement and the fact that Agatha’s arm was still wrapped securely around you made the situation feel oddly surreal. Your laughter was light but genuine, and it caught Rio off guard.

Rio pouted dramatically, her expression shifting into something almost petulant. "I’m not joking," she whined, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger. "If you don’t want me to do it, Agatha always can. She’s much better at getting rid of problems anyway."

Agatha sighed, her hand moving to rub your back as she spoke gently. "Rio," she said, her tone laced with exasperation, though a fondness was underlying it. "You’re not helping."

"But look at her!" Rio retorted, gesturing toward you with her free hand. "Someone made her cry. That deserves retribution, doesn’t it?"

You shook your head, a faint smile still tugging at your lips despite the lingering ache in your chest. "I don’t need anyone to be tortured," you said softly, your voice steady but kind. "I just… needed to be here."

Rio huffed, crossing her arms as she tucked the dagger back into her robes. "Fine," she muttered, though her tone was far from resigned. She leaned down slightly, her face close to yours, as she added, "But if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, you let me know."

Her declaration was so fierce, so unapologetically protective, that it sent a strange warmth coursing through you. You glanced up at Agatha, who was watching Rio with a bemused expression, her lips quirking into a half-smile.

"She’s serious, you know," Agatha said, her tone carrying a teasing edge. "It’s not often she gets this… worked up."

Rio straightened, her pout returning. "Worked up? I’m perfectly calm."

Agatha chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Of course you are," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Perfectly calm, with a dagger in hand and murder in your eyes."

Rio rolled her eyes but said nothing, choosing instead to plop herself down on the floor beside you and Agatha. She rested her chin on her palm, her gaze softening as it lingered on you. "Still," she murmured, her tone quieter now, "whoever hurt you better hope they never cross me."

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, though they were spoken with deadly sincerity. The knot in your chest began to loosen for the first time since you’d arrived. Here, in their surreal, star-lit realm, you felt a strange sense of belonging—a place where you could fall apart and still be held together.

You felt Agatha’s lips press gently against the crown of your head, a gesture so unexpected it sent a pleasant warmth coursing through you. The soft touch of her lips against your hair lingered, and you realised, to your own surprise, how much you liked it.

Agatha pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting yours momentarily before flicking to Rio. "Help her up," she said simply, though her tone had an unspoken tenderness.

Rio moved to your side, her hands firm yet gentle as she helped you to your feet. But before you could steady yourself, she pulled you into her embrace, her arms wrapping around you with an almost possessive edge. The unexpected closeness made your heart race, and before you could process the moment, Rio leaned down and kissed your forehead.

It wasn’t soft or fleeting. It was deliberate, lingering, and filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. The way her lips pressed against your skin spoke volumes, and you could feel your face flush deeply.

"Rio," Agatha said, her tone carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement. She crossed her arms and raised a brow at her companion. "Really? You kiss her forehead before I do?"

Rio pulled back slightly, her grin wide and unapologetic. She glanced down at you, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "First one wins," she said playfully, directing the comment at Agatha rather than you.

Your cheeks burned hotter at the exchange, but Rio didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she enjoyed your reaction too much to stop. She shot Agatha a challenging look, her grin growing wider as she added, "You snooze, you lose."

Agatha rolled her eyes dramatically but didn’t bother to hide the smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, how mature," she drawled, turning away with a flick of her wrist. "Perhaps I should let you handle this, then."

You watched as Agatha moved toward a small cabinet in the corner of the room. With her usual flourish, she waved her hand, the faint purple haze of her magic shimmering in the air as a teacup floated toward her. It settled gently on the table, steam rising from the fragrant brew within.

She returned with the tea in hand, her expression softening as she offered it to you. "Drink," she said, her voice calm but firm. "It’ll help."

This time, you didn't hesitate and took the cup, the warmth seeping into your hands as you cradled it. Agatha sat down beside you, her gaze steady and encouraging, while Rio settled on your other side, her playful grin giving way to a quieter curiosity.

"What happened?" Agatha coaxed gently, her eyes searching yours. Her tone was free of its usual sharpness, replaced instead by a genuine concern that made it hard to look away.

Rio leaned in slightly, her presence as steady and reassuring as Agatha’s, though her approach was more casual. "Take your time, my lady," she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of protectiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. "We’re not going anywhere."

Their combined attention was overwhelming but in the best way. You felt safe enough to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the tea in your hands steadying you just enough to begin. "It’s… about the marriage proposal," you started, your voice faltering slightly as their attention sharpened on you. "A royal family has made an offer for me."

Rio’s brow lifted, her casual demeanour shifting into something more focused. Agatha’s expression darkened, her sharp gaze growing colder.

"My grandfather called me into his study to discuss it," you continued, your words spilling out faster now. "He talked about alliances and duty, all those things I’ve heard before. And then—" you hesitated, the memory of your desperation making your cheeks burn "—I panicked. I told him to consider… to consider Lord Rio instead."

Rio’s eyes widened, her grin spreading so quickly that it was almost comical. She leaned back with a triumphant laugh, her dark eyes glinting with pride. "Did you now?" she drawled, her voice thick with amusement. "Oh, my lady, I knew you had excellent taste." She turned to Agatha, her grin practically splitting her face. "Did you hear that? She picked me."

Agatha rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smirk. "Yes, Rio, we’re all terribly impressed," she said dryly, though her attention quickly shifted back to you, her piercing gaze softening slightly.

Rio didn’t stop, clearly relishing the moment. "Marrying into the royal family, huh?" she mused, her voice playful but carrying a dangerous undertone. "And yet, you suggested me. I’m flattered, my lady. Truly."

You couldn’t help but feel flustered under her burning gaze, her words only adding to the heat already burning in your cheeks. "It wasn’t—" you started to protest, but Rio’s grin silenced you, her satisfaction radiating like a tangible force.

The playful air around Rio didn’t seem to extend to Agatha. Her expression had grown darker as you spoke, her hand tightening slightly around her teacup. Her voice was low and firm when she finally spoke, carrying a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"He has no right to force you into anything," Agatha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She set her tea aside and reached for your hand, her touch warm and steady. "You are not a bargaining chip, not some prize to be traded for alliances."

Her words were fierce, but the kiss she pressed to your hand was surprisingly gentle, the contrast leaving you breathless. When she looked up at you again, her blue eyes glinted sharply. "You’re ours," she declared, her voice quiet but filled with a conviction that made your heart race.

Rio’s grin softened into something warmer, though no less mischievous. "Agatha’s right," she said, leaning in slightly. "You’re not going anywhere, my lady. Not unless it’s with us."

You felt the weight of their words settle over you, heavy but not unwelcome. Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you—confusion, fear, longing—you couldn’t deny the comfort their presence brought. Here, with their unwavering attention and fierce protectiveness, you felt more at home than you ever had in the confines of your own family.

Agatha’s fingers lingered against yours, her touch steady as she studied your face. "You don’t have to decide anything now," she said softly, her voice losing some of its earlier edge. "But know this—we won’t let anyone take you away from us."

Rio reached out, her hand brushing lightly against your shoulder. "And if your grandfather insists on pushing this," she added, her voice carrying a dangerous undertone, "he’ll find that he’s underestimated just how far we’re willing to go to keep you safe."

You couldn’t help but smile, their words filling you with a strange, undeniable sense of belonging. For the first time since your grandfather had brought up the proposal, you felt… at peace.

[vevobly]

Yellowjackets Reactions To Clingy Reader!

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie would be flattered at first, just absolutely enjoying the attention you're giving her and basking in the idea that someone values her that much. She'd just casually lean into it, and be all playful with you.

“Wow, you really missed me even though I was only gone for five minutes?”

But if your clinginess ever became too much, she'd lowkey try creating space from you; using excuses like needing to focus on something else. She wouldn't want to hurt your feelings and would try hard to soften any pushback with reassurance.

“You're sweet, really. Just, like, give me a little room to breathe, okay?”

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna would be a little awkward about it, unsure how to handle someone being so attached to her. But she'd tolerate it to an extent, especially if it seemed like genuine affection to her; making jokes about it eventually and easing tension.

“You really don't have to follow me everywhere, you know”

She'd say that with a small laugh. Despite her discomfort, she wouldn't be that harsh. And if you just happened to be one of the lucky people, she might secretly find it endearing that someone values her that much.

Taissa Turner:

Taissa would definetely take it in stride, appreciating you being loyal and close to her that way. She's naturally protective, so she might view your clinginess in a way as you trusting and feeling safe around her.

However, if it started interfering with her personal space or responsibilities, Tai would address it immediately and directly but kindly with you. She'd be firm, and understanding!

“Hey, I love hanging out with you, but I need to focus on this right now, okay? We can catch up later.”

Van Palmer:

Van would be amused by your clinginess, she wouldn't take it too serious and would probably even tease you with a grin about it every once in a while. She wouldn't mind the extra attention as long as it isn't constant.

“Wow, didn't know I was that amazing”

She'd probably find it cute that someone cares that much. But if it ever became too much? she'd probably nudge you gently toward independence like a mother would with her own clingy child.

“You know, I'm not going anywhere. You can chill for a bit.”

Natalie Scatorrcio:

Natalie definitely might have been caught off guard by your clinginess at first because she's not used to people being so openly attached to her that way, but she would just brush it off.

Over time, she would eventually warm up to it, seeing it as your way of showing affection to her. Of course, if it ever crossed a line, Nat would be straightforward about it with you. It'll be short and cool.

“Hey, I need some space right now, okay? Nothing personal.”

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie would handle your clinginess with an odd calmness and grace. Similarly to Tai, she'd see this as a sign of you trusting and valuing her. This would mean a lot to her despite what you think, and she'd hold it on a very high careful pedestal.

Lottie might even encourage your clinginess to some degree, just offering reassurance whenever you seem worried or needy. But if it starts to overwhelm her, expect her to guide you on being more self-reliant and practicing boundaries!

“It's okay, I'm here.”

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee would see your clinginess as a sign of you seeing her as someone comforting, which she'd take as a compliment. She'd be patient and kind with you, being very understanding and even encouraging a bit.

If it started becoming too much, she's addressing it like a therapist would with their patient. She'll suggest much "healthier" ways to spend time together without you being overly attached to her.

“I'm glad you feel comfortable with me, but..”

Misty Quigley:

Misty would absolutely just love your clinginess. Considering she thrives on attention and validation, having you attached to her makes her feel pretty special and valued.

“Oh, you don't have to apologize for wanting to be around me all the time!”

Out of all the girls, she would be the one to encourage it fully more. But her enthusiasm might turn possessive if she even slightly felt like you weren't as clingy to her anymore. So, expect the girl to work harder to keep your attention on her!

[balkanradfem]

So, you might remember I started fixing my abandoned garden, and I said I was going to do it in small increments, and then I never said anything about it again. This is because, after I started doing it, suddenly the temperatures dropped below zero, and we had frost! This is appropriate in November, but it was so sudden I didn't expect it. I hadn't even planted garlic yet! And now it was too cold to work the soil. Oopsie.

However this morning I woke up, opened the window, and realized the southern wind was blowing, which means it got super warm! I immediately dressed up, grabbed my garlic, and went to the garden. I couldn't plant my garlic in the area I had already cleaned, because it's the outer area of the garden, and garlic is the #1 crop that gets stolen, so I have to plant it sneakily behind other things, invisible to prying eyes. That means I'd have to clear off another area. Here's what I'm dealing with today!

I know this looks like such a flop but honestly, this is so good for nature. All of the plants have lived their life cycle, housed little bugs and insects, produced flowers for the bees, and then got obliterated by the frost, as it should be. If I just left them be, they would slowly decompose into the soil and make it more fertile. It looks chaotic but nothing bad is going on here! I am going to make space now because there are some regulations for how community gardens should look like, and if one looks abandoned for too long, it gets taken away. I'm off to work :)

I've been working on this for 20 minutes and I found some produce in here!

I'm shocked there's a whole zucchini in there, even after the frost, I've never seen that. She's a bit of a weird texture, because she's gotten frozen, but otherwise looks good! Certainly the slugs love it. I also found a little potato plant, there could be potatoes underneath her. And in the third picture, I'm holding young garlic! I usually find this in the spring, it's interesting it's already so big, I love that.

Another little task I had planned was to find basil seeds; basil will usually grow flowers when it's allowed to grow naturally, and then the flowers create little seed packets inside of them, and after those get nice and dried up, they're ready to harvest. Here's how it looks like:

If I rubbed all those little pods together, I would be able to find tiny black-brown seeds in there! I used to do that before, extract all of the tiny seeds and store them, but later I got lazy and figured I can just save this entire mess and plant it and basil still germinates just the same.

An hour of work later, I have dug out a giant lemon balm plant out of the soil, because it was taking up too much space (no worries about her, she'll grow back in no time, they're immortal), and took out most of the grass, dead plants, and weeds. Here is the cleared garden!

I've freed two small kale plants that could still thrive during the winter, and there's a few brassicas that look willing to go to seed, which would be great for me to have more seeds from them. Now I can finally focus on the task I've come here for; to plant my garlic.

I made little holes with my spoon, and grabbed two biggest heads of garlic to plant the cloves. I'm not too fussed about it, as long as the bulbs are underground, you can't stop them from growing. If they're not in too deep, then it's easier to pull them out later! And my soil is more fertile on the surface as well. Usually during the winter, little rodends will dig a few of these out, to see if they're delicious, but when they realize it's not yummy, they just leave the bulbs on the top of soil. So I have to check on them a few times to make sure I plant them back! And they're so forgiving and strong, they just go right back to growing, bulbs are incredible.

I counted the garlic here, and there's 22 cloves, which should give me 22 heads of garlic in the late spring/early summer. I couldn't take any more pictures, because my hands were too muddy, but I planted additional two rows in a different location (in case thiefs find one location), and then I also had some of the 'spring garlic', which is a late variety, meaning it grows later, but lasts longer. Usually normal garlic will start sprouting in december, after which point it starts getting inedible, but late-variety garlic will stay fresh until spring. Planting garlic is so easy! The entire venture took me 15 minutes, and you could do this anywhere, and would be guaranteed some heads of garlic.

So watching these pictures you might think 'there's still so much weeds in here, you did not clear this off' and you're correct, I don't clear everything off! This is because I employ a different tactics in stopping weeds from growing; usually during the winter, I will cover the ground in a thick layer of dry leaves, so that light won't reach any of those weeds, and they stop growing just due to lack of sunlight. I'm not doing it this year because of one particular reason, and this reason is slugs. If I cover the ground in leaves now, they won't only protect it from the light, but also protect it from the cold. They'll prevent the ground from freezing as badly as it would usually freeze. And usually I love doing that, but this time, there are so many slugs in the ground that I want cold to eliminate. I'm going to leave my garden like this, and hope that we have an exceptionally cold winter and that slugs get deleted.

I planned to make a lentil soup today for lunch, so I'm grabbing some chives, and some kale to add to it! Kale is still thriving, and I'll be able to harvest it all winter. At this point I've been working for two hours and my pain started acting up, so I figured it was enough for today, and headed home. Here's all the stuff I brought home for lunch!

Zucchini, kale, potatoes, chives, young garlic. All great additions for my lentil soup! I love being able to get fresh food in November. The soup turned out amazing, I love lentils with potatoes and kale and garlic.

[sturnswrites]

back to you - pt. 1

Matt Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

⤳ angst, angst, more angst, crying, breakup

⤳ you and matt break up after you leave for college but when summer break comes around you both can’t seem to shake the feeling of one another away.

---------------------------------------------

The room felt colder that day, despite the California sun pouring through the windows. Y/N sat cross-legged on Matt’s couch, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t want to do this,” he finally said, his voice low but trembling.

“Then don’t.” Your voice cracked, and you hated how desperate you sounded. “Matt, we can figure it out. Long distance isn’t the end of the world.”

“I just think… with you going to New York and me staying here with Nick and Chris, it’s going to be hard,” Matt said, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed somewhere near the carpet.

“Hard?” she repeated, her voice catching, eyes stinging with tears. “Matt, we’ve been together for two years. We’ve been through everything together. Why can’t we at least try?”

He finally looked at you, his blue eyes clouded with something that looked a lot like pain. “Y/N, I’ve thought about this a lot. I don’t want to hold you back while you’re starting this new chapter. And I don’t think I can handle being so far away, not knowing if—if we’re still the same.”

He paused for a second leaving the room with enough silence to hear a pin drop. “You’ll be out there meeting new people, having new experiences. And I’ll be here, stuck in the same routine. It’s not fair to either of us.” he continued. 

“It’s not fair?” you repeated, your voice breaking. “What’s not fair is you deciding this without me. What’s not fair is you giving up on us before we’ve even tried.”

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, you thought he might take it back. That he’d tell you he was being stupid, that you’d find a way to make it work. But instead, he shook his head, his face etched with pain.

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up on us?”

“I’m not giving up,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “I’m letting you go because I love you too much to keep you tied down.”

You stood up abruptly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Your hands were trembling, eyes blurred with tears, but you didn’t want him to see how much he’d broken you.

“I never felt tied down, Matt,” you said quietly, her voice trembling. “I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be—with you.”

And then you walked out, leaving behind the only person who had ever made you feel completely whole.

-

The months that followed were nothing short of excruciating.

New York was everything you had hoped it would be—bustling, exciting, alive, a blur of classes, new friends…and trying desperately to move on. No matter how many new friends you made or how many late-night adventures you went on, there was a constant ache in your chest that refused to go away.

You threw yourself into school, keeping yourself so busy that you barely had time to breathe, let alone think about Matt. But he always found his way into your thoughts. You’d hear a song he loved, or pass by someone wearing a hoodie like the one he used to wear, and suddenly it felt like you were back in his room, begging him to choose you.

You’d see his face in your memories—the way his nose scrunched when he laughed, the way he used to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, the way he’d whisper “I love you” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t fair. You hated how he still had this hold on you, even after he’d been the one to end things.

Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Matt was unraveling.

At first, he convinced himself he’d done the right thing. He told himself that breaking up with you was selfless, that he was giving you the freedom to thrive without any ties holding you back. He was still filming videos with Nick and Chris, smiling for the camera, cracking jokes like nothing was wrong.

But as the weeks turned into months, that resolve began to crack.

He’d lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment he let you go. He’d watch old videos on his phone of the two of you laughing together, and it felt like a punch to the gut every time.

Nick and Chris noticed, of course. They weren’t blind to the way Matt had become quieter, more withdrawn. But every time they tried to bring it up, he brushed them off, burying himself in their work.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for his phone late at night, your contact saved under “My Favorite Person.” His fingers would hover over the keyboard, crafting and deleting messages he’d never have the courage to send.

- 

By the time summer rolled around, you’d convinced yourself you were over him. Or at least, you told yourself that enough times to believe it.

​​One of your friends, Emma, had decided to throw a party for everyone to reconnect after their first year of college.

“It’ll be fun,” Emma had said. “I promise!”

You weren’t so sure about that, but you went anyway, hoping the night would distract you from the lingering ache in her chest.

“Everyone’s going to be there,” Emma had said, grinning as she handed you the invitation. “It’ll be like old times.”

“Sure,” you had replied with a forced smile, pushing down the nagging thought that “everyone” might include the one person you weren’t ready to see.

When you arrived at the party, the air was filled with the familiar buzz of laughter and music. You slipped easily into conversations, catching up with friends you hadn’t seen in months.

You were in the middle of a story, a drink in your hand, when a voice you hadn’t heard in far too long made your heart stop.

“Y/N?”

You turned slowly, your breath catching as your eyes met Matt’s.

He looked… different. His hair was a little longer, his face a little sharper, but his eyes were still the same piercing blue that had haunted your dreams.

“Oh, hi,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He shifted on his feet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Yeah, Nick dragged me along. I didn’t know you’d be back.”

“Just for the summer,” you replied, your chest tight.

An awkward silence stretched between you, and for a moment, it felt like you were strangers. But the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room, made your heart ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“Well,” you said finally, “it was nice seeing you.”

“You too,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you as you turned back to your group.

But the night was far from over.

-

You couldn’t stop noticing him.

Every time you glanced across the room, Matt was there—leaning against a wall, talking to Nick, or laughing with someone you didn’t recognize. And every time, you felt his eyes on you, as if he was just as unable to look away.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on your friends and the easy rhythm of their conversation. But it was impossible not to feel the pull, the magnetic force that had always drawn you to him.

Matt was losing his mind.

Seeing you again was like a shot of adrenaline to his system, every memory he’d tried to bury rushing back with brutal clarity. He wanted to talk to you, to explain, to apologize. But every time he tried to muster the courage, the words got stuck in his throat.

Finally, as the night began to wind down, he couldn’t take it anymore.

You were standing alone on the back porch, the soft glow of string lights casting a halo around you. He stepped outside, his heart pounding as he closed the distance between you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but urgent.

You turned to face him, your expression guarded. “Matt.”

“Can we talk?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated, your emotions swirling in a storm of hope, fear, and anger. But something in his gaze made you nod.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Let’s talk.”

And with that, he led you away from the noise and the crowd, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy between you.

---------------------------------------------

ok now this one got me excitedddd

⭒ margot

[emjayewrites]

all mine (in between the lines epilogue) • jules kounde

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This story is finito! Thanks again for all of the love/support for my football baes series! Gif by @doinggreat

one month later.....

Senait watched the French countryside blur past their van window, still jet-lagged from her NYC trip. The visit home had been productive – boxing up most of her Bushwick apartment, moving things to her parents' house. The decision to leave New York hadn't been as hard as she'd expected. Barcelona had become her new home, complete with friends, a thriving business, and Jules.

The meeting at the Spanish embassy had been encouraging. The visa process would be complex but doable – she'd need to prove financial stability (her business was helping there), show ties to the community, and complete the necessary paperwork. Spring 2025 felt like a reasonable timeline, especially with her subletter already lined up through April.

"I still can't believe you're really moving to Spain," Zuri said, squeezing her hand. The three girls had claimed the back row of the luxury van, leaving their men to occupy the middle seats.

"Neither can I," Senait admitted. "But it feels right."

"Speaking of right," Lila wiggled her eyebrows, "let's talk about how Jules calls you chérie."

"Oh my God, stop—"

"No, no," Zuri jumped in, grinning. "We need to discuss this. The way you melt every time he speaks French."

"Like you're any better with Aurélien," Senait shot back. "Miss 'oh daddy' in two languages."

"At least the French make it extra sexy," Zuri defended.

"Excuse me," Lila protested, "try teaching an Englishman to sound sexy. Though trust me, Daddy works just fine."

"Unless you want to get fucked in this van, Li," Jude turned around, smirking, "I think you should cut it out."

Lila's face flushed as red as possible, while the others erupted in laughter.

"Look who's quiet now," Senait teased.

"Leave her alone," Zuri said, though she was still laughing. "Not her fault Jude's got her trained."

"Big Daddy Bellingham," joked Senait in a low voice that was somehow still heard by the guys.

"And you better not forget it," Jude chimed in with a wink and it made the whole van erupt into another fit of guffaws.

"I hate all of you," Lila muttered, but she was smiling.

The lodge appeared through the snow – a massive wooden structure with huge windows and multiple balconies.

"Proper winter wonderland," Jules commented as they unloaded their bags.

Even knowing Jude and Lila could only stay until Christmas Eve – family obligations in Bergen calling – the mood was festive. The couples claimed their rooms, unpacked, then reconvened in the main living area where a fire already blazed.

"To friends," Aurélien raised his glass of wine. "And to being together."

"To being together," they echoed.

______________________________________________

Senait stood on the lodge‘s porch, wrapped in one of Jules' sweaters (stolen, of course), watching snowflakes dust the fairy-light draped chalets of Megève as she thought about last therapy session before the trip, which had been particularly enlightening.

"You're not running anymore," Dr. Obazi had observed. "You're moving forward. There's a difference."

The difference was currently in the kitchen with Jude, both of them playfully judging Lila's hot chocolate methodology. Jules caught Senait's eye through the window, throwing her a wink that still made her stomach flip, even after all these months.

"Senait," Zuri's voice broke through her thoughts, appearing beside her with two steaming mugs. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That soft smile you get when you look at Jules." Zuri handed her a mug. "You know, the one you swore you'd never have?"

Senait accepted the cocoa, breathing in the sweet aroma. "Therapy's helping," she admitted. "Making me see things differently."

"Like?"

"Like maybe being scared of something good is worse than risking getting hurt." She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chest. "And maybe Jules is worth the risk."

Zuri's smile was knowing. "Finally figured that out, huh?"

Inside, laughter erupted from the kitchen. Jude had lifted Lila away from the stove, declaring her marshmallow-to-cocoa ratio "criminally sweet." Jules was recording the whole thing, Lila protesting in between giggles, and Aurélien continuing to instigate the entire ordeal.

"They're good people," Senait said softly. "Your friends."

"Our friends now," Zuri corrected. "That's what happens when you stop fighting the good things, Sen."

Later, on the slopes, Senait felt that truth in her bones. She and Jules moved in sync on their snowboards, their bodies finding that natural rhythm they'd always had. But now it felt different – less like running away from intimacy and more like running toward it.

"Show off," she called as Jules executed a perfect jump.

His grin was wicked. "Want me to teach you?"

"Want me to end up in the emergency room?"

"I'd catch you."

The simple certainty in his voice made her heart stutter. Because he would – had been catching her, in fact, since that first night at Zuri's engagement party. She'd just been too scared to let herself fall.

_______________________________________________

The next evening, after saying their goodbyes to Jude and Lila, Senait curled up by the lodge's fireplace and watched her friends. Zuri and Aurélien shared a blanket and whispered jokes as they played a card game. Jules sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not so close as to pressure. Always giving her space to choose.

"I have another therapy session scheduled for when we get back," she said quietly.

"Good." His hand found hers under the blanket they shared. "Proud of you."

"Jules?"

"Mm?"

"I think… I think I'm ready. To make this official."

He turned to look at her fully, his expression serious. "You sure?"

Senait thought about Dr. Obazi's words about moving forward versus running. About how Jules had become home without her even noticing. About how being scared of happiness was worse than being scared of pain.

"Yeah," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sure."

His smile was slow, beautiful. "About time, chérie."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

So she did, kissing him right there in front of their friends. Zuri's whoop of celebration made her laugh against Jules' lips.

"Finally!" Aurélien called out, abandoning their card game. "Does this mean we can stop pretending like we don't know you practically live together?"

Senait felt her cheeks heat, but Jules just pulled her closer. "Means whatever she wants it to mean," he said simply.

And that was it, really. The beauty of them – how Jules let her set the pace while making sure she knew he wasn't going anywhere. How he'd waited while she worked through her fears in therapy, supported her growing business, given her space to choose him properly.

The Alpine night wrapped around them like a blanket, fairy lights twinkling against fresh snow. Senait curled into Jules' side, feeling the solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, and was finally at peace with everything in her life.

This was what choosing happiness felt like. What moving forward felt like.

THE END......

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY FOOTBALL BAES SERIES AND HERE'S A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR SENAIT & JULES......

June 2030

Senait couldn’t help but marvel at how far life had taken her, from bustling streets of New York to the enchanting city of Barcelona. When she left New York officially in 2025 to be with Jules, she had no idea how seamlessly her life would transform alongside his. Those first three beautiful years together were filled with long, sun-kissed vacations to bucket list destinations, late-night drives along the Mediterranean coast, and spontaneous adventures as a couple. Jules had showered her with love in every corner of the world, and she’d fallen for him over and over again. Then, one balmy summer evening, he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed, making the life they’d built together official.

In those years, Senait’s career blossomed into something she was truly proud of. Her lifestyle brand had taken off, focusing on manifestation journals, productivity planners, and sleek, minimalistic calendars designed to keep life inspiring and organized. It wasn’t a multimillion-dollar empire—at least, not yet—but her profits had been steadily growing, and her work was loved by an ever-expanding community of motivated women. Venturing further into her passion for design, she had opened a small floral shop in Barcelona. Designing arrangements brought her a unique kind of peace, a creative outlet that felt like love in bloom.

Jules had been thriving, too. His football career soared to new heights: winning two Champions League with FC Barcelona and even lifting both a Euros win and World Cup with the French national team. The two of them had created a life bursting with love and dreams realized, and now they were eagerly awaiting the newest chapter—becoming parents.

Today, though, they were in Tuscany, celebrating Jude and Lila's wedding. But first, they had a mission in Florence.

"Chérie, we've been to six different shops," Jules said patiently, watching his pregnant wife peer into yet another chocolate boutique window.

"It has to be the right one," Senait insisted. "The one with the gold wrapper and the hazelnut filling. Remember? We found it that time we came for your Champions League match."

Jules wrapped an arm around her expanding waist. "That was two years ago, love."

"But it was perfect." Her voice wavered dangerously. "And the baby wants it."

"The baby, huh?"

"Don't tease me when I'm emotional."

Three more shops yielded nothing but frustration. By the time they reached the wedding venue, Senait was fighting back tears.

"Hey, Jules and Senait are here," she heard Aurélien call out.

Zuri appeared immediately, taking in Senait's flushed face and teary eyes. "What happened?"

Senait sniffled, one hand resting on her five-month bump. "I wanted a chocolate bar from that shop we loved in Florence, but they're out. And it's not available anywhere else in Italy!"

"Oh honey," Zuri pulled her into a hug, careful of her bump. "Pregnancy cravings are the worst."

"It's not just cravings," Senait hiccupped. "I wanted to share it with the baby. Tell them about our first trip to Florence, how their papa scored the winning goal that night."

Zuri bit back a laugh, exchanging a knowing look with Aurélien. Pregnancy hormones were no joke. "Hey, they've got some amazing snacks in Lila's room," she said, wrapping her arm around Senait. "Go on, I promise it'll make you feel better."

Senait nodded, allowing herself to be comforted, and made her way to Lila's room, leaving Jules and Aurélien to talk. The men shared a chuckle, with Jules shaking his head in disbelief. "Pregnancy, man. Never a dull moment."

As Senait walked down the hallways, she couldn't help but remember her own wedding. Now here she was, five months pregnant, crying over chocolate.

"There's my favorite pregnant lady!" Lila appeared in a silk robe, her hair in rollers.

Senait laughed. "You're beautiful!"

"So are you. Even with those tears. What happened?"

"I don't want to go there," Senait sighed dramatically, but she was smiling now. The baby fluttered – their newest trick. She placed a hand on her bump, still amazed by how natural this felt. How right.

"Come here, you emotional mess," Lila pulled Senait onto the sofa, where an impressive spread of snacks covered the coffee table. "I had them bring up everything – sweet, salty, spicy."

"You're an angel," Senait grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry. Not the same as her Florence chocolate, but it would do. "This baby needed some chocolate."

"Speaking of babies," Lila said as she was helped into her gown, "have you two started thinking about names yet?"

Senait smiled, remembering Jules' late-night conversations with her bump. "Jules likes Feven for a girl. It means 'bright' in Tigrinya."

"And for a boy?"

"Théo. After his grandfather."

Lila nodded approvingly while the bridal stylist buttoned the back of the dress. "That's great. Some men have awful taste in names."

Just then, Zuri made her way into the room and smiled brightly at both of her friends. The baby moved again, more pronounced this time. Senait had noticed they were most active during these moments of laughter and joy, as if already wanting to be part of the fun.

"Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life," she admitted softly from the couch. "Barcelona, Jules, the baby... if you'd told me six years ago this is where I'd end up..."

"You'd have run screaming in the opposite direction?" Lila supplied.

"Probably."

"And now look at you," Zuri squeezed her hand. "Living your dream life with your dream man, growing your dream baby."

The tears threatened again. "Stop, I just fixed my makeup."

"Blame the hormones," Lila suggested cheerfully.

A knock at the door interrupted their laughter. Jules poked his head in, his expression softening when he saw Senait surrounded by snacks and friends.

"Better?" he asked.

Senait nodded, holding out her hand. He crossed the room to take it, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Guess what?" he murmured against her hair. "Aurélien made some calls. That chocolate shop? They're sending a box directly to Barcelona. Should be there when we get home."

Fresh tears spilled. "I love you."

"Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur." His hand found her bump. "Both of you."

"And on that disgustingly sweet note," Lila announced, "I need to finish getting ready. I have a wedding to star in."

The bridal stylist jumped in at that moment and helped Lila with her veil.

When she was done, Senait watched as Zuri placed a gentle hand on Lila's shoulder. "You look so perfect," she whispered.

Lila smiled, her eyes glistening. "Thanks, Zu. I just can't believe this is finally happening."

Zuri smiled, her hand resting protectively over her own bump. "Believe it, girl. This is your moment."

_______________________________________________

The reception was nothing short of magical: fairy lights draped over ancient olive trees, long tables adorned with white roses and silk drapery, and soft music that danced on the breeze. Senait felt warm and content, holding little Eti, who had been passed to her while Zuri and Aurélien took on their wedding party duties.

Later, Senait swayed gently with Jules as they danced under the canopy of stars, surrounded by laughter and clinking glasses. The DJ shifted the song, and suddenly Hey There Delilah started playing. Jules grinned, his eyes bright with mischief, and the two of them began singing along jokingly with the rest of the guests, trying to outdo each other with exaggerated gestures.

After dancing until her feet hurt, Senait noticed a young man she recognized as Jude’s brother, Jobe, standing off to the side, deep in conversation with a stunning young woman somewhat familiar. She nudged Zuri, who had just returned from mingling. "Who’s that?" she asked, nodding toward the pair.

Zuri followed her gaze and let out a little laugh. "That’s Justine, you remember, Jobe’s ex from Birmingham. Lila invited her, of course."

"That's her?" Senait said, eyes alight with curiosity. "Spill the tea."

Zuri smirked. "Well, you know they broke up a few years ago, and Justine moved to the States to go to grad school and teach for a while?" Senait nodded her head vehemently and her friend continued. "So now she’s back in the UK, and Lila is playing matchmaker, hoping they rekindle things."

Senait's smile grew. "I kind of like that idea."

Before she could comment further, Jules came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his lips brushing against her ear. He whispered something filthy, making her cheeks flush furiously. Senait swatted his arm, laughing. "You have to wait. We’re not doing that here."

Jules sucked his teeth in mock disappointment, then turned to Zuri with a grin. "Sorry, I’m stealing my wife now."

Zuri rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "Go on, then. Just don’t keep her too long."

Jules didn’t hesitate, pulling Senait away from the lively crowd to a quieter corner of the reception. He pressed her gently against the wall, cupping her face and kissing her deeply, passion igniting between them once again. When they finally broke apart, Senait laughed, breathless.

"Ugh, I hate you," she said jokingly, her voice husky.

Jules brushed a lock of hair from her face, his gaze softening. "I love you too," he replied simply, and then he kissed her again, both of them lost in the moment, savoring every heartbeat and memory shared between them.

____________________________________________

four months later…

The Barcelona hospital room was filled with anticipation and the soft beeping of monitors. After twelve hours of labor, Senait was finally ready to push. Jules hadn't left her side once, letting her squeeze his hand through each contraction, whispering encouragement in French and English.

"You're doing amazing, chérie," he murmured, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Her mother, Askalu, stood on her other side, while her father, John, paced the waiting room. Sophie, Jules' mother, had been in and out, her limited English made up for by her expressive face and comforting presence.

When Feven Sidonie Koundé finally entered the world at 3:47 AM, her powerful cry filled the room. Jules' eyes welled up as the doctors placed their daughter on Senait's chest.

"Elle est parfaite," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Perfect like her mama."

The next few hours passed in a blur of skin-to-skin contact, first measurements, and proud grandparents meeting their granddaughter. Askalu and John couldn't stop crying as they held Feven, marveling at her tiny features.

"She looks just like you did," Askalu told Senait, gently touching Feven's full head of curly hair.

Sophie was equally emotional, her broken English mixed with rapid French as she cooed over her granddaughter. "Ma belle petite-fille," she kept saying, tears streaming down her face.

The nurse brought in Senait's first 'push present' – a large tray of sushi she'd been craving throughout her pregnancy. Her mother shook her head as Senait did an excited wiggle in the hospital bed.

"You have more presents at home," Jules said, amused by her reaction to raw fish.

"Nothing better than this," Senait declared, already reaching for a piece of salmon nigiri.

Her phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Zuri. On screen, her friend appeared with baby Zulaika in her arms, two-month-old and perfect, while little Eti peeked into frame.

"She's here!" Zuri squealed. "Show me my niece!"

Jules carefully tilted the phone so Zuri could see Feven, now sleeping peacefully in her bassinet.

"Oh my god, she's gorgeous," Zuri gushed. "Our girls are going to be best friends."

"Unless it's El Clásico time," Aurélien's voice came from off-screen. "Then they're enemies."

Jules chuckled, but the sound was cut short by Feven's hungry cry. "Speaking of enemies, time for another feeding."

"Go be a mommy and daddy," Zuri smiled. "Love you all!"

Jules carefully lifted Feven, still amazed by how tiny she was, and brought her to Senait. He helped position the baby, remembering all the steps from their parenting classes.

"Support her head like that," Senait murmured. "There we go."

Watching his wife feed their daughter, Jules felt his heart might burst. He couldn't stop staring at them – his whole world in one hospital bed.

"Can we have another?" he asked suddenly, eyes locked on Senait's.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. "Give me six months and I'll think about it."

His grin widened as he leaned in to kiss her. "Je t'aime, chérie."

"I love you too," she whispered back. "All of this. Even if your daughter already has your appetite."

Jules laughed softly, careful not to disturb Feven's feeding. Their families would be staying to help – Sophie for two whole months – but right now, in this moment, it was just them. Their little family of three.

Complete. Perfect. Everything they never knew they needed until they found each other.

[fromtheseventhhell]

George did not write Arya naming babies in Winterfell and taking care of a child in the middle of a WARZONE just for y'all to say she's not going to end up with kids/family because she's "not that type of character" 😒

[crimeronan]

my mom's true crime youtube channel is nearing 5k subscribers and she's already gotten monetized after three months and keeps getting dozens-to-hundreds of comments per video going "your perspective is so insightful and intelligent!! always excited to hear your analysis of a situation!!"

when we talk she keeps being like "i don't even care about the money, i'm just so excited that people want to listen to what i have to say" and i'm just like. SO proud of her. yes mom thank you GOD. get the recognition and love you deserve. fantastic to witness in real time!!

[messangerforthestars]

“We need more morally gray characters” you guys can barely handle topaz and jade.

[completeoveranalysis]

[8]

Ah there we go. The pain.

Heartbreaking sadness aside I think we can safely confirm Parents as the correct answer. And so was Body memory!

Now would be a pretty good time to be able to touch the skin of other men and give Watanuki a hug but we all know that’s not going to happen. 

Ok no yeah I like this too. Doumeki says his name but Watanuki is so distressed that he wrenches free and runs through the house yelling for Yuuko.

He is. Having a Time.

The paaaain.

[dailykugisaki]

Day 151 | id in alt

At least one first year is enjoying themselves as a sorcerer.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What's your opinion on malewife/house husband Adrien posts? I asked this to another blog, and like I said to them, I find them a guilty pleasure: The concept is cute, but I know that would be the last thing Adrien would ever wanna be after all his dad put him through.

I don't think that it would be the last thing that Adrien would ever want. I actually think it suits his character in a lot of ways, you just have to handle the topic with care.

First let's talk about why it suits him.

Miraculous has totally failed to give Adrien any sort of career-based passion and - if we ignore the senti complication - I honestly love that for him! I want more characters with no major life ambitions to balance out the Marinettes of the world!

I think that society places way too much pressure and value on finding the perfect career that fulfills us in every way while also allowing us to put food on the table. Most people will never find that and that's okay. It doesn't mean that you've failed or that you're lesser. For most people, the goal is to find a career that pays the bills and that you enjoy enough that you don't hate doing it 40hrs/week. Along similar lines, for most people, your passion will be something that doesn't make money. It will be something like a hobby or spending time with those you love or analyzing badly written French TV shows.

This brings us back to Adrien.

Adrien seems to get a great deal of joy from being around his loved ones and making them happy, so I can absolutely picture him finding a lot of joy in running a home. This is extra true because Marinette is pretty clearly career driven and she's planning to go into a creative field, so she'll probably have a pretty crazy schedule and struggle to stay on top of it all. Having a loving husband to take things like cooking and cleaning off of her plate would be a blessing and a gift that she'd greatly appreciate, but that would feel unbalanced if Adrien was working, too. (Yes, they could hire staff, but that risks the secret identity thing, so I don't see them doing that.)

If they both have power careers, then they'd barely see each other and I hate that for them. I think that it would make Adrien incredibly sad and depressed. Plus, while Marinette thrives off of competition and staying busy, only needing occasional breaks before diving right back in, Adrien seems to hate busy schedules and heavy work loads.

Given all of that, I think that there's a lot to be said for Adrien stepping away from the working world. Especially since he's been in it for years and being a child celebrity is no joke! I think it would be nice for him to escape from strict schedules and expectations. Dinner fails? Order takeout!

While we're on the topic of food, I really like the idea of Adrien falling in love with cooking. Dude needs a creative outlet and that's honestly a great one (I hate it when people write characters as unable to figure out cooking like it's some cute quirk. While an initial struggle is believable, it's not a mystical art that takes years of practice. Between YouTube, the wider Internet, and maybe some classes if he wants to get fancy, I think that he'll be fine.) There's so much variety with what you can do in the kitchen and the end result gets to be shared and appreciated by those you love. It just seems like a perfect fit for him, but I would never make him a professional chef because the hours are insane and the pressure to be perfect is high. I only see him loving it as a hobby where he can go at his own pace, take days off, and make lazy meals when he's not feeling like being a show off.

The big concerns that come with making him a homemaker are a lack of financial independence and a lack of socialization. I don't see the first thing as an issue for Adrien since he comes from a wealthy family, so that one doesn't phase me.

The isolation could very easily be an issue, but it could just as easily be a problem if he started working, too. It's not as if a job is a sure way to have friends or even just consistent positive social interactions, which is another reason why I don't really see a need to give him a traditional job. You can get a vibrant social life in lots of other ways.

Here are the two big things that I keep in mind when writing an Adrien-as-a-homemaker or similar setup as it is where I tend to have Adrien land for all of the above reasons:

Adrien needs to be active in some organization or project. Volunteer work is a good fit as is being an active stay-at-home parent or some combination of the two. Voice acting is also on my radar, but my default is to have him act as the head of team miraculous' out-of-battle activities. Scheduling meet and greets. Going to see sick kids. Jetting around the world for humanitarian aid missions. Basically let Chat Noir be his "career" which gives him a lot of much needed flexibility for making his own schedule, especially if he's a stay-at-home parent to any eventual kids. I also like the poetic nature of Adrien finally being proud to be the face of a "brand" via his hero side while his civilian side becomes just some guy that people kind of remember from old ads.

Consider having a non-traditional living arrangement. I am a big fan of hero teams living together, so my default is to take the Agreste mansion and remodel it into a secret HQ for the team. Adrien and Marinette would have their own apartment/wing/whatever, but they'd still be surrounded by their found family on a near-daily basis, so that social isolation is the last thing on Adrien's mind. There's almost always someone to hang out with! You could also just have Alya and Nino or other friends live in the same apartment building so that they're over a lot/Adrien has a place to hang when Marinette is working late because you know that she'd do that.

Basically, Adrien's rich, so he doesn't need to make money and he doesn't seem to have any interest in a normal job, so I really like letting him having a unique life where he doesn't have a traditional job. He is a superhero, after all. Unique career paths are pretty par for the course. You just have to be careful to make sure that all of this feels like his fully informed and carefully considered choice and not like you forced it on him to make Marinette's life perfect (I only brought her up earlier because this is a story and it makes sense to design characters around each other). I usually do this by sending Adrien to therapy in his late teens or by giving him some other parth of self discovery.

Do note that all of the above is inspired by my read of Adrien which may be totally different from your read of him and that's fine! I just can't picture him as someone who thrives in a traditional career path based on knowing people who strike me as similar to him and from whom I draw my understanding of how to write that part of Adrien's character. I think that he'd be perfectly able to have a traditional career path, but I also think that he'd be pretty miserable for a lot of reasons.

I'll also note that I'm not sure what posts spawned this ask, so there may be elements of those that I'd have criticisms of. This post was about the general concept of Adrien being a homemaker. I tend to avoid the broader fandom for my own sanity and the use of the term "malewife" has me concerned that I'm implying support of something I wouldn't actually support because that's a new one for me and it sounds incredibly sexist.

I'm not a fan of implying that the default definition of "wife" is "submissive homemaker" so a man taking on a homemaking role is clearly submissive and acting like a woman does while his aggressive, domineering wife is acting like a man, which is the definition of this word that I'm finding online and yikes! Wife and husband are legal/social status in my book. They are not clearly defined jobs/roles/personality types, so I'm not a fan of using gendered terms to refer to stuff like this especially since I do actively try to use gender neutral words in my own writing whenever I can, though I'm certainly far from perfect on that front.

I also don't see homemaking as a submissive act. It certainly can be, but that's not how I picture Adrien at all! I picture him as relaxed and plesent, but 100% in charge of the home and all choices about how it's run. I also see him being in charge of their finances like homemakers often were in the "old days" since they were the ones in charge of things like scheduling cleaners, buying food, and other things that needed strong budgeting skills while the person who worked wasn't actually spending money or managing the home since they were at work. I like to think that Nathalie would prep Adrien to be a wealthy man and so he'd have strong skills in finance management.

[cookiekitkat8484]

dream blunt rotation

[tea-cat-arts]

People on this website will be like "you can't handle the moral nuance of Madoka Magica! Not everything is black and white" and then claim everyone criticizing Homura's actions thinks she's a terrible person in the same sentence

[1-8oo-wtfbro]

au or not, if i see any universes where Sokka and Katara are separated for some stupid reason or another, im slashing your tires myself, while Katara steals your cat and Sokka steals your valuables