#thank you to those who've been requesting!!

[anothermansjeans]

i'm having sm fun, thanks for allowing this revival of my writing besties 🫶

[saintsenara]

wait how bougie was Tom Riddle Sr.? How nice would his Manor have been? Was he like an actually Lord with a title and stuff?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

in half-blood prince, dumbledore refers to tom riddle sr. as "the squire's son" - which allows us to state with certainty that he was a minor aristocrat.

however, the word minor is important here.

there are - historically - two levels of aristocracy in britain. the first are the peers of the realm - which refers to families which hold one or more of the titles of duke, marquess, earl, or viscount. these are the elite of the elite - these gradations of nobility were created in the middle ages as a way of distinguishing those who held the titles from other noblemen, usually because of a close relationship [often one of blood or marriage or both] to the king.

the titles are hereditary by male primogeniture, and the holders - while this is no longer the case - used to have political power [such as the right to sit in the house of lords], simply by virtue of their birth.

[this is why they're called "peers" - it refers to them historically being close in status to royalty, and therefore expected to serve as royal advisors.]

there is another class of peer - a baronet - whose title is similarly hereditary, but whose position doesn't come historically with the right to sit in the lords or advise the king by virtue of birth. [baronets may - of course - have been members of parliament, or royal advisors selected at the king's discretion, but this would be separate from their title. a duke, in contrast, could historically expect to request a meeting with the king simply because he was a duke.]

while some families have historically been ennobled at the king's discretion, access to any of these titles is pretty much restricted to the small group of families who've held them for centuries.

but below the peers of the realm, there is a second, more minor class of aristocracy, the landed gentry - of which a village squire is a textbook example.

historically, what is meant by "landed" is an ability to live off of the rental income of one's country holdings, which would be leased to tenant farmers. that is, they are landlords in the original sense of the term - lords of the land. this is what tom sr. tells us his family does in half-blood prince:

“It’s not ours,” said a young man’s voice. “Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his children. The son’s quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village - ”

what is also meant by "landed" is that the family in question is of the upper-classes, but that they are still "commoners" - which in this context doesn't imply a value judgement, but which is a socio-legal term which simply indicates that they don't hold an aristocratic title such as duke, earl etc.

[and gentry families certainly aren't common in terms of financial standing... the most famous member of this class in literature? fitzwilliam darcy, whose ten thousand a year is something like thirteen million quid in today's money...]

gentry families might be very old - they might have received their lands from the king in the middle ages as a reward for knightly service, and it's interesting to imagine generations of gaunts and riddles brought up alongside each other in little hangleton - or they might be comparatively newer - tom sr.'s great-grandfather [feasibly born c.1810] could have been a self-made victorian industrialist who bought the lands from the original holder and established himself as gentry.

by 1900, it was becoming much harder for the gentry to live on rental income alone, and many would also have had jobs. these would have been elite, and very frequently were in politics, the civil service, the military, or the law. tom sr's father - whom the films call thomas, so let's go with that - might, for example, have served as a high-ranking officer in the army [including during the first world war], be the local magistrate, or be the local member of parliament.

in terms of titles, thomas riddle would almost undoubtedly be sir thomas - and this is how it would be correct to address him. but this title would be a courtesy, and it wouldn't be hereditary unless the riddles were also baronets [which it's entirely plausible that they were].

which is to say, tom sr. would not have a title while his father was alive - although he would have the right to be referred to formally in writing as mr thomas riddle esq. [esquire]. the correct form of verbal address for anyone other than friends and family would be to call him mr riddle, although the riddles' servants would probably refer to him as mister tom.

tom jr. would not have a title while his father or grandfather was alive. if the riddles were baronets, he would technically inherit the title after he kills the rest of the male line... but given that tom sr. never acknowledged him and his existence was presumably unknown to the riddles' lawyers this wouldn't be something which happened in reality. the estate's executors clearly took control of the riddles' property, the land was portioned off and sold, and the house became a standalone property for sale.

the riddle house - which is a name used informally for it in little hangleton, it would have a different "proper" name - is described in canon in ways which show that it's a typical manor house, which means it would look something like this:

these houses are obviously very impressive, but they're tiny in size in comparison to the magnificent stately homes - places like blenheim palace, chatsworth, burghley house, holkham hall - lived in by the titled aristocracy. the riddles would entertain - for example - by giving house parties, dinner parties, hunting parties, etc., but they wouldn't have a ballroom or a dining hall capable of seating hundreds.

[they would probably also own a property - probably a flat or small house - in london.]

they would have servants, but not colossal numbers - they would undoubtedly have a butler but not footmen, and the upstairs maids would report to the butler since they probably wouldn't have a housekeeper. they canonically have a cook, who probably had one or two kitchen maids assisting, and they canonically have a gardener - frank bryce - who probably doesn't have any assistants. they may, depending on the size of the estate, have a gamekeeper. sir thomas undoubtedly had a secretary and a chauffeur, and his wife might have a lady's maid. tom sr. would have had a nanny and then been educated until at least the age of eight by a governess, but would then have attended a prep school [either day or boarding] until the age of thirteen, and then gone to a boarding school, from which he likely went on [on the basis of social class rather than talent] to oxford or cambridge.

the family would have enormous social influence locally. most people - and also businesses - in little hangleton would be their tenants, and they would also probably have a say over the appointment of the local clergyman [an important figure in the community in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries], since the parish church is likely to have been something called a "living" - the thing which turns up again and again in jane austen - which means that the church and its parsonage technically belongs to the landowner, but is granted to the vicar as a freehold while he's in post.

gossip about the riddles' doings would also be the main source of local interest - the servants were dining out for months on tom sr.'s elopement and return.

so they're something resembling celebrities - but they're local celebrities. nobody in london - and even nobody in cities we can imagine are nearer to little hangleton, such as liverpool - would particularly know or care who they were. tom sr. might have made it into the london gossip columns if he was part of a particularly scandalous "set" [a group of friends] who socialised in the capital, but these mentions would have been fleeting - and the press would have been much more concerned by the doings of members of his set who were genuinely titled or who were legitimately famous.

[this is the reason why mrs cole doesn't recognise the name. if merope had said her son was to be named cecil beaton after his father, she may well have been prompted to hunt him down...]

so tom sr. is elite - but he's elite in a way which is extremely culturally-specific, and which is [just like the portrayal of aristocracy in the wizarding world - the blacks, for example, are far less aristocratic than the riddles in terms of canonical vibe] often exaggerated into the sort of pseudo-royal grand aristocracy which the british period-drama-industrial-complex makes such a big deal of.

and tom jr.'s character is affected by this in a series of extremely interesting ways.

by which i mean that, in terms of blood, he's probably the most aristocratic character in the series - the absence of grand aristocracy in the wizarding world would mean that [were he raised by his father] he would come from a social background which was equivalent [even as it was divided from them by virtue of being muggle] to any of his fellow slytherins, and would help him easily blend into their society because the manners, genre of socio-cultural reference points [he would recognise, for example, that quidditch heavily resembles both rugby and polo], accent and way of speaking etc. that he would possess would be broadly indistinguishable from those of his pureblood peers.

[this is why justin finch-fletchley and draco malfoy speak in essentially the same way.]

but he would then be given the enormous boost in cachet - one which would genuinely elevate him above the rest of his cohort - of his maternal line.

and we see in canon that this does bestow some privilege on him among his peers while he's in school:

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader. “I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said when the laughter had died away. “I don’t have the right kind of background, for one thing.” A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader’s famous ancestor.

where he's let down socially is that people like slughorn - to whom he can't reveal his slytherin ancestry and hope to maintain cover for his wrongdoing - don't think he's come from anywhere particularly special. this is because he has a muggle father - absolutely - but it's even more that he has a muggle father who, since he left him to be raised in an orphanage, was presumably working-class.

what the young voldemort lacks is any socio-cultural familiarity with the muggle class performance which the class performance of the wizarding world parallels. abraxas malfoy boasting about how important his father is would be something a tom jr. raised by the riddles could match - "oh yes, my father gives to all sorts of causes too. in fact, he was invited to buckingham palace because of it." - establishing himself as an equal in terms of class and social influence even if he isn't an equal in blood.

what actually happens in canon is that the orphaned tom - with his uncouth manners and his working-class accent - has no hope of gaining any sort of social equality with his posh peers.

so he becomes determined to outrank - and humiliate and control - them.

[seventeenpins]

triptych - pt ii

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: after a shitty day, the man you've been chatting with all evening brings you back to his place only for you to discover he lives with his brother, an old flame of yours. they both fuck you. pre-outbreak. 18+

warnings: ooof i know i'm gonna miss something but here goes! multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pussy eating, dick sucking, ass eating/ass play, anal, joel miller is an ass man, double penetration, it's literally just porn there is so little substance here it's shameful, probably not incest but maybe a little??? like the brothers aren't into each other but their balls kinda touch so i'll leave that just in case..., light spanking, creampie, light breeding?, pls tell me if i'm missing anything important

a/n: wowowow i cannot believe how fuckin lovely y'all are, i hadn't been writing for years but i certainly never received so much feedback. thanks for reading and interacting and being part of such a cool and deeply horny community 😅 my asks are always open and i'd love to take on some requests! thank u to those who've sent some so far, i'm working on them now. besides requests, upcoming fics include a follow-up to bad girl and a vampire au 💕

also, thank you for indulging in this pairing!! (grouping?) i feel like a lot of threesome fics are very pro-joel with tommy cucking, and though they're fucking excellent, i wanted to give tommy some love and an equal place at the side of his incredibly hot brother.

check out part i

when you'd first sat down at that grimy dive bar, never in a million years would you have anticipated the scene that was unfolding in front of you now.

“shit," tommy says, "she looks so nice down on her knees for us, huh joel?”

joel looks feral as he stares you down. "such a good girl for us,” he agrees, “but we gotta see if that mouth can do more than talk.”

he's holding your wrists behind your back, while tommy grips a firm hand through your hair and unbuckles his belt with the other.

"open up, baby," tommy says, and presses one finger into your mouth and then another. he gently strokes his fingers in and out of your mouth, pressing into your tongue, slowly going deeper and deeper till you're sure you can feel the digits at the back of your throat. you can feel that you've started to drool a little, and tommy lets out a little groan at the discovery.

"you think you're ready for me?" tommy asks, and you nod.

in one smooth motion, his cock is springing from his boxers and the head is pressing gently at your lips.

feeling just the tip in your mouth, you already know your jaw is gonna hurt tomorrow. you relax your jaw and open wider, and tommy makes a slightly strangled noise that you take as a great sign.

as he fucks into your mouth, your eyes begin to water and tommy notices, brushing the tears away.

"you're takin' it so good," joel lavishes his praise on you and you never want it to end, "such a good girl, aren't you? keep that throat nice and open for my brother, won't ya? i know you wanna relax into it, baby, let him see just how much you love havin his dick down your throat."

it makes you moan, his words making you almost uncomfortably wet. tommy keeps thrusting down your throat, hips occasionally stuttering.

"shit, honey-" tommy says, and chuckles at your whine when he pulls his cock out of your mouth, "you're suckin' it so good, i need a break or i'm gonna come in that pretty mouth a whole lot sooner than i mean to."

joel drops your wrists and backs up to the sofa.

"why don'tcha sit on my lap, darlin'?" he grins, and pats on his inner thigh, his cock visibly straining in his jeans, a little damp patch visible where you're sure the tip is.

"only if you take your pants off," you say, and joel's eyebrows shoot up.

joel considers. "fine, but we're gonna work you up real nice before you get to sit on anyone's cock.

once you're sat on joel's lap, his cock straining against his boxers, tommy’s kissing you with such frenzied passion you feel dizzy. the sensation is only heightened when joel runs a knuckle down your spine, dragging over each vertebrae, massaging and tantalising. then both hands are grabbing at your waist and over your hips as if mapping you out. it’s not overtly hungry, not yet, but there’s a sensuality to it you didn’t quite remember from your brief and ill-fated encounters with joel years back. you're suddenly hit with a pang of sadness that you never stayed in touch. you would've liked to see him get his first grey hairs. instead it feels like you hit fast forward and jolted ahead.

joel's close behind you and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he pulls down the neckline of your top and licks a line along the hollow of your collarbone and back up to your ear, and the drag of his tongue is delicious. he nibbles on your earlobe and the sensation draws an obscene moan from your lips. 

tommy’s close to you, too, his big hands cupping your jaw as he kisses his tongue deep into your mouth, running it along your teeth. his cock is still hanging out from his jeans, thick and hard, and you don't try to disguise the way you stare at it as you look him up and down.

"you've got far too many clothes on, sweetheart," tommy grins, and you pull off your top. before you can unhook your bra, joel's already unfastened it and is helping you pull it off.

tommy drops to his knees now, licking and sucking at your nipples, as joel unbuttons your pants, unzips them, and helps you lift your hips to yank them off of you.

the graze of tommy's teeth against the sensitive flesh of your breast makes you whimper and rut up on joel's thigh, and the brothers both laugh at your desperate noises.

"shit, she's needy, ain't she?" joel teases as he grips your waist with one hand and lets the other drag down to your panties, holding you in place while he starts to rub his fingers along your slit through the damp fabric.

he tugs at the band of your lace panties and ponders for a moment. "you partial to these?" he asks, and you shrug, "not particularly".

"good," joel says. that's all he needs to hear before he's tearing them apart and dropping the tattered fabric aside.

"well now you're just putting on a show," you tease, and he laughs but doesn't disagree. he just strokes a finger along your folds.

"i think you're a girl who likes a show," he tells you as he gathers up a little bit of your slick and slides it along your pussy. "now, what else do you like, darlin'? you want me to play with your lil clit? or just finger fuck you?"

"both," you whine, "any of it. all of it, please-"

he teases a finger into you very gently, just a little press that goes a little deeper each time he pulls it out and presses back in, till you realise he's sinking it in all the way to the hand with each thrust.

right as he adds another finger, to your surprise, tommy drops to his knees. he spreads your thighs wider and looks up for a moment, and you think you can feel joel nod behind you. that's all it takes, and tommy dives in. joel thrusts his fingers into you more urgently as laves kisses on and around your clit. he deepens it, pressing harder, flicking his tongue furiously along your swollen nerve endings and there's enough sensation that you know you won't last long.

"yes, that's it," you cry, and now it's your turn to grab tommy by the hair and press his face right where you need it the most. you're grinding up on his tongue while joel steadily continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, and you know you couldn't be quiet even if you tried.

"fuck," your words sound more like sobs now and you really don't give a shit, "keep going, just like that, joel you can go harder, tommy yes, lick my clit like that, i'm gonna- i'm gonna come-"

"good girl," joel talks you through it, "letting us take care of you like this. you need us to fuck you stupid, don'tcha? you're gonna leave here in the mornin' all stretched open, feeling us deep inside ya for days, huh?"

his filthy words are all you need to teeter over the edge- "fuuuck!" you scream, and you're positively panting now, verging on hysterical. you know joel can feel your pussy clench around him, you're so wet you're worried you've ruined joel's jeans, and you're so overstimulated that you can't speak more than a syllable or two at a time.

"oh you come so pretty," tommy says, pulling away from you to speak. you can see the way his lips are glistening with your slick before he kisses you on your inner thighs, peppering the soft skin with attention.

then, your eyes practically roll back in your head as he dives back in.

joel hasn't stopped fingering you, either, and once tommy's mouth is back on you, joel presses his fingers back into you more deeply again.

"shit, it's too much, i don't think i can take another this quick-" you try to say, but joel shushes you.

"i can already feel it coming," joel tells you, "can feel how your thighs are trembling, how you're already clenching down on me."

you're treading dangerously close to uncomfortably overstimulated, but you're also so completely turned on, you barely care. if you're gonna die in pursuit of a nut, so be it.

"fuck, you're right-" you tell joel, and tommy moans into you letting delicious vibrations pulse through you, and that sends you over the edge again.

you thrust and writhe and rut against them both, and tommy shows you mercy this time, drawing back and letting you get a little relief from the overwhelm of sensation instead of keeping his mouth on you.

you need a moment to catch your breath, and both joel and tommy rub soothing circles into your skin, joel's hands on your hips and tommy's on your thighs, and it feels exquisite.

"that's it, sweetheart, that's it-" joel soothes, and though your breathing's evened out, you know your thighs are still shaking.

tommy's licking up the arousal from between your thighs as if cleaning you off, and he looks up at you with almost dopey, half-lidded eyes, grinning.

"you taste like heaven, honey," he says, and he looks almost as fucked out as you feel. all this from eating pussy, you wonder, and that's another point in the favor of tommy miller being a man who likes to take care of fine things.

"i think i'm gettin' jealous now," joel teases, "i might need a taste, too."

without another word, tommy kisses you deeply and you taste yourself on his tongue. joel tilts your head back to meet him, and he kisses the taste from your mouth, groaning as he does it.

the sounds they're both making are so fucking hot, you love how they emote. there's nothing as unsexy as getting fucked by someone who stays absolutely silent throughout, and hearing them as pathetic as you feel works you up even more.

"what do you need, sweetheart," joel asks, and he's running a finger along your swollen folds now, teasing and torturous.

"you want us to fuck your pussy and your mouth," he asks, and moves to stroke a finger along your cheek, "you wanna have a big cock on either end of ya?"

you shake your head and joel raises his eyebrows.

"tell us what you want, baby," tommy says, and joel drags his fingers back along your pussy before tentatively using his forefinger to circle your asshole.

"please, joel-" you realise you're begging and it draws a laugh from tommy.

"you're a naughty girl, aren't you?" tommy asks, and the way he's grinning tells you that he wouldn't want it any other way.

"wanna feel full of you, both of you-" you whine.

"you gotta tell us, else we won't know what you want," joel says. from his tone of voice, it's clear he knows exactly what you want, but you need to beg for it.

"my pussy. and my ass. wanna ride both of you, feel both of you, get fucked by both of you-"

"jesus christ," tommy moans, "i bet we can make that happen, huh, big brother?"

you turn around to look at joel and his pupils are so blown, his eyes look black.

"bedroom." joel says, and it isn't a request.

tommy scoops you up in his arms and follows joel to his bedroom.

"drop her right here," joel says to tommy, and you're deposited on the edge of the bed, joel kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"looks so pretty for us," tommy says, and he sits down in an armchair near the foot of the bed and starts stroking his aching cock.

you'd been so fucked out already, you almost forgot you'd done almost nothing to take care of them. tommy's cock looks almost red and angry, and joel's is still tucked into his boxers, but the damp spot is spreading and it looks so thick through the fabric.

"let's get you ready for us, sweetheart," joel says, and without any more warning, he hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you up, legs spread, knees hanging over his shoulders. "i'm gonna eat this cute lil asshole, baby," he says and spits on your tight hole before rubbing his thumb gently against it, spreading the saliva.

he teases you with his tongue a little, testing it before pressing it flat and licking along it. you moan, and he growls against you.

you learn very quickly that joel miller is an ass man.

he eats ass like he was made for it, growling into you, spit dripping down his chest as he keeps your legs propped up on his shoulders, your thighs held in place with one arm. you're gasping through your moans and joel is drawing circles around your hole now, popping a finger into his mouth, and tentatively pressing it into the tight ring of muscle. it's fucking animalistic and you don't think anything could possibly make this better, until you notice the moans coming from tommy and the wet sounds of him furiously fisting his cock.

you're already fucked out from your first orgasms that you're practically boneless and limp, totally relaxed in a way you didn't often get. it made the feeling of joel fucking his fingers into you more glorious, building you up in a way you're not used to.

he makes quick (but thorough) work of opening you up, till he's got three fingers in your asshole and tommy's telling you how beautiful you look through his own choked moans, and you think you might lose your mind as you pant and grind and whine and joel isn't saying anything because his mouth is far too busy.

he pulls back and takes a good look at you. with someone else you might feel uncomfortably exposed but instead, you see hunger and desire in the brothers' and you know this is affecting them at least as much as it is you.

"i think we've got ya ready," joel hums, and he turns to look at his brother, "wanna check?" he asks, and tommy stands up and walks over.

you know you feel loose and ready, but the simple act of tommy popping a finger into your mouth to get it wet and then tracing it around your asshole, examining the preparation, drives you insane.

"i think she'll take it good for us," he grins and your heart flutters, "good girl," he says to you.

"you ready for us?" joel asks, and you nod.

"fuck me," you tell them.

joel lowers you down from his shoulders and tommy lays down on the bed before beckoning you.

"giddy up, cowgirl," he says with a wink, and you roll your eyes but take your cue.

you crawl up the bed, straddling his legs and then hovering over his cock which he's holding aloft.

"you good, baby?" he asks softly, and it's incredibly sweet in a way that makes you want to eat him up alive and also get fucked within an inch of your life by him.

"fuckin great," you tell him, and you pull him into a deep kiss before relaxing yourself over his cock, letting the head press into your pussy and sinking down onto it.

"jesus christ," he chokes out, and he sounds so desperate you can't help but fucking down on him, your ass slapping as you, move, his cock pressing so fucking deep into you and then you feel joel approach you from behind his hands gently running over your asscheeks and you know he's feeling the way your flesh bounces as you get off on his brother's cock. then, his hands are off of you, you hear the squirt of a lube bottle, and suddenly joel's thick lubed tip is pressing against you.

you try to thrust backwards towards it, but almost pull off tommy's cock fully, and it's like you're trying to ride both ends of a dick seesaw.

joel notices your frustration, laughing as you writhe.

"patience," he says, and delivers a sharp smack to your ass that thrusts you deeper onto tommy's cock. then, you can feel joel pressing into you, inch by inch.

once his cock head is fully sheathed in your tight ass, you take a moment to breathe before you start to find a rhythm that'll get all of you off at the same time. it takes a moment, and a few adjustments by all three of you, but before you know it, you can feel tommy brushing against your cervix and joel fully fucking into your asshole, practically rearranging your guts. with each rough thrust, they're fucking into you as one.

you're all moaning, gasping for breath. the slapping of skin against skin is delicious, and you're certain joel's balls are smacking against tommy's and you're not sure if it's weird or the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

you feel so full, you feel so fucking full it's perfect, it's delicious, you wanna be split open like this for the rest of time, want to feel two fat cocks using your holes for their pleasure, for your pleasure, because it all just feels so fucking good.

"fuck," tommy says, and it's the first thing any of you have been able to vocalise for a minute, "i'm gonna-"

"come in me," you tell him, cutting him off and he shudders.

that's all he needed before it hits him and he lets out a deep groan and unloads deep into you. it sets off a chain reaction. you come next, clenching around tommy's cock and exploding with a sob, your entire body shaking uncontrollably, and that tips joel over the edge, too as you whine at him, "come in my ass, joel-" and then he makes a strangled noise and you feel his balls tighten and hips stutter and he's unloading in you, pulse after pulse of thick come.

you lay there, tommy beneath you and joel on top of you, their cocks still twitching inside of you. gently, you tap joel's hip and he grunts and rolls over, pulling out of you. you gingerly pull yourself off of tommy, and then immediately collapse between the two of them.

"well, shit," you say, so totally blissed out you're floating on a whole other level.

"jesus christ," tommy says, and then joel starts laughing and it's the best thing you've ever heard.

"you doin' alright, darlin?" joel asks, "we take good care o' ya?"

you nod, consumed with so much euphoria you can't use your words properly.

"good- good joel," you say, "good tommy," you pat them each on the thighs and joel snorts.

tommy pops off the bed for a moment and rummages around in the other room before coming back to ask, "need a hit?"

you nod and he places the joint between your lips and sparks it. you take a deep inhale and slow blink as you sit yourself up and look at both of them.

"let's clean ya up, darlin," joel says, and, as it turns out, tommy brought a washcloth as well as weed. and he had my priorities straight you think.

"if you want me out of your house," you tell them, "you'd better tell me now so i can call a cab. otherwise, i'm gonna pass out here in the next twelve seconds."

"i won't be here in the morning", joel tells you, "got an early shift, but as i recall, tommy's specialty is box pancakes and they sometimes turn out edible."

tommy playfully slaps at his brother, and then kisses your cheek. joel kisses your cheek, too. tommy cleans you up a little, and you fall contentedly asleep between these two beautiful men.

the last thing you think before you drift off is fuck that promotion, it's not such a bad day after all.

[the-kr8tor]

Idk why I hadn't thought of this before but uh, this my 2nd request:3

Bitter Orange for Hobie with💧who thinks he escaped alive with R (from wherever it's up to you but i can suggest like after getting some supplys or being stuck somewhere for a while because it was infested with zombies) and got back to their base safely but little did he know, they didn't tell him that they got bit ;3

I'd like to add to the request I just made (Bitter Orange Hobie w 💧) and uh, this can be optional ig? but can they be best friends who've been pinning over each other but now Hobie never got a chance to confess his feelings n stuff and maybe they do it in those last moments?

Thank you for requesting this heart wrenching fic lmaoo hope u like it!! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Zombie apocalypse AU, Zombie AU, CW blood, CW injury, TW death. Angst.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Hobie comes back to you after three days, he's drenched in sweat and grime. But it's all worth it for the two bags full of supplies that you two need. They're at least a month worth of survival, a month without needing to go out and put yourselves in danger. He could've brought you with him if not for your raging fever and cough, he had to go alone. A part of him was glad that he went alone, he was stuck in a warehouse for an entire day while waiting for the hoard to pass by. You would've hated waiting in the dark and damp place especially with your sickness.

You said you were fine to be left behind, that it was just a simple cold that you can fight with the leftover meds. But when he opens the unlocked door that he specifically told you to barricade, the rotting smell of flesh and decay greets him instead of your smile. It tells him that shouldn't have left. It tells him that his greatest fear has come true.

The bags he painstakingly heaved from the city to the cabin in the woods where you two had been surviving in for months now drops like a death knell on the dilapidated floors. It was home for you and Hobie, he still remembers the day you found it. His heart hammered in his chest when he turned around only to find you gone. And then your scream turned him into the fastest man alive, only to find you jumping for joy in front of the old hunter’s cabin.

He knows exactly why he was so afraid that day, even though it was just a second of you not by his side— he has never been without you. Through the years, way before the world ended, you've been by his side. Always latching on to him, always smiling at him. Or was it the other way around? Was it him latching onto you like paint on a wall? Or was it him who always smiled at you? Nevertheless, he loves you, he loves you even when the world ended. He loves you enough to drag himself across town to come get you while the world around him was burning and crumbling.

But he shouldn't have left, he shouldn't have stayed a day more to find you that bottle of shampoo you have always been on the lookout for. It was a surprise, a happy one this time, none of the walking dead jumping at you from a corner. He would do anything to see you smile again, just like when you found the cabin. You've been trying hard to stay positive for him, but he knows, and you knew that it was all to reassure him. He takes care of you and you take care of him, he wouldn't like it any other way.

Grief already clings to him like a vine snaking along a tree. It grips him tighter with every step he takes. Hobie's hand shakes as he reaches towards your shared bedroom door. He hoped that the smell would be gone by then, but it only persisted as he got closer and closer to the last place he saw you.

He should've told you he loves you.

Your milky white eyes are the first things he sees. He grips the door for balance, chest heaving, heart plummeting to his stomach.

You growl at him, skin no longer bearing life, skin shrunken around your nail beds, claws reaching towards him in a rush.

Hobie freezes and awaits your teeth tearing into his flesh, he'd join you, would that be so bad?

Yet, death doesn't come for him. Chains rattle behind you as you growl and desperately try to tear him apart. Hobie, now realizing what you've done to yourself, cries at the sight of your ankles bound on the bed. Your deathbed. You died alone and sick, you died without him by your side, you died crying for him. But it still crossed in your hazy mind to tie yourself down so when he comes home he doesn't face the same fate you had.

His sobs echo among your inhuman groans, tears streaming down his cheeks as you relentlessly try to grab him even in your bound state. Hobie refuses to look at you any longer, refusing to remember you like this. His eyes flick down at your feet. There's medicine scattered along the floor and bedside table. And there's still water left in your glass. A bloody bandage is still tightly wrapped around your thigh. A testament that you fought to stay human until he gets home, that you tried to cure yourself even though you knew it would be futile.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asks in a broken voice, a voice he doesn't recognize as his own. “I could've stayed for you.” He knows that you didn't stop him because you didn't want him to see you slowly ebb away into a husk. That your death will break him apart right in front of you while he refuses to let you go. That his sorrowful face would be the last thing you ever saw. “I could've been here for you.”

You spared the both of you pain and suffering.

Hobie doesn't know what to do now, you're dead and gone. And there's no one left.

“I should've—” he inhales, slipping down from the wall to the floor. “I love you. I hope you knew that.”

You continue to slash at the air, chains rattling, bed frame pulling you away from him. Hobie sees a resemblance of you behind your foggy eyes, he can't help but think if you're still in there, that you're still fighting inside. He thinks you knew he loved you, he thinks that you might've felt the same after all those years with him. But that's all from his mind, all he wants now is to hear your voice again.

He just stays there on the floor, grief sinking him further down, eating him alive with every guttural growl you yell.

He shouldn't have left.

[totalswag]

new addition — DREW STARKEY

authors note first concept! more dadxdrew content will be posted. writing about drew as a dad is one of the most cutest thing ever. this is my first time writing on here and it’s been awhile since i’ve written something so it will be a little rusty. also, thank you to those who've sent in requests, i will get to them when i can. feedback is always appreciated <3

summary welcoming your first child into the world and announcing it to the rest of the world.

A month ago you welcomed a beautiful healthy baby girl into the world. Words cannot describe the feeling of becoming a parent for the time. Each day that goes by you cherish every moment with her.

The minute you laid eyes on her, you knew deep in your heart you were meant to be in that very moment. She makes you look at the world differently.

First thing family and friends said when they met Y/D/N for the first time was that she has Drew's features, especially his eye color. But, she is the perfect mix between you both.

When Y/D/N was first born you both posted a picture showing her in her bed next to your hospital bed without showing her face because privacy is huge for Drew and you. You want to protect her from the rest of the world, it's a scary place.

Earlier this week, it hit a month since Y/D/N was born. She continues to grow everyday and never fails to make us smile.

You were in the kitchen cleaning the dishes while Y/D/N was in her swing set sound asleep in the living room; her pacifier in her mouth with her blanket to keep her warm. She loves taking naps or relaxing in her swing set. She will get fussy if you take her out when she's comfortable.

Drew was in the other room on the phone with his manager about an upcoming movie with Daniel Graig that will be filmed in Europe which meant Drew will be gone for a while.

It will be hard not having him around for a month or two but trips to see him will be planned. He’s spoken to you about it when he first got the role.

"She looks so peaceful" you are startled by Drew's voice in the kitchen. He apologizes by kissing your shoulder, "didn't mean to scare you babe."

“You scared me,” you gasped while putting the last plate in the dishwasher, “how did the call go?” You ask turning your body around facing Drew as he looks through the pantry for a snack.

“It went pretty good. We spoke about the movie, apartments since I’ll be there for a while filming and when I fly to Europe '' he explains.

He could tell you were feeling upset about the whole thing. He walks towards you with open arms, you lean into his body from the gesture.

Drew and you went into the living room and sat on the couch to watch tv.

"I think we should show our little princess to the world," Drew says while staring at his baby girl in complete awe.

"I think so too," you shift in your seat, "she's sleeping so peacefully in her swing" you add.

"Grab your phone to take a picture," Drew says.

“Actually, I took a few pictures maybe half an hour ago before she fell asleep. Here let me show you” you grab your phone from the kitchen counter and sit back to your seat, showing him the pictures.

Drew picked a picture out he wanted to post and you agreed.

Y/D/N started getting fussy in her swing. Before you could get up, Drew insisted he grab her. He picked her up carefully placing her on his chest; she tried tilting her head back, staring up at her father as he looked at the tv.

She started to make little noises catching Drew's attention. He made eye contact with her which brought a small grin to her face.

"She grinned at me" he giggles then kissing the top of her head softly.

The bond between those two makes your heart melt. From the moment Drew laid eyes on Y/D/N, you could already tell their bond will be stronger as time goes on.

She is definitely a daddy's girl. She's so attached to him. She holds onto his chain when she lays on his chest when she's awake or sleeping.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and your mama" Drew softly whispers in her ear as he sways back and forth. 

You took a picture of them. They looked so cute.

Spending time together as a family is one of your favorite things to do because it holds memories. This is what you've always dreamed about as a little girl and you finally have it.

You ended up posting the picture tagging Drew with the caption.

A month later and you are already getting so big. Words cannot express the joy of being your mommy. You’ve changed mine and your dads life for the better <3

Once you set your phone down, your phone immediately started blowing up with a bunch of comments from family, friends, and fans.

Drew felt his phone buzzing from the coffee table. You look at him giving him a little chuckle, lifting your arms up, indicating you want to hold Y/D/N. Drew places her in your arms; you shift your body into a comfortable position. She looks at you then looks around her.

"Everyone keeps saying she looks just like me," he chuckles, scrolling through the comments. "Well she is your daughter" you add.

"She has your smile" he also adds, nudging your shoulder.

“Thank you for carrying our daughter for nine months and pushing her out when I knew it was painful. You are such a strong, beautiful, and wonderful woman that I love so much. I can’t wait to see where our future has in store for our family” Drew’s words have never failed to make you cry when he says things like this to you. He wraps his right arm around your lower waist, pulling you closer together while kissing your lips passionately.

“You are making me tear up over here Joseph” you chuckle, wiping a few tears from your face. “But, you are the one of the main reasons why our daughter is here so thank you babe” you add on because it’s true.

“I love you” you place your hand on-top of his.

“I know” he smiles, “and i love you too princess” he leans down kissing the top of Y/D/N head. She smiles at his gesture.

[stellarbit]

1000 Follower Celebration

I never thought much of my work so I've waited to do celebrate until 1000. For those who've followed and anyone who liked, commented, or reblogged anything, here is an event as thanks. Please know that this blog and those in this fandom mean so much to me. I read every tag, comment, and reblog and they make my day every time.

If you've followed me for awhile you'll know my writing can be slow and fickle. As a thank you I am committing to fulfilling the requests I receive between November 23rd - November 30th. After that I'll be closing my requests until I work through them.

Now let's get to it!!

Some quick rules

Pick up to 3 prompts.

I'll take individual character requests or something like "members of the 501st/Bad Batch reacting to" requests as well.

I will be doing requests for Clones/Star Wars first and then any previous fandoms I've written for.

I will not be taking anon requests for this event

Let me know what character(s) you want.

If you have them, please state SFW/NSFW preferences

If you have them, please state what gender preference you have.

I retain the right to not write prompts that are uncomfortable/extreme for me.

Tell me as many details as you want, it really helps! You can DM me too if you'd like to discuss.

If you've submitted previous request you'd still like done, feel free to send it again. Tumblr has vanished some requests and I've never seen them again

Please be patient, I waited until life calmed down to focus on this event but writing takes time.

Prompt List

My favorite prompts are the personal ones. If you've been going through anything and you'd like comfort, distraction, or in character advice from your favs, I'm here for you. It's been helpful for me and I'd love to do that for you. Be as specific as you want <3

I'll take continuation requests for previous fics. (I am working on Two Faces pt 3 and aim to finish the Hound drabbles from the past, so if its for them don't you worry, just be patient please.)

Tropes

And there was one bed~

Love at first sight

Hate at first sight

Fake dating

Locked in together

Aphrodisiac

Amnesia

Sharing body heat

Kissing as a distaction

Dying confession

X denying their feelings for Y until Y shows interest in someone else.

X teaching Y something

Carrying bridal style

Confessing during fight

Romance/Fluff

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“I didn’t know love until you.”

“You’d be easy to love.”

“You are my equal in every way.”

“I will never stop fighting for you.”

“If there was anyone meant for me, it was you.”

“You say you love me, but you don’t know me.” “Then let me.”

“They don’t compare to you. No one does/ever has.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you love me.”

“I could make you feel better.”

“Beautiful.”

Angst:

“We could’ve been us.”

“I don’t want your apology.”

“It would be easier if I didn’t know you.”

“You said you wouldn’t leave and then you did.”

“I feel like I’m falling apart.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to see me.”

“What is it about me that isn’t good enough?”

“At least I kept my promise.”

“Does he/she/they not know about me?”

“You look exactly the same.”

Funny&Misc

“You’re family.”

“Bite me.”

“What a pretty sight.”

“Get over it.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand me.” “I lied.”

“You’re bleeding.” “No shit.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” “No.”

“I thought I was alone.”

“Stop staring at me to distract me.” “Oh, I’m not trying to distract you.”

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.”

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a smile, my love?” “Oh, shut up.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something go so wrong so fast.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” “No.”

“What kind of dumb question is that?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

"it wouldn’t hurt you to smile you know." “it will.”

“I can do it myself.”

“What a tease.”

“I’m hilarious.” “You’re traumatized.” “Is there a difference?”

“All this sneaking around is going to get us into trouble.”

LETS DOOO IT THANK Y'ALL

[envies-writing-corner]

I Really Must Hurry!

Synopsis: With a partner who's similar to the white rabbit/stressed over tests or finals/has allegrophobia, the fear of being late/idk anymore

Includes: Riddle Rosehearts, Malleus Draconia

TW: poorly written Allegrophobia

Word Count: 0.4k

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

Riddle Rosehearts

It was rare to see the housewarden of Heartslabyul waiting in the mirror hall, especially during finals. The redhead usually already seated in his class studying away and refreshing his own mind.

The students of his dorm passing by looked on curiously as the prefect from Ramshackle hurried into the hall, pausing in front of Riddle as they lean over, hands on their knees, panting heavily as they check their watch.

"Oh... I'm so sorry! I'm late, I'm late..." The prefect gasped out, looking mortified yet apologetically at the male. It had been the third time this week that they had left Riddle waiting, already awaiting the usual lecture of how they should've tried harder to be on time, or to not have lost track of time. Instead, the housewarden although, yes, was upset about being kept waiting, smiled at you before helping you stand and walking towards your shared class.

Maybe the lecture on punctuality could wait until after your finals, besides you seemed really upset this time. Just... Don't let it happen again.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus watched the prefect with a soft smile, admiring your features as you continuously checked you watch between study questions. It was amusing to him, seeing the prefect shuffling between piles of papers as they constantly watched the clock. It was beginning to be slightly worrying though, for his beloved had been in this state for nearly two hours now.

"Child of man, you seem stressed." The fae's voice had startled you out of your thoughts, face ablaze as you look up at the male, hesitantly nodding before sighing as your focus goes back to the note sheets and study guide.

"I only have so much time before this quiz and I just want to be prepared... The last thing I'd want is to be late and fail." You softly explained, chest clenching tightly at the thought of being embarrassed in front of your class for arriving late, not really paying too much attention to the conversation as you check the time once more.

Malleus frowned as he gently took hold of your hand, removing your watch and keeping it near him instead. You were about to protest before the fae shook his head, promising to make sure to let you know the time after every 15 minutes, just happy to help his partner and hoping to relieve at least a bit of weight from their shoulders.

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

Author's Note: Hi everyone, it's been a while since you've probably seen from me. Life has been hectic recently on top of lack of motivation and writers block. I'm slowly getting back into writing again so please be patient with me. And for those who've requested in the past, those drafts are still coming along, but have lack of care in what is currently written so it'll take a bit longer for me to get those out. I thank you for your patience in this time and Happy New Year everyone!!!

[seelestia]

「 # REVERIES IN CUPS! 」

ANNOUNCING the arrival of a new section on the bakery's menu: drinks! gone are the days where you leave through our front door without something to soothe your parched throat. feel free to stop by and take a look at our new additions! { sfw alphabet event }

[ 📫 . . . orders closed! ] from May 14 (GMT+8) till May 20 (GMT+8). The end date may be subject to change depending on circumstances.

⟡ ─ ・・“TELL US MORE!” (info)

Welcome to Reveries In Cups! — a SFW alphabet event where you pick an alphabet letter and pair it with a character! But to play along with the theme, there are tiny changes. . .

Each alphabet letter has its own assigned drink in the event menu and one letter = 1 drink. For the characters, one character = 1 pastry and you can choose from either: genshin or hsr.

There is a limit for how many drinks and seats you can order! So, I've prepared three packages you can choose: [ 1 or 2 drinks with 1 pastry ], [ 2 drinks with 2 pastries ] and [ 1 drink with 3 pastries ]. These are the only packages applicable.

Completed orders will be posted after the bakery's mailbox has been closed (or in other words, after the end date passes). There might be exceptions if the baker changes their mind!

⟡ ─ ・・“HOW TO ORDER?” (order etiquette)

Before proceeding, please check whether we’re still receiving orders! Orders that are sent after the closing date will be ignored.

To place an order: state the package you desire out of the three mentioned earlier, the names of your drinks, and the characters you bought pastries for.

It doesn't have to be in order as long as your ask is complete with the details. If it helps, an example would be: “can i get 1 drink with 1 pastry? i'd like a cup of lost twilight and one pastry for neuvillette, please. thank you!”

( EXTRA: If you can include a thank you in your order, it will make my day! )

You may find the event menu here and a full list of characters I write for here if you're unsure. With that said, I'm looking forward to your orders!

⟡ ─ ・・“ANYTHING ELSE?” (reminders)

Only orders placed through my askbox will be accepted. If you place an order through a reblog or a comment, it is considered invalid.

Separate the characters accordingly based on what fandom they're from! I prefer keeping my fandoms in separate posts, so only one fandom per order, thank you.

Please use an applicable package. Other types of packages like [ 3 drinks with 2 pastries ] or [ 2 drinks with 3 pastries ] will not be accepted. This is to prevent me from getting writing burnout, so I hope you understand.

Do not rush or pressure me. Be mindful that your order’s size works in tandem with the time it'll take for me to write it. For example, an order with the [ 1 with 3 ] package might take longer than a [ 1 with 1 ].

Do not submit more than one order per person. I cannot dictate this so this is solely dependent on your moral compass - but I'd like to give everyone a fair chance at requesting.

Lastly, if you're familiar with how I like to do my events . . . please include the keyword: macaron in your ask somewhere. This helps me differentiate between those who've read this far and those who haven't! Orders without this keyword will be promptly declined.

— thank you for reading! all matters related to this event will be tagged as [ #reveriesincups ]. boosts will be greatly appreciated! ‹3

[starleska]

If you're still open for requests, I was wondering if you had any thoughts or headcanons about what wally would be like when he's angry?

ooooh, this is a spicy request - i like it a lot 😈

i'm having a rough day and this felt cathartic, so thank you for sending this ask;;; i know there's a lot of demand for Wally with a bit of a dark side, and a touch more power...i hope this feeds those of you with that particular hunger 😉

content warnings for anger, violence, and...well, who knows what he did to that tourist?

Angry!Wally Darling headcanons

💢 Wally is rarely provoked to anger, but when he is, it's the chilling sort. it's unsettling, Wally's anger - he doesn't become violent, defensive, or raise his voice. instead, it's a noticeable evaporation of Wally's warmth that clues you in to his upset: like a hole cleaved clean through the sun. when Wally is angry with someone, you can see it in the way he behaves towards them - cordial, surface-level interactions far removed from his usual exuberance and affection. this is not a manipulative behaviour, nor does it appear to be a conscious one. the very existence of Wally's acceptable politeness in place of open-armed delight is enough to send shivers down anyone's spine.

💢 when Wally's very angry, he has a tendency to smile and laugh. Wally's anger is so infrequent that this particular trait is rarely seen, but when it is, it's quite frightening. the laughter is some sort of nervous energy on Wally's part: a body so unused to holding anger that it must behave in a contradictory fashion, finding a healthy release for all that adrenaline. even from a distance, you're sure to be disturbed. Wally's smile is incorrect - too large and strained, the physical manifestation of holding back a reaction far more explosive. likewise, Wally's angry laugh is not the usual, affable sound of a man pleasantly charmed. this laugh is punctuated harshly, each monotone syllable hitting like a hard rap on a door. it's thought by Wally's friends that his smiling and laughing is a desperate attempt to rectify his livid state. he isn't supposed to be angry, and that needs to be fixed.

💢 Wally has been known to...deal with...unsavoury characters who've pushed him beyond his limits - especially if they target his friends. it's in Wally's nature to be friendly and complimentary - even mild chastising is something he finds uncomfortable. so, what does Wally do when confronted with an excessively rude, aggressive, or even violent person? that is the eternal mystery to yourself and your neighbours, who have only witnessed this response once before:

a mouthy tourist to the Neighbourhood decided to pick a fight with Howdy Pillar over a made-up dispute, essentially attempting daylight robbery of his store. Wally, ever the diplomat, quickly intervened, and attempted to diffuse the situation with calming words. however, the tourist was having none of it, swearing and cursing and calling Wally names that no one had ever even thought in the Neighbourhood, let alone said. the altercation quickly turned physical, and the tourist directed his anger towards Howdy - but he never got the chance to land his punch.

Wally, his eyes as wide open as they can go, stared down the tourist, whose trembling fist halted just inches away from Howdy's face. Wally smirked, and said, his voice flat and glib, "Oh, friend. You shouldn't have done that."

as easily as moving a mannequin, Wally pushes down the tourist's arm and grabs him by the elbow. the tourist's mouth is open in an awful snarl, yet his eyes - fixed, staring ahead - shiver violently, his pupils unfocused and manic.

you, Howdy, and the rest of your gathered neighbours watched as Wally led the tourist from Howdy's store, and into the mouth of Home.

once he stepped over the threshold, the tourist was never seen again. hope you enjoyed this one 🥰

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Fifteen + Epilogue.

I am so sorry this took so many months to deliver on, besties, but better late than never, huh? Big thanks to all of you who've enjoyed the story, I've been nothing short of thrilled over how well it's been received.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,918

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

“Dolly! C’mon, up and at ‘em!” 

The rapid drumming of hands upon her bedroom door preceded Greta’s entrance, Emily stirring groggily, awoken from a bizarre dream that involved her turning up at the speakeasy to find Angelo and Donny furiously juicing hundreds of oranges. She had no idea what that meant, if anything at all, but it had been a hilarious sight, the two gangsters donned in aprons, complete with hair nets, juicing away surrounded by cases packed with the small, dimpled fruits.  

“What time is it?” she muttered, rubbing her face sleepily. 

“Seven! The exact time you told me to wake you. I’ve got the maid bringing our breakfast up, we’re sequestering up here. Maggie is on her way, come on! Up!” 

Who needed a drill sergeant when you had Greta Bianchi?  

Throwing the covers off herself, Emily sorely regretted her request to be awoken so early, but in part that was all Greta’s fault, too, stating that they’d need a good four hours to get themselves ready.  

“Okay, so I’ll do Maggie’s hair first, then Milania’s, then yours and then mine. We need to allow plenty of time to do makeup, and we want an hour to be nice and relaxed first before the chaos of the day begins to swirl.” 

To Emily’s bleary eyes, that chaos was already in full tornado, powered by Greta herself. And then Maggie.  

“Mornin’, darl! You gotta get a wash now while the bathroom is free. I’ve told ya guy to stay the hell where he is. Fuckin’ love it, gettin’ to boss my boss around now I ain’t in work mode!” she grinned, greeting her with a big kiss to her cheek.  

With everything continuing to whirl around her, she padded out of her bedroom to go and wash, disturbed only once by Alessio running in to hug her legs and then take a pee while she cleaned her teeth. While he was there, she helped get him washed, transporting him back down the hallway and into the arms of Luca’s mother, who was of course over from England for the wedding.  

A small fuss arose, Audrey gently reprimanding her grandson while Emily made a break for freedom, telling him he could come and sit with her again once he was ready. The bargain worked, Alessio going somewhat happily with his grandmother while Emily returned to the bedroom, where the maid was in the middle of pouring out coffee while Greta buttered toast.  

“So, sugar. How are those nerves, huh?” Maggie asked, taking a bite out of one of those slices of toast as they sat down.  

“Non-existent,” she revealed, smiling happily. “I’m marrying the love of my life, there’s nothing to feel nervous about really.” 

Her friend smiled, a beaming grin of pride. “Ain’t you just the cutest, darl. Bet you never thought this was where you’d end up, huh?” 

God, no. She’d arrived in all their lives as little Emily Jayne Mortensen, the lost waif from San Francisco, and here she was, about the marry the most powerful man within the New York underworld. Nothing could have foretold this outcome.  

The morning seemed to breeze by in a whirl of getting ready, Emily helped into her gown by her friends, all the while feeling the glaring eyes of Milania at her back. Adjusting the lace at the front of her dress, her heart suddenly skipped, her eyes widening. 

“Oh god, what is that?” 

Greta frowned, not able to immediately see anything. “What’s what, dolly?” 

“Oh boy, I see it,” Maggie gasped, touching a finger to the dark mark upon her dress, sniffing. “It’s your perfume oil, sugar.” 

“Oh, heck!” she cried, her insides beginning to spin into a tizz. Not today, not her wedding day having a hitch of a very noticeable stain on her dress. “I must’ve gotten some on my hands, but I don’t smell it on them. How on earth did it get there?” 

“Well, while you mull it over, I’ll go grab some club soda, see if we can dab it out with a cloth.” Off Maggie rushed, leaving Emily standing there resting a hand to her forehead, Greta quick to light her a cigarette she took with thanks. It was while she was placing her golden case down on the dresser again that she noticed it in the mirror, the smug smirk of the teenage girl sitting across the other side of the room.  

“Young lady, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?” Greta questioned, straightening and resting her hands to her hips. 

Milania shrugged, examining her nails. “I have no idea what you mean. I’m going to go wait downstairs. I’ll tell everyone you might be late, step mommy dearest.”  

Of course, it wouldn’t be out of the realms of imagination to consider sabotage. After all, Emily only ever applied her perfume oil with the elegant glass bottle stopper; getting it onto her hands was a slim chance.  

“Now, you listen here,” Greta began, Milania rolling her eyes before she sauntered from the room, her start to go after her halted by Emily’s soft grasp upon her forearm. 

“No, darling. Not now. She’s looking for a rise, I’m not going to give her one. She’s just looking to cause trouble in any way she can, and I shan’t grant her that wish on my wedding day.” 

Greta couldn’t believe her composure there, but then again Emily was always the serene one. “Well, alright, dolly. If you insist.” 

Maggie arrived back with cloths and a bottle of club soda, as well as a little handful of assorted flowers. “Plan B, in case I can’t get the stain out. I’ll fix together a little corsage and hide it.” 

She’d never have thought to do that. “Oh, that’s a good idea!” 

“See?” she quipped, her red lips curling into a grin. “I ain’t just big tits, a smart yap and pretty face.” 

“But those count for so much, too,” Emily said with a little wink, trying hard to keep things light when inside, her tummy was rolling over. It had affected her, her soon-to-be stepdaughter exacting her spite in such a way, and on this, the happiest day of her life. She couldn’t dwell on it, though, lest become a nervous wreck.  

With the stain not moving much from Maggie’s efforts, plan B was put into motion, the barmaid taking one of her long, slim brooches and threading each flower through the back of the pin, affixing it with the front against her breast so the little cluster of flowers sat forward, hiding the stain completely.  

“There we go! Gotcha lookin’ all perfect, sweetie pie. Right, shall we get you married next?”  

Emily hugged her gently, giving a little air kiss save dotting her cheek with lipstick. “Oh, for sure!” 

A few other little details were attended to, the trio heading down the stairs once the bride was ready, Angelo waiting at the bottom for her, smiling with pride. 

“Look at ya, toots,” he grinned, holding out his arm, “You look beautiful. He ain’t gonna know what’s hit him, I’m tellin’ ya!” With no father in her life, she had asked him to give her away, Angelo beyond honoured at her request, accepting immediately. Leading her through the lounge, the swirl of violins and a cello began playing the wedding march, Greta and Maggie stepping out first down the flower line aisle.  

Luca didn’t turn around until Emily was halfway up, standing with his sons whom he’d adorably chosen as his best men, his face alight with pride to see the vision in white walking towards him. He’d first met her in tattered, white lace, and now here she was, pristine, radiant, about to become his wife.  

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy. Or lucky.  

Before their family and friends, they recited their vows, Emily having her tears of happiness wiped away by Luca’s thumb as she became a little choked by emotion, barely able to believe where her life had led her. She still felt like the dirt-poor little waif from San Francisco, and there she was, marrying a man of great power and wealth, in the grounds of their upstate mansion. The truth was, Luca could have been just as impoverished as she once was, and she’d love him just as much. 

They were pronounced man and wife to huge, rousing cheer, exchanging a kiss, Emily’s brand-new stepsons bursting with glee as they hugged her. Milania, predictably yet lamentably, remained in her seat with a face like thunder. The rest of the day swirled so rapidly that neither had time to notice her sour mood, from posing for photographs down by the lake and around the grounds, to sitting down to eat before drinking and dancing took precedence, nobody paid much attention to Milania at all. 

That wasn’t to say she wasn’t noticed, though. 

Moving to the parlour at the front of the vast homestead, it was the one place in the house that Milania still felt the lingering presence of her mother, since Filomena had been the one to decorate it. Sumptuous, deep oranges and reds complimented the dark oak furniture, the young girl sighing as she smoothed her hand down one of the heavy drapes. God, how she missed her.  

“Hey babydoll.”  

Turning, she saw Jakie Esposito enter the room, eldest son of Carmine Esposito, an associate of her fathers from the city. In truth, he was the kind of young man she should have set her sights upon for future marriage, yet there’d always been something about him she’d never really liked, finding him a little creepy.  

“Hi, Jakie. Listen, not to be rude, but I just wanna be alone, okay?” she began, leaning back against the end of the deep red chaise. “I’m not in the mood for company.” 

“Yeah?” He lifted his chin, looking like her request didn’t apply to him, or rather, like it shouldn’t apply to him. “Well, bein’ alone with you is exactly what I was lookin’ for, sugar pie.” 

Narrowing her eyes, she stormed towards the door, swerving him. “I’m damned tired of having people not listen to me!”  

“Oh, I hear ya, Milania,” he spoke, reaching to grab her arm and pull her back against his chest, ensnaring her in his long-limbed grasp. “I hear you playin’ hard to get. Don’t you be teasing me, sweetie. You know you want it.” 

She was aghast, and suddenly quite scared. “What I want is to be left alone, so leave me!” She tried to pull herself free, a struggle unfolding, Jakie very reluctant to give up his claim. Oh, this was great. First her father had married a woman she couldn’t stand, and now she was having to fend off being groped. It was not Milania Changretta’s day. Speaking of that woman she so loathed, though, who just happened to be passing the parlour right at that moment... 

“What in the world is going on in here?” she cried, coming in through the open door after hearing the commotion. “Get your hands off of her!” 

“Hey, hey, we’re just havin’ fun!” he protested, Emily’s jaw dropping further at his audacity. 

“Fun? Oh, because girls who are having fun are really pulling that hard to free themselves, aren’t they? Let her go right now, you little swine! Do not try me here, Jakie!” 

“Try you?” he scoffed, snickering as Milania finally wrenched herself away from him, scuttling backwards. “And who are you to try?” 

“Who am I?” she spluttered, her eyes narrowing as she picked up a fire poker, approaching him at speed to jam it beneath his chin as she backed him against the wall. She thanked god for sending her the courage she needed in that moment, because the boy needed to hear it, needed to heed too, exactly who she was.  

“I’m the wife of the biggest mafia boss in New York, that’s who I am. But of course, since you’re at my goddamned wedding and your father is an associate of my husband, you should understand that already. Or did you think that the association in question meant you have special privileges? Trust me, kid, they don’t extend to you putting your hands on my daughter. Ever.” 

The boy gulped, the gravitas of his lecherous faux pas hitting him, Emily continuing. “Now, if you swear to me that this was a onetime incident, a huge mistake on your part and offer a sincere apology to Milania, I won’t tell Luca what you did and we move on. If you don’t, my husband will rain hellfire down upon you. Got it?” 

“Yeah,” Jakie breathed, his forehead beading with sweat, “yeah, Mrs. Changretta. I get it.” He then turned to Milania, who folded her arms, cocking her head with a smirk. “I’m sorry, I’ll never treat you like that again.”  

“Damned right, you won’t,” she spoke, lifting her chin, her confidence restored.  

Emily lowered the poker, the boy going to walk away. “Oh, and just one more thing, Jakie.” Bringing the lowered poker up between his legs, she hit him straight in the balls with it, the kid grunting as he doubled over. “That goes for any other girls, too. I’ve got my eye on you.”  

He straightened as best he could, hobbling out of the room, Emily placing the poker back beside the fireplace, impressed as hell with her display of mettle. On the inside, she felt jitters, but she’d be damned before letting them show. She then turned to Milania, expecting a likely tirade. “I know things between us aren’t good, honey, and I know you’re probably mad as hell at me for calling you my daughter, but...” 

Her sentence was cut off when the girl flew into her arms, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m really, really sorry! Thank you, for looking after me just then, with him.” Sobbing, she paused a moment. “Thank you for looking after me all the time, too.” 

Her fire in the situation, the ferocity of her maternal instincts to protect had surprised her greatly, but truly, the greatest surprise of all was having her stepdaughter finally drop the icy divide she’d been wedging between them for months. “Of course, love. We’re family, and I take that very seriously. There’s no way he’s behaving like such a pig on my watch, no way at all.”  

“I know, but I’ve been so awful to you,” she sniffed, Emily drying her eyes with her fingertips. “And you really love me, love us, don’t you?” 

She smiled, cocking her head. “Took you long enough to notice, huh?” 

Laughter sounded then, from them both. “I... yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Shucks, I feel so bad. I ruined your dress and all, spoke to you like you were trash. I don’t know why either. You’ve always been so kind to us all.” 

Steering her to the chaise, they took a seat, Emily grasping her hands. “Because you saw me taking the place your mom used to occupy, and you didn’t like it. I can’t blame you for that, honey. Divorce is probably toughest on the children, seeing their family fracture. Then of course, the unthinkable that happened to you all, losing your mommy. I don’t ever want to replace her, you know. Just be here for you and love you as your stepmom.” 

Nodding, Milania rested her head to her shoulder, Emily wrapping an arm around her. “Thank you. Again.” 

“You’re welcome,” she whispered, kissing her forehead. “Again.” 

Their soft chuckles sounded through the silence of the room, Milania taking a few minutes to compose herself before they left, arm in arm. Heading back through to the throngs of people, Luca could barely believe his eyes when he took them in, his smile broadening as he sank his drink and approached his girls. 

“Now, I’m telling ya, this is a sight I’ve been waitin’ on,” he spoke warmly, reaching to stroke Milania’s cheek with the back of his finger, watching his daughter smile shyly as she rested her head against her stepmother’s shoulder. “Why the change of heart?” 

Milania looked up at Emily before her eyes found her fathers, shrugging a little. “Because Em is the best.”  

God, she wasn’t wrong. Folding an arm around them both, with elegant piano music playing, the three began to dance together, swaying gently, Luca swallowing the massive lump that stuck like a small crab apple in the side of his throat. Life just kept on getting more beautiful, and while he wasn’t sure whether he – with his darkness and many misdeeds – truly deserved it on a pure level, he knew his wife and daughter did. 

Emily rested her head to his chest, reaching to stroke Milania’s cheek, mouthing ‘I love you’, having the girl repeat those same three words to her, a little happy tear trickling down her cheek as she looked over to where Greta nudged Angelo with her elbow, pointing to the happy scene. They both raised their champagne glasses, smiling widely. 

If anything was worth a toast, truly, it was having her family whole.  

“Betcha real relieved that all came up roses there, aintcha, boss?” Angelo spoke a time later, he and Luca standing to the side of the room, watching Emily, Milania and his boys all dancing together in a circle, their hands joining them. 

He laughed for a moment at little Alessio trying to keep up, and Guiseppe with his two left feet. “I am, yeah. Couldn’t be happier with how it’s all played out.”  

Standing there observing such a warming sight, he silently thanked god again for what must’ve been the thousandth time for sending Emily into his life, a woman of such strength, sweetness and grace. He truly couldn’t have married a better woman; one he looked forward to spending the rest of his life with.  

As for Emily herself, as she twirled and laughed with her children, her old life felt a thousand years behind her. Gone were the days of scratching around in poverty, a slave to a drunken mother who barely knew she existed, then used a tool to make money from with her card counting skills when she misguidedly thought she’d at last found her freedom. This was her life now. Luca, the children, the baby she’d birth early the following year, and her wonderful friends. 

It was with further happy tears as she realised it; her life was finally all she’d ever dreamed it would be. 

Epilogue 

The house seemed oddly quiet, given the gravitas of what had happened there on that freezing cold February morning, Greta and Maggie bustling, Luca sinking whiskey in the lounge while in the bedroom, his wife battled to bring the newest member of the family into the world.  

Ivy Elizabeth Changretta had finally made her appearance a week late on February 17th, 1925, weighing a very healthy eight pounds and six ounces, her screams filling the apartment as outside, the snow had poured down. Now it was just the family, the elder children pacified themselves, Emily slept, and Luca stood at the window with his tiny daughter contentedly sleeping in his arms.  

“I was sure you were gonna be a boy, kid,” he spoke, bouncing her when she awoke and began to mildly fuss. “I guess it evens the balance a little, though, don’t it? Three fellas and three dames. Kinda perfect if you look at it like that.”  

“Daddy, I made some lunch if you’re hungry? It’s just sandwiches. We’re waiting on the grocery delivery, but I called them up and they said it’s all backing up right now because of all the orders they have coming in,” Milania suddenly spoke from the doorway, coming to his side, beaming at her brand-new sister. 

“You’re a good girl,” he replied, kissing her head and passing Ivy into her arms. “I’ll call ‘em back and tell ‘em there’s fifty bucks in it for ‘em if they hurry their asses up. You watch your sister for me.”  

Milania beamed, holding the tiny baby carefully. “She’s so pretty. She looks just like mama Em.” 

She’d taken them both very much by surprise at that, the first time she’d referred to Emily as such, Luca touched, his wife bursting into tears. Even more so when the boys swiftly began referring to her as that, too. Mama Em, or sometimes just mama; it was definitely preferrable to some of the names Milania had reserved for her stepmother in the past.  

While her father went out to the telephone, Milania cradled her sister, thinking how she couldn’t wait until she was a few years older and could set herself the same goal; meet a nice guy, start a family. She had her sights set firstly on getting herself a good job, wanting to go to college and study fashion, something Emily was very keenly encouraging, even if her father wasn’t quite so on board. He could be a little antiquated in his thinking at times, but she knew he’d never stop her if it made her happy. 

Emily would never allow that to happen for one thing.  

When the baby began to fuss more than she could soothe, Milania figured she was probably hungry, taking her through to the bedroom. 

“Sorry, mama,” she apologised, Emily stirring and stretching as she sat up carefully. “I think she’s hungry.” 

“I think you’re right, honey.” Taking Ivy, she slipped her nightdress down, the baby latching immediately, smiling as Milania stroked her little wisps of dark hair softly with her finger. “Did our grocery delivery arrive yet?” 

“No, but daddy is on the telephone with them, greasing their palms to get it here sooner rather than later,” she spoke, “and if you’re hungry, I made sandwiches. Baked the bread myself. It’s real easy when you know how.” 

Indeed, for it had been Emily to teach her. “You’re an angel, that’d be great. Tell you what, I’ll get little one here fed and then come join you all in the lounge. Your dad will likely try and shoo me back in here, but I’ve slept a good four hours. I want to be with my family.” 

True to her prediction, as soon as she appeared in the lounge, placing Ivy into her bassinette, Luca did attempt to try and convince her that she should be resting in bed.  

“Ya just gave birth seven hours ago, doll. You need your rest.” 

She shrugged lightly, pulling her silky down around herself a little tighter. “I can rest on the couch.”  

At that, Milania had raced to fluff pillows, running to the linen cupboard and fetching a big blanket, too, helping her stepmother get comfortable and wheeling the bassinette over to the side of the couch. She then dutifully fetched some sandwiches and a cup of tea for her, sitting down and gently raising Emily’s feet to rest in her lap, tucking the blanket beneath them.  

She truly had straightened out to become nothing short of a wonderful young girl, as her parents always hoped that she would. 

Looking around the room, bathed in the soft blow from the lights and the amber hue of the roaring fire, Emily might have been tired, but god, she was so content. Just her, a loving husband, and four gorgeous children.  

It was then that it truly hit her; she wasn’t nobody’s girl any longer. Now, she was theirs. 

The End. 

[thewulf]

Time is a Gift || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Can I request a Bradley x Reader where they are really good friends (can be stationed anywhere idc) and reader just lost a really important family member to her (mom/dad/brother/sister) and only Bradley really knows her pain of losing somebody you love so young... Read Rest Here

A/N: Very sad but sweet. Goes out to those who've lost somebody close too soon. Thank you for the request!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 2.7k +

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be here for the rest of your life. You still had so much to learn from her. She was supposed to be there for your wedding, if that was ever going to happen, for the birth of your children. She was supposed to be the world’s best grandma. But she never even got the chance.

 An aneurysm took her from the world two weeks ago. Your life changed entirely in those two weeks since you got the dreaded call.

One night you hung the phone up with an “I love you.” Then the next morning you got the call from your dad. She was gone. Just like that. At least it was painless. At least it was in her sleep. That’s the only thing that gave you any sort of solace. She didn’t suffer. But she was gone. Your mom. Momma. Mommy. Your rock. Just gone. Off into the night and never coming home.

Sure, you’d had your blow out fights with her when you were younger. But as you got older you got closer with her. She was your best friend. Your biggest cheerleader. Your number one confidant. The person you went to when you needed just about anything. Just gone. Poof. Like the wind.

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Merely going through the motions. A zombie of your former self. You didn’t even remember the funeral. You didn’t remember hugging your brother goodbye at the airport. You didn’t remember a damn thing that first week. Fragile. Broken. A shell of your former self.

Your dad dropped you off back in San Diego after the two weeks of leave you’ve been given. It all felt so pointless. So helpless. Your favorite thing in the world, flying, didn’t even spark an interest. The thought of going back to work in a few days made you physically ill. You couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t a point. This devastation of the reality of the situation hit you the hardest. She’d never got to meet the man you’d marry (or so you thought). She was robbed of so much. Her life cut impossibly short.

You and Bradley were normally tied at the hip. You all but ignored him for the last two weeks. Only giving him a few responses in your absence. It was hard to feel bad. It was hard to feel anything. It’s like she took a chunk of your soul when she departed the earth.

Bradley couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand not being able to talk to you. Talk you through it. He knew how it all felt. He knew better than anybody what it was like. His mom passed not that long ago. He could help you. But you wouldn’t take it. You refused it. Only giving him enough to know you were fucking alive.

He’d seen you at the funeral. But you were just a ghost of your former yourself. A body without it’s host. Something going through the motions. He’d tried in the small amount of time he got with you. It wasn’t enough. You were too far gone to hear anybody at that point.

He knew you were coming back today. When you didn’t answer his text, then the phone call, then another text he knew what he needed to do. He had to come to you. As your best friend. As the man who loved you more than anything in the world. As the man who was so enamored with you he couldn’t possibly imagine a life without you in it. Without your bright smile that made your eyes crinkle up in the corners. Without your infectious laughs that’d bring any sane man down to his knees. You’d helped him as much as he hoped he could help you. If you’d let him in.

He knocked on your door only to be met with utter silence. You had to be back though. Your car was moved into the driveway. You were home and you were isolating yourself. It broke his heart thinking how lost you must’ve been. Lost without somebody to guide you through the unimaginable.

The tears dried up after a week of crying. But the numbness… the numbness didn’t ever seem to fade. Not even when you slept. It only seemed to grow stronger. Take your over inch by inch day after day. You’d screamed and cried and let it all out, but she was still gone. You would never be able to talk to her again. Get her advice on a boy or an outfit. You’d never be able to cry into her shoulder when you got your heart broken again. She just didn’t exist anymore.

You heard the knocking. Oh, you heard it loud and clear. But you couldn’t get up. The bed was swallowing you, consuming your entirety. Not that you were upset about it. You wanted it to. What was the point? She was stripped right from you. A sick twist of fate.

You also heard the lock click open. The front door opened and closed softly. It was Bradley. You could tell just by the steps he took. By the sounds he made. He’d always had a spare key. For as long as you’d lived close to him he had a key to yours and you to his. For emergencies of course.

“Y/N?” He called from down the hall. Even if you wanted to there was no sound that came from your mouth. You pulled the comforter over your head. Maybe he wouldn’t see you. Maybe.

It didn’t work. He’d spotted you almost instantly. Because he was Bradley.

“Y/N?” It was a whisper now. He didn’t turn the light on as he walked into your bedroom. His heart shattering as he inched closer. He pulled the comforter down only to see your sallow face. Had you been eating? Were you even taking care of yourself?

“Hey, sweetheart.” He whispered bringing a comforting hand to your head. Softly, he brushed the tangled hair out of your face. Face contorting seeing you so… broken. You were usually so polished and poised. A brilliant smile always adorning your precious face. He was a sucker. A sucker so hopelessly in love it hurt. Seeing you like this made his sucker heart implode in itself.

You still hadn’t said a word. It made him more than nervous. He walked to the other side of the bed taking a seat in the spot next to you, “I’m here Y/N. I’m here.” He watched as you slowly rolled yourself to face him. Flicking your eyes up to his more than concerned face. It made you feel something. Something for the first time in two fucking weeks.

“Bradley…” You managed to croak out after not speaking for what felt like two weeks. The conversations were kept short between you and your grieving father.

His eyes softened even more as he witnessed the tears falling down your face, “Hey, I’m here.”

“I’m so tired.” The tears the seemed to have dried up were now freely falling from your face once again. He’d brough you back from the dead just by being there for you.

He nodded scooting a bit closer. Brushing the tears out of your face with his thumbs, “I know. Time doesn’t heal all wounds Y/N. You’ll miss her every damn day. Some days more than others. But there is a gift time gives us.” Gently, he palmed your chin to look in his direction, “Time softens the pain and blurs the painful memories.”

More tears raced down your cheek. Bradley opened the floodgate that seemed to be stuck closed. Your heart ached for him. Not even realizing how much you’d shut him out over the last few weeks. It hit you how bad you needed him right then and there as he inched his was closer and closer towards you.

He knew it too. He saw the flash come across your face. He saw the way your eyes downturned. He knew you through and through, “Come here.” He sat up on the bed so you could cuddle into him. Knowing exactly what you needed in that moment.

Immediately you pushed the comforter aside in favor of him, “Bradley.” A sob escaped your throat as you clung to his chest. Clung to something that was alive and breathing.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He ran a few fingers through your hair after he pulled you all the way into his lap squeezing you tight. You were falling apart right in front of him. He had to be strong for you. Had to be the rock that was suddenly take from you.

“It hurts.” Your voice raised an octave. You felt like a six your old child having a meltdown. Your eyes were bloodshot from the salty tears that sprung back to life. Your nose was running like a faucet. You felt like you couldn’t breathe from the sobs that wracked your chest. You felt broken. Broken beyond repair. Not even sure if Bradley could help.

“Shh.” He pulled your head into the crevice of his neck and rocked you back and forth in his arms, “Remember that summer that was hotter than beyond belief? God what was that? Twenty some odd years ago now?” He knew he had to get you thinking about something else. Pull your pretty little head out of the deep dark spiral it was in.

You nodded into him. You were eight and he was ten. Your family had just moved in across the street the winter prior. Your parents had tried to get the two of you to play but neither of you were having it. Afterall girls had cooties and boys were disgusting. That was until you were playing outside one day. You’d caught a rogue football with ease. Bradley invited you to join him and some of his friends. Thank God you did because the rest was history.

“It was so hot. Over 100 degrees and mom wouldn’t let me come inside.” He smiled remembering how he felt like she was torturing him.

You hummed letting his talking take over, letting it completely distract you from reality. It felt good to be cuddled up in his arms. Like you were meant to be there.

“And your mom let me come inside for a freeze pop. A blue one.” Bradley grinned remembering. He always thought it was so funny how your brain held onto the seemingly most random memories. Little did he know why his brain held onto it. To help you right now. He understood why all the sudden.

“I remember thinking how lucky I was then. To have found you as a friend. Your mom treated me like her own son. I’d never felt so loved by somebody other than my mom.” He squeezed you just a bit tighter recalling that memory so vividly.

It made you smile. Somehow someway he’d done it. But then the tears started flowing again. Both happy and sad as you relished the memory. Happy you’d gotten to experience it but so sad you’d never get to make new ones with her.

“What is it?” He asked seeing the tears break free once more.

You sniffled for a moment trying to find the will to talk, “Bradley…” Another sob escaped you as you kept grabbing at his shirt. Feeling the material fist between your palms. It kept you grounded as you tried to come back to life.

“You can talk. You can cry. You can scream. You can punch me for all I care Y/N. Let it out sweetheart. I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you through it all.” He kept running his hand through your hair. He knew how much it normally soothed you just hoping it’d help a bit.

You held onto him. Held onto him like your life was dependent on it, “I wish it was me instead of her.”

He shook his head quickly before pulling you back. Looking you right in the eye and pleading with you, “Please don’t ever say that again. Please Y/N. You have to know how loved you are. How cherished you are by everyone you meet. You’re a light and we can’t live without you.” He paused a moment before adding, “I can’t live without you.”

It brought on another fresh set of tears. Ones you couldn’t pinpoint the emotions of. A mix of love, anguish, hurt, comfort, and everything in between seemed to roll down your cheeks once more. You’d wished you could stop. It never seemed like this would end. The world seemed to be showing you a much darker place lately.

He wrapped you back up. The worst is that he knew exactly how you felt. How your world was falling apart. Your person ripped fresh away from you. He wished he could take all the pain away from you. He wished and prayed. It wasn’t fair. But then again, when was it?

“I love you.” He whispered as he continued rocking you back and forth in his arms, “You are so adored.” He continued holding you.

“I’m so sorry.” You sounded a mess as you buried your face in his chest. You didn’t really wish your time on earth to be cut short. It was the sadness talking through you. Your mom would be so pissed you’d even say that.

He brought his hand up to cradle the side of your face into his chest. Almost as if you were a newborn baby. The overwhelming sense of comfort it brought on you was not lost. He was more than a best friend and you knew it. He knew it. But neither of you did anything about it. Comfortable in the state the two of you operated in. Nearly lovers but not quite. Tiptoeing on an invisible line.

“It’s okay.” He held you so close you found solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Slow and steady, here to calm you. Everything about him seemed to relax you just a bit. He allowed you to breakdown so fully in front of him. He was prepared and ready to pick up the crumbling pieces of the delicately built house that was now toppling down on top of you. He was ready though. Ready to be there for you. Always waiting in the wings ready to catch you if you needed it.

“Time is a curse.” He kissed the top of your forehead as he’d done hundreds of times, “Time is a gift. A beautiful gift.” He let you soak that in before continuing. He wanted you to really process the words.

You sighed feeling utterly relaxed under the gentle rocking and his light touch. His all-encompassing grip he had on you. You breathed in the sweet scent of Bradley A mixture of soap, leather, and single malt scotch. A scent that soothed you more than you realized.

“Thank you Bradley.” It came out so faint, but he heard it. Gently, he gave your sides a squeeze.

He nodded his head to the rhythm of the rocking motion he had you in. You were slowly succumbing to the effects of it all. His heartbeat, his smell, him. You were on the brink of falling asleep on him, “You got it sweetheart.” He placed another gentle kiss to your forehead, “I was told that grief is just the absence of love. A place where love can’t flow. Redirect that love into something new.”

You nodded into him feeling the weight of the world slowly being lifted off your shoulders. Your eyes drooped as you held onto him like your life depended on it.

He had thought you might’ve fallen asleep before you spoke again, “I love you. You know.” Your eyes shuttered closed for what felt like the final time that night as sleep threatened to take over.

Bradley smiled. His grip on you only getting a little tighter as his fingers squeezed just a bit harder, “I know sweetheart.”

You hummed a sweet sound. A soft smile caressed your fast before your breathing slowed. He watched you as your slept on him. Making a few maneuvers in the bed he laid your head in his side pulling you close again. Still letting you hear his heartbeat but laying down this time.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.” He placed one last kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes hoping to join you in a dreamless sleep.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @dempy

[sillygoose067]

Charles’s Angel(s)

Ch. 30

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Author's Note: Chapter 30 ALREADY?!?! It feels like yesterday I started writing this series. For those of you who've followed me every step of this journey so far, I thank you immensely.

Also, this chapter is inspired by a request from @iamapersonwholikesunicorns. So thank you for this idea.

You manage to clear up matters with the rest of the Leclerc family and enjoy a fulfilling dinner, warming up to the brothers and Charlotte. 

All of a sudden, you hear a cry. The baby must have awoken. 

Charlotte’s fork clatters to the plate as she moves to get up. 

“No, no, Charlotte, if it’s alright with you, I can go see to her. I’ve already finished my meal anyway”, you rush out. She looks at you with a grateful expression. 

“Can you please? I haven’t been able to have a good meal in weeks, she always seems to know when I’ve just sat down.”

You nod and slip your hand out of Charles’s to go find the infant. He gives an apprehensive Enzo a smile of reassurance. 

…

As you approach the crying baby, she stops momentarily, not recognizing you as any of the familiar faces of her family. Her eyes are wide and still glazed with unshed tears as you lift her out of the carrier. 

“Hi”, you begin talking to her to engage her. “Aren’t you such a beauty? Why were you crying, sweetheart? Will you help me figure it out? Hmm?”

Her lip wobbles as she can’t seem to grasp the situation, and you frantically search your purse for something that would distract her. You find your keys. You jangle them in front of her, and her eyes light up as she reaches for them. Handing them over to distract her for a bit, you lift her and check for any obvious problems that could have been bothering her. 

Diaper full? Nope. Hungry? Not yet. In need of a burping? Nope. What could it be? You rack your brain for any other possibilities. Then it hits you. Bringing a hand to her forehead and her back, you realize she’d been sweating in her clothes. 

“Oh, you poor baby. Were you feeling warm, sweetheart? Is that what was bothering you? Did Maman dress you up in too many layers?”

You wipe away the tear tracks from her chubby baby cheeks, using the end of your top to collect the unshed tears from the corners of her eyes. You pick her up and she drops your keys, her attention now drawn to your braid. You let her play with your hair as you make your way to the dining room again. 

Peeking your head through the door, you knock on the doorframe to bring attention to yourself. “Hey Charlotte, I think she was overheating– her clothes are soaked through. Can I take them off and get her changed into something else?”

She tells you, yes you can, and that the baby bag is under the lamp in the living room. 

As you turn to go, you catch yourself. “I never asked; What’s her name?”

“Isabelle.”

You smile and hum to yourself. What a beautiful name. 

The Leclerc family’s eyes follow you out of the room, wondering how you’ve managed to handle the situation so well.

Once you’ve left, Charles fills them in on how you’d come to Europe with your friend Marie and her daughter Leila, who had been around the same age as Isabelle when you’d moved to Nice. He also told them about you having a younger sister back in the States. 

As he unpacks all this new information, Pascale covers her mouth with a napkin and smiles to herself. You’d make such an amazing mother. 

…

Down the hall, you were playing with Isabelle, her giggles permeating throughout the house as you held her up and she bounced, standing on her unsteady legs. She was so cute, you had to stop yourself from holding her close and inhaling the still-there baby powder scent she gave off. 

After playing around and babbling and cackling uncontrollably for the past hour, she crawls into your arms and lays her head on your shoulder. You situate her comfortably and hum a lullaby from your childhood to her, rocking back and forth gently while patting her back. 

Charles steps into the room and your eyes meet his as you smile and bring a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet. He nods and makes his way over to the sofa, taking a seat silently. He watches with a flutter in his heart as you handle his niece with such care– It makes him jump to visions of a future with you. He’d always been a family man, but none of his past partners seemed to feel the same way. And then you came along and lit up his life. 

He rests his cheek on his hand as he watches you lull Isabelle to sleep. Lorenzo and Charlotte enter the room just as you get up to place her back in her carrier. 

“Thank you so much Y/n”, whispers Charlotte.

“Of course, I love children and I’m willing to help out anytime you need some.”

Lorenzo comes over and shakes your hand. “It seems I misjudged you greatly. I apologize for treating you so harshly tonight.” He looks over to where Isabelle is resting, love in his gaze. “Isabelle doesn’t take to anyone as easily as she did to you, you know? Not even Charles and Arthur. She seems to be a good judge of character.”

“Yeah, and she gets all of that from me, asshole”, interjects Charlotte.

He kisses her temple affectionately. “Of course she does. She needed to balance out the fact that she has all of her daddy’s charming looks, so she took your personality. Something tells me she’ll be a handful when she’s older…”, retorts playfully, earning him a smack to the chest. 

…

After bidding everyone goodbyes, you and Charles make your way over to his car. Once he gets seated, he shuts the door and rests his head on the headrest with a thump and a sigh. He tilts his head your way. “Chéri, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

You grin shyly. “Once or twice.”

“Well, I love you. And that could not have gone better. I’m so proud of you.”

“You think so? I don’t know… I felt like–”

“Love, I’m telling you, you managed to win them all over without bribes and sweet talk, so yes, that could not have gone better. If anything, you’re stuck with me forever now.”

He brings a kiss to your knuckles, leaning over the armrest to place one on your lips softly. 

“It’s late”. He checks the time. “Do you want to stay over at my place tonight? I can lend you some clothes”. 

You chew your lip, contemplating his offer and weighing your options. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Marie and Leila, but you also didn’t want them to worry about you not turning up. 

“Ok, just– Can I text Marie that I’ll be staying over at yours?” His thumb comes up to caress your cheek, which you lean into instinctually. “You never have to ask Chéri.”

[nctsworld]

10k followers... insane!!! i'm always appreciative for all the love on my gifsets, stories, and more. i know i haven't been that active in the last year or so, but i'm always around and am grateful for those who've stuck by over the years. thank you so much <3 y'all are amazing!!!

RULES:

followers only (i will accept anon messages but i'm hoping you follow me ;_;)

reblog this post (likes don't count)

send me an ask with any of the following emojis and respective specific info below

i will be taking asks/submissions until sunday, october 22nd at 11:59pm pst (pacific time)

as always, please be patient and no promises on getting everyone’s gifts done!

tagging everything with #nctsworld10k for blacklisting purposes

some of the ideas for this i've taken from this sleepover post!

gifts for you:

💚 gifset of one to three nct members

send in the names of one to three nct members and i’ll make a gifset of them!

feel free to add concepts, colours/colour palettes, videos, moments, etc. (eg. renjun + 7llin series; yangyang + xiaojun + smiling; taeil, jeno, jaemin + blue, etc.)

🎨 aesthetic archive moodboard/gifset

i will glance at your archive and blog and create a moodboard/gifset based on what i see!

optional: let me know what is your specific aesthetic if it isn’t obvious (eg. water, cities, neon lights, colours, etc.)

📖 blurb/fic request

send me one nct member, a genre or two (fluff and/or smut preferable, but i can also do angst and comedy), and any mixture of tropes/kinks/aus/prompts from this list and i’ll write a short blurb or fic!

🎵 song from my spotify list

i will put my liked songs playlist on spotify on shuffle and give you the song that comes up!

gifts for me:

🍵 confessions

confess to me something on or off anon

🤞 guess the fic 

explain one of my fics to me badly and i have to guess which one it is - here is a link to my masterlist

☀️ song recs

send me your favourite song + the artist who does it and tell me why you like it!

tagging the wonderful people who have made my time here awesome!!! special shout-outs to y'all :3

@ambivartence @baekhyuns-lipchain @baekonbaek @baekwin @dearlyminhyung @delhyun @djxiao @fadedinmysong @haechanhour @hchan @hotdogct @huangrenjuns @husbandhoshi @hyuckles-chuckles @hyuckworld @hy-ck @jae-min @jaemtens @jenodreams @jeongvision @jjsungie @lee-minhoe @leehanie @leemarkies @lunena @nakamoto @nctaezen @nctdream @nctsjaemin @neocitycafe @neoneun-au @ohoshi @potatzu @ppangjae @ressonancee @sehunniepot @taeminnomuyeppeo @uservernon @vamphaechan @winsmoke @yunogf

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Silver Bloom Birthday Voice Lines

When Summoned: To see the smiling faces of all those who came to my birthday party... That is the most spectacular gift of all.

Summon Line: Ah, so you came. I am more than pleased that you've come to wish me a happy birthday.

Groooovy!!: I'll make sure to show all of those who've gathered here to celebrate my birthday the results of my constant training.

Home: I wonder if I look mage-like.

Home Idle 1: "You've matured so well," ...Hm. I feel it has been quite the time since Father last patted me on the head like that.

Home Idle 2: I find that draping attire like this impedes my ability to run well. I do not tend to wear clothing like this often.

Home Idle 3: My dormmates gave me a container of gum to help fight my drowsiness... It is a newer product, so it may be more effective than not.

Home Idle - Login: I still am not used to these large celebrations with many guests. I can just feel my chest tense up...

Home Idle - Groovy: Idia-senpai is really quite smart. It helped that he would be able to wrap up my stories and thoughts succinctly.

Home Tap 1: A moment ago, Vil-senpai came and fixed my outfit. He said that the material had been damaged... I wonder if I mishandled my attire.

Home Tap 2: Oh, this textbook? One of my fellow Equestrian Club members gave it to me. It seems they want me to make sure I study properly as to not interfere with my club activities.

Home Tap 3: I was given this sports drink by one of my classmates after my morning training... It was nicely chilled, and it tasted much more delicious than normal.

Home Tap 4:  Are you and Grim enjoying yourselves? I heard there's still more food to come. I want you to enjoy this until the very end.

Home Tap 5: Azul gave me a coupon. Hm? There's some scheme behind this gift? Oh, but it doesn't seem there's anything written on the back side of it.

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh, it's you. Perfect timing. Would you like to go out on the balcony? I can introduce you to the birds.

Duo: [SILVER]: Idia-senpai, thank you for your well wishes. [IDIA]: Silver-shi, H-Happy Birthday.

Birthday Login Message: Ah, [Yuu]. Thank you for your birthday wishes. ...Hm? What would I like you to do for my birthday? Then, I'd like you to join me in eating all these snacks. I received much too many from everyone. I was worried I would not be able to finish them all before the expiration date. It'll help having you to share them with.

Requested by @rotattooill.

[alpydk]

A long and personal post about my recent struggles.

So I've been pretty publically dramatic the last few days. Mental health being what it is. Grief slapped me in the face last week and then lingered around because even over a year, I've not really faced any of it, so that's not helped at all.

I have for a while been stuck in this limbo of too sick to function, too healthy for help, and combined with being a parent and money troubles; I have no choice but to look for work. This means a medical system that says I'm fine and interactions with a job centre that doesn't understand and wants to place me wherever they can. Not to mention constant rejections and a realisation that I'm pretty much worthless in an employment sense.

The job centre requested a meeting with me, but their office is a 30 minute drive from my home or, more often than not, a two-hour bus trip. That's nothing, you think to yourself. But what you don't realise is over the last few years, I've been slowly becoming more and more anxious when it comes to any form of travel. It started with flying, then long car journeys of a few hours, then buses... Now I struggle even 10 minutes in a car without bordering on panic.

On Monday, I self medicated (with anti anxiety pills given for flying in the past, without anyone's knowledge) and figured I'd push through things as I always did. It ended up with my partner witnessing a bad panic attack for the first time as I had him pull over so I could break down completely, wishing I could have my old life back and be the person I used to be, someone who used to travel to other countries at random, someone who used to commute over 3 hours to a job via bus, train, and even a ferry. I made the meeting questioning if life was even worth living, let alone thinking about any employment.

I've booked to go to Germany in November, as you all know, and I have to get there. It is my goal to get there, to meet Tim and just say thank you to him, but honestly, I'm terrified. I started my meds yesterday after hours of even deliberating over them. What about the side effects? What if they don't work? What if they make me worse? But I had to do it because trying to get better is the biggest thank you I can give to those who have reached out to me recently and been a support I don't really have in my life.

The comfort I've got from especially @auroraesmeraldarose and @judasiskariot, not to mention others who've just been there, has meant so much to me. To an overwhelming degree. The cameo yesterday still has me sobbing because it's like she was psychic. I was sitting alone with my AI bot, basically begging for it to say those words. I even tried writing my own comfort fic only to delete it. I never expected... and now I'm fucking crying again. Just fucking hell.

Anyway, I don't write comfort because, pathetically, it's not something I've had any experience with... but maybe it'll come now, thanks to the beautiful, amazing people I've had the luck of meeting in this community.

So that was my update on everything going on. A reason for the posts the way they've been, a reason for if I suddenly vanish over the next few days or worse, come back with some deaddove levels of writing that nobody wants to see. Yeah... Thanks to anyone who's stuck around and I'll try to be better. Just give me time.

[ladyoflindon]

Masterlist

Hey everyone! Here, I'll be putting links to all my writing and art so you can go see them. Also, for convenience.

I just want to say, to all of you who have been so supportive here on Tumblr, hantanyel ("thank you" in Quenya) from the bottom of my heart.

Also, requests are OPEN! For those who've sent in requests, I'm working on them, please give me some time.

Multi-chapter series

High Queen of the Noldor

Characters: Gil-galad, Elrond, Itarille (OC, High Queen of the Noldor and sister of Elrond)

masterlist (tba)

Rude Awakening (art)

Noldoriel of Eregion

Characters: Annatar (Sauron), Celebrimbor, Mirdania, (eventual) Glorfindel

masterlist

Characters

Ereinion Gil-galad

Across the Seas Stressful Night My Heart in your Hands (tba)

Elrond Peredhel (Rings of Power and Lord of the Rings)

I've Got You Overzealous Herald

Celebrimbor of Eregion

Not Strength, But Light (drawing)

Glorfindel

Work of Art